The Border Hostage (26 page)

“That whoreson Dacre raided Eskdale?” Rob roared.

“Nay, he didn't do the reivin', but he ended up with horses that belonged tae Douglas, accordin' tae Heath, and he knows horses.”

“Has Valentina had her bairn yet?”

“I'm assuming she has, but I've had no word.”

“I've learned not tae assume aught in this bloody world!” Rob stated flatly. He turned to Duncan. “Ye can weigh that anchor and sail tae Gretna. We'll ride tae Eskdale from there.”

Heron Carleton approached the great English Border fortress of Bewcastle with relief. As he had ridden through the area of wild fell and moor, so close to Scotland, he had become nervous when the light began to fade. At the gate he was challenged by Bewcastle's Captain Musgrave. The name Carleton was familiar to the captain, and when he learned that the youth had come to visit Christopher Dacre, he ordered that the portcullis be raised to admit him.

Heron found Christopher in the dining hall, which was filled with men. Only a handful of the servitors were women, and Heron began to feel uncomfortable about his sister's visit. He devoured the mutton on his trencher and said, “I don't think it's proper for Raven to be here.”

“She isn't here.” Chris indicated he had something to tell him in private, so Heron quaffed his ale and followed his friend from the hall, up to his bedchamber on the third floor.

“Where the devil is she?” Heron asked with a frown.

“She's across the Border in Scotland, at Eskdale Castle. Don't get in a lather; she's perfectly safe. It's a Douglas castle.”

Heron looked at him blankly. “Douglas?”

“It's the Douglas who's wed to a Kennedy, kinswoman to your father,” Christopher prompted.

A picture of pretty Beth Kennedy filled Heron's head, and it took him a minute to sort out the connection Chris was alluding to. “But I understood Raven was visiting you, here at Bewcastle.”

Dacre didn't want to overly alarm Heron Carleton, for he needed him to go to Eskdale and get Raven away from the hated Kennedy. “That was my intent, but on the ride here we were captured and taken to Eskdale for ransom.”

“Captured? She's a prisoner?” Heron cried in alarm.

“No, I was the prisoner. … Raven's more like an honored guest!”

Heron shook his head. “I don't understand.”

Dacre sighed with exasperation. “It was a Kennedy who kidnapped me for my new black stallion, then the bastard demanded that my father pay ransom, and I was released.”

“You left Raven behind?” Heron stared at him in disbelief. “Bewcastle must have a force of over a hundred men. Why didn't you attack Eskdale and rescue her?”

“For Christ's sake, Heron, I intend to make Raven my
wife!
I don't want my father or anyone else to know her reputation has been blackened by being dragged off to Scotland. She is not being treated as a prisoner, she is being treated as a guest. It is better for everyone, especially Raven, to pretend she's been visiting her kinswoman.” Dacre paused for a minute so that Heron could digest what he was saying. “All you have to do is ride to Eskdale and escort her home.”

Heron looked at Christopher Dacre through new eyes. He had never thought him a coward. He also suspected Dacre wasn't telling him the whole story. Riding alone into Scotland filled Heron with dread, but he knew he had no choice in the matter. “I don't suppose you'll be coming with me, so you had better tell me how to get to Eskdale.”

In the morning, when Raven opened her eyes, everything that had happened yesterday came flooding back to her. It had been the most adventurous and eventful day of her life. She relived the wedding, then the exciting time with the Gypsies, the romantic ride home, and finally what
had happened here in this tower room. Heath was not in the bed with her, and for a moment she wondered if she had dreamt it. She threw back the covers and had immediate proof that it had been no dream. She was naked except for one black silk stocking. Raven blushed. After Heath had removed the first one, they had both been too impatient to even think of the second.

She heard the outer door open and pulled the covers back up to her chin. It was a maidservant bringing her breakfast, so she asked if she could have hot water for the bath. When the servant left, Raven arose from the bed and went to examine her reflection in the polished silver mirror, anxious to know if she looked as different as she felt. She quickly removed the stocking, then stared at her body and her face with curiosity. On the surface she looked exactly the same, but when she took a step closer to the mirror and looked deeply into her own eyes, she perceived the difference. Her eyes reflected an age-old wisdom and subtle self-confidence that could only be gained through experience. The corners of her mouth lifted; she was a day older and a thousand years wiser.

Raven dallied in the bathing tub, enjoying her time alone with her thoughts, then she selected a lavender-blue gown and pinned her hair up in a style that made her look both taller and older. Raven thought herself very worldly-wise as she descended the stairs and made her way to the hall, where she could hear voices. Tina was there with her baby daughter in her arms, while her baby son was being held by a burly, barrel-chested man whose florid face was wreathed in smiles. “God's passion, he's the spittin' image of me!” He paced back and forth, vigorously jiggling the little redheaded twin with a look of overweening pride that smacked of sheer arrogance.

“Rob, it's a baby, not a butter churn,” Ada admonished, and shook her head in exasperation when Rob Kennedy beamed at her and told her how he had missed her.

Young Beth Kennedy turned and, with a look of genuine surprise, said, “Hello, Raven! I didn't know you were here.”

Valentina passed her daughter to Ada. “Raven, my family arrived this morning. You already know my sister; come and meet Father. This is Sir Lancelot Carleton's daughter, Raven; this is my father, Rob Kennedy, Lord of Galloway.”

“My lord, I am honored.” Raven took in the craggy ruined face and saw that he had once been a fine figure of a man.

Rob looked Raven up and down with a baleful eye. “Yer father is Lizzie's second cousin.” It was a statement rather than a question. He followed it with another. “Naught good ever came up from England.”

“Be damned to you, Rob Kennedy,” Ada declared with amusement.

“Ah well, lass, ye are the exception,” Rob declared fatuously.

“And so is Raven. We owe her a debt of gratitude. If it wasn't for her help, Tina and the babies would have been in dire straits.”

Rob's face blanched as he turned to his daughter. “Ye told me all went well! I knew there was trouble! Felt it in me bones! I've had a bellyful of trouble lately!” He was suddenly reminded that Old Meg had foreseen two coffins and mentioned red hair. “Where's Heath?” he demanded petulantly.

“I shall be pleased to find him for you, Lord Kennedy.” Raven was secretly amused that Heath's father was here. They were different as chalk from cheese, and she couldn't wait to see the two of them together. As she turned to leave, Tina winked at her.

“If you run into an ugly redhead, it will be my brother Duncan.”

Raven decided that Heath was most likely outdoors. A frisson of excitement spiraled inside her. She couldn't wait
for the moment when they would see each other today, for she was confident that she held him in the palm of her hand. As she made her way across the bailey, she encountered a redheaded male. Though he was far from being ugly, she realized it must be Tina's brother. She saw his eyes light with speculation and smiled warmly. “You must be Duncan Kennedy. I hear you are as expert with ships as your brother Heath is with horses.”

His glance swept her from head to toe, clearly liking what he saw. “I don't consider the Gypsy my brother— Heath is merely my father's bastard.”

Raven recoiled from him. “What a vicious thing to say!” Duncan Kennedy laughed, and she assumed he had been jesting. “Excuse me,” she said, and quickened her steps to put distance between them.

A
s Raven approached the meadow where Heath kept his mares, her steps slowed. The word
Gypsy
echoed in her head as she thought about last night.
Heath Kennedy had an amazing rapport with the Gypsies.
She argued with herself,
So did Valentina and Ramsay Douglas!
Another thought came:
Heath is handsome and swarthy enough to have Gypsy blood.
She suddenly remembered the tarot cards in the night table and the pentagram etched on his knife blade. Her steps came to a halt as she recalled that on their very first encounter he had mistaken her for a Gypsy girl.
No, it cannot be!
she argued, but the more she rejected the idea, the more plausible it became. And what about Duncan Kennedy's other accusation? Was it possible that Heath was only Rob Kennedy's bastard? The shocking word stirred her memory further. The first time she had seen him, hadn't she called him a filthy Scots bastard? And what was it he had replied? Her brow furrowed, trying to recall his exact words.
“I will not cavil at ‘bastard,’ but I do object to the word ‘filthy.’ I bathed in the River Eden last night.”
Valentina had never even hinted that Heath Kennedy was a Gypsy bastard. She had always treated him as a beloved brother. Nevertheless, Raven began to believe that she had just learned the shocking truth.

Raven was devastated. Why had he not told her? Why had no one told her? Blood of God, she had given herself to him last night! It would kill her mother if she ever found out what Raven had done. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.
Dear God, how could I have been so reckless? So willful? So wicked and wanton?
If the truth ever came out, it would break her father's heart!

Her head had ever been at odds with her attraction for the dark devil; why hadn't she been guided by her instinct? Raven swore aloud, “Death and damnation!” It had been her
instinct
that had responded to him and betrayed her! She should have allowed her common sense to guide her. Bad enough that he was a Scot and a Borderer; anathema that he was baseborn and had Gypsy blood! Raven cursed herself, for now that she knew he was Gypsy, his attraction had undeniably doubled. Why was the forbidden so damned irresistible and tempting?

He has me in his power!
Raven told herself.
He bound me to him by healing my hands.
None of the blame for what had happened could be laid at her door. Heath Kennedy had taken complete and total advantage of her when she was most vulnerable. Suddenly her own words from the past mocked her.
Darling Heath, thank you for forcing me, it took all the responsibility out of my hands!

Raven's innate honesty made her admit the truth to herself. He had taken her captive, but she was to blame for what had happened between them. She had as much power as Heath Kennedy, perhaps more, for he fancied himself in love and she did not. Her hands dropped from her face. Anger at him and at herself bubbled up inside her. She would confront him and immediately dissolve the bargain to which she had so recklessly agreed.

As Raven had supposed, Heath was with his mares in
the meadow down by the river. When he saw her, he stopped what he was doing and remained motionless, gazing at her as if spellbound. She walked a straight path to him, and only when she had covered half the distance did she realize that this was how he handled horses; he remained still until they came to him. Well, it was the last time he would treat her like a filly. He had made her eat out of his hand, he had gentled her, overcome her fears, and yes, he had finally ridden her! Well, it was the last time, Raven vowed.

She stopped about three feet away from him; too far for him to touch her, but close enough for her to see his eyes and gauge the expression in them. “Do you have Gypsy blood?”

Raven saw proud defiance. “I do.”

“Are you Lord Kennedy's bastard?”

He slanted a black brow. “So it is rumored.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” she demanded furiously.

His heart constricted and his blood slowed in his veins. “I assumed you knew. It is no secret.” He took a step toward her.

“Don't touch me! It is over!”

Heath's face hardened. He pulled her roughly into his arms. “It is over when I say it is over, Raven!”

Her body was rigid in his arms. She looked coldly into his eyes. “Lord Kennedy has arrived. He is asking for you.”

Heath was surprised. He had left their tower at sunrise to see Ram and his moss-troopers leave on Border patrol, and at that time there had been no sign of Rob Kennedy. With reluctance he released Raven. “Is Lady Kennedy with him?”

She shook her head briefly, without speaking, and watched him head for the castle. Heath's question made Raven realize that Elizabeth Kennedy would not look kindly upon the presence of her husband's illegitimate son, and apparently she wasn't the only one.

*  *  *

Heath smiled inwardly at the domestic scene he found in Eskdale's hall. His father was holding Tina's baby son, proud as a dog with two tails to be the grandsire of twins. A second look at his father, however, told him that Rob looked haggard and not in the best of health. A cold finger of apprehension touched him, and he hoped it wasn't a premonition.

When Rob saw Heath, he handed the baby back to Valentina. “I need tae talk wi' ye in private.”

Heath exchanged a quick glance with Tina, then nodded to his father. “Come upstairs.”

Before he had climbed half a dozen steps, Heath saw that his father was winded. Rob's florid face deepened in color as he gasped for air. “Rest a minute,” Heath ordered, masking alarm.

“I'll be restin' soon enough if that bloody woman has her way!”

Heath assumed he was speaking of Elizabeth, for Rob constantly complained of his wife whenever he had a captive audience. When they arrived in the tower chamber, Heath sat his father in a chair and poured him a whisky.

Rob Kennedy downed half the whisky in one gulp and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Old Meg put a curse on me, an' I want ye tae order her tae remove it!”

“A curse?” Heath was slightly bemused. “There's no such thing.”