The Border Hostage (30 page)

When Raven awoke in the morning, the details of the dream were still with her. The knife-throwing contest in the Gypsy camp seemed just that—a dream. The part where Heath Kennedy had made love to her, however, seemed real. To Raven it felt as if he had been in the bed with her; she had touched him and tasted him. When she raised her arm to her nose, she could even smell his male scent that lingered upon her skin. Raven knew he possessed power, but was it such mystic and magic power that he could come to her at will? No, she must not allow herself to believe such things, for therein lay the power. If she firmly believed it was impossible, then it was impossible!

She told herself that the past was past. Today was the first day of her future. With resolution, she put Heath Kennedy out of her mind and stopped thinking of him. This day she was going to Carlisle Castle, where she would see Christopher Dacre. She owed a duty to her parents, who had always loved her and wanted only what was
best for her. She knew she must be receptive to a betrothal. She would not think of marriage just yet; a long betrothal would give her time to be sure.

When they arrived at Carlisle Castle, the two Carleton sisters were given the same bedchamber as before. Raven opened the wardrobe and saw the red Gypsy dress she had worn to the masquerade, hanging exactly where she had left it. She quickly covered it with her own clothes, then unpacked for Lark. It evoked memories, not only of the night she had worn it, but also memories of the Gypsy camp where she and Heath had danced with such abandon. Why was the forbidden so tempting? Why did she suddenly long for the freedom of a Gypsy girl? She tore her mind from her fanciful notions and warned herself that she must start dealing with reality, not fantasy.

Heron Carleton went off to seek Chris Dacre, and was amazed to find he had only just arisen from his bed.

“Quelle heure est-il?”
Chris asked, showing off his French.

“It's five o'clock; have you been ill?”

“Hardly.” Chris gave him a conspiratorial look and lowered his voice. “Too bad you weren't here yesterday, old man; we went out on a raid and didn't return until dawn.”

“Where did you go?” Heron thought of Beth Kennedy, and the idea of the English raiding into Scotland was now anathema to him.

“Are you mad, asking such a thing? You are just in time to help me dress.” He winked. “Tonight is a very special occasion.”

After Raven unpacked, she took a solitary walk, exploring the castle where she had lived and played when she was a young girl. Lord and Lady Dacre's apartments took up only one wing of the ancient fortress, whose history was fascinating to Raven. The son of William the Conqueror had won Carlisle from the Scots in the eleventh century. He had rebuilt the ruined city and built the original castle,
and as a result some of its nooks and passageways were ancient. When she returned to dress for dinner, she found her mother awaiting her.

“Raven, you try my patience beyond reason! Why can't you be more like Lark? She has used her time to select a special gown for dinner and to fashion her tresses in the latest style. I hope you intend to do something with that wild, untamed mass you call hair.”

Raven's hand went to her head, and a rebellious feeling inside threatened to erupt. She schooled her temper and promised to hurry. “Please don't wait for me; I shall be down soon.” She chose a gown of deep, sapphire blue, with a matching snood for her hair, decorated with blue stones. When dark curls escaped from its confines to frame her face, Raven sighed and shrugged a shapely shoulder. It was too late to do anything about it now.

Raven arrived in the dining room only just in time to be seated. She avoided the look of censure on her mother's face and turned to greet Christopher Dacre, who was already holding a chair for her.

“I am sorry, Raven,” he murmured low, “I have never seen you look lovelier.” The look in his eyes told her that his words were sincere.

Raven gifted him with a smile of appreciation and sat down. She felt his hands caress her shoulders briefly before he took his place beside her, and it prompted her to steer the conversation away from personal topics to more general ones. When she looked along the table, she saw that Christopher's mother was positively beaming as she watched her son's gallantry. It was clear that she not only approved of the match, but desired it.

Raven's glance moved to her own mother, whose critical look had been replaced by one of benign approval for her willful daughter. When she looked at her father, she saw that he was in deep conversation with Thomas Dacre, and concluded that they were talking of Border affairs
rather than hers. Her brother Heron's eyes were hooded, his face noncommittal, while Lark sat gazing at Chris Dacre with a look of unconcealed adoration upon her face.

When the meal was finished, Raven was relieved, but as the hosts and guests arose from the table, Christopher took firm possession of Raven's hand and addressed everyone present. “I have a confession to make. I recently visited with Raven while she was staying with her grandmother. I proposed marriage to her, and I am pleased to announce that Raven accepted and agreed to be my wife.”

A buzz of voices filled the air. Her mother looked delighted, while her father looked surprised. Raven felt numb. In essence, Christopher had not lied, but she would have much preferred that he had not made such an announcement to their families. Her glance met her father's with a plea for help, but his look was puzzled, as if he wondered why she hadn't told him the truth.

“Well, I think Sir Lancelot and I had better discuss a formal betrothal.” Lord Thomas Dacre picked up a decanter of whisky from the sideboard and led Lance Carleton into the library.

For a moment, Raven had the sensation that the walls were closing in on her, and she felt trapped. Then Rosalind Dacre was kissing her and welcoming her into the family. With sinking heart, Raven took her courage into her hands. “We don't want to rush into anything. Chris and I agree that marriage is a most serious step to take, and we favor a long betrothal.”

“What nonsense!” Christopher laughed and slipped his arm around her, hugging her to his side.

Raven smiled up at him and said sweetly, “Could we walk along the gallery, Christopher?”

“Whatever you wish, my love.”

When Raven was absolutely sure they were out of earshot, she stopped walking. “What the devil did you mean by all that?”

“I mean to have you for my wife, Raven.”

“Whether I will or no?” she demanded.

“When we were riding to Bewcastle, I told you to consider yourself betrothed. You knew I was asking you to marry me.”

“A lot has happened since then.”

“This is what your parents want; it is what I want.”

She searched his face. “If we are to be betrothed, it will be on my terms.”

He masked his inner thoughts, lest she read them. “Agreed.”

That same night, Ram Douglas returned to Eskdale and found Valentina and the twins on their wide bed in the Master Tower. He kissed his wife and tickled the babies' bellies, all the while weighing just how much to divulge. There would likely be more trouble before everything was settled by the courts, and he did not wish to unduly worry her, yet he wanted to share the news of their amazing good fortune.

“I found a copy of Angus's will at the town house and registered it with the courts. Archibald will likely contest it, and mayhap even the Crown, but once it is validated, I think it will stand. Angus was shrewd enough tae bequeath his fleet of ships tae the Crown and leave his son Archie all lands and castles connected with the Earldom of Angus.”

Tina's golden eyes widened in curiosity, but she held back the questions that were on the tip of her tongue, so that Ram could tell her in his own words that which he was bursting to disclose.

“If the will stands, we'll have enough castles for our children and our children's children, as well as properties for Gavin and Cameron tae oversee.”

“Splendor of God! I always knew Angus loved you more than he loved his own son.”

“Nay, he was simply aware of Archie's weaknesses.”

“And you have no weaknesses.”

He brushed the fiery curls back from her brow. “Ah, there ye're wrong. Ye are my weakness, Tina … and now these two.”

“Let's put them to bed, then you can prove to me that I am your weakness, devil-eyed Douglas.”

Later, when she lay replete in his arms, she thanked God for all the blessings he had heaped upon her. A small shadow of apprehension hovered—had she been given too much? Would something be taken away? Her arms tightened around Ram; he was her strength, her bastion against the Fates.

“I'd like ye and the babes safe at Castle Douglas when I go tae Carlisle for the Border Wardens' meeting. Do ye think they're old enough tae travel?”

“Ada and I have already started packing. We'll have the christening there in the chapel. I think it best if the twins and I sail aboard the
Doon
with Duncan and Father to Kirkcudbright.”

Ram kissed her brow. “How can anyone so beautiful be so practical?”

“I'm a Kennedy; is not our motto ‘Consider the end’?”

“Kennedy be damned! Ye're a Douglas, and never forget it!” His arms tightened possessively, and he squeezed her until she squealed with laughter.

In the morning he closeted himself with Heath before they went to the hall to break their fast. Ram told him that he had found Angus's will and had registered it with the courts. “Believe it or not, Goldman signed as witness. He had me followed, but the unfortunate wretch reckoned without Jock.”

“So it was Archibald who ordered your death.”

“I warrant it was, though Dacre arranged fer the Armstrongs tae do the dirty work. My guess would be Archie destroyed the will and conspired tae have Goldman eliminate Moses Irvine.”

“What will you do about Archibald?”

“If the courts validate the will, I needn't do a damn
thing. He will get the punishment he deserves. Angus left me all the Douglas properties below the Firth of Forth, plus all his gold!”

Heath went very still, like a stag that scents danger. After a full minute had gone by, he gave Ram an intense look. “Archie will need money, and he will turn to his wife and Henry Tudor. He has something to sell for which Henry Tudor will pay any price.”

“Young Jamie Stewart! Ye're right; the King of England would stop at nothing tae get his hands on the young King of Scotland. I must send a dispatch tae France, tae John Stewart, the Duke of Albany. He is the little king's closest male blood relative, and would make a better regent than Margaret, whom we Scots must never trust.”

“Angus had no illusions about his son. He left you the bulk of his holdings because he knew you wouldn't squander them.”

“Oh aye, I forgot. In his will, he bequeaths ye a hundred acres along the River Dee, by Castle Douglas.”

“Me?” Heath wondered if Ram was jesting.

“Aye, ye.” Ram's black eyes glittered with amusement. “The drawback is, this likely means we're related by blood!”

As the stunning news sank in, Heath's first thought was of Raven Carleton. He was no longer landless. He owned a dozen mares that would foal within the year, and now he owned his own land to graze them on. Why in the name of God had he let her go?

“I want ye beside me at the Border Wardens' Court. I can't wait tae see the look on Dacre's face when we produce Sim Armstrong. Tina and the twins are sailin' tae Castle Douglas with Duncan and yer father. Ye can go with them or ride with my moss-troopers. We'll be stoppin' at Castle Douglas before we go on tae Carlisle fer the weeklong meeting.”

“I'd prefer to ride,” Heath said with a grin. “I'll get to see my land faster that way.”

The two men went into the hall together for the first meal of the day, and Heath was pleased to see that Rob Kennedy had arisen early for breakfast and was looking much better. The food had only just been served when a grim-faced Cameron Douglas, accompanied by one of Donal Kennedy's land stewards from Kirkcudbright, burst into the hall and shattered the congenial atmosphere.

An icy cold hand gripped Heath Kennedy's heart the moment he saw his brother's steward.

“What's amiss?” Ram asked his youngest brother.

“Terrible news! Donal Kennedy was raided two nights past. I took men from Castle Douglas, but we couldn't catch the reivin' swine … we were too busy puttin' out the fires!”

Rob Kennedy was on his feet, his face engorged with blood. “Donal! Is my son Donal safe?”

“Donal's dead, my lord,” the steward blurted. “Four of 'em, burned tae cinders in the stables!”

Rob Kennedy clawed the air for breath, then grabbed his chest and fell across the table.

A
s Duncan Kennedy sat stunned at the terrible tidings, Heath moved swiftly toward his father. He lifted Rob from the table and sat him down, keeping his hands clamped to his father's shoulders to keep him erect.

“ 'Tis the curse,” Rob whispered, “the bloody curse!”

Heath placed his hand over his father's heart and felt that its beat was so rapid, it was racing out of control. “Don't talk! Take deep breaths!” he admonished.

“Ye don't understand!” Rob cried, “ 'Tis the curse!”

Heath grabbed the front of his father's shirt and shook him. “The curse will
kill you
if you don't calm down. Now, fill your lungs with air. Breathe deeply, slowly,” he ordered.

Valentina and Ada arrived on the scene, and Ram told his wife about the raid at Kirkcudbright, purposely omitting the grisly details about her brother Donal.

“Are the women safe … Mother, Meggie, and the baby?”

The Kennedy land steward spoke up. “The fire didna'
touch the dwellin', but the stables, the wool sheds, and all the fodder suffered the same fate as Donal!”

“Donal, my son an' heir, is dead!” Rob moaned.

Tina's face drained of blood, and Ram put a powerful arm about his wife in case she fainted.

Heath's hands restrained his father; his eyes sought Tina's. “Maybe they haven't positively identified Donal's body—he may have gone after the reivers who were driving off his sheep.” Heath was clutching at straws to calm Rob and Tina and give them hope.