His Bonnie Bride (3 page)

"We will be left sorely strapped after the morrow," Lord Eldon sighed after the messenger had left.

"For now, but we can call in debts owed us, Eldon, and recoup nicely. Mayhaps, if that fails, we can appeal for a contribution from all our kin as we have oft aided them in the past."

Little rest was found at Hagaleah that night. By the light of torches and a full moon, the ransom was gathered. The tale of how the ladies from the south had placed the children of both castles into the hands of their ancestral enemies spread to the lowliest peasant. Even the townspeople, so often protected by the men of both houses, contributed. What worries were held about how such a loss of goods and money would affect them over the winter if not replaced were not aired. One look at the lords' faces told them that the men had enough on their minds for the moment.

A few knights suggested a rescue attempt, but the idea never took hold. The paying of ransom was custom and, once agreed to, it would not be honorable to do other than peaceably deliver it. There was also the fear of harming the children. It was galling to hand over so much to their enemy, but there was no other way.

The gray light of dawn found Lord Eldon, Lord Foster and a select group of knights on their way to the enemy camp under a flag of truce. Many a person watched grimly as a large slice of their livelihood was led away; although starvation was not really a specter on the horizon, winter could turn out to be very hard indeed. It was especially hard to think on the fact that their enemies would doubtless be very comfortable.

"They're coming, and it looks as if they have fully met our every demand." Sholto grinned.

Colin grinned back. "Ye and Iain take a few men and start a tally. Their lairdships can come and sit with their bairns if they've a mind to."

Storm's eyes widened as she saw what her father had brought, and she looked at Tavis, who had the role of guard. "This could mean a lean winter for our people. Ye have asked for a lot."

He gave one of her braids a tug. "Consider what we hold, lass. We could have taken it all."

She nodded. " 'Twould be fitting and just if they went and claimed from the lands of their ladies' kin."

There was a touching moment of confusion as Lord Eldon and Lord Foster were reunited with the children. Lord Eldon was slightly unbalanced as his own two offspring plus his two nephews hurled themselves at him. When things quieted down a little both men noticed the state of their eldest children.

"Have you taken to brutalizing children then, MacLagan?" snarled Lord Eldon, causing an immediate rise in tension at the camp.

"Oh no, Papa!" Storm gasped, gripping her father's hand which had gone to his sword. "Robin and I did this to ourselves. Truly we did. These men have been all that is kind. My word on it."

"What did you and Robin fight about this time?" Eldon asked with weary patience.

Knowing she could not tell the truth, Storm put her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers. "Robin called me a sharp-tongued, nasty-tempered hag who would no doubt end up as a wizened, bitter old maid, for no sane man would take me to wife. So I fought him to a draw."

Lord Eldon had a strong feeling she was lying, for she looked far too angelic. His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything Lord Foster drawled, "To a draw you say, Storm?"

"Aye, m'lord." Storm hoped the overly bland faces of all who had heard her lie would not give her away.

"Strange, is it not, that Robin looks in a poorer state than you?"

"Not at all, m'lord. Being the gentleman he is, he was hindered in the fight for, of course, he felt he would not strike me as hard or as oft as I would him. I took unfair advantage of that."

"Ah, aye, of course, I should have recalled that from the last draw between you." Lord Foster did not need the sudden epidemic of averted eyes and coughing to tell him he was being fooled.

"I wish to talk to you, Storm. Excuse us, Foster." Lord Eldon led his eldest child out of earshot, accepted the stool offered him by Sholto MacLagan and then looked at Storm, who stood calmly before him. "While it is clear in my mind and we are idle as they tally up the ransom, I feel I must speak to you. You must cease this brawling, Storm. 'Tis unbecoming. Ladies do not resort to fists. Think of how many enemies you could make. No lad likes to be thrashed by a bit of a girl. That could well be a sore point in the years to come, a shame they long remember. I want you to give me your word that this will cease. Your word, Storm."

"I fear I cannot give it, Papa," Storm said quietly. "My temper is such that I would break my word, and that would grieve me as much as displeasing you. I will promise to try not to get in any more lights, to try to control my temper." She kissed his cheek. "Will that suit, Papa?"

Trying to ignore the amusement of the MacLagans who stood close by, Lord Eldon said, "I gather it must. You are a wretched wee lass whom I should have beaten with far more regularity."

Storm smiled. "I know, Papa. That man said the same thing. Do ye know he fixed my braids as well as Hilda ever did, but he is not married. Now where do you suppose he learned?"

Grinning, Lord Eldon tugged one of her braids. "Impertinent little wench." He stood up and took her by the hand. "Come, we will sit with the others and pray that Hilda ceases her wailing."

Glancing back at Iain, Storm said accusingly, "You have not changed his dressing yet."

Watching Lord Eldon and Storm rejoin the others, Sholto mused, "I cannae say I like seeing how the mon is when we arenae fighting. I'll feel it sorely an I run my sword through him, for now I ken the ones that will be left greeting for him if he dies afield."

" 'Twill nay stop ye, though, will it, lad." Colin understood his son's sentiments well.

"Nay, just grieve me to deprive the bonnie wee lass of her father." Sholto started to move away. "I'll see that the tally is being done right. We left Robbie doing it."

The tally was soon done and the English party prepared to depart. Lord Foster took his daughter up before him and his son behind. Hilda was set in a cart, along with the wounded. Lord Eldon tossed his nephews up with two of his escorts before putting his son on his horse. He then mounted and helped Storm swing up behind him, something she did nimbly.

"It cost me," Lord Eldon said to the MacLagans, "but I thank you for not harming the children."

"We do not make war on bairns, m'lord." Colin suddenly grinned. "Then, too, the lass was all set to skewer me eldest if I didnae give me word not to harm them."

Lord Eldon groaned and held out his hand, into which Storm dutifully placed her knife. "Storm, you should have been a boy." He tucked the knife away.

"I have oft told ye that, Papa," she said with an unrepentant grin as they started off. "Good morrow to ye," she gaily saluted her former captors.

"Lass, you must not be so amiable toward the enemy," Lord Eldon admonished genially.

"Oh, then I gather I should not have tended to the laird's wounds."

"You what?!" her father bellowed, but she laughed and winked at the MacLagans, grinning when Tavis winked back.

Despite the hefty ransom felt by all at the manor and surrounding it, there was much rejoicing when the children were returned. The houses of Foster and Eldon had always done well by their people, protecting them and caring for them as few other lords did. It was a relief to all to see that the direct lines were once again assured. They would continue to have as good a life as one could expect in such troubled times. Hagaleah resounded with cheers as the troupe arrived.

Only two people felt no joy. Mary Eldon watched her husband's return with a set face, and Lord Foster's fiancee slept, having wept herself into exhaustion for fear that her nuptials would be canceled. Once the shock of what she had done had faded, Mary began to feel herself ill-used. She felt her husband lacked understanding, was too harsh in his judgment, for, after all, she was born and bred in Sussex and did not understand the way of life along the border. Now, instead of being allowed to learn from her error, she was to be forever punished for it, her standing at Hagaleah greatly reduced.

Briefly she thought of seducing her husband into a gentler attitude, but soon forgot that. Even before they had wed she had guessed that his children by his first wife, an Irish nobody, were as important to him as the blood in his veins. By putting them at risk she had lost what little place she had managed to grasp in his affections. Now he would treat her as little more than a brood mare, a vessel to bear him more sons to act as insurance, to guarantee that the line would pass to one of his own blood, and she would not even be able to regain her stature through her children, for she did not doubt that he would keep them from her as he had sworn to.

Her gaze settled upon the bright head of the one she considered the root of her troubles, the one who had caused her problems from the start. Jealousy raged through Mary as she thought of how strong a hold Storm had upon the lord of Hagaleah. The bitterness Mary felt over the destruction of her plans to be the grand lady of such a powerful holding was directed at the little girl. Logic and rationality had little to do with her thoughts as Mary swore that someday Storm would pay for her disgrace.

Storm settled down in her bed, unaware of the malevolence directed toward her. She felt content, for she was home again, her father had survived the battle, Hilda was again her nurse and she had had an adventure. Caring little for the woman, Storm had not noticed her new mother's absence from the festivities. She felt no real animosity toward her, but had known from the start that they would never be friends. Therefore, Storm made an effort to have as little to do with her stepmother as possible.

"Hilda?" she called softly before the woman could leave the room.

"What is it, lass?" Hilda moved to the side of the bed, her eyes soft with honest affection.

"Why do we fight the Scots?"

"Ah, well, I think 'tis for the land mostly. They think 'tis theirs and we say 'tis ours. Of course we have fought and raided each other for so long I don't think anyone really knows or even thinks about the why of it. What's made ye ask that, child?"

"They did not seem much different from us so I was not sure why we were enemies."

"Men always have enemies. They would be lost if they had no one to fight. 'Tis the way of it."

"Why have we been told such lies about them, and they are lies, aren't they, Hilda?"

"Aye, most of them. They kill, loot and rape, but then our men do too. I do think they be a bit wilder lot, but be they Scot, Englishman, Frenchman or any other breed, a fighting man is a fighting man. Put a sword in their hand and 'tis time for the women and children to hide." She sat on the bed. "I think 'tis the blood and battle which changes them from the men we recognize to beasts with naught else but killing, firing homes and raping women on their minds. Ye could meet a man who's all courtesy and smiles, a true gentleman, but ere the next day, in a battle with a sword in his hand, his softness fades and, because they are now enemies, he could kill the man he drank with not long ago or toss a lady whose hand he had kissed so genteely but nights past and treat her no better than a tavern wench. 'Tis all a mystery, I fear."

"So, if I had been a woman grown the nice man who did my braid would not have been so nice. He may well have dishonored me instead."

"Aye, lass, I've little doubt of that if for naught else than it would have been a blow at your sire."

"Ah, well." Storm yawned, and her eyes closed. "I shall not see them again, I am certain."

Hilda stood up and stared at the sleeping child. "I hope not, lass. I surely hope not."

Once the English had left the Scots headed home. Colin MacLagan rode in a well padded cart to protect his wound, his sons riding to his side and behind. It had been a successful venture, far more so than he could have hoped, and he was pleased. His gaze fell on a pensive Tavis.

" 'Twas a good battle. Few men lost and much gain to show. I cannae remember one so successful."

"Nor I, Father. The bounty we have gained should ease the greeting a wee bit."

"So why are ye looking so pensive, laddie? Thinking on a wench, are ye?" Colin grinned.

A slow smile touched Tavis's handsome face. "Aye, ye might say that. A wench, and a visit I have sworn myself to making six or eight years hence."

It was warm for a night so early in the spring. A full moon turned the budding greenery to silver. The soft light also strove to outline a group of men moving stealthily with an assortment of animals. Only the keenest of eyes could have spotted them within the shadow of the trees and only the sharpest hearing could have picked up a sound, so quietly did they go about their thievery. Suddenly their leader held up a gloved hand. All movement stopped, and he was joined by two others.

"What is it, Tavis? Why have we stopped?" queried Robbie, the burly master at arms, but then the sound of hoofbeats reached his ears and his hand went to his sword. "We are discovered?"

"Nay. Rest easy. We have merely stumbled upon a tryst." Tavis's smile gleamed briefly. "Take the men on, Angus," he directed a stocky man. "Robbie, you, Jaime, Donald and Iain stay with me. Wait for us by the horses, Angus. I do not plan to be long, but this interests me."

As the others moved on, Iain hissed, "Why do we risk this? Let us go and leave the lovers be. The raid was a masterwork. This pair can mean naught to us." Iain could not understand Tavis's actions.

"They can when the lass has hair of a color I've seen but once, seven years past," Tavis replied softly and, when he edged closer to the clearing where the couple were meeting, Iain was close at his side.

Although fully aware of the folly of her actions, Storm made her way to the stream that wove its way through her father's land. She needed the quiet, the isolation. Not another instant could she have born it within the walls of Hagaleah. Life had become a trial. She needed time to think.

"Oh Lord, Papa, where can ye and Andrew be? Ye are sorely needed at home," she mourned softly as she tossed pebbles into the stream. "The bitch from Sussex is set to ruin us."