Tamed by a Laird (4 page)

“I am thankful to say that Reid is
not
my uncle,” Mairi reminded her.

“He is as much your uncle by marriage as Fiona is my cousin,” Jenny said. “Reid is gey eager to marry me and clearly expects
to become master of Easdale. Sithee,
that
will create difficulty, because he knows naught about managing a large estate, whereas my father trained me to do so. Such
a marriage cannot prosper.”

Fiona said, “It is better than if they had betrothed you to Sir Hugh, Jenny, which is what everyone knows Father would have
preferred. Think what that would be like! Hugh
is
accustomed to managing estates and would not care a whit that you can manage yours. Why, for all that Mam claims he was a
mischievous child who liked to ape other folks’ movements and voices till he’d get himself smacked, he is so stern and proper
now that she says one could light a fire between his toes and he would just wonder if one had built it to burn as it should.”

Jenny laughed but took care not to look at him again. Fiona’s portrayal was apt, for Sir Hugh Douglas was unlike any man Jenny
had met.

He did not flirt with her or tease. Nor did he laugh or make jest with his friends. And Phaeline had said that once he made
up his mind, he never changed it. He would fold his arms across his chest, she’d said, and pretend to listen. But one’s arguments
would have no more effect on him than drops of water on a stone.

“I don’t want Sir Hugh, either,” Jenny said firmly. “I should infinitely prefer to choose my own husband.”

“But you don’t know any other eligible men,” Mairi said. “Had Father taken you to Glasgow, or to Edinburgh or Stirling, I
warrant many men more suitable than Reid is would have paid court to you, for you are beautiful, wealthy, and—”

“Prithee, have mercy!” Jenny interjected, striving to keep her voice from carrying to anyone else. “I do not count my worth
low, Mairi, but my looks are
not
what fashion decrees for beauty. At least, so Phaeline has told me. And she, you know, takes good care always to be well
informed about matters of fashion.”

“That is true, Mairi,” Fiona said. “Mam does know what people like. Indeed, she fears that one reason you have not yet contracted
a marriage is that men consider your extreme fairness unfashionable.”

Mairi smiled. “If Phaeline fails to give our father a son, leaving me to inherit the Dunwythie barony, dearling, men won’t
care a whit about my coloring. Jenny is already a baroness in her own right, and her estates are fine ones. Had your mam not
decided to wed her to Reid before any more eligible noblemen clapped eyes on her, Jenny would have many suitors eager to admire
her.”

To change the subject, Jenny said, “Reid will return shortly, and I do
not
want him near my bedchamber. I think I will retire now, before he gets back.”

“Sakes, Jenny, you cannot leave your own betrothal feast!” Fiona protested.

“I am feeling decisive tonight,” Jenny said. “I want to go, so I will.”

“Then we should go, too,” Mairi said. Before Fiona could protest, she raised her voice and said to Lord Dunwythie, “Forgive
me, sir, but Jenny would like to retire now. I think Fiona and I should go, too, if you will excuse us all.”

Jenny glanced toward the lower end of the hall, half fearing to see Reid Douglas lurching drunkenly toward her between the
trestles. She did not see him, but when she shifted her gaze to her uncle, she realized he had been watching her.

“D’ye want to seek your chamber now, lassie?” he asked.

“Aye, sir, I do.”

He nodded and scanned the hall before meeting her gaze again. “I’ll see that ye’re no disturbed then.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said with sincerity as she made her curtsy.

Hurrying from the hall with Mairi and Fiona, she cast one more wistful glance at the minstrels and wondered again what it
would be like to be one.

Hugh was bored, so when the play ended, he lost no time in bidding his host goodnight. He did not want to spend the next hour
exchanging polite phrases with other guests, most of whom would be eager to be away if they lived near enough to go home,
or longing to seek the quiet of their bedchambers if they did not.

The hour was still early, and he was not ready to retire, especially as he was sharing his brother’s chamber. Deciding to
seek fresh air, he went outside, taking care to avoid the forecourt, where others would be taking their leave.

The air was crisp, the waxing crescent moon high, and he heard the surf in the distance, for Annan House sat atop a hill overlooking
Solway Firth. By walking a short way, he obtained a moonlit view of the water. The tide was surging in.

Annan Hill also commanded a view of the dark vale stretching northward and the golden lights of Annan town beside the wide,
gleaming silver ribbon that was the river Annan. Dark woods and rolling hills rose to the east, while to the southwest he
could see the gentle hills separating Annandale from Nithsdale, gray now in the moonlight. Southward lay the sandy shore of
the Firth, its glittering water, and in the distance, the long English coast backed by tall, dark, distant mountains.

After two days spent in company, the solitude was pleasant. He had not been conscious of tension, but he felt himself relax
as he watched the moonlight creating paths of silver on the waters below. The sight reminded him of Ella and the only time
he had brought her to Annan House, to meet his sister.

He had thought it his duty to present Ella, because Phaeline had been unable to attend their wedding. It had been a small
one, because Ella had been shy and Hugh disliked the pomp and circumstance his father would have demanded for the marriage
of his heir, despite his lordship’s disapproval of Hugh’s chosen bride.

The only thing about Ella that had pleased the late laird was her portion. As the only daughter of a wealthy Lothian baron,
her tocher had added significantly to Thorn-hill’s coffers. Even so, the laird had thought her nobbut a wee dab of a lass.

But Hugh had loved Ella dearly. She had been sweet and quiet, and believed he could do no wrong. Although shy with others,
she had never been shy with him.

She had been a gentle lass who never thought ill of anyone, and when she died, it seemed to him that most of what was soft
and gentle in him had died with her. The rest had died with her wee bairn a sennight later.

He had stopped feeling any strong emotions then and doubted that he would ever feel such things again. Now, watching the moonlight
on the water, he felt only lingering sorrow and the familiar, ever-present sense of loss.

Although Mairi and Fiona had offered to go with Jenny to her room, she had disclaimed any need for their protection. “Faith,
Mairi,” she said on the first landing. “Even if Reid were sober enough to find my chamber, my door has a strong bolt.”

“I thought you might like some company,” Mairi said, unpinning and pulling off her caul to reveal a long tumble of silky,
sand-colored hair.

“Forbye, it will be easier to send him away if we are all there,” Fiona said.

“Right now, all I want is my bed,” Jenny told them. “Goodnight now, both of you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Turning away, she hurried upstairs, trying to ignore the gloomy mood that threatened to overcome her. She had known from childhood
that she would marry one day, but it had never occurred to her that anyone could make her marry a man for whom she had no
respect or liking. Her father had talked to her of marriage, but he had envisioned a comfortable and loving union such as
he had enjoyed. He had certainly never imagined a man like Reid Douglas as his only child’s husband.

Entering her chamber, she found her maidservant laying out her night things.

“Och, mistress, ’tis glad I am to see ye,” Peg said, trying without success to straighten her cap over her un-tamed riot of
red curls. “If ye dinna mind, I’m hoping to walk a short way wi’ me brother Bryan and them, so I can talk wi’ him.”

“You mean to leave Annan House with the minstrels?” Jenny raised her eyebrows. “Will the lady Phaeline allow such a thing?”

“I dinna mean to ask her,” Peg said. “ ’Tis more than a year since I’ve seen our Bryan, and I saw nowt o’ him today long enough
for speaking.”

“Then you
should
go,” Jenny said. “What’s more, if you’ll help me change out of this gown into a plain one, I will go with you.”

“Nay, then, ye mustna do any such thing!” Peg exclaimed. “ ’Tisna fitting for a lady to be traipsing about wi’ a lot o’ such
common folk!”

“I’ve been longing for an adventure before I must wed, even a wee one,” Jenny said. “If I take off my caul and veil and don
my old blue kirtle and a cloak, people will just think I am another maid bearing you company whilst you meet with Bryan. And
if anyone does catch us, I will bear the blame,” she added. “My lord and my lady will assume that I succumbed to impulse and
you went along to look after me.”

Peg hesitated, visibly moved by the latter argument.

“Hurry,” Jenny said, feeling a surge of excitement that she had not felt since childhood. “Oh, Peg, this will be fun!”

Peg looked askance at Jenny’s stout walking boots. “Them boots be too fine to belong to any maidservant.”

“Well, there is still snow on the ground, and I haven’t any others,” Jenny said. “If anyone asks about them, just tell them
I’m a waiting woman to her ladyship and she often gives me her castoff clothing.”

“We’ll ha’ to hope that nae one o’ them kens what big feet she has, then,” Peg said dryly. “Will ye be having me tell any
more lies for ye?”

“Aye, if necessary,” Jenny said with a grin as she pulled off her caul and veil and began to unpin the long, thick golden-brown
plaits thus revealed. “I’m no good at telling lies myself, so if we’ve any to tell, you must do it.”

“What about Bryan? Must I lie to me own brother?”

“Only if he cannot hold his tongue,” Jenny said. “But for this one night, I want to be just a common Border lass, Peg. That
way, my going with you and the minstrels will not stir any talk or upset.” As she spoke, she took a fresh shift from one of
the kists, rolled it up, and stuffed it into a covered basket along with a hairbrush, a long scarf, and an extra pair of stockings.
Then, snatching up her oldest hooded riding cloak and a pair of warm gloves, she announced herself ready.

“What be ye taking all them things for?” Peg asked suspiciously.

“In case I need them,” Jenny said. “Hurry now, or they’ll be gone.”

Hugh continued to watch the churning, moonlit tidal surge, letting his thoughts roam as and where they would until he grew
chilly.

Then, reluctantly, he went inside and up to his brother’s room. Finding it still empty, he went to bed, expecting Reid to
disturb him on his return.

Instead, he slept until a clamorous pounding on the door woke him.

L
earning from Peg as they hurried down the stairs that the minstrels meant to travel only five miles before camping for the
night on their way to Dumfries, Jenny assured her that they could walk with them for as long as she liked.