The Border Hostage (28 page)

“Mother insisted I go to Blackpool Gate. Our grandmother told me you had gone to Bewcastle with Chris Dacre. When I went there, Christopher told me everything!”

“What exactly do you mean by
everything?”

“He told me you had been kidnapped—that his father had ransomed him, but that you were still being kept at Eskdale against your will. He didn't want scandal attached to your name—said it would be best if everyone thought you were a guest here, because of our father's kinship with Lady Kennedy.”

“I
have
been a guest here,” Raven said firmly.

“What the devil were you doing in a locked bedchamber with Kennedy and a priest?”

“Heath Kennedy asked me to marry him.”

“Asked?”

“Yes,
asked.
My answer was no.”

“Do you still intend to wed Chris Dacre?”

“I don't know,” Raven replied truthfully.

“He says he intends to wed you, and insists that's the reason he doesn't want scandal attached to your name, but I think it was unconscionable of him to leave you here.”

“Did you ride to Eskdale alone, Heron?”

“What choice did I have?”

“I would rather our parents didn't know about all this, and not just for selfish reasons. I don't want to hurt them.” “Mother would run mad!”

“I have become good friends with Valentina, Lady Douglas. She just had twins, and I was able to help a little.”

“Her sister, Beth Kennedy, seems to be a lovely young woman.”

Raven smiled wickedly. “Delusional though—seems to think you a lovely young man!”

Heron shook his head and laughed. “Raven, how the hell do you get into these scrapes?”

She recalled Heath's words when he had taken her captive, and tears threatened. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Raven smiled brightly. “We'll dine in the hall tonight. You'll love it, and you will especially enjoy Mr. Burque's cooking.”

Raven wanted to be alone; her emotions were in turmoil. Heath had almost succeeded in forcing her to marry him, then at the last moment he had relented, allowing her to make a choice. His gesture touched her. Belatedly, he had acted with honor. Heron had shown up at the worst possible moment, but she knew it had taken courage for her brother to ride alone into Scotland to rescue her. She touched his hand. “Thank you, Heron.”

An hour later, dinner was served in the hall. It was a far smaller gathering than usual, for Ram and Gavin Douglas and the bulk of their moss-troopers were out on Border patrol. Rob Kennedy, who had slept most of the afternoon, was flanked by his daughter Valentina and Ada.
Raven sat with Heron, while Beth and Duncan Kennedy sat across from them.

Raven's glance traveled about the hall, searching for Heath. She saw that he was sitting at a trestle table with the priest and the Douglas men who had been left behind to guard Eskdale Castle. The food was exceptional; both Heron and Duncan remarked on the fact several times during the meal. Raven, however, could taste nothing. She replied politely whenever Duncan Kennedy tried to engage her in conversation, but her attention wandered, and her glance kept straying to the trestle table further down the hall. She reminded herself that she must think with her head and not her heart. Tomorrow she would regain her precious freedom and leave this place forever, and it would be best to forget about it.

When the meal drew to a close, and one by one they stood up to leave, Rob Kennedy staggered on his feet and fell against the table. Tina and Ada grabbed him and sat him down again. Heath was on his feet immediately, striding down the hall.

Beth's hand flew to her mouth. “Father's ill,” she whispered.

Duncan Kennedy cursed. “He's no' ill, he drinks too much. He's been at it all day!”

Heath gave Duncan a level look. “He's feeling his age.” He swept past his half-brother and went to aid his father. “I'll see him to bed,” he told Tina. He picked up Rob Kennedy and carried him from the hall.

The next morning, Raven donned her own riding outfit and went to bid Valentina and her babies goodbye. Tina told her that Heath had arranged an escort to ride with them to the English Border, and Raven realized that she would not be able to bid him goodbye. Under the circumstances, she knew that was best. Her brother, however, lingered over his goodbyes to Beth Kennedy, and Raven suspected that the young couple were becoming attracted to each other.

The trio rode from Eskdale to Liddesdale and crossed the Border at Liddel Water, where their Scots escort turned back. The minute she was on English soil, she threw back her head and cried, “I'm free, I'm free! Oh, Heron, freedom is the most precious thing in the world!” Raven refused to go to Bewcastle, so Heron agreed to ride to their grandmother's at Blackpool Gate. When they arrived, he sent a message to Christopher Dacre that he and Raven were traveling home to Rockcliffe the following day.

Ram Douglas and Heath Kennedy unlocked Eskdale's dungeon and stepped inside. Douglas carried a torch that illuminated the cell, showing its furnishings were a bucket, a straw pallet, and a table. There was neither chair nor stool to sit upon. Kennedy carried a jug of ale, which he set upon the table next to an empty stone jar and a tin plate.

The prisoner immediately arose from the straw pallet and shielded his eyes from the light. When he saw the two dark faces of his visitors, so grim and threatening, he took a step back.

Heath Kennedy pierced him with a stare. “What's your name?”

“Sim Armstrong—Mangey's me brother.”

“Well, Sim,” Ram Douglas said matter-of-factly, “piss around with me, and I'll hand ye yer balls in a jar of ale.”

Armstrong licked lips that were bone dry.

“Your mission was to dispose of Ram Douglas and make it look like an English raid. Why?” Heath demanded.

“Clan Douglas holds too much power.” Armstrong's voice quavered.

“Why me?” Ram probed. “Why not Archibald Douglas, the new earl and head of the clan?”

Sim Armstrong again licked his lips, but this time his tongue was dry too. “I'm a dead mon if I rat!”

Ram unsheathed his knife. “Ye're a dead man if ye don't.”

“Archie Douglas can be bribed!”

“And Henry Tudor knows I cannot,” Ram concluded.

“So Dacre is the go-between?” Heath prompted.

Armstrong nodded, and fear made his words spill out. “Mangey and Dacre are thick as thieves. They fired yer stables tae silence me because I know too much! Ye saw Mangey silence Hob Armstrong at Bewcastle, but I didna believe he'd murder his own brother!”

Heath and Ramsay exchanged a look. Heath pushed the jug of ale across the table toward Armstrong, then they withdrew.

“A piece of the puzzle doesn't fit.” Ram shook his head. “If Henry Tudor wanted me dead, why did the bloody Armstrongs go tae so much trouble tae take ye tae England? Would it not be better fer the king and Dacre tae make it look like the Scots did the deed?”

“Perhaps that was Mangey Armstrong's idea, so we couldn't track them down easily.”

“Or perhaps it was somebody else wanted me dead,” Ram mused. “I believe I'll have a quick ride tae Glasgow tomorrow and have a word with the partner of the late Moses Irvine. Master Goldman is the lawyer's name, if I'm not mistaken.”

“You are seldom mistaken, my friend. Don't ride alone.”

“I'd ask ye tae accompany me, but I know ye wouldn't wish tae forego visitin' with yer family,” Ram jested. “I'll take Jock.”

When Raven and Heron arrived home, her brother made himself scarce by taking his dogs into Rockcliffe Marsh to hunt, leaving his sister to answer the flurry of inevitable questions from their mother. Raven unpacked the clothes she had never worn and saw that they needed
pressing before they were hung back in her wardrobe. Lark, curious as a cat, followed her to the kitchen and plied her with questions about Christopher Dacre. As Raven heated the irons, she managed to evade answering her sister, but when her mother came on the scene, Raven knew she would have to be more forthcoming.

“How was my mother? Still living in her own little world, I suppose.” Kate often asked a question, then answered it herself.

“Dame Doris was very well indeed, Mother.”

“Why she insists that you call her Dame Doris, instead of plain Grandmother, I'll never know!”

“She doesn't mind at all when I call her Grandmother, though I imagine she would object to
plain
Grandmother,” Raven said lightly.

“Did she quiz you about your marriage plans? I warrant, it's none of her business.”

Raven nodded as she gazed into the kitchen fire waiting for her iron to heat, and heard her grandmother's words:
He's a Borderer, I hope. I want a real man for you, Raven. Better someone wild and fascinating like a mountain ram than someone tame and uninteresting like a craven lapdog.

“Did you tell her that we have great hope of betrothing you to Lord Dacre's heir, Christopher?”

“Yes, I told her about Chris Dacre.”

“Did she get to meet him? Really, Raven, you would exasperate a saint. Why can't you tell us from beginning to end what happened? You act as if it's a deep, dark secret!”

Raven lifted the iron from the fire and cried out as the handle burned her sensitive palm. She closed her eyes and felt Heath's healing touch.

“Surely I've taught you better than that, Raven!” Her mother thrust an oven pad at her. “If you spent less time with those wild birds and more time learning to run a household, your chances of catching a husband would be vastly improved!”

Raven hung on to her temper. Her mother took such
little interest in her “wild birds” she had no idea that Raven had lost Sultan and Sheba.
Nor would she care if she did know.

Tenacious as a terrier, Kate went back to the subject she had been pursuing. “I want to know how matters have progressed between you and Christopher Dacre. After all, you only went to Blackpool Gate because it was close to Bewcastle.”

That's true. How long ago it seems.
“Chris Dacre invited me to visit Bewcastle, but of course I didn't go.”

“You didn't go?” Kate was incredulous.

“I told him it would be most improper for me to visit Bewcastle unless we were betrothed.”

“Clever girl! Did that prompt him to propose a betrothal?”

Raven did not want to think about it, let alone talk about it. “Mother, Chris Dacre and I went out riding one time, and one time only. Matters have not progressed beyond that.”

“You should have made the most of your opportunity!”

Raven looked at her mother through new eyes. “You mean I should have seduced him.”

Kate glanced at her younger daughter, Lark. “I mean no such thing. Watch your language, Raven.”

Raven suddenly realized that was how her mother had managed to snare Sir Lancelot Carleton. Female sexuality was a powerful force indeed.

“Mmm, Lord Dacre will be returning to Carlisle for the Border Wardens' Court meeting next week. Since your father will be presiding at the court, perhaps we should accompany him to Carlisle.”

“I should be training the new pair of young merlins—”

“Don't you dare mention hunting birds to me, Raven! It is high time you got your priorities in order.” Kate Carleton left her daughter to her ironing.

Her sister, however, lingered.
“Did
you try to seduce him?”

“No, it was the other way about.”

“Did he succeed?” Lark asked avidly.

Raven couldn't believe it. Her sister was actually asking her if she was still a virgin. “This conversation is over,” Raven said with finality.

Ramsay Douglas, along with Jock, his second-in-command, set out at dawn and rode to his castle at the town of Douglas, forty miles from Eskdale. They had a quick meal, changed horses, and rode the remaining twenty miles to Glasgow in two hours. The smoke from the city's chimneys created a pall that hung over Glasgow, making darkness arrive early.

He went straight to the offices of Irvine and Goldman and was asked to wait. He cautioned himself not to pace, but to compose his temper. Jake Goldman opened his door and effusively welcomed his visitor inside. “When I was told a Douglas was here tae see me, I had no notion it was Lord Douglas. How may I serve ye?”

“I understand that Moses Irvine died shortly after my uncle, the Earl of Angus.”

“Sadly, that is so, but I have taken over the practice, and hope to serve the Douglases as well as my late partner did.”

“Irvine named you successor in his will, I presume?”

“Indeed he did, my lord, never dreaming his demise would come about so soon.”

“Aye, it was abrupt.”
Too bloody abrupt!
“Angus filed his will with Irvine; has it been read yet?” Ram watched Goldman's eyes; when they widened in surprise, Ram knew Archibald had conversed with Goldman since the wedding.

“Ye are mistaken—there was no will, Lord Douglas.”

“I am seldom mistaken. There was indeed a will; you mean there was no will
found.”

“Exactly. There was no will found on file. But that
presented no problem, since Angus's son Archibald was his legal heir.“

Ye found the fucking will, all right, and it must have presented a horrendous problem. Ye eliminated Irvine before he had a chance to file it in court.
Ramsay wanted to pull the swine across his desk and cut out his lying tongue. “Very good. The new Earl of Angus told me all this; I just wanted tae make certain he gets his legal due.”

Ramsay joined Jock, who had been holding the horses. They rode to Angus's town house in Garrowhill, where Ram opened the door with his own key. Angus's majordomo greeted him with genuine affection.

“Ye got my message, my lord!”

“No, I got no message; I'm in Glasgow on business. Did ye send the message tae Douglas?” “Aye, my lord.”

“That explains it. I've been at Eskdale awaiting my wife's delivery.” Ram grinned. “Tina gave me twins, a lad and a lass!”

The majordomo beamed and shook his head. “Congratulations, Lord Douglas! If only the earl was here tae celebrate yer good fortune.”

“What was yer message?”

“We were broken into a fortnight ago. The earl's bedchamber and library were ransacked, but as far as I know, naught was taken.”