Seduced by a Rogue

by Amanda Scott

  “I know that,” Phaeline said, cutting in as swiftly as Mairi had before. “You make me feel all the smaller, because you have never cast my bad behavior in my teeth. But I did behave badly, too often, I fear. Sithee, even your father did call me to account once or twice, although for him to do so was most unusual.”

  “He loved you, madam,” Mairi said, knowing it was true.

  “He did, aye, and I took advantage,” Phaeline said. “I feel so ashamed now that I lied. Sithee, I thought no one would ever know. You were clever to confront Sadie, although I do think she ought to have warned me that you suspected I was not with child, and let me be the one to tell you. I’ll not forgive her for that.”

  The words were at the tip of Mairi’s tongue to admit that had Sadie not told her, she would not have suspected. Instead, she said, “But why did you lie?”

  Phaeline grimaced. “I wish I could cite some noble reason. But the sad truth is just that your father treated me more kindly when he thought I was pregnant than when he knew I was not. Sithee, he wanted a son so badly, and I took advantage of that, too, I fear. I must be a wicked woman,” she added with a sigh.

  “Women often do what they think is necessary to protect themselves or their families or just to keep peace,” Mairi said, remembering her own behavior before her discovery of more open, easier communication with Rob.

  “Mayhap they do,” Phaeline agreed. “But that does not excuse my behavior.”

  “The turning lies about a half mile yonder,” Hugh said sometime later.

  Rob nodded. He knew where they were from his last trip to Annandale. The Chapel Hill a mile northeast of the round tower keep made a good landmark.

  “Do you think your man will find Archie?” he asked Hugh.

  Hugh shrugged. “He will find him. But we won’t wait for them.”

  “I’ll send men on ahead to see what they can see,” Rob said. “Alex will cross at the ford a mile this side of Dunwythie Hall, so we’ll want to keep our eyes open.”

  The two lads he sent ahead returned to report all clear, so avoiding the track, he and Hugh led their men across the densely wooded slope toward the Hall.

  As they neared the wide clearing around the wall that protected the tower keep, screaming men dropped from trees and sprang out of the dense shrubbery, swords and pikes at the ready.

  Except for the horses’ hoofbeats and a jingle of harness, most of Mairi’s party had been silent for some time when Gib muttered urgently, “M’lady!”

  Only then did the sounds he had heard reach Mairi’s own sharp ears. She raised a hand, unconsciously aping her father’s signal to bring his men to a halt.

  The nearer sounds ceased. The distant ones did not. Looking around, she realized that while she had been talking with Phaeline, they had reached their own land southwest of the Chapel Hill. They were less than a mile from the Hall.

  Shifting her gaze to Gerrard, she saw from his narrow-eyed frown that he, too, had heard the distant sounds of clashing metal, faint shouts, and screams.

  Meeting her gaze, he said, “There be a fight yonder, m’lady. The two o’ ye and Gib should ride on east now, past yon hill, till ye reach Dryfe Water. Stay near the water, and dinna come back. I’ll send lads to fetch ye when it’s safe.”

  She did not argue but reined aside to let the men pass. As they did, she saw expressions ranging from wariness to outright grins and lust for battle.

  “I’m thinking we would be safer at Spedlins Tower than Dryfe Water even if, or especially if Old Jardine is helping the Maxwells attack the Hall,” Phaeline said.

  “Nay, madam,” Mairi countered. “Only think what Sir Hugh would say to us if we did that and the Jardines managed to take us hostage.”

  Phaeline grimaced, clearly remembering her stern brother’s more unpleasant ways of making his views plain. “Very well,” she said. “However, if our serving as hostages can be at all useful for those attacking Dunwythie Mains, it must be on your account, not mine. I doubt Hugh would submit to a Maxwell just to save me.”

  Mairi chuckled. “You underrate Sir Hugh’s loyalty to his kinfolk, madam. Moreover, few men would esteem one of their fellows who did naught to protect his sister and his own beloved Jenny’s favorite cousin from harm.”

  A smile touched Phaeline’s lips, but it vanished at once. “You are right again, my dear. The truth is I do not want to ride two or three miles more to Dryfe Water, merely to wait there till called for. Heaven knows how long that would be.”

  “I agree,” Mairi said. “I have meant all along to ride up Chapel Hill, to see what I can from the top. If you are willing, I still want to do that.”

  “Aye, that be a good notion, that,” Gib said approvingly.

  Phaeline nodded, clearly as curious as Mairi was. But what they saw when they reached the hilltop and skirted the stone chapel was carnage below.

  “Gor bless us,” Gib muttered.

  Snatching his sword free of its belt across his back, Rob had dealt swiftly and savagely with his first assailant as Sir Hugh dealt with another. A half dozen of their men were afoot, knocked from their saddles by the attackers. But they all had their swords and dirks out and were fighting for their lives.

  Others, still horsed, fought as fiercely, to the disadvantage of their opponents who, thanks to their places of ambush, were all afoot. So Rob shifted his attention to a second attacker, hoping none of his men would mistake any of Hugh’s for the enemy or vice versa. Members of their party wore red cockades on their helms or caps, rather than clan colors. But a man might easily lose his badge in battle.

  Recognizing one of Alex’s men fighting one of his own lads as he dispatched his second opponent, Rob spurred his horse toward them, shouting, “Hold there, Jock MacGowan and Ian Rigg! Where is the sheriff, Jock?”

  The two men flung up their swords at the sound of his voice and whirled to face him. Both looked shamefaced. The taller one met Rob’s stern gaze and said defensively, “I didna hold wi’ lying in wait for ye, Master Rob. But the sheriff did say that if ye came here, we was to arrest ye and all who rode wi’ ye.”

  “Where is he?” Rob repeated grimly.

  Jock gestured toward the keep. “Yonder, Master Rob, inside. He took a dozen men in wi’ him, and he said he’d tell them at the gate he were expecting to speak wi’ the lady Mairi, that doubtless summat had delayed her.”

  “So ’tis likely he surprised those inside, too, and has been asserting the authority of his office,” Rob said. “Now, listen to me, Jock MacGowan. We have Maxwell men injured who need tending, so this must stop now. I warrant you do not recognize that man yonder,” he added, gesturing toward Hugh. “He is Sir Hugh Douglas, cousin to Archie the Grim. The dowager Lady Douglas is likewise Archie’s cousin and Sir Hugh’s sister. Do you take my meaning?”

  “Aye, sir, I’d ha’ to be ten times a fool no to ken better than to stir Douglas tempers,” Jock MacGowan said, his eyes widening. “Sakes, but we’ll ha’ the whole fearsome clan after us an we do that, I’m thinking.”

  “Not if we can end this now,” Rob said.

  Jock bit his lower lip, looking around. Bleeding bodies lay everywhere.

  Rob kept his eyes on Jock, trying to ignore the dreadful sounds of clashing steel and injured men. When Jock met his gaze again, Rob said quietly, “Where is Abel the hornsman?”

  Nodding decisively then, Jock gestured to someone beyond Rob on his right. As Rob turned, he heard the two-note Maxwell signal to cease fighting.

  In almost the same moment, three sharp notes came from another horn. Looking swiftly toward Sir Hugh, Rob saw that Hugh’s man, Lucas, held the horn. Hugh had lowered his sword. The rest of his men and Rob’s were doing likewise.

  Rob breathed a sigh of relief, although he knew the battle was far from over.

  “You must have more men than these, Jock,” he said. “Where are they?”

  “A few be inside and a score o’ them yonder,” the man said. “Near the road, wi’ Old Jardine’s lot, a-wait
ing for them what may come from the south.”

  “From Annan House?”

  “Aye.”

  Swearing, Rob shouted for Hugh.

  The cessation of battle sounds raised Mairi’s hopes until Phaeline, pointing to the road below, said, “Look! It must be a hundred men! They cannot be ours.”

  “I expect they are the sheriff’s men,” Mairi said. “I see no banner, but with all the talk that Archie the Grim means to take the dales, mayhap the sheriff hoped folks would think that his force, being so large, must be Douglases.”

  “Would they not wonder why they do not fly the Douglas banner?”

  “Sakes, they’d be daft to wave the Douglases’ banner when they dinna be Douglases,” Gib said scornfully.

  “Folks might wonder, but I wager most would keep clear,” Mairi said dryly. “It might explain why we had no warning that the Maxwells were coming.”

  Phaeline nodded. “Gibby is right, too, though,” she said. “If our Archie were to hear that men were falsely waving his banner or otherwise aping Douglases, he’d soon have their heads on pikes at Threave. Why has it grown so quiet below?”

  “I heard horns, so it must be over,” Mairi said. “But I mean to find out.”

  “You mustn’t go down there!” Phaeline exclaimed. “I shan’t let you!”

  “Nay, m’lady,” Gib said. “Ye must no go down. I can go and see for ye.”

  “I’m going,” Mairi said. “This is my land, and they attacked my people. If those riders yonder did not join the fray, the sheriff’s force must—Wait,” she exclaimed, narrowing her eyes. “Is that large black horse not Gerrard’s?”

  “Aye, it is,” Gibby said, his eyes wide. “Sakes, m’lady, they’ve got our men!”

  “Then I must see what has happened at the Hall. But you stay here with the lady Phaeline, Gib.” Giving neither time to argue, Mairi wrenched her horse toward the track downhill to the Hall. But before she reached it, half a dozen armed riders crested the hilltop from the south and quickly surrounded her.

  They all wore helmets, but she recognized Will Jardine when he urged his mount up beside hers and grabbed her horse’s bridle.

  “Let go and get out of my way,” she snapped. “You are on Dunwythie land!”

  “Aye, sure, and don’t I ken that fine?” Will said with a cheeky grin. “One day soon, though, it will all belong to me.”

  “Good sakes, Will Jardine, how do you think that can happen?”

  “Aye, well, let me see now. Dunwythie be dead, and if ye be dead next, the land goes to my Fiona and hence to me,” he said, ticking the statements off on his fingers.

  “That is not going to happen,” she said. “Even Sheriff Maxwell would not be party to such a theft, if only because he wants to seize my estates for Clan Maxwell.”

  Will chuckled. “Nay, then, for he sent word to me da that he were a-coming, sithee. And me da means to make the facts plain to him. He already has your lads, and he’ll soon take anyone else who gets in his way.”

  “Where is Fiona?” Phaeline cried out to him.

  “At home where a good wife belongs,” he snapped.

  “There are many others coming,” Mairi said, striving for calm. “We sent men out to warn all the lairds in Annandale before we came here.”

  “Ye did, aye, and I warrant ye must be a-wondering what became o’ them. Sithee, me da sent his lads out to collect yours, and others to relay the news that ’twas all a mistake and nobbut the sheriff and a few lads paying calls like before.”

  His men were listening and watching him with grins much like his own when Mairi saw Gib slide down the offside of his pony and dive into nearby bushes. To give him time to get safely away, she kicked her horse, making it plunge and pull hard against the bridle Will held, nearly unseating the man.

  He raised his whip menacingly. “Do that again, lass, and see what ye get!”

  “Alex has more men with the Jardines’ lot, lying in wait on the road just south of us for anyone coming from Annan House,” Rob told Hugh. “Gather all these men here, ours as well as your own—”

  Hugh’s eyebrows rose. “Your brother’s men?”

  Rob looked at Jock and Ian Rigg. “My brother’s men will do as I tell them,” he said sternly. “Will they not, Jock MacGowan?”

  “Aye, sir,” Jock said, nodding hastily. Ian Rigg nodded, too.

  “Very well, then,” Hugh said. “What do you—?”

  “Master Rob! Master Rob!”

  Whirling, Rob saw Gibby dashing headlong toward him, heedless of armed men or injured ones. Brambles and twigs clung to his tattered clothes.

  “Them Jardines ha’ her ladyship!” he shouted. “Both o’ their ladyships!”

  Gasping, the lad stumbled, and Rob caught him, set him upright, and looked into his sweat-streaked face. “Where, lad?”

  “Yonder… hill,” Gib said, taking gusty breaths. “I ran all the way down!”

  “How many men?” Rob asked him.

  “Six on the hill, many at the bottom, but methinks lots o’ them be Annan House men the Jardines caught. They got the lads that Captain Gerrard sent out to raise the other lairds, too. Lady Mairi were expecting many to join us, but them wicked Jardines—Sakes, laird, the one a-leading them… her ladyship did call him Will Jardine. He said her land will belong to him when she be dead like her da!”

  “You’ve done well, lad,” Rob said, squeezing Gib’s shoulder as his own fury leaped within him. He was as angry with Mairi for putting herself at risk, and with Phaeline for letting her, as he was with the treacherous Jardines. Ruthlessly controlling his ire, he turned to the two Maxwell men beside him.

  “Ian, look after the men seeing to our injured. Gibby here will help them when he gets his breath. Jock, are our own men on the gates yonder?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Tell them they are to stay right where they are. Then get the rest ready to ride. But first, send Abel the Horn to me.”

  Hugh said, “My lads are ready, so what is our plan?”

  “How many clan calls does your hornsman know?” Rob asked him.

  Hugh grinned. “Any you need. Lucas Horne!” he shouted. “I want you!”

  A dour-looking man with bushy dark eyebrows who had ridden directly behind them from Thornhill strode up to join them, “Aye, sir?” he said to Hugh.

  “Maxwell here wants to know how many clans’ horn calls you can blow.”

  Lucas raised his eyebrows in much the same way that Hugh had earlier. “Happen we be up to old mischief then, eh, Master Hugo?” Looking at Rob, he said, “Who d’ye want we should pretend t’ be, sir?”

  “Annandale clans, Johnstone, Kirkpatrick, whoever will impress the Jardines,” Rob told him. Then, indicating Abel, he added, “This is my hornsman. Teach him one or two as we ride. Then I want the two of you to split off into the woods and make as much noise as you can when we get near the Jardines.”

  “Ye’ll want Douglas, too,” Lucas said. “But Sir Hugh has his own horn and can blow as good as most. Ye be lookin’ to ha’ armies in t’ woods, I’m thinkin’.”

  “That’s it,” Hugh said, but he was frowning. “What if they run, Rob?”

  “I want the Jardines to run.”

  “But they might take the women with them.”

  “Recall that Gib told us there are only six men with them on that hill,” Rob said. “I doubt Will Jardine has the stomach to fratch with two resistant women if the rest of the Jardine men take off. And Mairi will resist. Recall, too, that Old Jardine has hostages to give him trouble. Mairi’s captain and his men are unlikely to stand idle when they know reinforcements are on the way.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Hugh said.

  “Me, too,” Rob said. “Will Jardine better hope so, too. If I’m wrong, and I can get to him, he’ll soon be a dead man.”

  Some time had passed since Mairi had stared back at Will until he lowered his whip. He had told her then that he did not want to hear another word from her, and she had ke
pt silent, wondering what he would do next.

  He had moved them farther east on the hill until they could not see her men, Old Jardine’s, or the road to the Hall.

  Will was evidently waiting for a signal or for someone else to join them, because he had not told her or Phaeline to dismount. He had also sent two of his men to keep watch, one looking south along the road and the other north.

  At last, he said to a third, “Go see if anyone be coming from the Hall yet.”

  As the fellow slid off his horse and tethered it, Mairi said curiously, “How did you stop my men? We heard no battle down there on the road.”

  “Nay, for me da be too clever for that,” Will said. “Sithee, sound travels with such ease as might surprise ye hereabouts, up and down the dale. Me da didna want to warn anyone approaching the Hall that we were there.”

  “That was clever,” she said. “What do you want us to do now?”

  Phaeline said tersely, “I want to know how Fiona is.”

  “She’s good is what she is,” Will said. “Mayhap ye’ll see her, mayhap no.”

  “I certainly will see her! You had no business—”

  Her words broke in a sharp cry, as Will backhanded her across the mouth.

  “Ye’ll be silent unless ye want more o’ the same,” he said. Turning back to Mairi as casually as if he were just continuing their conversation, he said, “As to what ye’ll do, ye’ll first sign over yon Annan House to us, and then—”

  Distant horns interrupted him, first one then another.

  “Bless us!” Will exclaimed. “That be Douglas! And Kirkpatrick, aye!”

  “Johnstone!” one of his men shouted.

  “And Dunwythie,” Mairi exclaimed, astonished when she recognized it.

  Will’s face paled. “They must ha’ defeated the sheriff!” Turning, he shouted across the hill, “What be the old man a-doing?”

  “Trying to leave!” the shout came back. “But them bastards he stopped be fighting our lads now. Do we ride to their aid?”