Tempted by a Warrior

by Amanda Scott

  She struggled fiercely but to no avail. And if she shrieked, the noise of the music and merrymakers in the hall drowned her out.

  Fiona, aware that her jaw had dropped and that Kirkhill had gripped her arm and was urging her on toward the dancers, dug in her heels, unable to look away.

  Tony—with no more effort than he had shown in capturing Nan—set her on her feet, spoke a few brief words to her, and returned his attention to the dancers.

  Nan glowered at him, clearly furious. But when the glower elicited no response, she turned on her heel and stormed off the dais to an archway that led to the main stairs. Only after she had vanished did Tony reach for a napkin and begin to mop his dripping face, brow, and wine-soaked hair. Even then, he showed no emotion. He merely signed to a gillie to refill his goblet from another jug.

  Turning to Kirkhill, Fiona said, “I should go after her, Dickon.”

  His grip on her arm tightened, but his voice remained low-pitched as he said, “Nay, lass, let her go and enjoy her sulks. She got no more than she deserved, and you want to dance. Moreover, you and I need to have a talk, and Nan will be in her bedchamber if you still think you must visit her after that.”

  “’Tis my bedchamber, as well,” Fiona reminded him. “I would not like to find her utterly distraught, thinking that no one cares about her.”

  “She knows better than that,” he said with a wry smile. “If I know our Nan, she is just hoping that Tony, and not I, will follow her upstairs. Doubtless, she told herself that I would say nowt about that outrageous dress she is wearing, despite the fact that she already knows that I strongly disapprove of it. Ah, so she said as much to you, did she?” he added when Fiona stared at him.

  “She did, aye, but she did not tell me that you had already seen it.”

  “She wore it at Kirkhill the day that Tony joined us there. She knew that neither of us would like it, but that day, I made her change it before he saw it. I’m sure she thought she was paying us both back tonight, but she will learn her error.”

  “I expect she already has,” Fiona said.

  “Aye, and got more than she expected, but I still have something to say that she won’t want to hear. The ring has begun, though, so dance with me, lass.”

  She agreed and much enjoyed herself, but the minute the music ended, her thoughts flew back to Nan. Even so, as Dickon escorted her to the dais, she felt his presence even more strongly than she had during the lively dance.

  With him as her partner, she had felt safe and protected against any unseemly behavior, but she had understood Nan’s reluctance to join the dance without a man she knew on each side of her. Most people behaved well at such events, particularly when they took place in baronial great halls. But occasionally someone with too much drink in him would take liberties with any pretty, young woman.

  Dickon put a hand over hers on his forearm, and as they approached the dais, he gave it a squeeze. “You need not go to her, you know. It will do her no harm to have time to reflect on her behavior.”

  “I think she is unhappy,” Fiona said. “She told me that Sir Antony only says he wants to marry her, that he does not really care about her at all.”

  “Sakes, the man has been crazy about her since her cradle days,” Kirkhill said, shaking his head.

  “Then mayhap he should tell her so,” she said, catching his gaze. “Sometimes, a man believes a woman knows how he feels, but she wants to hear him say the words. I have only ever heard Sir Antony carp at Nan or correct her. Or else, he complains to you about her. I’ll wager Nan has heard no more than I have.”

  “But the man can hardly prate nonsense in her ears before they are at least betrothed,” he said sternly.

  “Indeed, my lord?” She raised her eyebrows. “Do you think it wrong for a man to let his feelings show before the way is clear for him to do so?”

  “You ken fine that I think that way, lass. The plain fact that I have not been able to conceal my feelings for you has weighed heavily on my conscience.”

  “Not heavily enough, thank the Fates,” she said. “I know I confused you last night, but I made a terrible mistake two years ago and paid dearly for it. From the moment that we met, I knew that the way I felt about you was different from the way I’d first felt about Will but feared to trust myself. With Will, I felt only my delight that a handsome man was flirting with me. That was all it was.”

  “And with me?” His attention now was singularly intent.

  “You irritated me at first, but I felt nonetheless drawn to you. You filled my thoughts and stirred feelings deep inside of me that I’d never felt with Will. Sakes, I’d never dreamed a woman could have such feelings! Not just sexual desire but deeper sensations. With you, I feel warmth and a sense of safety and comfort—mentally as well as physically—that I’ve not known since my earliest childhood.”

  He said, “I felt desire from the moment you looked at me, sitting on the stone floor of the scullery.” He hesitated, looking into her eyes. “I want to talk more of this anon, lass. Prithee, stay with me now and enjoy this fine entertainment.”

  “I will return shortly,” she said. “But I must assure myself first that Nan is not too upset. I do fear that she is, sir. When I know she is not, I will come back.”

  “See that you do,” he said. “Shall I send a gillie up with you?”

  “Nay, none will harm me here. My father always kept servants on the stair landings whenever we had a company like this, and I’m sure that Mairi does, too.”

  He nodded, and she hurried upstairs to her bedchamber. But as she neared the door, it opened and Flory stepped out, closing it behind her.

  “Flory, how is the lady Anne?”

  “Och, mistress, I were just a-coming to find ye!” Flory exclaimed, looking past Fiona as if she expected to see Kirkhill at her heels. “The lady Anne were ever so upset, and angry withal. She said she wouldna stay another minute in such a place and was going to ride home straightaway.”

  Shocked, Fiona said the first thing she thought: “Not in that dress!”

  “Nay, then, I did help her change and made her take a warm cloak.”

  “I must stop her. You look after David.”

  She doubted that Nan meant to ride as far as Kirkhill House, because she could not hope to get there before dark. Praying that no one would even saddle a horse for her without consent from Dickon or Mairi, Fiona rushed out to the yard, expecting to find Nan fiercely debating such an order with a stable lad.

  Instead, she learned that the lady Anne Seyton had flung herself on her horse with no more than a bridle and had galloped it out of the yard through gates still open after admitting a messenger, now dismounting in the yard.

  Chapter 18

  Noting the red heart on the messenger’s sleeve and recognizing it as the familiar device of Archie the Grim, the Black Douglas, Fiona knew he had likely come to summon the men. So she would have to go after Nan at once, herself, rather than try to speak privately with Kirkhill or any of the other noblemen just then.

  “I’ll bring her back,” she said to the stable lad who had told her about Nan. “Fetch my gelding at once and then give me a leg up. If her ladyship just left—”

  “A short while ago, but I canna say exactly how long, m’lady. Mayhap—”

  “I must go! I want to catch her before she rides far,” Fiona declared.

  “Aye, my lady,” the lad said. “Mayhap, though, I should go wi’—”

  “I dare not wait if I’m to bring her back quickly,” Fiona said, fearing that if he did not make haste, the men would be upon her. “Prithee, just do as I bid, and hurry!”

  “Aye, sure,” he said, running into the stable and returning minutes later with her bay gelding. Throwing her onto it and handing her the reins, he jumped back as she urged the horse to a trot and, once outside the still-open gate, to a lope downhill to the road. Shouting at two men-at-arms there, talking near the minstrels’ camp, she learned that Nan was riding hard but had gone south, rather
than north.

  Hoping that Nan could not maintain the pace the two men had described for long, Fiona kept the gelding at a trot or a canter, alternating its paces and keeping an eye out for any sign that her quarry might have turned off the main road.

  At last, she saw Nan in the distance and pushed the gelding to more speed.

  Nan saw her and tried to outrun her but at last slowed and reined in, waiting until Fiona drew up alongside her before she said defiantly, “Why did you come after me? I thought it would be Tony!”

  “Well, it’s me,” Fiona said. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Nan, but if you know what is good for you, you will turn around and ride back with me.”

  Nan tossed her head. “Why should I?”

  “Because a messenger has come from Archie the Grim, so the men will all likely be too busy to think about us unless someone tells them what we have done. Then your brother, at least, will pay us more heed than either of us wants.”

  “I don’t care what Dickon does,” Nan said. “I won’t go back to a place where I was so dreadfully humiliated.”

  “I chanced to glance back just before you upended the jug over Tony,” Fiona said. “Dickon saw it, too, but everyone else was doubtless watching the dancers.”

  “Mairi saw what Tony did, and so did her lord husband, not to mention every servant on the dais,” Nan said between gritted teeth as she urged her horse onward.

  “Nan, please! You must come back with me.”

  “Nay, I must not! We will go to Spedlins, and that will teach Tony not ever to do such a thing to me again. I told your Flory that I was going home, but Tony will soon learn that I did no such thing. Then he will be wretched with worry.”

  “Not if he does not care about you, as you claim,” Fiona retorted.

  “Well, I think now that perhaps he does care. I just want to be sure.”

  “Why? What makes you think he does?”

  Flushing deeply, Nan said, “I just do, that’s all.”

  She shifted uncomfortably on her horse, drawing a smile from Fiona. “Nan, you cannot possibly want to ride all the way to Spedlins and back,” she said quietly.

  “Pish tush, as if I cared about a little pain. Forbye, I’ll wager they catch up with us before we get there,” Nan added confidently.

  “They won’t if they do not know that we have gone,” Fiona said. “They will ride off to join Archie. That is what they have been waiting for, after all, and the gate was open for you only because Archie’s messenger had arrived.”

  “But if they go with Archie and his army to fight the English, they may all be killed,” Nan said, looking worried for the first time.

  Hoping that her fears would make her more persuadable, Fiona said, “Aye, sure, they might. Just think how you will feel then.”

  Nan grimaced but recovered swiftly. “They are knights with much experience. Moreover, Dickon will not let anyone kill Tony. Nor will he let anyone kill him.”

  For the first time, Fiona felt a strong urge to slap Nan. But Nan chose that moment to spur her horse to a gallop again. Gritting her teeth, Fiona followed.

  Dickon would be furious with both of them. It was the last thing she wanted, but she could see no way to avoid it. She could hardly let his sister ride on alone.

  But as she followed Nan, Fiona was conscious of a most uncharitable hope that Kirkhill would flay his sister for her foolhardiness.

  Kirkhill had just begun to wonder where the devil Fiona had got to when a gillie brought the Douglas messenger onto the dais.

  The man went to Mairi and bowed. “Beg pardon, Baroness,” he said. “I bring ye word from the Lord o’ Galloway that your men and those o’ these other lairds wi’ ye should meet him just west o’ Torduff Point, which lies—”

  “Near the coast five miles east of where the river Annan meets the Firth,” Mairi interjected calmly. “How soon does his lordship want our men there?”

  “As soon as ever they can get there, m’lady. He’s had word that the English Earl o’ Northumberland means to invade Annandale afore the Earl o’ March can do so. The Black Douglas rode to collect any men who be still besieging Lochmaben, and will ride from there to keep the villainous English from overrunning the dale.”

  Kirkhill began to rise but stopped at a gesture from Mairi.

  She said, “A deep cleuch cuts through hills from about seven miles northeast of Annan town and runs southeast to the Firth. ’Tis called Riggshead Cleuch, and ’tis a perilous place with high, steep sides. The English have often used it to supply Lochmaben, and raiders use it, too.”

  “If that route is known, would they not seek another way to avoid meeting trouble there?” Kirkhill asked.

  “Aye, sure, they might,” she said. “But other routes also provide difficulty for a large force. They cannot simply follow the shore of the Firth, because it is too rugged, and quicksands there have swallowed horses and riders without leaving a trace. Moving north before they cross into Annandale will only alert folks east of us, who will set signal fires to warn us. My father said English raiders favor the cleuch because it is the quickest route and because no one lives within it.”

  Hugh said, “Mairi is right. I’ll warrant that we’ve seen no signal fires yet because Archie got word about this from one of his spies in England and knows when and where Northumberland means to cross. We must get our men moving.”

  “Aye,” Rob agreed. To Mairi, he said, “I ken fine that you’d like us to leave quietly, lass, but some of our lads are here in the hall. Just say that Archie has sent for our men-at-arms and tell the minstrels to go on entertaining. Then, the others can continue to enjoy the performance whilst we prepare to ride.”

  She nodded as Kirkhill said to Tony, “Get our men horsed and meet us on the road. We’ll collect the rest at Spedlins. If you see Joshua outside, tell him to saddle our horses and… Well, he’ll know what to do. I’ll go up to tell Nan and Fiona that we’re leaving, and then I’ll join you in the yard.”

  “Tell that sister of yours to behave herself whilst we’re away,” Tony said.

  Kirkhill raised his eyebrows. “Do you think I should tell her that the message comes from you?”

  “I do, aye. I’ve waited long enough, Dickon, and put up with enough of her foolishness. When we get back, I mean to make that plain to her.”

  “You do that, but mind she doesn’t lop off your head or aught else when you do,” Kirkhill said, thinking that he would say much the same to Fiona before he left.

  But when he reached the bedchamber that the two young women shared, he found Flory there alone, and she looked terrified when she saw him.

  Fiona was trying not to think about Dickon, but her imagination kept presenting image after image of what he would look like, what he might say, and what he might do when he caught up with them, as surely he would. Not one of those images reassured her. Every one of them gave her the shivers, and thinking of the delightful things he had said to her the previous night made her want to cry.

  He was the man she had always hoped to meet and marry, and the likelihood now was that he would be so angry he would forget that he had ever cared for her. And here she was, listening to his sister’s foolish grievances and wishing Nan to perdition. That thought brought another, utterly unexpected thought of Mairi.

  Perhaps this was simply what it was like to be an older sister.

  With a sigh, she glanced at Nan, who had been muttering for some time now, mostly to herself or to the absent Sir Antony. Then, looking around, Fiona thought she saw someone in the forest west of them, which hid the river Annan from view. She was unsure how far they had come, but they must be nearing Spedlins.

  A sliver of ice slid up her spine at the thought of someone watching them, but the figure, if she had seen one, had vanished.

  When they reached the next bend in the road unmolested, she decided that she had been imagining things. Nan was still in a hurry, pushing her mount harder than common sense would dictate. But if they had to stop, then Dicko
n and…

  Shaking her head, Fiona told herself that it would be better not to imagine any more if she could avoid it. The road forded a trickling burn, and the river Annan chuckled along beyond the forest, cutting its path through the undulating dale on its way downhill to the Solway Firth.

  Again, Fiona thought she saw someone in the woods, this time on the east side. It was common to see people by daylight, because the dale was well populated. But the movements she saw seemed furtive, as if people were hiding and watching.

  “How much farther to Spedlins, do you think?” Nan asked.

  “Sakes, how can I be sure?” Fiona said. “I rarely left there, whilst you have traveled this route from the Hall twice before. Do you not know where we are?”

  “This road looks all the same to me. The river on our right, the hills yonder. Mairi knew where she was going, and so did the escort your mam sent with me when I rode to see you that day. I never had to heed where I was, exactly.”

  Fiona was about to admit that she rarely paid heed to her exact location while traveling, either, when with a cacophony of shouts, whistles, and other cries, a party of men rode out of the woods and surrounded them.

  “Look what we’ve found, lads!” a rider cried. “Better than horses, I say!” He grabbed Fiona’s bridle. “Comely Scotswomen, young ’uns, too, and prime!”

  “Unhand my bridle,” Fiona snapped, trying to wrench her horse free.

  “Nay, then, ye’ll come with us,” he said. “We’ve good use for ye, I’m sure.”

  “You’re English!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why, we’re coming to claim our own, lass. Soon ye’ll be English, too.”

  “Not I,” Nan cried, slashing about with her whip so suddenly and furiously that she clipped a nearby horse under its jaw and set it rearing. The next slash caught the rider nearest her as he fought to control his mount. Seizing the opportunity, Nan lashed her horse’s flank, and the beast reared up, whirling on its hind legs as it did, and bolted for the open road to the north.