English, Elizabeth (39 page)

"My
lady!" Becta called again. "Now dinna be going off like that when
your father said ye mustna ride out anymore."

"Father
be damned. And you hold your tongue or I'll make you sorry you didn't."

Had
she overdone it? No, Becta wasn't following anymore. When Alyson turned the
corner she began to run and didn't stop until she reached the bottom of the
stairs leading to the stable yard.

There
she did stop, for she heard the sound she had been dreading—Lord Darnley's
voice. She peered around the corner and saw him vanish into the stables. The
mews stood across the cobbled yard, and to reach them she would have to pass in
full view of the stable door. She darted across the courtyard and inside the
mews, every nerve straining to hear sounds of pursuit.

There
were none. The birds were disturbed by her sudden entrance, though, and baited
on their perches. She could hear them but she couldn't see them, for it was
very dim in here after the brightness of the courtyard.

She
closed her eyes and counted ten, then opened them and nearly sobbed with relief.
There was Robin, standing with a hawk on one outstretched arm, looking at her
disapprovingly.

"My
lady, you mustna come in here like that."

"Robin,"
she said, throwing back the veil. "It's me."

"Ally?
Ally, what are you doing back? Wait," he added as she came forward.
"You're frightening the birds."

"I'm
sorry, but we have to go. Right now. Don't say a word, just follow me."

"I
can't," he said. "I have to feed—"

"Robin,
put the bird down and come with me. Now."

"Well,
all right, but Sir Robert willna be happy..."

He
carefully replaced the falcon on its perch, moving with such deliberate care
that Alyson wanted to scream with impatience.

"Listen
to me," she said. "I can't tell you everything now, but I've come to
take you out of here and we mustn't let anybody see us."

"Is
this a game?"

"In
a way. But it's a very serious game, Robin, and we mustn't be caught. Just stay
with me and no matter what happens, don't say a word."

She
looked out the doorway. There was Maude's mare, standing saddled on the far
side of the yard. But where was Lord Darnley? Still in the stables? There was
no way of knowing, and she couldn't wait to find out.

"Now,
Robin," she said, keeping her voice pitched low. "There is my horse,
do you see her? We are going to ride out of here together. Ready?"

She
put her arm about his shoulders and walked outside. One step, she told herself
firmly. One step and then another, and another, and they were halfway across
the stable yard. We're doing it, she thought, we're going to make it.

And
then she found herself face to face with Sir Robert, who was walking out of the
stables.

The
knight stopped in his tracks and Alyson realized, too late, that she had
forgotten to replace her veil. Sir Robert's eyes moved down to Robin, pressed
close to her side, and then back to her face.

"Sir—"
Robin called excitedly, and Alyson clamped one hand across his mouth, cutting
off his greeting.

Robert
glanced at Maude's horse, then back at Alyson, then whirled back toward the
stable door. "Wait, John, I've forgotten my best book. I think I left it
in my saddlebag—no, you come with me—"

Alyson
began to run, one hand fumbling at her veil, the other pulling Robin by the
arm, and it was exactly like her nightmare. How long could Sir Robert delay his
brother? When they reached the mare Alyson fairly leaped into the saddle.

"Come
on,"
she whispered as Robin's foot slipped from the stirrup.
"Hurry."

She
hauled him into the saddle and concealed him beneath her cloak just as Darnley
walked out the door.

"Maude!"
he roared. "Maude, I forbid you to—"

Alyson
swept past him at a canter, one hand raised in a casual wave, laughing when she
heard him shout for Maude to stop.

It
was Malcolm who saw them coming first. "She's back," he cried, then
looked about fearfully. "Uncle Jemmy," he said in a loud whisper.
"She's coming."

By
the time Alyson rode up they were mounted, Maude held securely in the saddle in
front of Jemmy, and Haddon tied to his horse. Alyson pulled up and threw back
her veil, laughing.

"Any
trouble?" Jemmy asked and she laughed again.

"None
to speak of. My lord, this is Robin."

The
boy sat on the saddle before her, half covered by her cloak. He smiled with a
piercing sweetness and nestled closer to his sister.

"Robin,
it is a great pleasure to finally meet you. But we'd best be getting back
home."

"Oh,
aye," Alyson said. "Let's ride."

And
with that she was away, galloping over the low hills and into Scotland.

When
Malcolm saw his home rising in the distance he felt a thrill of satisfaction.
They'd done it—they'd stolen not only Darnley's daughter but his son and heir
as well. This was a story that would be told for years and years. They might
even make a song of it! His chest swelled with pride, and he turned to Haddon
riding at his side. But the boast died on his lips when he saw how white the
boy was, the freckles standing out sharply on his ashen skin.

"Are
ye tired?" Malcolm asked. "We're nearly there."

Haddon
shook his head, his eyes on the high battlements. "I can't go there."

"Well,
ye haven't much choice, have ye?" Malcolm asked practically. "Come
on—I'm hungry."

"I
can't," Haddon repeated, his voice trembling. "He'll kill me. He said
he would if I ever came back."

"Who
did?"

"That
man—the one with the yellow hair. I think about him all the time," Haddon
added in a whisper. "Sometimes I dream about him, too. He said I mustn't
ever come on his lands again or next time he'd do it—he'd finish me—"

"Oh.
That's Alistair. But he didn't really mean it," Malcolm said, though even
to his own ears his voice lacked conviction. "Ye just bide close to
me," he added. "And to Uncle Jemmy. You'll be all right."

"You
must think me a dreadful coward," Haddon said, flushing.

"After
what ye did, coming here to take the sheep from the Laird's own fold? I've
never even crossed the border before today," he admitted. "They
always said I'm not old enough."

"Me,
too. That's why we did it—to show them. But it all went wrong somehow."

"Oh,
anyone can take a toss," Malcolm said. "I've had dozens."

The
boys looked at each other and smiled suddenly. "Come on," Malcolm
said. "I haven't eaten all day."

They
rode on together and soon Alyson heard them laughing. She smiled and pulled up,
waiting for Jemmy to catch up before they made the final climb. His horse was
weary from its double load, but he still sat straight in the saddle, Maude held
fast before him. Looking at the girl's drooping head, Alyson almost pitied her,
save for the fact that Maude was exactly where she longed to be herself.

She
remembered all too well how it felt to ride with Jemmy, the iron strength of
his arms, the broad shoulder against which she had rested her head, the same
place where Maude's cheek now lay. Maude—not her. It would always be Maude now,
never her, never again...

She
tightened her arms around Robin. She had him, and that was all that mattered.

"We're
going straight to my father," Jemmy said. "Are you ready?"

"Aye."

"Oh,
get on with it!" Maude snapped.

"Of
course, my lady," Jemmy replied sardonically. "Let's get on with it
right now."

They
found the courtyard filled with men, not only Kirallens but men from many clans
with whom they were allied. Jemmy's face grew dark as he saw how quickly
Alistair had moved to rally their forces.

Even
as they dismounted Alistair himself hurried forward. "Jemmy! Where have ye
been, man? We thought—"

He
broke off, his eyes going over the small party standing before him.

"Not
now, Alistair," Jemmy said. "Come on—we're going to see Father."

"But
who—? Don't tell me this is—" his eyes moved past Maude and settled on
Haddon. "Ah, this one I know."

Haddon
stepped closer to Malcolm. "You let him be," Malcolm demanded. "I
told him he'd be safe here."

"Oh,
did ye?" Alistair asked. "And who gave ye the right to—"

"This
is not the place for this," Jemmy said, glancing about the crowded yard. "You
can come with us or not, Alistair."

"Oh,
aye, I'm coming with ye," Alistair said slowly. "For it's clear that
you've gone mad."

***

Kirallen
greeted his son with relief, his eyes lighting with amusement when he realized
what Jemmy had done.

"Well,
young Darnley," he said. "We meet again. Don't worry, lad, you'll be
fine here. Ye look exhausted—no doubt you're hungry, as well. Go on with
Malcolm—but first," he added, suddenly grave. "I want your word you
won't run off tonight."

"You
have it," Haddon answered.

"Good.
Then go along. Sir Conal will escort you."

Conal
grinned. "All right, lads, what first? Sleep or food?"

"Food,"
the boys said together.

"This
way, then."

When
they were gone, Kirallen beckoned Robin closer. "Go on, Rob," Alyson
said. "It's all right."

"Father,"
Jemmy said. "This is Robin Bowden, Alyson's brother. You knew their mother
well."

"Their
mother?" Kirallen's eyes sharpened as he studied Robin's face and reached
out one gnarled hand to touch the boy's golden curls. Then he looked up at
Jemmy.

"Clare
McLaran," Jemmy said.

"No!"

Alistair
strode forward and knelt to look into Robin's face.

"Aye,
Alistair," Jemmy said. "Can you not see it for yourself?"

Kirallen
sighed. "He is the image of his mother. I would that we had known of this
sooner..."

"I'm
sorry for that, my lord," Alyson said.

Alistair
glanced up at her. "Is it so?" he whispered. "Your mother was
truly Clare McLaran?"

Alyson
nodded cautiously.

The
knight rose unsteadily to his feet. "I—I dinna know—" he said.
"Clare was—she was a verra great lady. I—"

He
backed away, shaking his head, then turned and walked from the room.

"I'd
forgotten how taken he was with Clare," Jemmy murmured. "Stephen used
to say it was lucky Alistair was still a bairn, else they'd end with daggers
drawn."

"Aye,"
the Laird agreed. "And I don't think Stephen was entirely jesting."
His reminiscent smile faded and he sighed. "I feared for Alistair when she
was taken, he grieved so hard. We all grieved," he added, glancing at Alyson.
"I'd like to hear the whole tale, Mistress, after you've had a chance to
rest. Then we'll see you back to Emma."

He
patted her hand. "I can only imagine the joy this will bring to her. We'll
speak more of it tomorrow. Jemmy," he added. "Would you see Ralston
for me? Have him see Lady Maude to her chamber. Oh, and ask him find a chamber
in the west wing for Mistress Bowden and her brother."

Jemmy
wondered at the intricacy of his father's mind that even now he would attend to
so minor a matter. Then he understood that this had been no chance remark, but
a message meant for his ears alone.

The
west wing was halfway between the servant's quarters—where Lord Darnley's
kitchen wench might sleep— and the place to which Emma McLaran's granddaughter
was entitled. Should Alyson visit again with her clan, she'd no doubt be put in
the south wing as Emma always was. But for now, with her status still
uncertain, the west wing would do.

Kirallen
looked at Maude and then at Alyson. They were so alike—yet different as the
winter and the spring. He'd see that the girl went back to Emma at once, before
any further damage could be done. But from Jemmy's angry expression, he
suspected it was already too late. He half expected some protest but when Jemmy
simply nodded, he sighed with relief. It was a hard blow, yes, but apparently
Jemmy was made of sterner stuff than he'd imagined. Once the girl was gone he
would forget her.

When
Ralston had been found and instructed, Alyson turned to Jemmy.

"Thank
you, my lord," she said formally, dropping him a curtsey and pulling her
small brother forward into a bow.

"You
are welcome."

"This
way," Ralston said. Alyson and Robin followed the chamberlain down the
long corridor. Jemmy suddenly realized that this could well be the last he'd
see of her. When she reached the corner she seemed to hesitate, then walked on
without looking back.