by Amanda Scott
Two of the men quickest to react reined their horses around to give chase, but a voice cried, “Let her flee, lads. I’ve been pondering how we’d get her brother and them to follow us, unsuspecting like. She’ll do the job for us, and nicely, too.”
Looking toward the familiar-sounding voice, Fiona tucked her own whip under her arm as she saw Hod approaching them on a fine-looking chestnut horse.
He gave her a mocking look as he said, “If you want to keep that toy, I’d suggest that you behave yourself, my lady. You have no protector here today.”
His voice sounded different, and his demeanor seemed different, too.
“You don’t sound like a household servant now,” she said.
“At present, I am leading these raiders,” he said. “We ride fast, so if you fear that that horse of yours cannot keep up, I’ll take you up before me. What say you?”
“I say you can go to the devil,” Fiona snapped, but a chill had filled her soul.
Kirkhill cursed Archie Douglas’s timing as he hurried out to the yard after his brief talk with Flory. The first person he met was Sir Hugh.
“We’re nearly ready,” Hugh said. “Getting word to the most distant camp will take more time, but as we’d planned, they’ll catch up with us on the road.”
“We have another problem,” Kirkhill said. “Fiona and Nan are missing.”
Hugh frowned. “Surely, they must both be inside.”
“Fiona’s maidservant said that Nan left in high dudgeon, vowing to ride home to Kirkhill House at once, tonight. Evidently, Fiona went after her.”
“What’s that you say?” Tony demanded, coming up in time to overhear Kirkhill. “How could they have got outside the gate?”
Hugh gestured toward the open gate. “It has been open much of the day. With so many of our men milling about, not to mention camping outside the wall, we’ve left it open. Moreover, the guards have no orders to stop anyone riding out.”
“Sakes, then we must go after them,” Tony said. “They cannot have got far. But, by heaven, Dickon…”
“Don’t say it, Tony,” Kirkhill warned. “We cannot chase them northward when we are duty bound to gather our men and meet Archie at the south end of the dale as soon as possible. The best we can do is to make sure those two did head north for Kirkhill, and then get word back to Mairi. She still has men enough here to send a party after them. But when we get back…”
He did not finish the sentence. Men were all around them, tending horses and weapons, and what he had been about to say was not for others to hear. He looked at Hugh, who met his gaze calmly. But he could feel Tony’s impatience pulsing.
Kirkhill said, “Tony, I assume since you’re here that you’ve got all our men mounted. We’ll ride on ahead of these others to get our lads at Spedlins moving. Archie’s messenger said he’d meant to deliver my message to me at Spedlins, but he met someone on his way there who told him I was here at the Hall, so he rode on, glad to avoid the extra miles. The men at Spedlins may ken nowt of all this.”
Hugh said, “My lads are ready, but I do have more at Spedlins, as you know, so I’ll ride with you. Rob and Sir James can follow us.”
As their men sorted themselves into lines and Joshua scurried about urging them to greater haste before taking his place in the line directly behind his master, Kirkhill tried to estimate how long the women had been gone, and how far they might have ridden. As he did, a new thought struck him.
What if Fiona had simply decided to use Nan’s flight as reason for her own? What if she still couldn’t trust her own judgment? What if she just wanted to get away from him? Worse, what if she had feared that the sheriff’s arrival might mean her arrest and trial for Will’s murder? Such thoughts had terrified her before he had found Will’s body. What if he had failed to convince her that he could protect her?
The thought that she might be trying to deal with his recalcitrant sister while fighting her own terrors unnerved him. He barely waited for the others to settle into place before he rode through the gates and down the hill toward the Roman road.
Just short of the road, noticing a man under a tree with a collie curled watchfully beside him, he shouted, “Did you see two ladies ride this way?”
The dog got up, wagging its tail.
“I did, laird, nigh half an hour ago,” the man said, getting to his feet. ’Twas the lady Fiona a-following another lass. They went south on the big road yonder.”
Kirkhill drew rein. “Art sure they rode south?”
The man nodded. “Could scarce miss their direction from here, could I?”
The dog was watching Kirkhill, its tail still wagging, its tongue lolling.
The animal looked familiar. “Are you from Spedlins?” he asked the man.
“Aye, sure, laird. We tend sheep there, me laddie here and me.”
“But I don’t think you traveled here with us, did you?”
“I ha’ nae horse, laird, but ’tis nobbut a good stretch o’ the legs, and we’ll see the minstrels when they entertain outside here tomorrow.”
Kirkhill nodded, thanking him, and continued to the Roman road, where he turned toward Spedlins. The sense of urgency that Archie’s message had stirred increased tenfold with the old man’s news. Why had Fiona and Nan gone south? Nan had no reason to do so, and surely Fiona had not made such a decision?
Tony rode up beside him, saying, “I heard what that chap said, Dickon. But why would they ride south?”
“You can be sure I mean to ask them,” Kirkhill said grimly. “Mayhap Nan recalled that Spedlins is only three miles away instead of ten, as Kirkhill House is.”
Tony grimaced at the implication that Nan was just playing her tricks again, but he said no more.
Within Kirkhill, duty warred with emotion. He had a duty to obey Archie, but first he wanted to find Fiona and shake some answers out of her. He had to stop at Spedlins, anyway, to collect his men and Cerberus, as well as Tony’s destrier. But he could not gallop his entire force down the Roman road at speed. Not only would that tire all the horses, but any horse coming up lame would be overrun.
Turning to the men behind him, he said to the one next to Joshua, “You there, ride back to Sir Hugh and tell him that Sir Antony and I are riding on to Spedlins. Then wait for Robert Maxwell and Sir James, and give them that same message. Tell them all to follow as quickly as they can. Joshua, you and the next two men will come with us. Now, Tony,” he added, giving spur to his mount, “let’s ride!”
The five men rode apace, but fifteen minutes later, Tony shouted irritably, “I thought we’d catch up with them before now. That sun will set within the hour.”
“They are pushing their horses hard,” Kirkhill shouted back. “But they are heading for Spedlins. Nan knows of nowhere else to go, so we’ll find them there.”
They rode in silence after that, each man lost in his thoughts. A short time later, Tony said, “Dickon, look yonder. Is that not—”
At the same time, Kirkhill saw a bedraggled-looking Nan rounding the bend ahead of them, leading a limping horse.
Tony spurred toward her, and Kirkhill followed but soon held up a hand to halt Joshua and the other two men some distance behind them.
Tony had flung himself from the saddle and was already scolding when Kirkhill drew rein. “Enough, Tony,” he ordered curtly. “Nan, where is Fiona?”
Bleakly, she said, “They’ve taken her, Dickon. A host of English raiders! I was riding as hard as I could to find you when my horse came up lame. He—”
“How long ago?” he demanded, fighting off the chill that swept through him.
“Sakes, I don’t know. We had nearly reached Spedlins. The sun was still well above those hills to the west, and now it’s touching them, if that is any help.”
“It is,” he said. “Tony—”
“I can show you where it happened,” Nan interjected hastily.
“You will not. You are going straight back to the Hall, where you will stay until I come for
you,” Kirkhill snapped. He motioned the other three men forward.
Anticipating him, Tony said, “I’ll take her back, Dickon. I have some few things to say that she deserves to hear.”
“Nay, you will stay with me,” Kirkhill said. “I cannot spare you just to look after my sister. Joshua will also stay, but these two men are utterly trustworthy.” To Nan, he said grimly, “I will brook no argument, my lass, so do not try to start one.”
“I won’t,” she said miserably. “Oh, Dickon, you must find her and get her back. This is all my fault.”
“Aye, it is, but you won’t help matters by delaying us now. These men will see you safely to the lady Phaeline’s care until I come for you.”
He did not add that she might not be so safe then, but Nan must have seen as much in his expression because she did not say another word.
“Where do we meet them?” one of Fiona’s captors shouted to another.
“Across yon Firth, near Sandsfield,” the other shouted back. “But not until we’ve taken care of our part o’ this business.”
“How many will be there?”
“Thousands, the old man said.”
Fiona stifled a gasp. They had ridden hard, and she knew that her captors had taken her miles south of Spedlins. But she realized that what she had thought was just another English raiding party, one that Hod had joined out of spite or another such traitorous sentiment, was much worse. Thousands of men constituted an army!
She had lost sight of Hod after he’d turned her over to two of his men. One led her horse, the other rode beside her. Insultingly, they had let her keep her whip.
The men ahead turned off the road to follow a roiling burn uphill toward a low ridge, and the ruffian leading her horse gave its reins a jerk to follow them.
“Where are you taking me?” Fiona demanded.
“To England, lass. Ye’ll like it gey fine there, may even choose to stay with us if your own folk refuse to take ye back. They won’t though, will they?”
“But why take me? Of what use am I to you?”
The man’s leer was plain enough to see. He threw back his head and laughed. The man leading her horse laughed, too.
Fear washed over her, but she fought it back, knowing it could not help her.
Recalling that she had often said that if only people would just talk with their enemies and make friends with them, there would be no war, she felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to laugh harder than the raiders did.
Surveying the men who surrounded her, forcing her on at a breakneck pace over the steep, uneven terrain, she tried to imagine having a civil chat with any of them, and failed utterly. Not one man among them showed any sign of civility. Certainly, Hod did not, despite his altered accent and demeanor.
What if, to entertain themselves, they decided to have sex with her when they reached their destination, to take turns with her? She doubted that Hod would stop them. And she had not been able to stop Will whenever he had wanted her.
A jolt of fear shot through her.
What would Dickon think of her after such an ordeal at the hands of such men… if she ever even saw him again?
He would tell you to stop being such a whining dafty, to stop wasting time worrying about something that has not happened yet and focus on what you can do.
After all, she reminded herself, Nan got away from them.
Her fears and the pounding hooves on the summer-hard ground made it difficult to think. But, knowing that she could depend on no one else to help her, she fought to suppress her fears and collect her thoughts.
Dickon was a man of action, a man who could think quickly on his feet in the heat of battle. Others had said as much of him, men who knew the value of such traits and recognized them when they met with them. Dickon had other valuable traits, too, traits that she had discovered for herself. He would have no use for self-pity.
She cudgeled her brain for advice that he might give her now. He had faith in her. He had said so. And he could not help her now. She had seen to that by the way she had left, dashing off in all directions, as Mairi might have said, just as she had done whenever she got angry or upset as a child.
To be sure, she had followed Nan. But that fact would only make things worse for them both, because Dickon would not be the only one to condemn their actions. Tony certainly would, and Sir Hugh. She did not know what Rob or Sir James might say, but Mairi and Phaeline would likely side with the men. They might understand why she had tried to spare Nan from Dickon’s anger, but all of them would agree that Nan deserved his anger. And now, so did she.
Even so, Dickon would expect her to look after herself and she did not want to disappoint him. She realized that just thinking about him had steadied her.
Having left the main road, she knew she should heed her surroundings. The farther south they had ridden, the more familiar the countryside became. But now they were heading east instead of south and had entered a deep, rugged cleft or cleuch between two ridges in the tumble of hills separating Annandale from Eskdale.
She had never been in the cleuch before.
A frothy burn ran down its center beside the track they followed. In most places, the track was wide enough for two riders abreast, but the walls of the cleuch jutted out in places, so that Fiona could rarely see more than six or eight horses ahead or behind. She soon lost her sense of direction.
“Ha’ ye nae more questions, bonnie one?” the one leading her horse asked.
“My family is powerful,” she said, thinking of things that Old Jardine had said when Dickon had suggested that Will might be a captive. “And wealthy.”
“Are they now?”
His attitude taunted her, but she ignored it, trying to think how to make herself sound too valuable to harm.
“My good-father was Old Jardine of Applegarth,” she said. “He oft took England’s part in disputes, I’m told, as did my husband, Will Jardine.”
“What if they did?” the second of her two escorts asked, glancing back. “Many Scots do so once in a way, but the next time they remember they are Scots.”
“Aye, sure, but your leaders will be wroth if you anger men who might side with them. My sister is a baroness in her own right, and her husband’s clan has oft sided with England. They will pay for my release, and pay more if I am unharmed.”
“Just who would this fine husband o’ your sister be, then?”
“Robert Maxwell of Trailinghail, in Galloway.”
“Faugh, he’ll be duty bound to follow the Lord o’ Galloway, and that be the Black Douglas, Archie the Grim, as all ken fine.”
About to dispute Rob’s loyalty to Archie, Fiona decided against it and shrugged instead. “It is not for a mere woman to say what any man will do,” she said. “But angering any Douglas can stir great trouble. Mayhap you do not know that I am also kin to Archie the Grim through my close cousin’s husband.”
“I’m thinkin’ ye’ve been told more than any woman should be, and ye talk more than any should, too. So cease your prating. We dinna want to hear it.”
“I do,” another voice snapped. So intent had Fiona been on making her case that she had failed to notice that Hod had fallen back to ride just ahead of them, near enough to overhear them. “She may be worth more than we thought.”
“Why, you are as English as these others,” Fiona said. “And no peasant, either, I’ll wager. Who are you?”
“You need to know no more than that I lead these men.”
“Keep your secrets then. I ken fine that you’re a villain.”
“Then, mayhap you should keep that in mind before refusing to answer my questions,” he retorted. “What do you ken of Old Jardine’s gelt?”
She shrugged. “He had none. Kirkhill thought there would be some, but he has looked everywhere. Will must have spent it all.”
He nodded, but a satisfied little smile tugged at his lips, as if he knew more than she did. He fell silent, and she looked ahead to see where they were going. Their pace had sl
owed. The sun had vanished below the rim of the cleuch, making her hope that the moon would rise before full darkness blanketed the land.
She wondered then if Dickon even knew that she had left the Hall. Even if he had not learned within the hour that she and Nan had ridden out of the castle yard, Nan would have returned by now, and she would tell everyone what had happened.
Dickon must be hot on their trail.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, they reached a place where the cleuch widened, and Hod shouted, “Take your places, lads! They cannot be far behind us!”
Fiona’s breath stopped in her throat.
Hod had set a trap and expected Dickon to ride into it!
Chapter 19
Having ascertained by the tracks they left that the raiders with Fiona were traveling south and consisted of at least a score of men—and knowing that they could do little by themselves to rescue Fiona—Kirkhill, Tony, and Joshua galloped their horses the remaining short distance to Spedlins. As they rode into the yard, Kirkhill said, “Joshua, get Cerberus ready and Tony’s destrier, too.”
Then, to Tony, as they dismounted, Kirkhill said, “I doubt that those riders were just English raiders.”
“Agreed,” Tony said. “’Tis more likely that Northumberland sent them to find out where Archie is and how many men he has raised. But why would such a party find itself so near Spedlins?”
“Mayhap as part of a wider attempt to cut Archie off from the Scottish forces east of us. There is another possibility, too, though,” Kirkhill added thoughtfully.
Seeing a gillie running toward him, he said, “Help Joshua with the horses, lad. Nay, do not tarry,” he added impatiently when the boy paused.
“But, laird, there were men here, many o’ them! They went inside!”
“They are gone now, though, are they not?” When the boy nodded, Kirkhill added, “Is Evart here?”
“Aye, but he went inside, too, to see what devilry them villains ha’ wrought!”
“Go and fetch him. Joshua will find other lads to help with the horses.”
As the boy darted away, Kirkhill heard approaching hoofbeats and felt a surge of relief. He was impatient to be after Fiona, but it was increasingly clear that he would be unwise to outrun his reinforcements. His own men riding into the yard, followed by Sir Hugh and his, made a welcome sight.