Captured by a Laird (2 page)

“But what about me and my daughters?” Alison demanded. “What about the Blackadder lands Grandfather thought were so important that I was forced to wed that man? I was a child of thirteen!”

“For God’s sake, Alison, we’re in a fight for control of the crown,” Archie said. “That will not be decided at Blackadder Castle.”

“Please, I need your help.” She clutched Archie’s arm as he started toward the door. “Ye promised to protect us.”

Archie came to an abrupt halt, and the shared memory hung between them like a dead rat.

“Mother did not need to remind me of my duty to my family,” he said between clenched teeth. “And neither do you.”

Unlike the Douglas men, who lauded Archie’s seduction of the queen as a boon for the family, their mother begged him to end the affair. A generation ago, one of her sisters had been the king’s mistress. After it was rumored that the king had fallen so in love that he wished to marry her, all three of their mother’s sisters died mysteriously.

When Archie wed the queen in secret, knowing full well that every other powerful family in Scotland would oppose the marriage, their mother made one demand of her sons. Archie and George promised her, on their father’s grave, that they would protect their four sisters.

“I’ll find ye a new husband as soon as these other matters are settled,” Archie said. “You’ll be safe here until then.”

Another husband was not what Alison asked for and was the last thing she wanted. “What I need are warriors—”

“Who would dare attack you?” Archie said. “Now that we are rid of Albany, I am the man most likely to rule Scotland.”

Before she could argue, Archie pushed past her and disappeared down the circular stone stairwell.

“Don’t fret, Allie,” George said, and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Your most dangerous neighbors were the Hume lairds, and they’re both dead.”

***

David Hume left his horse and warriors a safe distance outside the city walls and proceeded on foot. If the guards were watching for him, they would not expect him to come alone, or so he hoped. Keeping his hood low over his face and his hand on his dirk, he mingled with the men herding cattle through the Cowgate Port to sell in the city’s market.

A month ago, David would have been amused to find himself entering the great city of Edinburgh between two cows. But his humor had been wrung from him. As he walked up West Bow toward the center of the city, the rage that was always with him now swelled until his skin felt too tight.

He paused before entering the High Street and scraped the dung off his boots while he scanned the bustling street for anyone who might attempt to thwart him. Then, keeping watch on the armed men amidst the merchants, well-dressed ladies, beggars, and thieves, he started down the hill in the direction of Holyrood Palace. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Edinburgh Castle, the massive fortress that sat atop the black rock behind him. If he were caught, he would likely grow old in its bleak dungeon. He’d prefer a quick death.

David had walked this very street with his father and uncle. With each step, he tried to imagine how that day might have ended differently. Could he have stopped it? Perhaps, perhaps not. Regardless, he should have tried. From the moment they entered Holyrood Palace, he had sensed the danger. It pricked at the back of his neck and made his hands itch to pull his blade.

The Hume lairds had been guaranteed safe conduct
. Relying on that pledge of honor made in the king’s name, David did not follow his instincts, did not shout to their men to fight their way out. Instead, he watched his father and uncle relinquish their weapons at the palace door, and he did the same.

Never again.

When he saw the stone arches of St. Giles jutting into the High Street, David’s heart beat so hard it hurt. The church was next to the Tolbooth, the prison where the royal guards brought his father and uncle after dragging them from the palace. David’s ears rang again with the shouts and jeers of the crowd that echoed off the buildings that day. As he crossed the square, he did not permit himself to look at the Tolbooth for fear that his rage would spill over and give him away.

He turned into one of the narrow, sloping passageways that cut through the tall buildings on either side of the High Street and found a dark doorway with a direct view of the Tolbooth. Only then did he lift his gaze.

Though he had known what to expect, his stomach churned violently at the sight of the two grisly heads on their pikes. His body shook with a poisonous mix of rage and grief as he stared at what was left of his father. They had made a mockery of the man David had admired all his life. His father’s sternly handsome features were distorted in a grimace that looked like a gruesome grin, his dark gold hair was matted, and flies ate at his bulging eyes.

David’s chest constricted until his breath came in wheezes. He wanted to fight his way into the palace, wielding his sword and ax until he killed every man in sight. But Regent Albany, the man who ordered the execution, was no longer in the palace, or even in Scotland.

In any case, David had too many responsibilities to give in to thoughtless acts that would surely result in his death. He was the new Laird of Wedderburn, and the protection of the entire Hume clan fell to him. When he thought of his younger brothers and how much they needed him, he finally loosened his grip on his dirk, which he’d been holding so tightly that his hand was stiff.

The execution of the two Hume lairds and this humiliating display of their heads made their clan appear weak and vulnerable. That perception put their clan in even greater danger, and so David must change it. This first step toward that end required stealth, not his sword.

He would have his bloody vengeance, but not today.

While he waited for nightfall, he pondered how Regent Albany had managed to prevail over men who were better than him in every way that should matter. The first time Albany captured David’s father and uncle, they persuaded their jailor, a Hamilton, to free them and join the queen’s side. A furious Albany responded by having their wives taken hostage.

David wondered if Albany understood at the time just how clever that move was, or if he had merely taken the women out of spite. In any event, the trap was set.

By then, Albany was planning to return to France, which was more home to him than Scotland. David’s uncle was inclined to wait and seek the women’s release from Albany’s replacement. But David’s father and stepmother had a rare love, and he was tortured by the thought of her suffering in captivity. Because of his weakness for her, he persuaded his brother to accept the regent’s invitation and guarantee of their safety.

“Free my wife! Avenge us!” his father had shouted to David as the guards dragged him away.

His father’s final words were burned into his soul. While he kept his vigil in the doorway, they spun through his head again and again. He wanted to smash his fist into the wall at the thought of his stepmother living amongst strangers when she learned of her husband’s death. Nothing could save the man who held her hostage now. Vengeance was both a debt of honor David owed his father and necessary to restore respect for his clan.

When darkness finally fell on the city, David gave coins to the prostitutes who had gathered nearby and asked them to cause a disturbance. They proved better at keeping their word than the regent. While the women created an impressive commotion, screaming that they had been robbed, David scaled the wall of the Tolbooth.

Gritting his teeth, he jerked his father’s head off the pike and placed it gently in the cloth bag slung over his shoulder. He swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat and forced himself to move quickly. As soon as he had collected his uncle’s head, he dropped to the ground and left the square at a fast pace. He could still hear the prostitutes shouting when he was halfway to the gate.

A short time later, he reached the tavern outside the city walls where his men waited for him. His half-brothers must have been watching the door, for they ran to greet him as soon as he opened it. Will threw his arms around David’s waist, while Robbie, who was four years older, stood by looking embarrassed but relieved. David should admonish Will for his display in front of the men, but he did not have the heart. The lad, who was only ten, had lost his father and missed his mother a great deal.

“I told ye I’d return safe,” David said. “I’ll not let any harm come to ye, and I will bring your mother home.”

Their mother was being held at Dunbar, an impregnable castle protected by a royal garrison. While David did not yet know when or how he would obtain her release, he would do it.

He planned his next moves on the long ride back to Hume territory. In the violent and volatile Border region, you were either feared or preyed upon. David intended to make damned sure he was so feared that no one would ever dare harm his family again.

He would take control of the Hume lands and castles, which had been laid waste and forfeited to the Crown. And then he would take his vengeance on the Blackadders, the scheming liars. While pretending to be allies, the Blackadders had secretly assisted in his stepmother’s capture and then urged Albany to execute his father and uncle. It was a damned shame that the Laird of Blackadder Castle was beyond David’s reach in a new grave, but his rich lands and widow were ripe for the taking.

And the widow was a Douglas, sister to the Earl of Angus himself. For a man intent on establishing a fearsome reputation, that made her an even greater prize.

CHAPTER 2

Alison ran up the stairs praying that her daughters had not escaped their elderly nursemaid again. Relief swept through her when she burst into their bedchamber and saw them. Both girls had inherited her black hair, dark blue eyes, and slight frame, but the similarity ended there.

Six-year-old Margaret, whose braids and gown were in perfect order, was practicing her stitching. God only knew what her older daughter had been up to. Beatrix’s hair was a tangled mess, and the black streaks on her gown looked as if she had crawled across the hearth—which she probably had. Unfortunately, there was no time to change.

“Come quickly,” Alison said, holding her hands out to them. “Ye mustn’t miss your uncles.”

Alison refrained from chastising Beatrix for her filthy gown. Her husband was no longer here to criticize her for being a lax mother, one of her many failings that he had brought to her attention daily. In truth, Beatrix did get into a good deal of mischief. Yet Alison worried far more about her younger daughter. Margaret had a trusting nature and a desire to please.

Alison had been like that once.

“Did Uncle George bring us presents?” Beatrix asked as they started down the stairs.

“Not this time, love.”

As they descended, the rumble of men’s voices filled the circular stairwell and echoed off its stone walls. Alison paused at the bottom of the stairs to survey the hall, which was filled with Douglas warriors who were making quick work of the heaped platters of food that had taken the servants hours to prepare.

A frisson of unease went up her spine when a man with familiar hard gray eyes caught her gaze as if he had been waiting for her. He elbowed the gray-haired man next to him.

What were Patrick Blackadder and his father, the Laird of Tulliallan, doing here?

She gripped her daughters’ hands more tightly as her husband’s two kinsmen approached. Though they were only distant cousins, Patrick looked so much like a younger version of her husband that she found it intolerable to be near him.

“Do not stray from my side,” she told Beatrix, and gave her a hard look to let her know she meant it.

Perhaps she was being unfair, but she mistrusted both father and son.

“Lady Alison, as exquisite as ever,” Patrick said, giving her a thorough perusal that made sweat prickle under her arms.

When he took her hand, she felt as if she were choking. He seemed to take an overly long time pressing his lips to it, but that was probably her imagination. As soon as she could politely do so, she tugged her hand from his grip.

“Your grief over your husband’s untimely death must be terrible, dear lady,” his father said. After planting a wet kiss on her cheek that made her skin crawl, he shifted his beady gaze to her daughters. “How are my favorite lassies?”

When he reached for a ringlet of Margaret’s hair, Alison grabbed his wrist. “Excuse us. My brothers are waiting to see them.”

She hurried her daughters past the two Blackadder men and made her way to the high table.

“Lucky lasses, ye have the Douglas good looks,” George said, and winked at her daughters as they took their places beside him. “Next time, I’ll bring ye silver combs to show off your glossy black hair.”

“Why are Patrick Blackadder and his father here?” Alison whispered as she sat on his other side.

“They have a large number of warriors at their command,” George said, “and we need all the support we can muster.”

“Then take them with ye when ye leave.” The sooner they were out of her home the better.

She glanced down the table at Archie, hoping he would notice her daughters, but he was deep in conversation with some of the men.

“I didn’t have a chance to ask before,” she said, turning back to George. “How do our sisters fare?”

“Sybil is full of piss and vinegar, as always,” he said with a grin. “She’s breaking hearts left and right at Court, though she makes no effort to please anyone.”

Alison smiled. Beatrix took after Sybil, which
mostly
reassured her.

“What of Maggie?” she asked, her thoughts turning to the gentle, kind-hearted sister for whom she had named her younger daughter.

“I hear she’s with child again,” George said in a quiet voice.

“So soon?” Poor Maggie had not yet recovered from losing the last babe. Her husband should have waited. Men could be such selfish creatures.

Before she could ask about their youngest sister, Archie’s voice boomed out over the noise of the hall.

“To your horses!”

Men rose from the tables still guzzling their ale, and some grabbed drumsticks and hunks of bread to take with them.