Tamed by a Laird

by Amanda Scott

  “The kitchen lies beyond that wall at the far end,” he said. “Storage cellars, dungeons, and a well lie beneath it, and the main stairway ascends through the west-corner angle wall. The garderobe tower in the south angle serves every level.”

  “Can you house everyone who will come here?” Jenny asked.

  “Bless me, my lady, most will set up their own tents and pavilions, just as they do for any tournament. Many have already done so, as doubtless you saw. Those who hang their helmets and arms on the front of their tents show they mean to compete. We’ve already laid out courses for the contests, and we’ll soon be moving the boats anchored or beached in our harbor upriver, so we can set up our water quintain where spectators will have a good view of the water contests.”

  “How many boats will compete?” Hugh asked.

  “Two only at a time, and each with no more than eight oars,” Archie said. “Small boats don’t need as much room to move about as large ones do, but they’ll still give us good sport. We’ll set the quintain post in the midst of the channel. I saw such a contest on the Firth once. That was grand, although with the tide running as fast as it did then, that contest was more dangerous than ours will be.

  “As to your quarters, Lady Easdale,” he went on with a smile, “as my kinsmen, you and Hugh will stay here in the keep. If you find aught that stirs your displeasure or concern, tell me straightaway. I want my guests to be comfortable.”

  She smiled and assured him that she would, but as she had little knowledge of fortresses, she doubted she would offer criticism of his. Kind though he had been, criticizing someone called Archie the Grim seemed unwise.

  Glancing again at Hugh, she wondered if he had found opportunity yet to mention the knot on his head to Archie. The thought had only to express itself, however, for her to realize that she knew the answer.

  Hugh had not sought such an opportunity, nor would he thank her for mentioning his injury to anyone—or the attack that he had suffered, come to that.

  She thought she was coming to know her husband.

  Hugh was tired, and his head ached. He would have liked to go straight to bed and sleep, but a man could not do that in the middle of an afternoon.

  What he ought to be doing was to refresh himself and change from his riding attire into clothing more appropriate for supper in the hall. Or, in view of Archie’s expectation that he would take part in a tourney, he should walk or ride out to survey the competition that had already arrived.

  By the time a minion showed them to their chamber on the fourth level, his head was pounding. Lucas followed them with lads carrying their baggage, and as the latter scurried to and fro, stowing things under Lucas’s direction, Hugh felt an impatient, uncharacteristic urge to order them all to get out and leave him in peace.

  Meeting Jenny’s shrewd gaze, he held his tongue and walked to the window instead to look out to the northwest. There, pavilions and tents covered the higher west bank of the Dee even more densely than they covered the soggier east bank. He had not seen them all before, because the castle’s bulk had concealed them. But he knew they would fill every field before the tournament began the next day.

  “I’m going out to walk about,” he said, turning from the window. “I should see who is here and mayhap talk more to Archie about the tournament.”

  “An excellent idea, sir,” Jenny said, smiling. “I can go downstairs and seek out other ladies who are here. I saw none in the hall as we crossed it, but they must be somewhere. The steward will know, or I can find Joanna and—”

  “Nay, lass, you ought not to wander anywhere at Threave. There will be few women here today—few altogether, come to that, compared with the number of lusty men. You will stay here where you can bar the door and keep safe.”

  “But there is naught to do here,” she protested. “I did pack things to occupy my hands or idle hours. But I thought we would be busy seeking mischief-makers. Surely, it would be better for me to mix with people, to look for—”

  “Jenny, you will obey me,” he said firmly. “If there is mischief afoot as you suspect, it must include the minstrels. But they do not even seem to have arrived yet. They are not camped in the bailey as they were at Lochmaben—”

  “At Castle Moss we did not camp inside the wall,” she said. “We camped in the woods just as we did near Dumfries. And we did see nearby woodlands as we approached this castle. You could take me to see—”

  “Not now, and I forbid you to ride out alone—or walk out, come to that.”

  She glanced at Lucas, still busy with his helpers, and held her tongue. But Hugh knew she had dismissed the danger and doubted he could trust her to stay put.

  Tempted to extract a promise from her that she would obey him, he turned to Lucas instead. “When you have finished here,” he said, “I want you to keep an eye on this door to see that no one disturbs her ladyship.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lucas said, casting a doubtful look at Jenny.

  Hugh turned back to her, determined to make her understand. But, to his surprise, she was smiling, showing her entrancing dimples.

  “You mean to protect me, my lord,” she said, putting a gentle hand to his cheek and looking into his eyes. “I am grateful for your concern. But do you think Lucas will be sufficient protection? He is capable, but you are so much more so…”

  She paused suggestively. And despite his headache and a nagging sense of weariness, part of him began expressing a concern for her that he could not ignore.

  “Lucas, collect your lads and leave us,” he said hoarsely.

  Lucas went, shooing his minions ahead.

  Still smiling, Jenny watched Hugh warily, wondering if he had seen through her tactics to avoid certain boredom, and uncertain how he would react if he had.

  He grasped the hand she held against his cheek and shifted it to his chest as he drew her closer and murmured, “Wouldst keep your husband close, lass? Take care, lest men begin to say I let my lady wife beguile me from my duty.”

  “You owe duty to your wife, too, sir,” she said, tilting her face up invitingly.

  “Aye, sure,” he said, kissing her and letting her draw him toward the bed.

  Even so, she saw him wince as he lowered his head to kiss her. “Shall I undress you?” she asked, careful to hide her concern.

  “I cannot stay long, Jenny,” he warned her. “We’ll do this quickly.”

  “If we must,” she murmured, reaching for the lacing of his breeks with one hand as she stroked his chest and belly with the other.

  Despite his warning, it was easy enough to keep him from acting too hastily. She had quickly discerned what he liked, and she encouraged him to savor his pleasure, doing more than usual to stimulate him so he would not have to exert himself until the climax. But when that moment began to approach, she let him take over, submitting to his every wish and whim as she was sure he would say the best wives always did. The end justified her efforts.

  Hugh collapsed atop her. Eyes closed and gasping, he lay there, spent.

  Jenny did not move or speak. Neither did he.

  He began gently to snore.

  Jenny lay still until his snores quieted to deep, regular breathing. Then, slowly, carefully, she eased herself from under him and slipped out of the bed.

  Tidying herself and seeking a robe for modesty’s sake, she found her old blue kirtle first, having at the last minute stuffed it into a basket in case she might need it. Flinging it over her head, she laced its bodice shut and quickly plaited her hair. Then she opened the door with caution, expecting to find Lucas on the landing.

  She wanted him to find Peg, so Peg could help her dress for supper. But the landing was empty, and no more than two hours remained before they would eat.

  Lucas would return eventually, but as Jenny had told him she had no need of a maid, she doubted he would come soon enough to fetch Peg from wherever the minstrels had camped. However, to dress suitably for sitting at the high table with the lady Joanna, Jenny definitely req
uired the services of a good tiring maid.

  Glancing back at Hugh and deciding with satisfaction that he ought to sleep at least until she returned, she shut the door as quietly as she had opened it. Then she hurried down the stairs, hoping to meet Lucas coming up.

  Rounding the turn onto the next landing, she nearly collided with Fiona.

  “What are you doing here?” Jenny demanded.

  Fiona’s chin lifted defiantly. “I suppose I may go where I choose without you to tell me I cannot.”

  Jenny raised her eyebrows. “You are fourteen years old and know better than to wander about by yourself. I hope you have not been getting into mischief.”

  “I have not,” Fiona retorted. “In troth, I have just come away from my mother and father and was about to return to the wee cell I share with Mairi.”

  “Were you?” Jenny asked dryly.

  Coloring up to her ears, Fiona failed to meet her gaze.

  “Never mind that now,” Jenny said bracingly. “As it happens, I must go outside the wall. I was just wondering how to manage it on my own.”

  “Oh, may we? I own, I did want to look at all the tents. They are so—”

  “We are not going to look at tents,” Jenny said sternly. “I must find Peg.”

  “Peg? Sakes, is she here?”

  “Aye, sure, with the minstrels. She stayed with her brother.”

  “Then, by all means, let us find her.”

  Jenny was not sure it would be so easy, and as they crossed the courtyard toward the great gate, she saw at once that it would not be.

  Tam Inglis, the guard captain that she and Hugh had met on their arrival at Castle Mains, stood near the gate with a number of other men-at-arms.

  Collecting her wits, she said, “Fiona, do not say a word or give any sign that what I say to the captain of the guard is aught save the truth.” Receiving a nod in reply, Jenny strode confidently to Tam Inglis and said, “I hope you remember me, for I must find my tiring woman. She stopped to visit her brother, who is a juggler with the minstrels, and has stayed too long. I mean to fetch her myself.”

  “I do ken who ye be, my lady, but I fear I canna allow two young females to leave the castle alone,” Tam said with what she decided was wholly spurious regret.

  “Nay, of course you cannot,” she said. “That is why I came to you, rather than trying to find my husband in the hall or elsewhere. I hoped that someone on the gate would have the authority to assign a pair of men-at-arms to show us the way. Can you do that, Tam Inglis? Without calling undue attention to my rank?”

  “Aye, sure,” he said with a nod and a look of relief that made Jenny reassess her earlier judgment. Motioning to two stout men-at-arms standing nearby, he gave the order, and Jenny and Fiona soon found themselves outside the gate and crossing the timber bridge from the castle islet to the east bank of the river.

  “Would you really have sought Sir Hugh in the hall?” Fiona murmured softly as they followed their escort.

  “Hugh is… is not available just now, so I am glad you could come with me,” Jenny said. “I am to sit at the high table, so I must have a maid.”

  “Aye, well, I hope you will tell my mother as much if she looks for me, or if Mairi does,” Fiona said frankly.

  Jenny smiled at her. “Where were you going?”

  Fiona shrugged. “I wanted to look around, that’s all. My mother has scarcely let me stir from her side since we left Annan. I am not accustomed to such restraint, and I have never seen such a place. Why are all those tents set up across the river?”

  Jenny explained, feeling rather puffed up in her knowledge. “Archie and Hugh say there will be twice as many tomorrow.”

  As they crossed a long, muddy field, Jenny saw that the whole area around the castle was already growing crowded. Fires already burned and she could smell the aromas of supper in the making. At one point, looking back, she thought she saw Reid Douglas. A trio of menat-arms passed then, and when they had gone, she did not see him and decided she had been mistaken.

  Many folks were erecting tents and pavilions, and she saw a line of men in jacks-o’-plate and helmets taking turns running with a lance at a post bearing the figure of a man with a sword. A lancer ran at the target with his weapon at the ready, and struck the figure on its shoulder.

  The figure whipped around and the wooden sword in its hand smacked the runner so hard on his back that he fell flat in the mud as his lance went flying.

  Fiona chuckled. “I warrant he feels a bit of a fool.”

  The two men escorting them apparently overheard her, for one said, “That ’un would be disqualified in a tourney or joust.”

  The two knew just where the minstrels had camped and found them easily.

  As they neared the camp, it occurred to Jenny that if she were not careful, their reception could stir the very scandal she and Hugh—and Dunwythie—hoped to avoid. Archie knew the whole tale, but he would not thank them if her sojourn with the minstrel company became the primary topic of conversation during his royal celebration. Just thinking about what Reid might contribute made her wince.

  As she wore her blue kirtle and had her hair in plaits, the minstrels would recognize her as their Bonnie Jenny. But what could she say about Fiona, who wore a simple but nonetheless elegant gown? And what about their escort?

  Dealing with the latter problem first, Jenny said to the men, “I warrant the minstrels would prefer not to have armed men in their camp, so prithee wait for us at the edge of the camp whilst we fetch my tiring woman.”

  “Aye, sure, m’lady,” the older of the two said genially.

  “Come along, Fee,” she said, catching Fiona’s arm. “We must hurry.”

  As they entered the clearing, a shout went up: “Bonnie Jenny! It be Bonnie Jenny back again!”

  “Is that what they call you?” Fiona demanded as a number of persons rushed toward them from several directions.

  “Aye,” Jenny responded before they engulfed her. Hugging first one then another, she tried to introduce the most important ones to Fiona. “This is Gawkus, and Gilly, and this is Gerda,” she added as she hugged that young woman. And…”

  Her voice failed when she looked up from the hug into the stern gaze of the Joculator. Swiftly, she curtsied and said, “Good day to you, sir.”

  “You should not be here on your own,” he said. “Where is Hugo?”

  “In the castle,” Jenny said, realizing that she lacked the nerve, facing his stern demeanor, to embellish further. The thought crossed her mind then that when Hugh learned what she had done, he would take an even dimmer view of it.

  “I see that he did provide you with an escort,” the Joculator said, nodding toward the two men at the edge of the clearing. With a slight smile, he added, “One must suppose that Hugo has decided against seeking an annulment.”

  “I came seeking Peg,” Jenny said, wishing he would not look so forbidding and hoping he would not ask why she wanted Peg. She could not lie to him again.

  Flicking a glance at Fiona, he gave Jenny a long look that she managed to meet directly if not with confidence. Then, to her relief, he nodded and said, “Peg is at Cath’s tent, stitching things with Cath and some others. Yonder.” He pointed.

  Motioning the two men-at-arms to stay where they were, Jenny hurried with Fiona along the barely visible track he had indicated.

  “Faith, he seems nearly as ferocious as my mother says Sir Hugh can be,” Fiona said. “Why did he call him Hugo?”

  “Some people do,” Jenny said. “I do, myself, from time to time.” Then, flinging aside her dignity at the sight of Cath’s tent just ahead, she called, “Peg!”

  By the time they reached it, Peg was outside, her arms wide. “Sakes, mistress, where did ye spring from?” Glancing warily at Fiona, she added, “Ye canna ha’ come back to us!”

  “Only for a moment, Peg. I must get back inside the castle as quickly as possible, because Sir Hugh does not know where I am. But I need you. I brought no tiring woman wi
th me, and we are to sit at the high table tonight.”

  “Did ye bring proper clothing this time, at least?”

  “Aye, sure, I did, but I cannot get into it all by myself, and I’d liefer not have to depend on my husband.”

  “Ye’ll be keeping him then?”

  “I expect so,” Jenny said, smiling.

  Peg grinned. “It be a good match we made for ye, if I do say so m’self.”

  “Will you come now?”

  “Aye, sure,” Peg said. “I must just pack a wee sack for m’self first, if I may. I’ve some things the others gave me, and I’d like to ha’ summat else to wear if I’m to stay in the castle with ye. How long will ye need me?”

  “As long as you can stay,” Jenny said frankly. “Sir Hugh means to go straight to Thornhill from here, so if you would like to come with us…”

  Peg nodded. “Aye, I’d fain do that. I like the folks here, and Cath and Cuddy ha’ been teaching me sleight o’ hand, wi’ scarves and such. But I’d forgotten what it be like to live wi’ Bryan. I vow, mistress, I canna talk to any man for more than a wee minute without having to endure me brother’s scolds afterward.”

  “We must hurry,” Jenny said. She was growing more nervous each minute and more worried about the scolding she might have to endure, herself.

  Cath had come outside, so Jenny gave her a hug, glibly introduced Fiona as her cousin, and told Cath they would look forward to seeing more of her before the tournament was over.

  “Faith, I hope ye mean to sing with us,” Cath said. “It hasna been the same without ye, lass. Nor can Cuddy’s cousin Drogo sing like Hugo can.”

  “Cath,” Jenny said, “Hugo told me Cuddy is English. Is that so?”

  “Aye,” Cath said. “He were born across the line. But he’s lived here longer.”

  “Is Drogo English, too?”

  “Aye, may the devil fly away wi’ the man! I canna talk about him. He’s never around when ye want him, only when ye don’t.”

  “Sithee, we’re going to slip off now, Cath,” Peg said. “Jenny and Hugo be staying inside yon castle, so I’ll be a-helping her there. We’ll see ye anon though.”