by Amanda Scott
With an inward sigh, she gathered her thoughts. Then she said, “I don’t know why I said that about intrigue, sir. In troth, I can tell you only what happened and hope you can help me explain why it makes me feel as I do. First, I saw a man struck down in the road for no apparent reason.”
“What man?”
“A knacker, Parland Dow.” She described the event.
“I know Dow,” he said. “Someone doubtless tried to rob him.”
“They took naught, he said, but mayhap you are right. Next I overheard a spat between a man who had been away overnight and his wife. It was not the spat that struck me but his saying the King may be at Threave for the coronation celebration.”
“Aye, that would strike anyone,” he said with a smile.
“Aye,” she agreed. “Primarily, though… I… had a gey strange dream.”
She thought she heard his teeth grind together, but he said evenly enough, “What sort of a dream?”
The only reason she could recall the details she had pieced together was that they reminded her of the confrontation she and Peg had had with the two men-at-arms at Lochmaben. She did not want to describe that to him, so she said, “You know how it is with dreams. They fade quickly and one never remembers all the details.”
“Try,” he said.
“Cath and her man, Cuddy, were in it.” Hastily, she added, “But I do not suspect them of anything, sir. Both of them vanished from the dream rather quickly, although the voice I heard continued to sound like Cuddy’s.”
“He vanished but his voice went on without him?”
“Nay, he… he turned into someone else,” she said. “A… a man-at-arms at Lochmaben.” Without looking at him, she added, “Peg and I had asked him the way to the garderobe.”
To her surprise, Hugh smiled. “You should not be dreaming of Englishmen, lass. That is practically treason.”
She shook her head, saying, “I don’t think the voices sounded English. They just sounded like Borderers. I saw two men in my dream but not together. After that, it sounded as if one man were talking to himself in Cuddy’s voice.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘We pay for what we want and ye’ll do what I say.’ Then, as if he were irritated with himself, or pretending to be someone else, he said, ‘So, I’m just to take ye along to Threave, am I?’ You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I have not said these things aloud before. They’ve all run together in my mind. But it was very much as if two men were talking, even with the voice sounding always the same.”
“Are you sure the voice was Cuddy’s?”
“I barely knew anyone in the company then,” she reminded him. “I’d heard his voice only once. Sithee, he was the man in the spat with Cath. She thought he’d been seeing too much of a cousin she doesn’t like because she thinks he’s a bad influence on Cuddy. Sithee, I’ve seen such encounters amongst our people, and the voice in my dream had the sort of aggrieved tone a man gets at such a time. The tone might simply have reminded me of Cuddy.”
“What did your dream character say after the bit about Threave?”
“He said Archie the Grim would ken nowt, nor Old Bleary.”
“So he spoke of the King, too.”
“Aye, and the other one— Sakes, but I’m sure now there must have been two men talking in that dream. Not that it matters, since it was a dream. At all events, the aggrieved one told the other to whisst, and I woke up. I remember wondering if it was all a dream. For a moment or two, it was as if one man were still speaking.”
“ ’Twas a strange thing, to be sure,” he said. “But as it was a dream, lass, it may have sprung from no more than comments you’d heard before.”
She thought he might be right. She did tend to let her imagination run free, and perhaps that was what she had done. Just being inside Lochmaben could easily have stirred her to imagine an enemy at work. At least Hugh had not rolled his eyes or explained at length that she was just being foolish, as Phaeline so often did.
She said, “There’s more, though. I met a juggler and a musician, Jem and Gib, in the woods just a while ago. Gib thought I was Cath and called out to ask if they should try their new skills tonight or wait for larger crowds.”
“There is not much in that,” Hugh said.
“Nay, but as Jem greeted me, Gib went on to warn him that they must do nowt to imperil the performance at Threave. Then he said the sheriff might come tonight to watch, and Jem told him to whisst. But Gib just complained that Cath had vanished, which made me think of her vanishing from my dream and brought it all back. I did not know then about the missing jewels. But even so…” She paused. “Do you see?”
“I see how you have been thinking, but I cannot see how a dream you had at Lochmaben has aught to do with minstrels hoping to perform exceptionally well at Threave. ’Tis likely they don’t want to spoil that performance by practicing all their tricks or skits in front of folks likely to spread word of all they do. Sithee, if that happened, it would lessen their impact on the grand occasion.”
“I suppose so,” she said. “I know there is naught of substance in any of it, but I still think something is not right. It may be the way they said things or a certain look they had, or just…” She shrugged, frustrated. “I don’t know!”
“Then we will continue to ponder,” he said. When she looked closely to see if he meant that, he added, “What made you decide to confide in me?”
The image of her father presented itself in her mind and made her smile reminiscently. “I like to talk such things out,” she said. “My father said it was the surest way he knew to learn whether to trust one’s instincts or not.”
“ ’Tis a good plan, I should think. But—”
“Do you trust your instincts, sir?”
“Aye, sure, sometimes,” he said. “Not always.”
“Well, I am much the same. But I do think I ought to trust this one, even if I do not quite understand it. It feels gey strong, like a warning.”
“Then we must see what more we can learn,” he said. “Meantime, your people at Annan House want you home. They have not been unkind to you, have they?”
“Nay,” she said. “But they would order my life, and…” Trying to think of a tactful way to explain how she felt about Phaeline and Reid—who were his siblings, after all—she spread her hands instead.
“You know you must go back,” he said. “In these uncertain times, you should be glad to have a man to help you run your estates and protect you.”
She looked straight at him then, no longer caring about his sensibilities. “Would you trust Reid to protect me? Would you allow him to run your estates?”
“That is different,” he said. “I am quite capable of running my own estates and protecting myself.”
“Aye, well, so am I,” she said.
“Nonsense, a woman cannot do either as well as a man can.”
“So you believe Reid would do better?”
He hesitated, grimacing.
“Just so,” she said. “I had begun to wonder if you knew your brother at all.”
“He will learn,” he said.
“Then you, not I, should be the one to teach him. I do not want him learning on my estates by guess and by consequence. I shall suggest, sir, that he apply to you for lessons before he tries taking the reins at Easdale.”
He smiled. “That would teach me, would it not?”
“Aye, it would,” she said, unable to resist smiling back. Then she added seriously, “I am sorry to be the one to tell you, but your brother is feckless, sir.”
“Even so, you have formally betrothed yourself to him and must return.”
“You say naught that you’ve not said already, and naught to persuade me,” she said. “The others are finishing up now, I think,” she said, turning away.
He caught her by an arm. “Hold there, lass. You would be wiser not to walk away from me until we have finished talking.”
“But we have finished. You are
kin to Archie Douglas, are you not?”
“You know I am.”
“Well, you agreed to try to learn more about this odd warning sense I feel, and with Threave popping into everything—”
“Sakes, if they worried about the sheriff, the whole business is more likely to lead to the missing jewels,” he said. “That is the only crime we know about.”
“But the missing jewels have naught to do with Lochmaben!” she said. “My dream could not have—”
“Lass,” he said patiently, “your dream is doubtless just a dream, or mayhap you had noticed things you did not understand whilst traveling with the minstrels, and your dream was how your imagination tried to make sense of them.”
“But, if that is so, why would anyone in it declare that Archie the Grim and the King wouldn’t ken aught of whatever it is until afterward,” she demanded.
“Afterward? I don’t believe you said that before.”
“I only remembered as I was saying it, but I’m sure that is what he said.”
“I suppose it is possible that a nearby conversation may have intruded on your dream,” he said thoughtfully. “Where were you sleeping?”
“In the corner of the courtyard near the keep entryway. When I woke, I did see men walking about but no one was near enough for me to have heard them speak.” She brought the scene to mind again. “The entryway had that stone archway over it, and it was dark inside. I expect someone might have stood talking there. Anyone doing that would likely be English, though.”
“And idle speculation is useless,” he said.
“But if somehow they might threaten Archie the Grim, you do have a duty to learn more, do you not? You do serve him. Reid said that you did.”
“I won my knighthood from him and owe him fealty, but I no longer serve him in the field. Were Scotland to be attacked, it would be otherwise, of course.”
“If he is to be attacked, surely that counts as well.”
“Aye, sure, it does,” he agreed. “But whatever your odd feelings may mean, you have no evidence, and I have committed my service to Dunwythie. I can see you safely home and still ride to Threave in time to warn Archie of possible trouble. That is all it will take, I promise you, to foil any mischief—if mischief even exists.”
“My dear sir, I have made it plain that I will not go unless you are willing to snatch me away by force. You would do well to reconcile yourself to that fact. If warning him is all that is necessary, I’d advise you to ride to Threave at once.”
He was silent, giving her hope that he was considering her advice.
“Mayhap I should,” he said. But to her consternation, the emotion that surged through her was disappointment, not elation.
Ruthlessly concealing it, she said, “An excellent notion, sir. Doubtless you will want to be away early tomorrow morning.”
“Doubtless I will,” he agreed. “I shall consider it. Now, as it appears that tonight’s practice has ended, I’ll escort you back to the encampment.”
“We have been talking together too long as it is,” she countered. “I would be wiser to walk back with Peg. I see her now,” she added firmly. “Goodnight, sir.”
Again she turned, and again he stopped her. “Peg is walking with her brother and Lucas. No one will think it odd that you walk with me after we have sung love songs to each other. Moreover, the path is uneven. Take my arm, lass.”
He had been holding it out to her, and once again, he had succeeded in making her feel small and as if she were behaving in an unseemly manner. He did not say so, but the feeling persisted even after she accepted his arm.
“I did not mean to be rude,” she said at last.
“Nay, lass, I’m sure you did not,” he said.
His tone was consoling, even sympathetic, so she could not imagine why it stirred only a desire to smack him.
She resisted it but only by pressing her lips firmly together.
Hugh felt her hand tighten on his arm and thought he knew what she was thinking. She was a woman who revealed her thoughts in every expression, every line of her body, and in the slightest tone of her voice. He had annoyed her.
The knowledge made him smile, and he was glad she could not see it. She was staring straight ahead, and although her chin was a little higher than usual, the difference in their heights made it unlikely that she could see his expression without turning her head to look up at him.
The smooth, firm line of her jaw and his certainty that she had her lips pressed tightly together stirred a childish desire to make her smile, even if it took tickling to do it. He stifled the thought, but it soon returned in a teasing speculation about which parts of her curvaceous body might be the most ticklish.
Moonbeams piercing the canopy lit the narrow pathway well enough for him to see even without the ambient glow from the torches behind them in the clearing. They would stay lit until the townsfolk had all gone, after which, someone had told him, the lads watching them would douse them and bring them back to camp.
He did not mean to leave her in Dumfries with the minstrels. Even if he could trust both Peg and Bryan, they could not provide sufficient protection for her. If something was amiss within the company, plot or no plot, she might not be safe.
She remained silent, and he wanted to hear her voice again. He had enjoyed singing with her, especially the comic song. As she sang her replies, her eyes had twinkled, her rosy cheeks had glowed, and he had had trouble concentrating on which one of the four male characters was singing each of his verses.
He could not remember any woman affecting him so since Ella and the bairn had died. But she was nothing like Ella. Indeed, he feared she was as stubborn as he was, and Ella had not had a stubborn bone in her sweet body. She had been all pliable submission, bowing to his every whim and decree. She had never disputed with him but had, in fact, made him feel every inch the lord and master of his home.
Jenny, on the other hand, stirred only the primitive desire in him to master her.
But he was a mild-mannered man. It was strange to think how many times of late he had had to remind himself of that fact, and Jenny seemed to make a mockery of those reminders. From the outset of his journey, he had wanted to shake sense into her, to make her mind him, to force her obedience to Dunwythie’s authority.
But, so far, she had defeated him at every turn without even raising her voice.
Bad enough that she stirred him to contemplate behavior he thought well outside the scope of his character. Worse for one who knew he was an able leader of men was the fact that his powers of persuasion, long held to be one of his greatest strengths, seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the stubborn lass.
She listened to him. At least, she appeared to listen. But no matter what he said to her, she continued to insist that she preferred to stay with the minstrels.
Such a life could not be comfortable for her; yet she made no complaint. Indeed, she seemed sincerely to be enjoying herself. As to the nonsense about running her own estates and protecting herself, he blamed her father. Clearly, the late laird had been a man of little sense, or he would have married again to provide her with a mother to teach her how to go on in life, and to give him a proper heir.
They were approaching the sleeping area, and he saw Peg waiting for Jenny. As he glanced down at his silent companion, his earlier thoughts echoed through his mind. He could imagine her derision had she been able to hear them.
All very well for him to talk about her father and his own easy certainty that the late Lord Easdale ought to have remarried. But what about him? Despite the urging of his sister and others, including Dunwythie, he had not given remarriage a thought. After all, he reassured himself, he did have a male heir.
He glanced at the lass again, knowing how she would respond to that. Indeed, she had responded to it, and he had to admit that she had made an excellent point. He had done naught to teach Reid his responsibilities as heir to Thornhill, and yet he had assured her that Reid would quickly learn to run Easdale.<
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She looked up and met his gaze, raising her eyebrows. “Is aught amiss, sir?”
“Only that I owe you an apology, lass, if one can apologize for arrogance.”
Her eyes twinkled then. “Arrogance, sir? How so?”
“Having acquaintance with your intelligence, minx, I am disinclined to explain what I am sure needs no explanation. However, I promise you that Reid will learn something about estate management before he takes the reins at Easdale.”
“Faith, sir, the parson cried our banns in Annan Kirk this morning. Our wedding will take place just over a fortnight from now, yet you still assume Reid will take the reins. How do you imagine you can teach him anything about a place you have never seen, let alone do so in so short a time?”
“I cannot, of course. But I can recommend that he seek guidance from his lady wife, and that I certainly will do.”
The light faded from her eyes, and her soft lips pressed together again. A moment later, she licked them and said flatly, “You do not know your brother at all, sir, if you think he would ever accept advice from a mere woman.”
“I do not think you ‘mere’ at all, lass.”
“Well, Reid does. He has often said so. So, pray, do not try to help me. I do not need your help. I am Easdale of Easdale, and so I will remain, Reid or no Reid. If you mean to teach your insufferable brother anything, see if you can teach him that.”
Hugh struggled for a moment against a base inclination to shake her soundly and order her to heed him. Even as he did, though, he knew she was right again.
Her rank was equal to his, and had anyone suggested that he let someone else run things at Thornhill, he would have reacted more fiercely than she had. Even so, a woman was less able to enforce her commands than a man was, and was thus less able to run a large estate. She would do better with a good man at her side.
She continued to look at him, studying him, as they drew nearer to Peg.
At last, Jenny said, “You don’t mean to ride to Threave tomorrow, do you?”
“I don’t,” he said shortly. “Goodnight to you, lass. Sleep well.”