Border Storm (40 page)

“Look out, Hugh!” she cried.

At the same moment, Loder lunged and Hugh leapt back as he parried. His rear foot slipped when it touched the wet stones, and as he struggled to retain his balance, Loder darted in for the kill.

Laurie screamed and raised the pistol, pulling the trigger. The explosion was louder than she had expected, and with amazing force, the pistol flew up, twisted out of her hand, and crashed to the floor. It all happened quickly but diverted her attention from the men. She looked back to see both of them lying on the floor.

As she stepped forward with a cry, terrified that both were dead, she saw that both were still breathing.

Hugh sat up, sword in hand. He touched its point against Loder’s throat.

“We’re done, Loder,” he said. “You’ve committed enough crimes to assure your hanging, and I’ve a mind to see you swing from the gallows. Get up now, and do it slowly. Lass, are you all right? I feared that you had shot yourself.”

“I meant to shoot
him,”
Laurie said. “Are you not going to kill him?”

“We’ll hang him instead,” Hugh said, adding when Loder twisted to get his legs under him again, “Move slowly, Loder. Don’t do anything foolhardy.”

Hearing only silence outside, Laurie said, “Listen.”

Automatically, he glanced toward the two high windows that apparently overlooked the yard. “The fighting’s stopped,” he said.

She nodded, and just then, Loder moved.

“Hugh, look out!”

Loder had uncoiled, and now he sprang at Hugh with a dagger murderously outstretched, which his clothing had concealed.

Hugh reacted instantly, parrying the dagger thrust with a deft upward arc of his sword and then whipping his point back to center.

Loder launched himself at Hugh. As though he knew that he had lost, he did not even try to avoid the sword and, to Laurie’s shock, impaled himself upon it.

Hugh snatched it free as the man fell, then knelt swiftly at his side.

Loder was still breathing, but his breath came in ragged gasps, and he did not try to speak. Blood trickled from his mouth, and the harsh gasping ceased.

Laurie said quietly, “Is he dead?”

“Aye, lass, and ’tis sorry I am for it, too. I wanted to see the bastard hang for all he’s done. I wanted him to see the gallows and the hangman, and to make his penance before God. He got off too easily.”

“It is just as well,” said a voice from the doorway.

They turned, and Laurie saw a slim man of ordinary height standing at the threshold with a number of men looking over his shoulder.

Meggie’s Andrew slipped under his arm, his pistol at the ready, his eyes wide and worried until his gaze found Laurie and Hugh. He lowered the pistol and glanced up at the man beside him.

“They’re safe, laird.”

“Aye, so it seems,” the man said.

Hugh got to his feet with a wry grimace. “I never thought I’d be so glad to see you, Buccleuch. You’ve won the day, I trust.”

“Faith, did you think I would not, against such scrofulous vermin?”

“You must forgive me. I did not know that you had returned from Berwick.”

“Then I’ll excuse your lack of faith this time,” the Laird of Buccleuch said magnanimously. “Quin’s outside with Hob the Mouse and young Gil Scott, clearing away the mess. Unfortunately, we’ve had to take a few prisoners. Always a damned nuisance, prisoners are.”

“At this point, I’m inclined to sympathize with the prisoners,” Hugh said, reaching to heft a pitcher that sat on the nearest long table. Apparently finding its weight satisfactory, he raised it to his lips and drank thirstily.

“We are very grateful to see you, sir,” Laurie said solemnly to Buccleuch, “but the news is not good, I’m afraid. My sister, May, lies dead on the floor between those tables yonder. She was killed saving Sir Hugh.”

“Then she is a heroine, my lady,” Buccleuch said. “I will see that she is well tended, and that her body is safely escorted to Aylewood for proper burial.”

“Thank you.”

The words seemed sadly inadequate when Buccleuch’s timely arrival had undoubtedly saved their lives, but she could think of nothing more to say. Her emotions seemed to have frozen, and she hoped that they would remain so and not overcome her before such an audience. Fearing that movement or words would stir them to life, she dared not look at May’s body or at anyone else. She did not want to cry in front of so many men. Janet the Bold would not cry.

She stared at the floor, holding herself in, waiting for the men to do whatever needed doing before they could leave. In an oddly distant way, she heard Buccleuch issuing orders, heard others respond to his commands, and heard the shuffle of feet and distant shouts from the yard. She was not aware of movement close to her, and so it was a shock when a large, warm hand grasped one shoulder.

“You come with me now, lassie,” Sir Hugh said with unusual gentleness. “You need food and drink.”

“I… I couldn’t.”

With more firmness, he said, “You can and you will unless you want to ride before me all the way back to Brackengill.”

Even that did not seem so terrible, except for one thing. “I must go to Aylewood. I must go home with May.”

“No, lass. You’re in no shape to ride all the way to Aylewood tonight. I’ll take you there myself after you’ve rested. Buccleuch has already promised me safe passage to do that. Now, do you want beef or just some bread and ale? I’ll slice the beef myself, although it won’t be as good as what you last offered to me.”

She recognized the comment as an attempt at humor, but she could not seem to make herself smile. When she dared let herself try to think, her treacherous mind showed her only the image of May’s soft body with a sword stuck in it.

Hugh gave her shoulder a shake, startling her. “It is useless to dwell on it, Laura,” he said sternly. “She’s gone, and letting yourself drift into a world of dark clouds and mist will not bring her back. You will grieve for her. ’Tis right and proper that you do. She was your sister, and you loved each other. But this is not the moment for it, lass. We must get you home first.”

Tears welled into her eyes, and she said the first words that came to mind. “You’re as bad as the rest! She gave her life to save yours, and all you can do is get angry because I fail to act the way you want me to.”

In answer, he pulled her hard against him and wrapped his strong arms around her, and when he did, she gave way to her tears, no longer caring if every man with Buccleuch came inside to gape at her. She was conscious only of the man who held her.

His hard embrace warmed and comforted her, as all the tension, fears, and grief of the past thirty hours unleashed themselves. He did not say a word, not so much as “there, there,” but he was with her, and she believed he understood what she was feeling. When the storm of weeping passed, he continued to hold her until she stirred to free herself.

“Now you will eat,” he said matter-of-factly.

She surprised herself by smiling.

“That’s better,” he said.

“I still don’t think I can eat,” she said, wiping a sleeve across her eyes.

“Loder’s tables don’t run to finger bowls,” he said, “but one of these pitchers is bound to hold water. You can wash your face whilst I get us some food.”

She looked hastily around men, certain that she would see any number of silent men staring at her.

The hall was empty. Both Loder’s body and May’s were gone.

“Where did everyone go?”

“They are outside, dealing with prisoners and such. Here.” He handed her a wet towel. “Use this. You don’t want to show that face to them.”

“Thank you.” She did as he bade her, then blew her nose. She still felt limp and wrung out, but the mists had receded, and she was able to think again.

“I really should go with them to Aylewood,” she said.

“No.”

She sighed, knowing from his tone that she could say nothing that would change his mind. She knew, too, that if he forbade her going, not even Buccleuch would attempt to overrule him.

When Hugh handed her bread and ale, she ate obediently, deciding that the quickest way to get to Aylewood in time to attend May’s funeral would be to rest and regain her strength. The bread was dry and tasteless, but she got it down, and by the time Buccleuch and Sir Quinton joined them, she felt much better.

So Graeme is back to the wood o’ Tore,

And he’s Mild the giant, as he killd the boar.

A
S THEY RODE AWAY
from Loder’s tower, Buccleuch said to Laurie, “We’ll see that your sister goes gently home, lass. I’m thinking your father will be relieved to have certain questions laid to rest.”

Laurie said quietly, “Had he questions, sir? He did not confide in me.”

“I wrote him when I learned what happened at the wardens’ meeting,” Buccleuch said. “I was curious to know what had become of the daughter he had guaranteed to present there. I was perhaps a little forceful in my phrasing.”

No one commented, but Laurie glanced at him and saw a twinkle. It made her wonder why anyone ever compared him to Thomas Scrope. Even fresh out of prison, Buccleuch’s power was undeniable. It charged the air around him in a way that made Scrope seem insignificant. The twinkle helped her understand why even his enemies treated him well.

“What did my father reply?” she asked.

“That he did not know where May was but suspected that she might have run away to her English kinsmen. He said they were her mother’s people, and I suspect that he believed Lady Halliot might have helped spirit the lass away.”

“I suspected the same,” Laurie admitted.

“Aye, well, you know the woman. Perhaps she is capable of such things, but we now know that Loder bribed the maidservant and mayhap one of the castle guards as well. Then he snatched the poor lass right out of her bed.”

A silence fell, and they rode without speaking for a time before Hugh said, “I’ve heard a rumor, sir, that you pledged to impose peace in the Borders. Is it too much to hope that the rumor is true?”

“You probably had that from Gil Scott of Hawkburne,” Buccleuch said with a grin. “His father approves, but Gil’s dead set against it. Thinks the area’s whole economy depends on raiding. But I think it’s time, and so I informed your queen.”

“Doubtless, Her Majesty will be grateful,” Hugh said.

Laurie detected no sarcasm in his tone, but she suspected that he did not believe Buccleuch would do as he said. “If you say that you will do it, you will, sir,” she said, “but will Queen Elizabeth not think that she forced you to it?”

“She can think what she likes,” Buccleuch said. “That woman still wants me to go to London to answer for what she chooses to call my outrageous crimes, and I’ll have to go, I expect. Jamie will insist on it if she plagues him enough, so I mean to show her first that I can wield my power to her benefit and to that of all Britain.”

“I’m willing to help by lifting my siege, since it’s clear that most of the damage was Loder’s and not the doing of Liddesdale men,” Hugh said. “But I should warn you, sir, Scrope will do all he can to undermine your efforts.”

“That pestilential malt worm! I’ll shake his bones right out of his garments if he gets in my way. He is a disease that should be cut away.”

“He ought to hang,” Laurie said flatly. “He is as much to blame as Loder for May’s death. He must have known that Loder had her.”

“Aye, perhaps,” Buccleuch said, “but I’ll not demand his arrest, lass, for we cannot control who will succeed him. We’ll render him powerless instead.”

“But how?”

“Ah, well, I’ve a fair relationship with the other two English wardens now,” he replied, shooting a grin at Hugh. “With Jamie’s help, I think we can persuade Elizabeth to urge that scrofulous want-wit to turn most of his authority over to his deputies and to the other wardens.”

“Scrope would never agree,” Hugh said.

“I think we can persuade him,” Buccleuch said, twinkling.

It was nearly dark by the time Hugh and Laurie returned to Brackengill, and when it loomed before her, much as it had the first time she saw it, Laurie realized how much she had come to love the castle. Every stick and stone of it seemed to welcome her. She even looked forward to seeing Lady Marjory.

Hugh left her in the inner bailey, murmuring that he would see to the horses. His face was drawn and his jaw clenched. She thought he looked tired.

She went inside alone to find the great hall unoccupied. Small fires crackled cheerfully in both fireplaces.

Wondering where Lady Marjory was, Laurie went in search of her, running her to earth in her bedchamber, dozing with a tambour frame in hand.

“Oh, thank heaven, my child,” Lady Marjory exclaimed, casting aside the embroidery. “I have not known what to think. Where, oh, where have you been all this time? That Geordie told me someone told him that you were with Sir Hugh, but I knew that could not be so.”

“But I have been, madam. We have been captives.”

“Captives!” Lady Marjory clutched her breast.

“Yes, a henchman of Thomas Scrope’s captured us whilst we were returning from Scotland to Brackengill.”

“May God have mercy on all our souls! Scotland! Captured! But all this time? Surely, someone should have sent word to Brackengill, demanding a ransom or whatever it is that they do under such circumstances.”

Laurie bit her lower lip, realizing that Lady Marjory had not known where she was for two full days. “It is a long story,” she said at last. “I went in search of Hugh, you see, and—”

“Sir Hugh, my dear, even with me,” Lady Marjory interjected.

“I went looking for him, and when I found him, he decided to bring me back to Brackengill himself. We had only just reached the English side of the line, though, when we were set upon and taken prisoner.”

Lady Marjory clutched her bosom again. “Mercy!” she exclaimed. “And you believe that was the doing of Thomas Scrope? But that cannot be, for he is loyal to the Queen and serves as her warden here, which makes him nearly as powerful as the Queen, himself, so why would he capture one of his own loyal henchmen?”

“It was not Scrope who captured us, madam. It was Martin Loder.”