Captured by a Laird (3 page)

“God preserve me. Can Archie not give the men time to eat?” she said under breath. She had hoped for more time to persuade him.

With her daughters in tow, Alison crossed the hall to the arched doorway to bid goodbye to the Douglas men.

“Lady Alison,” each Douglas warrior said, and dipped his head to her and her daughters as they filed out. Her father and grandfather had required their men to show respect to the females of the family—unlike her husband, who had ridiculed her in front of the household at every opportunity.

Her brothers were the last of the Douglas men to leave. At her signal, her daughters curtsied to them, looking so sweet that they made Alison smile despite her worries. How could Archie look into their faces and not want to move heaven and earth to protect them?

“Don’t forget us,” Alison said as Archie bent to kiss her cheek.

“Next time we’ll speak more about a new husband for ye,” he said.

Before she had a chance to tell him she was never marrying again, he swept out the door without sparing a word or a glance for her daughters.

“If anyone troubles ye, send word to us,” George said, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “But don’t fret, Allie, the fight will be in Edinburgh. Nothing will happen here.”

***

Two months later…

David had returned to Hume Castle at dawn and crawled into bed after another successful night raid. He felt as if his head had barely hit the pillow when he was awakened by shouts from the courtyard. Judging from the sounds, this was no attack, so he was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep. Instead, he dragged himself out of bed to see what trouble was brewing among his men.

“By the saints,” he hissed when he looked out the arrow-slit window.

As he suspected, a fight had broken out among the younger warriors. The older men knew better. What he did not expect to see was his brother Robbie at the center of the trouble, pummeling one of the others as if he meant to kill him.

David pulled on his breeks, grabbed his sword, and headed down the stairs of the tower.

The circle of men who were shouting encouragement went silent and stepped back when they saw David crossing the courtyard. The two combatants, however, were oblivious to his presence. At least, Robbie was. His opponent was on the ground and attempting to protect his face from Robbie’s blows.

David grabbed the back of Robbie’s tunic and jerked him off his feet. His brother was so blind with fury he nearly made the mistake of taking a swing at David before he realized who was holding him. Once Robbie appeared to have regained a thread of sense, David let his feet rest on the ground, but he did not release him.

At his nod, a couple of the men helped Robbie’s opponent to his feet. It was Harold, a mouthy young man three years older and thirty pounds heavier than Robbie.

“Have one of the women see to that cut on your lip,” David told him. “I’ll speak to ye later about your part in this.”

One of the older men should have put a stop to the fight as soon as it started, but they were hesitant to lay hands on Robbie because he was David’s brother. That was probably wise.

“Get back to your duties,” David told the others, then he turned his brother toward the keep. “Inside. Now.”

“But Harold was—”

“Not in front of the men,” David ground out between his teeth.

After the doors of the keep closed behind them, Robbie attempted to shrug him off. David gave him a shake before releasing him, then the two of them climbed the stairs and entered David’s chamber in silence.

“I won’t have ye violate my orders,” David said, planting his hands on his hips. “We fight our enemies, not our own men.”

“I had no choice,” Robbie said, glaring at him. “Harold was making jests about Will.”

“What did he say?” David asked, keeping his voice calm. Anger flared in his veins, but unlike Robbie’s wild fury, his was cold and controlled. And far more dangerous.

“Harold said we should put Will in a gown and braid his hair,” Robbie said. “I couldn’t let him say that, even if it’s true.”

Will’s mother had coddled him, and the lad was too soft-hearted for his own good. Still, David would not tolerate anyone ridiculing his brother.

“Just look at him!” Robbie said, pointing out the window.

When David joined Robbie at the window, he saw their younger brother kissing and hugging a pup like a long-lost lover.
Jesu.

“Ye must do something about him,” Robbie said. “He’s humiliating.”

David rubbed his forehead. Will was so different from him that it was difficult to know what to do. “He’s young, and he misses your mother.”

“I miss her too,” Robbie said in a fierce voice. “’Tis no excuse for behaving like a wee lass.”

“Will has a big heart. He’ll learn to hide it as he grows older.” David hoped for Will’s sake that it was true. “He’ll be a fine warrior one day, for he’s utterly fearless.”

“He’s fearless because he’s blind to everything around him,” Robbie said.

David sighed inwardly because what Robbie said was true, and such blindness was dangerous. He wished he could let Will be a child longer, but it was his duty to prepare his brother for manhood. To survive in the Borders, a man must keep his wits about him and his fighting skills sharp. And, above all, he must be respected.

“’Tis my fault. I should have seen this sooner.” David had not asked for the responsibility of raising his brothers, but he accepted that it was his. That duty had fallen to him long before his father died, though he could not say how or exactly when it had happened.

“No one dares make jests about Will within your hearing,” Robbie said, “but Harold isn’t the only one who does it.”

“I will handle this—not you,” David said, pinning him with a look. “I won’t have fighting among my men.”

“But—”

“I expect everyone,
without exception
, to follow my orders,” David said. “Disobey me again, and I’ll not go easy on ye. Understand?”

“Aye,” Robbie said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “No more fighting our own men.”

“I’m glad that’s settled,” David said, folding his arms. “Any other orders you’re unclear about?”

“Nay, but if I’m saving my fighting skills for our enemies, why won’t ye take me on a raid?” Robbie asked. “You were raiding at my age.”

God grant him patience. He understood Robbie wanting to go, but raids were dangerous and unpredictable. He would not risk his brother’s life raiding, but he was glad to have a different reason to give him.

“The raids have served their purpose,” he said.

David had more cattle than he knew what to do with. More importantly, men on both sides of the border feared his name, and no one dared cross Hume territory without his permission.

“’Tis time to take a bigger prize than cattle,” David said, staring out the window at the hills beyond his walls.

“Blackadder Castle?” Robbie asked.

David smiled at his brother’s quickness. “Aye.”

“We’ll make the Blackadders pay for the wrongs they’ve done to us,” Robbie said.

“I must make my move before someone else does,” David said. “A castle in the care of a young widow is like low-hanging fruit. All the Border lairds have their eyes on it.”

From what he’d heard, the widow was meek. She would not hold out long.

“Before they know it,” Robbie said, “you’ll take Blackadder Castle.”

And the widow too.
David did not say the words aloud. It was not yet time to share that part of his plan with his brother.

But the widow was the key.

CHAPTER 3

Alison sat alone at the high table, her bowl of stew gone cold, long after she dismissed her children to play. After ten years of marriage, she was finally free. But free to be whom? She did not know who she was anymore.

She could barely remember the arrogant and sometimes thoughtless girl she had been at thirteen when she wed. As the granddaughter of two powerful clan chieftains, she had been raised to think rather much of herself. Yet even with her faults, Alison liked that girl far better than who she had become as Blackadder’s wife—a groveling woman with poison in her heart.

Burning his bed had made her feel like that girl again. And she liked that feeling, however fleeting.

When she became Blackadder’s third wife, he was forty, twenty-seven years her senior, and she was young enough for him to shape her into the sort of woman he wanted. She had heard him say it often enough to his friends.

Women are like dogs and horses. Best to get them young when they’re easy to train.

Blackadder constantly undermined her authority by ridiculing her in front of the household. He overruled decisions she made that were typically in the purview of the mistress of the castle, then criticized her because the household did not run smoothly.

She intended to change all that, but it was not proving easy. The servants were long accustomed to ignoring her requests without suffering any consequence, and the Blackadder warriors were worse. They had followed her order to carry her husband’s bed into the courtyard only because they had thought her mad with grief and madness frightened them.

The castle was hers now—or rather her daughters’—and she was determined to take charge of her household.

She took another bite of the tasteless stew and decided there was no better time than the present. Before she lost her courage, she headed downstairs to the kitchens.

“The meals have been lacking.” Alison confronted the cook, a thin, hollow-cheeked man with a grizzly beard and a surly expression. “There was no meat again today except for a bit of rabbit in the soup.”

“I can’t cook what I don’t have, m’lady,” he said. “I butchered the last of our pigs when your Douglas kin descended upon us, and we have no more.”

She suspected that the Blackadder men who deserted the castle had robbed them of their stores. This problem, at least, was easily resolved.

“Then we must replenish our supplies,” Alison said, folding her arms. “Until we have more pork, we shall eat beef.”

She was proud of herself for standing up to him.

“The Humes have raided our cattle,” the cook said. “We’ve not a one left.”

“How could that happen?” she asked. “And why did no one tell me?”

“We’ve even eaten the hens,” he continued, ignoring her questions, “so we’ve no eggs either.”

“Then we’ll send one of the kitchen maids to the market in the village to buy more.”

“I already did,” he said. “She returned empty-handed.”

Alison was stunned. “The kitchen maid stole the coins?”

“’Tis no what ye think, m’lady,” a young girl who was cleaning pots in the corner spoke up. “The Humes are stopping everyone on the road between here and the village and taking what they have.”

“I thought the Hume lairds were dead,” Alison said. “My brother told me they were executed for treason.”

“Aye, but the son of one of them is the new Laird of Wedderburn,” the cook said. “Everyone’s talking about him, saying he’s worse than his father and uncle put together.”

“Worse? That is not possible,” she said, her voice falling to a whisper.

There had been terrible rumors, too horrible to believe, about what the Humes had done after the Scottish defeat at the Battle of Flodden. Some claimed they saw the Hume warriors robbing from the bodies of their fellow Scots before leaving the field. The most fantastic rumor was that the king survived the battle and the Humes stole his broken body and hid him away. There were whispers that the king was still alive, albeit senseless. None of the men vying for power wished this particular tale to be true and repeating it was dangerous.

“The new Hume laird braved two hundred royal guards alone,” the cook said, “and succeeded in removing his father’s and uncle’s heads from the Tolbooth in Edinburgh.”

“Alone?” She put her hand to her chest. “Surely he would have been caught.”

“They say the Devil carried him into the city in a black, swirling mist,” the kitchen maid said, her words sending a chill up the back of Alison’s neck. “That’s why no one saw him until the deed was done.”

“They call him the Beast of Wedderburn now,” the cook said.

This evil man, this Beast, was blocking the roads to her castle and threatening her household.

“How much food do we have left?” Her throat felt so tight she could hardly get the question out.

“Not much,” the cook said, shaking his head.

Alison leaned against the kitchen work table to steady herself as she imagined a huge warrior in black armor, with flames where his eyes should be, stalking toward her out of a swirling black mist.

***

My dearest brothers,

David Hume, the new Laird of Wedderburn, has made clear his intention to take Blackadder Castle. For a fortnight, he has blocked the roads leading to the castle.

Alison heard her enemy’s name in the murmurs and whispers of the men in the hall as she sat at the head table writing the message to her brothers. She wondered how it could be that no goods could pass the roads to reach Blackadder Castle, and yet news of Wedderburn’s most recent exploits filled her home. Even in the Borders, where violence and thievery were the rule, this David Hume had quickly become infamous.

I am certain he is preparing to lay siege to the castle and starve us out. Our supplies are already dangerously low. We cannot last long.

I beg you, come quickly.

Your loving sister,

A

Alison folded the parchment, dripped the melted wax, and affixed her personal seal. Her grandfather, the earl, was once imprisoned by the king because a loose-lipped scribe shared the content of a sensitive message. Thanks to that lesson, the earl insisted that all his grandchildren learn to write so they could communicate with each other without incurring that risk.

She stood to address the men who had gathered in the hall for the meager noon meal.

“The Laird of Wedderburn and his men cannot cover every mile around us,” she said, and held out the sealed parchment. “One of ye must slip past the Humes and deliver this message to my brothers.”