Tamed by a Laird (13 page)

Hugh had no idea what the usual way was and no wish to meet the Sheriff of Dumfries in troubadour’s guise. But as certain
as he was that he would no longer be with them when they reached Dumfries, he agreed without hesitation.

Jenny kept an eye on Sir Hugh, wondering who had come with him. She had no doubt that he had come to find her. But surely,
neither Phaeline nor Dunwythie would expect her to travel alone with a man who was not yet any kin to her, with only Peg to
protect her. He had to have brought someone else with him.

A chill shot up her spine at the thought that he might have brought Reid.

The men-at-arms and their leaders had begun eating shortly after everyone gathered in the hall for the midday meal. The other
minstrels performed throughout, eating as they found time, but Jenny had not felt like eating before her performance.

Now, taking a seat beside Peg, she felt ravenous.

A few others were eating at the far end of the table but paid no heed to the two young women. Staring past them at the Joculator
and Sir Hugh, who were still talking, Peg muttered, “Sakes, but isna that—”

“Aye, it is,” Jenny cut in hastily. “But do not speak his name here. I cannot think how he got in or why he has come for me.
I am naught to him, Peg, so he cannot care that I have come away. But he may not have come alone.”

“D’ye think he’ll tell the Joculator and all them others who ye be?”

Jenny had given the question some thought. “I don’t think he will,” she said as she helped herself from a platter of sliced
lamb.

It seemed odd not to have gillies hovering or scurrying to serve her, but she rather liked knowing she need not wait for anyone.

When she had taken what she wanted, she said, “They won’t want any fuss, Peg, because anyone who did not know me well would
think I had run away.”

“Aye, sure, but ye did,” Peg said, crumbling a roll.

“Nay, for I’m going back again soon. Are you going to eat that roll?”

“I’ve had plenty,” Peg said, handing it to her. “I had nowt else to do but eat, for I’m nae performer. But Bryan says I can
help wi’ the mending. They’re always tearing things, he says, especially them as wears motley. Did ye ken they collect scraps
o’ fabric wherever they go, to patch whatever wears out? Gawkus told me. And ye did so run away,” she added flatly.

Jenny shook her head. “I just decided to do something I wanted to do, and I’ll go back when I’ve had my adventure. I admit
that I did not think it all through, though, especially consequences that you might face. I seized an opportunity, Peg, knowing
well that it might never come again. Sithee, once a woman is married—”

“Aye,” Peg said morosely. “I ken fine that your man tells ye what ye should think and how ye should act, and when ye dinna
do it, he clouts ye one, or worse.”

Jenny smiled. “Is that how it is in your family? I doubt that my father ever clouted my mother, because he never clouted me.
In fact, he never raised his voice. Even his displeasure was quiet, but it was no less powerful for being so.”

“Aye, well, I’d liefer me own da were the quiet sort. He rages about like a dafty and me mam cowers when he’s on a tear. So
do we all, come to that. Bryan’s no much like him but does as he pleases all the same.”

“I just hope I haven’t got you into grievous trouble.”

“I’ll get by, but look out,” Peg said, lowering her voice. “He’s a-coming.”

Although she kept her eyes on her food, Jenny knew Peg was not still talking about Bryan. Prickles shot up her spine, growing
stronger with each heartbeat, as if the sensation strengthened with every step Sir Hugh took toward her.

“Good day to ye,” he said, taking a seat on the bench opposite them. “Folks do call me Hugo, and your leader has agreed to
let me travel with ye to Dumfries.”

Although Jenny was not looking directly at Peg, she could see her jaw drop. Afraid Peg might say something that would land
them both in the suds, Jenny raised the eyebrows Peg had drawn on her and said softly, “Hugo?”

“Aye,” he said with a slight smile, reaching to help himself from the platter of lamb. “Ye’ve a fine voice, lass. ’Twas a
pleasure to sing with ye.”

Matching her accent to his, she said, “Thank ye, sir. Your opinion does gratify me, for ye sing much better than I do.”

“Nay, our voices differ, but they complement each other well, I think.”

Peg wriggled on the bench. “Whatever are ye—?”

“Not now, Peg,” Jenny said. “The troubadour must eat. We can talk later.”

He said, “I was thinking, mistress, that if we walk together for at time when we leave here, mayhap we could compile a list
of songs we both enjoy singing. Your leader will doubtless—”

“We call him the Joculator,” Peg interjected.

Sir Hugh shifted his gaze to her, and Jenny nearly spoke up to explain that she had ordered Peg not to use titles or other
formal means of address.

But he smiled at Peg and said mildly, “I thank ye for telling me, lass. The man didna say how I should call him.”

“As to that,” Jenny said. “
I
dinna ken what he prefers. I simply call him ‘sir,’ as I do most gentlemen.”

“Is he a gentleman then?” he asked, turning back to her.

Meeting his gaze, she said, “I dinna ken who he is or where he is from. I ken only that he was kind to us and gave us shelter.
And he has a charming smile.”

“You ought not to have required shelter,” he said quietly, holding her gaze.

“I think ye should let me be the best judge of that,” she replied without a blink. “I was grateful for his kindness and feel
much in his debt.”

Something hardened in his expression that sent the prickles up her spine again, but she did not look away.

Hugh forced himself to take a deep breath. He was not temperamental by nature, but when something did arouse his temper, the
sensation he felt was sometimes so strong that he had to exert himself considerably to contain it.

Her mild look of inquiry had reawakened the annoyance he’d felt at having to search for her, and something more. The lass
clearly had no idea of the danger in which she might have placed herself with her impulsive escapade.

He felt a strong urge to explain it to her in terms she could not ignore.

However, his quiet reproof ought to have produced a look of remorse, even alarm. Instead, she was looking at him as if
she
required an explanation from
him
, rather than the reverse.

Realizing that he could accomplish little until they were beyond the confines of Lochmaben, he applied himself to his food
and said no more.

Shortly afterward, one of the minstrels came to say that the Joculator wanted them all to go outside and be sure their things
were ready to load into the boats.

They would be leaving, he added, within the next half hour.

Hugh finished hastily and followed Jenny and Peg to the inner courtyard, now alive with activity. Members of the company hoisted
bundles to their shoulders as men-at-arms hustled them to the forecourt and into boats, then ferried them across the water.

Because they had had to tether their horses and mules on the far side of all four ditches, in woodland some distance away,
they straggled along in a sporadic line until they had collected all the animals and gathered to reload their gear.

Hugh found Lucas Horne and gave his basket into the man’s keeping, saying, “I trust you’ve made a few friends amongst the
lads who tend their animals.”

“Aye, sure,” the man said, eyeing him speculatively. “T’ company be goin’ to Dumfries from ’ere, nobbut eight miles or so.
Do I owe ye a silver groat, sir?”

Hugh nodded. “You do. I found them both.”

“That be that, then. When do we leave?”

“We’ll be traveling with them for a while. I’ve not yet had a chance to speak privately with her ladyship, although I believe
she knows why I’ve come.”

“Then ye’ll soon sort it out,” Lucas said.

Hugh wished he felt as confident of that. Seeing Peg and her ladyship walking ahead, he left Lucas with the horses and hurried
to catch up with them.

“I was told that your brother is a member of this company,” he said to Peg as he joined them. “Is that so?”

“Aye, sir,” she said, eyeing him warily.

“Mayhap you could walk with him for a time, so I may speak privately with your”—looking about, he saw people near enough to
hear—“with your companion.”

Peg turned to her mistress, but Lady Easdale nodded. “Go along, Peg,” she said. “He will not murder me.”

The maidservant looked doubtful, but she obeyed.

Hugh hoped that her mistress would likewise be obedient.

“As you must realize, my lady,” he said, lowering his voice to keep anyone else from overhearing, “I have come to take you
back to Annan House.”

“Have you? I cannot think why you should.”

Her tone revealed only mild curiosity. Still, it nettled him. “You must know that I have come here only because Lord Dunwythie—your
guardian, I would remind you— sent me to escort you back to him.”

“I do not question your purpose, sir. I question the need for
you
to come.”

“Doubtless you think my brother ought to have come for you,” he said.

“I do not think so at all,” she said. “I am not answerable to your brother. We shall not marry for some weeks yet.”

“Three weeks is not a long time, my lady. You should perhaps—”

“Prithee, do not call me so whilst we are with these people, sir. I warrant that my uncle and his wife would not thank you
for revealing my rank to others just now. You will say what you please to me, of course, but I should prefer to stay plain
Jenny whilst I am with this company.”

“I apologize and will certainly oblige you in that request,” he said. “I have been at pains to conceal my own identity, so
you are right to remind me. But my position remains the same. We will depart from here as soon as we decently may.”

“I think that would be unwise,” she said.

“I did not ask for your opinion. Your uncle sent me to collect you, and he expects me to bring you home. He told me I should
act just as he would.”

“Did he?”

“Aye,” he said, hoping that news would shake her from her calm defiance.

“I see,” she said. “But still, you lack his authority, sir. I am not answerable to you, and I suspect that you have no way
to prove my uncle sent you. You have already lied to these good people, so to tell them now that you are someone else and
have authority to take me with you… I think they will aid me to resist, do not you?”

J
enny saw that her reply had shaken Sir Hugh, but he said only, “We will talk later, mistress, as you suggest. The road from
Dumfries to Annan is better than this one at all events. We’ll be able to travel faster.”

Clearly, he expected her to submit to his authority. But Jenny was just beginning to enjoy her newfound freedom and was not
ready yet to give it up.

Quietly, she said, “We should not walk together for long, sir. I’d liefer not stir talk that I am flirting with the new troubadour.”

He nodded and strode off to join some of the other men, leaving her feeling strangely bereft. But Peg soon rejoined her and
the two chatted amiably about the countryside and other such mundane topics.

As they passed through a small village, the two fools Gawkus and Gillygacus darted onto the common and, by chasing each other
and doing their tricks, quickly drew a crowd of children. Musicians played merry tunes as they strolled by.

They did not linger, because they had been later leaving Lochmaben than they had hoped to be, and everyone was eager to make
camp before nightfall.

The journey was just eight miles, and except for the Joculator, who rode his white horse as usual, the others took turns riding
the extra mules and ponies or driving the three carts. No one had to walk for long unless he or she chose to do so.

Jenny had enjoyed many long walks with her father and, despite several offers to ride, chose to walk with various members
of the company, encouraging them to tell her their stories until they were well into Nithsdale. When at last she did accept
a mount, the Joculator soon rode up alongside her.