The Border Hostage (32 page)

She turned her head on the white pillow and saw him there in the bed with her. His shadowed profile turned toward her and she saw his intimidating dark eyes compelling her. She reached out her hand to see if he was real, and touched solid flesh and blood. Her fingers trembled as she brushed them across his dark skin, and his intoxicating male scent stole to her, dizzying her senses. She saw that he held the black raven's feather in his hand, and she moved closer, drawn by his compelling, irresistible power.

Leaning on one elbow, he raised himself above her and traced her delicate features with the feather. He brushed it across an eyebrow, then a cheekbone, and, finally, her lips. His mouth followed the feather's path with worshipful kisses. Then he threaded his fingers into her black curls, holding her captive for his mouth's seduction.

Raven gazed up at him, wanting to commit every detail of him to memory. His brows were thick and black, his lashes tipped with gold, over eyes the color of dark whisky; his slanted cheekbones were prominent and cast their shade upon his cheeks. Though he had shaved closely, she
could still see the blue-black shadow beneath his tanned skin. His lips were carved, his mouth generous and ever ready to flash with a smile that could steal your heart. The cleft in his chin drew her fingers, then she trailed them down his corded throat and across his muscled chest. Boldly, she touched his armpits and loved that the black hair felt like silk. His masculinity staggered her senses.

Heath stroked the backs of his fingers across the swelling curves of her breasts, knowing it aroused her, and when his roughened fingertips felt her nipples become erect, he smiled with delight that the secrets of her body were becoming known to him. He captured her mouth, so that when his hands moved lower, he would feel her gasp of pleasure. When his finger slid up inside her, she arched her mons into his hand and whispered his name against his lips. He circled the tiny bud inside the folds of her cleft and almost came out of his skin when she thrust her tongue into his mouth, showing him what she really desired.

By the time he covered her lush body with his, her lavender eyes had darkened to smoky purple, and she clung to him fiercely with a passion she had never known before. When he thrust into her, his throbbing fullness branded her and she cried out as he began to plunge and unleash the animal maleness that made him so potently irresistible to her.

After the tumult, they clung to each other, murmuring endearments, enjoying the deep satisfaction and contentment that enveloped them in the darkness. She lay against his hard length, with her arms entwined about his neck, while his powerful arms held her safe. In each other's arms like this, they felt complete, whole. Their quiet time had a mystic aura about it.

She knew the hour approached when he must go. “Leave me the raven's feather; I will cherish it always.”

“No, I must keep it. The raven's feather is the talisman that enables me to come to you.”

“Heath, this is the last time we can be together. You must never come to me again!” Her nails dug into his shoulders with the intensity of her words, forcing him to understand.

“Raven.” His lips brushed her brow, then he was gone.

In the morning when she awoke, Raven was covered with guilt over her wanton behavior. She also was filled with a sense of panic. Her dreams of Heath Kennedy were becoming more real than the times when she was awake. She actually searched the bed for the black feather, yet when she did not find it, it allayed none of her disquiet. She feared that he was becoming an obsession, her dreams a persistent disturbing preoccupation.

Raven believed there was only one sure way to put a stop to them: she must set a wedding date. She would tell Chris Dacre that she would marry him in August.

T
he large wooden boat carried its passengers down the River Esk toward the Solway Firth. Rob Kennedy, who had flatly refused a mattress, reclined against cushions, morosely watching the red sandstone banks of the river, as a Douglas boatman steered the craft. Mr. Burque sat beside Kennedy with a supply of the herbal medicine for his heart.

Tina had wrapped her twins warmly and placed them together in one cradle. She had no need to rock it, as the boat bobbed about in the water; rather, she had to keep her hand on the cradle to keep it steady. Ada catered to everyone, covering Rob's knees with a lap robe and offering dry biscuits to Beth when she began to look green about the gills. Ada had anticipated what they would need on the boat ride, while everything else they were taking to Castle Douglas was packed on wagons and would go overland, with some of the household servants.

Earlier that day, Heath Kennedy had taken Sim Armstrong from Eskdale's dungeon and provided him with a
surefooted garron. He himself was astride Blackadder for the ride to the Solway, where the Kennedy vessel was anchored. Duncan, mounted on the horse that had brought him to Eskdale, assured Heath that his new ship had plenty of cargo space and could easily accommodate their mounts. Gavin Douglas had dispatched two guards to accompany them, but once they boarded the ship, the pair would ride back to Eskdale.

When Duncan boarded and the Kennedy crew reported there had been no trouble, he heaved a sigh of relief. It was a good thing his father had insisted they drop anchor on the Scottish side of the Solway, near Gretna, rather than an English port. Heath secured Armstrong in a small area next to the galley, where food was stored, then took their three mounts down into the cargo hold. Duncan ordered all three cabins be prepared to receive passengers, then went up on deck to impatiently await the boat from Eskdale.

When it finally arrived, Beth was heaving, and Mr. Burque gallantly carried her aboard ship, where she insisted upon going straight to bed. Tina and Ada each carried a twin down to the cabin that all the females would have to share. Heath helped his father up the gangplank, but Rob refused to go below until the ship had weighed anchor. As Duncan shouted his orders, in a hurry to catch the tide, he suddenly became entangled in the line of the foresail and almost went overboard. He nimbly saved himself by catching hold of the jib stay, but watching him, Rob Kennedy had once again been badly shaken. “ 'Tis the bloody curse—now do ye believe me?” he demanded of Heath.

Rob was persuaded to go below, but he sat on the edge of the berth with his head in his hands. “Donal's dead—an' Duncan won't be far behind. Fate is toyin' wi' me. I'm dyin', but I'll live long enough tae see the Kennedy male line die out.” He raised his head and stared at Heath. “It'll
be up tae ye tae carry on the Kennedy line. The curse doesna touch ye.”

“Why doesn't it touch me? Am I not your son?”

“Aye, ye are my son,” Rob declared.

“Father, did Old Meg curse you because you kept it secret that you and Lily Rose were handfast?”

“Where did ye hear such rubbish?” Rob stared long and hard at Heath while he waged an inner battle. His face was haggard with grief and fear. “Lily Rose an' me were never handfast.”

Heath believed him. He and his father had many differences, but he had always taken the Lord of Galloway at his word. It settled the rumor he had pondered for years. Heath wished it could have been otherwise, for his mother's sake, but he was wise enough to know that facts were facts, and wishes could not alter them.

Through the wall they could hear the wailing of a baby, and Heath realized the child had been crying since they entered the cabin. He went next door and found conditions less than ideal. Beth was spewing into a bucket held by Mr. Burque, who looked ready to share her fate. Tina paced the cabin, white faced, trying to soothe her wailing baby son. The sea was so choppy that she too felt like retching. Only Ada and the dark-haired baby girl she was rocking to sleep were unaffected. As Heath stood at the cabin door surveying the scene, Rob Kennedy pushed past him. “I knew it was the wee bairn; what ails my laddie?”

“I don't know, Father. I tried to feed him, but he won't suckle. The wet nurse who helps me with the twins' feeding is traveling to Castle Douglas by wagon, with the other servants.”

“Come intae my cabin—it stinks in here,” Rob ordered.

Heath placed a steadying hand at the small of Tina's back as they went into the next cabin. He laid the backs of his fingers on the baby's forehead and found him fevered.

“Give him tae me.” Rob Kennedy scooped up his
grandson and held the precious burden against his heart, fiercely, protectively. The baby's red hair stood up in tufts, and his face was ruddy from wailing so long; the resemblance between grandfather and grandson was unmistakable. Rob's face set in grim lines as he came to a fateful decision. “I will no' let this bairn die! Sit down, both of ye, I have somethin' tae tell ye.”

Tina sat on the berth, while Heath took a chair beside her.

“I believe Old Meg put a curse on me because of what happened long ago wi' Lily Rose an' Heath. She swore she didn't … vowed I was the cause of my own curse. She swore she couldna' remove it; said I had tae do that my own self. But she was right about one thing—guilt is the deadliest poison there is. It surrounds yer heart an' squeezes until it bursts!”

“Well, you never did right by Heath. He was your natural-born son and should have lived with you, not the Gypsies,” Tina told him bluntly.

Rob shook his head in remorse. “When Lily Rose died, it broke my heart. I blamed the bairn … I couldna' stand the sight of him, so Old Meg took him. It was wrong!” Rob looked at Heath. “Lily Rose an' me were no' hand-fast, we were legally wed.”

Tina was aghast. “Oh my God, Father, Heath is your legitimate firstborn son? How could you have let him think he was a bastard all these years?”

“It was easier all round. Lily Rose had always insisted we keep it secret tae shield me from the wrath of my father, so when she died I kept my mouth shut. Then my father fell ill an' insisted I wed before I came intae his title as Laird of Galloway. Do ye think yer mother wouldha' wed me if her son could no' be my legal heir?”

Heath sat quietly as he absorbed the truth of his father's words. It meant that his mother was not a Gypsy harlot, but a respectable wife, and his heart overflowed with joy that it was so.

“But think of the harm you've done to Heath!” Tina declared.

“What harm? Look at 'im! He's a real mon: strong on the outside, an' on the inside where it counts. 'Tis obvious he didna' need me as my other sons did. I love all my children, but Heath's the one I'm proudest of. I'm glad it's out in the open; he'll make a powerful Laird of Galloway.”

Heath sat stunned as he realized his father was declaring him his legal heir. He would decline, of course. He had been sustained by pride his entire life, and had far too much to swallow it now. He was, however, most grateful that dishonor had been removed from his mother's name.

Rob hoisted his grandson to his shoulder, and the baby promptly vomited on him. Tina took her son from her father and realized he had stopped crying. “I think he's cooler.” She touched the baby's face, and he gurgled happily.

“God's passion, the curse is broken!” Kennedy declared, totally convinced that it was so. He stroked his grandson's head with a tender hand. “You feed 'im an' we'll take a turn on deck.”

Heath's eyes met Valentina's and she nodded imperceptibly for him to go with their father. A stiff breeze hit them in the face as they emerged from below deck. Heath steadied himself with the rail, but Rob, who had the best sea legs in Scotland from years of pacing the decks of his merchant vessels, walked with ease.

“Father, what you just did took a great deal of courage.”

“Nay, it was cowardice. Fear of the curse, fear of the wee bairn dyin', an' fear of Lily Rose hatin' me forever.”

“It was courage”—Heath's glance traveled to Duncan at the ship's helm—”and it will take a hell of a lot more courage before you're done. Are you sure?”

“The Kennedy motto is ‘Consider the end.’ “ He half grinned, half grimaced at his eldest son. “I've considered, an' I'm sure.”

*  *  *

“Are you sure?” Lance Carleton asked his daughter.

“Yes, I'm sure.” Raven took her father's arm and they descended the stairs that led to the first-floor library, where Lord Dacre conducted his business.

When they arrived, Thomas Dacre summoned his son, who arrived almost immediately, demonstrating that he was eager to get matters settled. Dacre read the document aloud, stipulating the amount of Raven's dowry, and adding that Burgh Marsh would be put in her name the day she married, to be held for her children. Then Dacre looked at Raven and raised his eyebrows. “The wedding date?”

“August,” Raven said rather tentatively.

“August first,” Christopher said firmly.

Raven glanced at him quickly, as if she would argue, but she held her tongue, and Lord Dacre wrote down the date and offered her the pen for her signature. When the document bore all four signatures, Christopher walked with Raven to the library door.

“I want to show you which apartments will be ours,” he said.

“Oh, that will be lovely.” Raven had happy memories of Carlisle Castle. “I'll just run up and tell Mother the deed is done,” she said lightly, “and meet you in the gallery.” Raven ascended the stairs, but before she reached her mother's chamber, she encountered Heron, who appeared to be waiting for her.

“Did you really go through with it?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes. I'm officially betrothed. What's bothering you?”

Heron hesitated, then blurted, “Chris mentioned going on a raid. He wouldn't say where, but obviously it must have been across the Border. As Head Warden of the English Marches, Lord Dacre is supposed to keep the peace, not harry Scotland.”

Raven frowned. “The Border Wardens' Court that starts tomorrow is held to discuss and resolve disputes between English and Scots. Surely the Dacres wouldn't
countenance any raid into Scotland, especially on the eve of the Wardens' Court.” Though Raven spoke with confidence, she was unsure, and resolved to question Christopher about the matter.

A short time later, when she arrived in the gallery, she found Chris waiting for her. He murmured an endearment, kissed her hand, and kept possession of it as he led the way to an apartment on the opposite side of the castle from that of his parents. It was not cramped, but spacious, and Raven liked that they would have their own small dining room and not have to eat with his parents. She also liked that it was high, just beneath the battlements, and looked out over the castle's meadow. At the moment, the meadow held the tents of those who would attend the Border Wardens' Court.