by Amanda Scott
Jenny stiffened, not daring to look at either man now that she knew how easily each could read her expressions. To ease her tension, she drew a breath and concentrated on doing it slowly and exhaling just as slowly.
As she did, Hugh was saying, “Mayhap we will have more to discuss another time, sir. In any event, I am grateful to you and the others for welcoming us both as you did. ’Twas kind of you, and generous. We wish you well at Threave.”
“Aye, but ye’ll be there, too, will ye not, Hugo lad— bound as ye be to perform for the Lord o’ Galloway?”
Hugh nodded. “I will. But my lass will not. I mean to take her home first.”
“A good notion,” the Joculator said. “Doubtless, ye’ll be leaving her in safe hands. Your parents, belike.”
“I promise you, she will be safe,” Hugh said. “Come now, Jenny. I want to be away as soon as we can.”
“ ’Tis a black day for traveling,” the Joculator said.
“Aye, but we’ll be safe,” Hugh said.
“Will ye be taking that Peg wi’ ye, too?”
“That must be up to Peg,” Hugh said.
Jenny, to her shock, having focused her thoughts on her unsuccessful search for someone to support her in her determination not to leave, had failed to spare a single thought to warning Peg that she needed to pack.
Hugh waited until they were away from the Joculator before he said, “You looked a little stunned when he mentioned Peg. Did you not tell her we are going?”
Jenny shook her head.
“What did you say to her then, when you talked to her?” he asked.
When Jenny shut her eyes, he almost smiled, guessing at once what had happened. How the lass had ever dared trying to prevaricate, he could not imagine.
The silence lengthened until he said gently, “I must suppose that Gawkus and Gilly likewise proved unhelpful.”
She opened her eyes at that, glared at him, and turned away. Had he not caught her by a shoulder to stop her, she would surely have stormed off.
“Nay, nay,” he said with a chuckle. “Only think what a figure you’ll make if you stride back into camp with your nose in the air and your eyes flashing. If you don’t trip over your own feet, you will certainly stir amusement in all who see you.”
She whirled back, arms akimbo, and her chin still high—if only because she had to look up to scowl at him. “Does it give you such pleasure then that my friends feel helpless to aid me?”
“Not pleasure, no,” he said. “But it is good to see you facing the truth and accepting it for once. That is, if you have accepted it. I am not sure yet that you have. Shall we go together and tell Peg, or shall I tell Lucas to do it?”
“She may be better pleased if Lucas tells her,” Jenny said. “She likes him, I think, so she will doubtless be as wax in his hands.”
But they saw Peg before they saw Lucas, and her reaction was unexpected.
“Ye’re returning to Annan House? I was sure ye’d be going straight to Thornhill with… wi’ him,” she added, glancing at Hugh and then around as if she were uncertain what to call him as they were still with the minstrels. Then, in a harsh whisper, she said, “Mistress, I dare not go back there.”
“Don’t be foolish, Peg,” Jenny said. “I will protect you.”
“How can ye? I work for his lordship, aye, and for her ladyship. And if ye think she’ll keep me on after this, ye canna know her. Ye did say I could work for ye at Thorn-hill, sir, and I might ha’ done that, although it be far from Annan and I’d liefer stay here. Sithee, Cath says I’m good wi’ a needle, and I’d be wi’ our Bryan.”
“Would you not rather be with Lucas?” Jenny asked.
Peg looked astonished. “That one? Nay, I would not! I’ll help ye pack, mistress, but unless Sir Hugh— Ay de mi… unless Hugo says I must, I’d liefer stay.”
Hugh frowned. “My lass should have a woman with her, Peg.”
“She has her husband and his man. Surely, she’ll be safe wi’ the pair o’ ye.”
“I cannot command you to go,” he admitted.
“Sakes, sir, I’m thinking ye’re daft to be going yourself. Look at that sky!”
Obediently looking, Hugh saw that although blue spaces still showed among the clouds, the clouds themselves were even blacker than before, and lower. Wind stirred leaves on the trees, but in the woods, it was hard to judge its strength.
Jenny looked hopeful. “Mayhap we should wait a day or two,” she said. “They do need you for the play.”
“Nay, they do not,” he told her firmly. “Nor do they need you. This storm will pass just as the others all have. You’ll see.”
She sighed. “I am sure you are right, sir. You do have the most annoying habit of nearly always being so.”
Hugh chuckled, but for once, he was wrong.
Chapter 13
They had been traveling a couple of hours when the snow began. At first, it was just a few gentle flakes, but when Jenny saw Hugh exchange a look with Lucas, she knew that both men believed it would grow worse.
They kept on, but she could tell they were looking for shelter. At one point, they paused to consider a cottage on a hill with smoke curling from its chimney.
Lucas said, “Happen there’d be some soul there to give us shelter, sir.”
“Aye, but I’d liefer not draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. Annan lies only fifteen miles southeast of Dumfries. We should be able to cover that distance before nightfall, but we must find a place to wait out this storm. It won’t be the first time we’ve provided our own shelter in such a case, Lucas.”
“Nay, sir, it will not. There be one or two villages ahead, too. Happen w—”
“There will be woodland before we reach the next village,” Hugh interjected. “I’d prefer that we keep to ourselves to avoid any comment. If her ladyship had a female companion, no one would pay us heed. But, as it is, unless we make a point of my being her husband… well, I’d prefer that we name no names. That would be gey difficult anywhere we might request shelter. As we get closer to Annan, we also risk the possibility that someone may recognize her.”
Lucas nodded, but the snow fell harder, and Jenny saw Hugh look skyward more often as they rode. It had grown much colder, too.
By the time they reached the woods he had mentioned, the horses’ pace had slowed to a walk. Jenny’s teeth were chattering, and it was hard to discern the road.
In the woods, it was easier, because the trees were mostly beeches, creating a high, dense canopy. It thinned over the roadway but so far had allowed snow to fall only in sporadic patches to the ground. They rode nearly to the woods’ eastern edge before Hugh turned off the road into a small clearing under the canopy.
“We’ll stop here and make a fire,” he said, glancing at Jenny.
She tried to smile, but her lips felt numb.
Grimacing as he dismounted, he strode to lift her down, saying as he did, “Your lips are blue, lass. With that thick, hooded cloak of yours, I thought you were warm enough. You should have said something.”
“I did not realize how cold I was,” she said as he set her on her feet. They felt as numb as her hands and lips, and when she tried to walk, she stumbled.
Muttering an oath, he scooped her into his arms and shouted at Lucas to fetch blankets from the sumpter and to get the tent set up and a fire going.
“Her ladyship is frozen to the bone,” he added. “Just fling over what I can use to warm her whilst you see to the tent and the fire. Has the snow soaked through your cloak?” he demanded brusquely of Jenny.
“Nay, not yet,” she said.
“For a sensible woman, you’re as daft as a bairn sometimes,” he retorted. “You must have known your hands were cold. And don’t try telling me they aren’t.”
“I don’t know how cold they are. I can’t feel them,” she said.
Grimly, he said, “I’m going to put you on your feet again. I’ll hold on to you when I do, but I want you to move them about whilst I ru
b your hands. It will hurt, but that’s to the good. And it serves you right for not paying better heed in such weather. Sithee, your hands and feet will freeze first, lass. When Lucas gets the pallets down and the blankets on them, he and I will gather more wood for the fire. But in the meantime we must do all we can to warm you.”
He had spoken the truth. Her feet hurt when she moved them, and when he told her to stamp them on the ground, she said irritably, “I can’t. It hurts too much. Surely, it cannot be a good thing to do.”
“Do as I tell you,” he snapped, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake before going back to rubbing her hands.
She would have liked to stomp on his feet but knew it would hurt. Also, she saw that Lucas had the tent up already and was throwing the pallets into it.
“Ye can bring her now, sir,” he said. “By, but t’ lass looks perishin’ starved! Tha should hutch up with ’er for a time. I’ll get the fire going straightaway.”
“I’m not even hungry yet,” Jenny protested.
“He doesn’t mean that you look hungry,” Hugh said. “In Yorkshire, ‘starved’ means freezing cold, and hutching up is one way for me to warm you until he gets the fire going. So, get yourself moving.”
As Hugh gestured to the tent, she said, “Won’t all the wood here be wet?”
“Only on the outside, and it is dryer under the trees than out in the open,” he said. “That’s why we stopped here. Now, cease your fretting, and get into that tent.”
She wished he would carry her. He was strong and able, and the tent, though only a short distance away, seemed too distant for her aching feet.
“Go,” he snapped.
She went. Each step shot pins and needles through her feet, but her legs were no longer numb and would, she hoped, soon feel normal again.
When she ducked into the tent, Hugh followed her, ordering her to lie on the pallets, which Lucas had stacked one atop the other.
“I’ll cover you,” he said. “You’ll be warm again in no time.”
“I should take off my cloak,” she said.
“Aye, give it to me. I’ll shake it out and lay it on top. It still has your body heat and will help warm the blankets.”
She lay down and let him pull off her boots and pile blankets on her, but still she shivered. The blankets felt cold, her feet icy, and her teeth chattered again.
“Damnation,” he swore, staring at her. “Lucas was right.”
Laying his cloak atop hers and pulling off his boots, he slipped into the bed beside her, pulling her close. “This is what he meant when he told me to hutch up with you, although he meant skin-to-skin, like rabbits. Try to relax now,” he added. “Slip your feet between my legs and press as close to me as you can.”
She had stiffened as he got into the bed, but the warmth emanating from him was irresistible, and when he slid an arm around her, she snuggled closer. His breeks felt damp through her stockings, but even damp they felt toasty warm.
As his warmth penetrated, she did begin to relax. Then he shifted position, and her head came to rest on his shoulder with her cheek against his hard chest.
A short time later, he said quietly, “Better?”
“Aye,” she murmured. “I’m nearly warm again. Should you not help Lucas?”
“I’ll go presently. He doesn’t need me yet, but I think we may be here for a while. We may have to build a stronger shelter.”
“How?”
“We’ll make one from branches, so when the snow in the canopy begins sifting or clumping down on us, as it will, it won’t smash the tents or melt through.”
“We’re using two tents then?”
“Aye, Lucas does have his own, after all. You and I will share this one.”
“Won’t he get cold, all on his own?” she asked, noting with a sense of gratitude and other less identifiable feelings that he had not suggested that he and Lucas sleep together and let her have a tent to herself.
“Not unless it gets much colder than it has been. If it does, he’ll come in here with us. It will be a tight fit, but we’ll stay warm. I don’t expect this storm to last long enough or grow cold enough to warrant that, but we’ll do what we must.”
“Are you still angry with me?” she asked abruptly.
“Nay, lass. I wasn’t angry before.”
“You sounded angry.”
“I warrant I did. I was worried that you’d done yourself an injury through being too prideful to ask us to stop and let you get warm.”
She thought about that. “I suppose I did fear you’d think me a nuisance,” she admitted. “I also thought that you and Lucas must be as cold as I was.”
“Next time, don’t think about anyone’s needs but your own.”
“No one has ever told me that before,” she said with a chuckle. “From birth, I’ve been told that I must always think of others first, especially our people.”
She could not see his face without shifting her position, but she heard amusement in his voice as he said, “I’ve heard those words many times myself. But my advice now is a matter of survival, Jenny. You won’t be of any use to your people if you freeze to death because you were too prideful to ask for help.”
“Aye,” she said. “Although I don’t know how much use I’m going to be to them now, anyway. Your brother will take over.”
He was silent for a time before he said, “Reid will need your guidance. You will remain Easdale of Easdale, after all.”
“Aye, but in name only. Phaeline and his lordship said that after we marry, I must leave the management to Reid. He said the same. In fact,” she added, “I doubt that he will allow me to guide him. He told me he looks forward to schooling me.”
His arm tightened, pulling her closer.
“I think he looks forward eagerly to that,” she said. “Were you eager to school your wife, sir—your first one?”
His arm twitched again. “I’d rather not talk about Ella,” he said quietly.
“I know what you mean,” she said, nodding. “I don’t like talking about my father either, particularly with people who did not know him well.”
“Like Phaeline and your uncle?”
“Aye. Phaeline no sooner mentioned him than she said he was a fool not to have married again. She said my uncle had been wiser, because he’d provided Mairi with a mother and himself with a woman who will give him a proper male heir.”
“Something Phaeline has yet to do,” he murmured.
“Aye, but they are certain that this one will be a boy,” Jenny said, keeping her doubts about that to herself. “In troth, for Mairi’s sake, I hope it is.”
“Mairi’s sake? I should think she would prefer to remain her father’s heiress. Why do you think it better for her if Phaeline bears a son?”
“Because, as it is, Mairi has no suitors. Young men want to know what they are getting when they wed. If my uncle were to acknowledge her as his heiress, she would have suitors aplenty. But whilst Phaeline remains able to produce a son, my uncle neither acknowledges Mairi nor provides her with a proper tocher. So no suitor can be sure that she is worth marrying.”
“I see,” he said. “I must agree that knowing one’s birthright does make one’s responsibilities clear.”
“If you had only a daughter, would you teach her or keep hoping for a son?”
“I did have a daughter,” he said. “Now Reid is my heir, and I realized not long ago that I’ve done nowt to make his future responsibilities clear to him.”
“But you can still marry properly and have more children, sir. You could easily produce a better heir than Reid.”
“You are very blunt, madam. Does it not occur to you that you will also benefit when Reid inherits my estates, as he will be your husband by then?”
“Nay, I did not think of that, nor would I. But I meant no offense, sir. You may be responsible in some way for how Reid has turned out, but changing him now would be gey hard. My father, on the other hand, was a shy man who had no interest in re
marrying. He was content with his daughter. He taught me all he knew about our estates, and I know he expected to have a say in my marriage, but I wish he had told me more about what to expect.”
“I warrant it would have been as he commanded, whilst he lived,” Hugh said. “It would certainly have been easier for you if he had. You must miss him sorely.”
“As sorely as you miss your wife and daughter,” she said. “Sithee, I could ask him anything, and he would answer my questions. But I did not know I would need answers to questions that it never occurred to me to ask.”
“You may ask me, if you like,” he said.
“Just what do you suppose your brother would say if I were to tell him I had sought your advice and your answer disagreed with what he had decided to do?”
When he did not reply, she turned toward him, raising herself on an elbow to look at him. “I did not put that well, but you must know what I meant.”
“Aye,” he said. “And you are right. Reid would be angry.”
She was quiet as a question she was burning to ask him repeated itself over and over again in her mind until she said, “Things are going to be difficult when we reach Annan House, are they not?”
“Aye, a little,” he said. “But I doubt that Phaeline will rip up at you too much whilst I am at hand, if that is what concerns you.”
“What about your brother?”
After another silence, he said, “I cannot speak for Reid.”
“Peg said he would demand an examination,” Jenny said, blurting it out before she lost her nerve. “Do you understand what that means?”
“Aye,” he said, his voice sounding harsh again.
“Well, that would be very difficult.”
“It is not unusual for a man to demand such a test before his marriage if his bride has not been closely guarded until then. You should have thought of that before you ran away.”
“How could I think about something I did not know could happen? My father never told me about such examinations. He assumed I would be under his eye until I married, so it never occurred to him that I might need to know such a thing.”