The Border Hostage (11 page)

“It's not impossible, Raven. If you accept the invitation, I swear everything will be proper. If you'll come for a visit to Bewcastle, all the proprieties will be observed.”

“The proprieties would not be observed unless we were formally betrothed, Christopher.” She gave him a ravishing smile. “Let me go up and change and we can ride over to Bewcastle. But you must promise to have me back by nightfall.”

Upstairs, Raven's grandmother helped her change into the vivid riding habit. “Do you have your hag stone and your knife?”

“I do.” Raven hugged her grandmother. “I warrant Chris Dacre will find a way to persuade me to stay at Bewcastle.” Raven's eyes sparkled with mischief. “Don't worry if I don't return tonight. All my things are packed. If I do decide to stay, I shall send for my bags.”

“Goodbye, my lovely.” Dame Heron's voice held a wistful note. “Your life's adventure begins today. Do not forget to use your power, Raven.”

As she saw Christopher's reaction to her vivid riding outfit, Raven knew she had chosen well. “I'm sorry I kept you waiting.”

“It was worth the wait,” he assured her, his eyes lingering upon the swell of her breasts beneath the fitted crimson jacket.

As one of the young Heron boys brought Sully from the stables, Raven gave Chris a provocative sidelong glance from beneath long black lashes. “You don't mind if we take my pair of falcons on our ride, do you, Christopher? They are in need of exercise.” Raven knew that if she was to stay at Bewcastle for a week, she must take the valuable hunting birds with her.

“Are these peregrines yours?” Dacre asked with surprise.

“Yes, they are a lovely pair, but still very young.”

Dacre gazed at the male bird with covetous eyes. “Your father certainly indulges you.”

“Do I detect a note of disapproval in your voice?” Raven asked lightly, taking the raptors from their perches.

He quickly covered the censure his words had revealed. “Envy, perhaps. I would like to be the one to indulge you.”

They walked outside into the sunshine and Raven handed him the birds while she mounted Sully. Then she took them back until Dacre mounted his new black stallion.
She offered him his choice of falcons, and he picked the male, as she had known he would. Raven smiled inwardly; Christopher Dacre was so predictable.

They rode about two miles in the direction of Bewcastle before they cast their hawks. As the birds soared miles above them, Chris Dacre dismounted and lifted Raven down beside him. His hands lingered at her waist and he drew her close for their first kiss. Raven momentarily closed her eyes, then quickly opened them again and looked up into his gray-green eyes, reassuring herself that the male she was kissing really was Christopher. Then she laughed at her own foolishness.

“Why do you laugh?” he asked huskily.

“Because I am happy.”

“Make me happy, Raven. Stay at Bewcastle with me,” he implored.

“I long to,” she said wistfully to raise his hopes, then purposely dashed them, “but I cannot.” She turned from him to remount Sully, but he stopped her.

“Raven, if you come, you may consider yourself betrothed.”

She caught her breath. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

He searched her face. “Since that's the only way I'll get you. I've quite made up my mind to have you.”

Raven knew Lord Dacre's heir was used to getting whatever he wanted. “How impetuous you are, Christopher. Now you will have to exercise patience while I make up
my
mind,” she teased. Sheba returned to her wrist without her prey, and Raven suspected the female falcon had devoured it. She set the huntress on her saddlebow.

“Your falcon needs the firm hand of a master.”

Raven tossed her head. “I hope you are not implying that I too need a master. One of the incentives to marry is the freedom it would gain me.”

He reached out a finger to stroke Sheba's variegated
cream and gray feathers. “Freedom isn't good for a woman, according to my father.”
Christ, I'll enjoy taming her, more than the falcon!

Raven's eyes sparkled. “If I refused to marry you, would you carry me off as your father did your mother?”

“I thought you didn't want a master.”

Raven laughed. “I don't! Nevertheless, I think it the most romantic thing I've ever heard.”

“Here comes my falcon. Damn, he's flown into that treetop and won't come down.”

“Sultan is just not used to men. He'll come to me.” When Raven moved away from Chris Dacre, Sultan flew to her wrist and released the snipe he had caught. Raven handed the falcon to Dacre. “Would you like to try again?” Her invitation held a double meaning.

“Let's ride closer to Bewcastle; the game there is plentiful.”

Raven agreed, laughing. “You just want to be sure of your quarry. Lead the way!”

Dacre quickly secured Sultan to his saddlebow, mounted Blackadder, and rode heedlessly through the trees, leaving Raven far behind him. Suddenly he saw a horse and rider in his path—it was the dark Borderer he had tangled with at Carlisle Fair. He drew rein, scenting danger, and when he glanced about him, saw that he was surrounded. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“I want my horse.” The words were implacable.

The look and the voice of the Borderer held such a threat, fear slithered down Dacre's spine. He saw that they had Mangey Armstrong's brother, bound and gagged, and was careful that no recognition passed between them. Dacre suddenly set his spurs to the stallion's flanks and roweled hard in a desperate attempt to flee. Heath Kennedy was after him in a heartbeat, and the moss-troopers closed ranks to trap Dacre. Blackadder reared in terror, the blood on his flanks clearly visible against his glossy coat. Heath slipped from his roan and grasped the black stallion's bridle. Then
he grabbed Dacre, pulled him from the saddle, and smashed his fist into his face. “You vicious whoreson, if I ever see you bloody another horse, I'll take a whip to you.”

“Take the damn horse!” Dacre offered desperately.

“I intend to take you both.”

At this moment, Raven came upon the scene. When she saw Dacre picking himself up from the ground, she cried, “Christopher! What's going on?” She looked at the mounted moss-troopers surrounding them, and then she saw the dark Borderer who called himself Kennedy. Fear prickled her scalp. She had known from the first moment she had seen him that he was dangerous. She had felt the subtle sense of threat whenever he had drawn close to her, yet she had willfully ignored it. Anger suddenly overcame her fear. “You Scots swine, how dare you attack us without provocation!”

Heath Kennedy stared at her in utter disbelief. “Raven Carleton, what the hellfire are you doing here?”

“I am visiting Bewcastle with Christopher Dacre.”

“Scum like him will blacken your reputation,” he spat angrily.

“We are betrothed! Christopher Dacre and I are to be married.”

Her words were flung at him defiantly, like steel-tipped arrows, and they hit their mark. Never in his life had Heath Kennedy wanted anything as badly as he wanted Raven Carleton. The lust that rose up in him was so strong, he wanted to tear off her fancy clothes, lay her back in the grass, and put his brand on her. The dark beauty was a challenge to his manhood, and the thought that she belonged to Christopher Dacre was unendurable to him. “That's strange,” he sneered. “In Carlisle, Thomas Dacre was considering a match with Beth Kennedy for his precious son and heir.”

“Things have been settled since then,” Raven said loftily. “Christopher and I are pledged.”

Not for long
, Heath vowed silently.
I took Blackadder from him and I shall take you too!
He was suddenly elated, for
here was the means to make the Dacres pay in more ways than one. He could not have planned a more perfect revenge than kidnapping Christopher Dacre and his intended bride! Aloud, he said, “Good! Lord Dacre should be most willing to pay ransom for his son's future wife.” Heath said to Gavin, “I'm taking her too.”

Gavin Douglas was grinning like a heathen. “I've often wanted tae kidnap a woman, but always thought better of it. They can be one hell of a lot of trouble, especially English females.”

“Leave her alone. Let her go!” Dacre cried.

“You shut your mouth,” Heath warned, “and while we're at it, I'll have your boots.”

After a moment's hesitation, Dacre removed his spurred boots and handed them to Kennedy. Heath flung them into the trees, then told him to mount the roan. “Take him,” Heath directed Gavin, and watched with satisfaction as the Douglas men headed west with his prisoners and his mares.

Raven jumped down from Sully's back to confront him. “You must be mad! Taking him to Scotland is kidnapping!” “I am relieved you understand.” “I shan't go with you!”

Heath ignored her and looked about for burdock plants.

Raven was incensed at his indifference to her plight. She reached into her pocket, rejected the hag stone, then closed her fingers over her knife. She withdrew it cautiously and launched herself at her captor. In a flash she found herself on her back with the Borderer astride her. Gone was his indifference as he pried the knife from her fingers. “You, mistress, will do exactly as you are told.” As he looked down at her, he wondered if she had allowed Dacre to make love to her. The thought knotted his gut.

As Raven lay panting beneath him, she knew real fear. Her own recklessness had put her in this dangerous position. She expected any moment he would ravish her, and opened her mouth to scream.

Heath covered Raven's mouth with his in a rough kiss that effectively silenced the scream. He withdrew his lips and stared fiercely into her eyes.

She remembered the last time he had kissed her.
The name is Kennedy, sweetheart, and I want you to never forget it. Next time we meet, I promise to do something even more outrageous.
Raven feared he was about to fulfill that promise.

“Let me go, Kennedy,” she begged softly.

For long minutes, Heath fought the sexual hunger her closeness provoked. She was so beautiful and so reckless, her passionate spirit cried out to him. Finally he stood up and helped her to her feet. He moved away from her and bent to cut burdock leaves with her knife. He rubbed the leaves into the bloody gashes on Blackadder's flanks and at the same time spoke softly to the stallion. When he was done, the horse nudged him with his nose.

Raven saw how gently he handled the horse, and some of her fear receded. When he gave her back her small dagger, she was thunderstruck. Did it mean that he trusted her, or was he showing contempt for her futile attack? “You don't really intend to kidnap me, do you?” she asked, clinging to hope.

“Yes, lass, I do. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Get Sully, and let's go.”

“I cannot go yet,” she said desperately. “I have a pair of falcons with me.”

Heath glanced up at the tallest trees where he saw the outline of a hawk against the sky. He took a piece of meat from his saddlebag and tied it to a rope, then swung the lure in a wide circle, imitating the flight of a small bird. Sheba flew to the bait immediately, and Heath caught hold of her jesses and fastened them to his saddlebow. He smoothed down her feathers, using a firm but gentle touch, and whistled a two-note refrain that he repeated a few times. Sheba cocked her head and settled quietly.

Suddenly the male peregrine swooped down and landed on Raven's shoulder. She staggered slightly but had enough
presence of mind to get a firm hold on his jesses. “Good boy, Sultan.”

“You may bring your hunting birds.”

“How generous of you! Most likely you covet them,” Raven accused as she fastened the falcon's jesses to her saddlebow.

Heath's gaze swept her from head to toe. “I do have a fancy for the female.”

His words brought a blush to Raven's cheeks. She could still feel the imprint of his kiss and the rough touch of his unshaven jaw against her cheek. She watched him mount the stallion, then he gestured for her to do the same. She obeyed him reluctantly and, when she was in the saddle, thought about fleeing. She knew he would recapture her in minutes, and almost immediately she realized that if she was to escape, she would have to use subtler means.

Raven rode ahead of him, and she imagined she could feel his dark, compelling gaze riveted upon her. She vividly recalled the vision she had had of the falcon flying into the room, swooping about her in a great circle. She saw the raven from the rafters try to flee. The raptor had not harmed the small raven, but had forced it to fly in unison. She realized that the vision had been a portent of things to come, and that Kennedy was the raptor.

W
hen Heath and his captive caught up with the others, Gavin Douglas nodded in Dacre's direction. “I gagged him; couldn't stand listenin' tae his whining for twenty miles.”

Raven wanted to protest their treatment of Christopher, but held her tongue. Anything she said might make his plight worse. She rode in silence over the rugged moors, and realized they must now be in Scotland. As endless miles of wild, wide-open carse stretched before them, she saw that the Scottish Borders were far less inhabited than their English counterpart, making them lonely and dangerous, with treacherous terrain. She obeyed her captor's orders to stay close beside him whenever they skirted a moss or perilous bog, for she feared Sully might sink up to his fetlocks and break a leg.

The weather became overcast and daylight was fading fast by the time they reached Eskdale Valley. Raven was relieved when the small cavalcade headed toward a castle that sat in the valley's sheltered lee. She resented that the
dark Borderer was so unwearied. When they arrived at the stables, there were many hands to take their horses, and she realized that most were moss-troopers rather than grooms. Her heart sank, for she knew it would be impossible for Christopher Dacre and her to escape with so many would-be guards.

Kennedy lifted Sheba from his saddlebow. “Bring your falcon to the mews. It is empty at the moment; Lord Douglas left his hunting birds at his other castle.”

Raven took Sultan onto her wrist and followed him up five stone steps and through a doorway. “Which Lord Douglas would that be?” she asked loftily, setting the male peregrine on the perch next to Sheba and securing his jesses.