The Heather Moon (11 page)

"I would," William said.

Archie nodded as if satisfied with something. He gathered his reins and turned his horse toward Merton Rigg. "Luck be wi' ye," he called over his shoulder. "I dinna envy ye the task o' bringing back Tamsin if she doesna want to come wi' ye. But if any man can convince her, Will Scott"—he grinned—"I think ye are that man."

As William watched him ride away, he had the disquieting sense that Archie had spoken of far more than finding and keeping a gypsy lass for a fortnight.

Chapter 6

"What news, what news, bonny boy?

What news hes thou to me?"

"No news, no news," said bonny boy,

But a letter unto thee."

—"Bonnie Annie Livieston"

For several miles, William followed a drover's track along a ridge that skimmed the hills like a raised spine. The track provided a fast northeast route between the disputed area on the edge of the Border, called the Debatable Land, where Merton Rigg was located, and the territory of Liddesdale, which contained Rookhope lands.

The Debatable Land was an area along the western part of the border line, disputed by England and Scotland alike. The territory was a lawless land where outlaws and scoundrels hid from authority, and free and honest men scarcely dared to leave their animals pastured. Merton Rigg lay on the easternmost tip of the debated area.

Liddesdale, whose boundaries began a few miles farther north, was scarcely more lawful, filled with scores of Scottish Bordermen who made a sound living on the basis of borrowing good livestock and gear in the dark of the night. Generations of burning and looting at English hands had brought parts of the Scottish Borders to a wild, ungoverned state. Constant complaints from the crowns of both England and Scotland, and continual efforts to establish order there, had been by tradition either ineffectual or far too harsh.

Reivers and thieves as well as cattle drovers often took the ridge road, and William kept his gaze wary as he rode. He knew the track was most dangerous on moonlit nights, when reivers brought livestock secretly over the hills, either heading out of England or out of Scotland. But now all seemed quiet along the route, and the bay covered the distance with long, fast, efficient strides.

Within an hour, William rode over moorland and hills that belonged to him, all part of Rookhope Ryde, as his property had been called in his grandfather's day. Daylight faded and the sky took on a dense pewter cast, edged with indigo along the horizon. The wind grew strong and cold, and the air heavy, as if a summer storm approached.

Soon he saw the stark silhouette of Rookhope Tower, situated on the crest of a hill. Backed by acres of dense forest and fronted by a steep slope that led to a narrow glen, the stone keep was naturally protected by its setting. From the rooftop a wide view could be had of the surroundings, and access to the tower could be difficult.

As he rode, he noticed the portcullis in the outer wall slide upward. Two horsemen streamed out through the opening and headed down the western side slope. A path had been worn over centuries there, since the incline was the most gradual of the slopes that surrounded the tower property. One of the men saw William coming along the road and hailed him with a wave.

William narrowed his eyes and recognized them both. One, the younger of the two men, was a friend whom he was glad to see. The other, an older man, was closer to a personal enemy than any man he knew, though they had always maintained a veneer of chill politeness when dealing with one another.

He frowned, and halted his horse along the road to wait. The men headed toward William in the failing light, clods of earth spitting away from the horses' hooves.

"Will!" The man in the lead lifted a gloved hand in greeting. His handsome features were framed by a neatly trimmed auburn beard and cropped hair, and he smiled as he rode closer, halting his horse a few feet from William.

"Good day, Perris." William nodded toward his friend, his greeting cool only because of the presence of the older man who pulled his mount to a stop beside them.

"We were just leaving Rookhope," Perris said. "How fortunate to meet you out here. We thought we would miss you altogether, and have to return later this week." William smiled, flat and tense. He regarded Perris Maxwell as a kinsman as well as a friend, for his mother had married Perris's uncle, Maxwell of Brentshaw, years before. Bound by marriage kinship, they also knew each other within the royal court, where Perris, schooled in the law, acted as a royal advocate for the king's widow, the queen dowager, Marie of Guise.

William looked at the man beside Perris and inclined his head. "Malise. Greetings."

"William," Malise Hamilton said. His dark blue eyes and closely cut silver hair gleamed in the low light. "How fortunate, as Perris says."

As always, when he saw Malise Hamilton, William felt tension infuse him. He and Malise were linked by tragedy and resentment, even hatred. Not only had Malise Hamilton been a member of the escort who had taken William away from Rookhope Tower the day his father had been hanged, but Malise was also the father of the woman William had loved and lost, the mother of his child.

Because of the bitter, unresolvable bond between them, William found it wisest to simply avoid the man whenever possible. He summoned control over his anger now, as he faced the man but a hundred yards from the site where William's father had died and Malise had taken a young lad prisoner.

They were further linked by the existence of Katharine. The thought of his infant daughter's welfare gave him reason to school his hatred for her grandfather.

"We arrived at Rookhope this morning on official crown business, but you were away," Malise murmured. "Your sister Helen acted as a gracious hostess in your absence. Poor lass."

William sucked in a quick breath at Malise's condescending reference to the scarring that his younger sister Helen had endured after a smallpox attack years ago. He began to utter a hot reply, but Perris leaned forward to interrupt him.

"Lady Helen is hardly a poor lass," Perris said. "She is blessed with an abundance of charm and grace. I find her lovely and delightful. I confess, your remark surprises me. Do you find something to pity in her?" The smooth question was a dare.

William joined Perris in staring at Malise, who cleared his throat and shrugged. "Not at all, of course. Your mother was ill and kept to her bed," Malise went on. "She never came down to offer hospitality."

"Perhaps she had an ague," William murmured. He realized why his mother had kept to her chamber, and suspected Malise knew, too. Lady Emma could not tolerate Hamilton's presence on the rare occasions that the man visited Rookhope.

"Katharine is beautiful," Malise said. "She reminds me of her mother at that age."

"Aye." William nodded brusquely. "You said you are here on official crown business. You could have sent a footrunner."

"Madame the Queen Dowager sends her personal regards to you," Perris said.

William stared at him, astonished. He had been shunned at court for months. During that time, he was sure that Marie of Guise, King James's widow, shunned him along with the rest.

"She wanted this private message delivered to you, written in her own hand." Perris reached into his doublet and pulled out a folded parchment closed by a red wax seal.

William accepted it warily, unsure if it boded ill or good.

"I told her that I would seek you out and give you the summons, since you and I have business between us," Malise said. "And I wanted to see my granddaughter, of course."

"Madame wishes to see you immediately, at Linlithgow Palace," Perris said.

William tucked the parchment away to read later. "Good," he said. "I have something to discuss with her myself."

"And what might that be?" Malise asked sharply. "We both are privy to whatever news is brought to Madame's attention, as you know."

William crossed his gloved hands on the pommel of his saddle and felt his horse shift restively beneath him. "I will keep the details private until I have spoken with Madame," he said. "Since you are riding back to Linlithgow now, though, I hope you will deliver a message to her for me."

"What is that?" Perris asked.

"Tell her that I will ride there tomorrow, soon as I see my family. And advise Madame to consider moving the queen to a place of greater safety as soon as possible."

"Why? Is there some danger to Her Grace?" Malise demanded.

"I have heard disturbing rumors," William said cautiously.

"Rumors that King Henry wants to snatch the wee queen?" Malise made a scoffing sound. "There are always such rumblings. He blows hot like a boiling kettle, and says what he likes for all to hear, but does not follow through always. He suggested to his advisors that they take her father, King James, years back, but they were too cowardly to try, any of them."

"Or too wise," William murmured. "Nevertheless, until the truth is discovered, Queen Mary's safety must be of paramount concern. Linlithgow Palace isna as defensible as Edinburgh or Stirling."

"Madame already plans on moving the queen to Stirling Castle," Perris said. "Her coronation will take place there next month."

"Next month is a long while away," William said. "She should be moved before then, I think, either secretly, or under a substantial force of men. Convey that message to Madame. I will bring the particulars to her myself."

"Very well, then," Malise said. "If you think she will listen to you. I do not know why she wants to speak with you. It might very well be a reprimand, which you only deserve."

"I will take my chances," William murmured. "Farewell to you both." He lifted his reins.

"There is one other matter between us," Malise said. William looked at him. "I sent you a lengthy letter a fortnight past, and was displeased with your reply."

"I will say it again, then, if you didna understand, Malise," William said. "I have no interest in marrying either of the Hamilton ladies you suggested for me in your letter."

"You must marry, and soon," Malise said in a fierce tone. "I will not tolerate my granddaughter being raised without a mother. You have no reason to refuse either one of my nieces. One is a widow with good property, the other her unmarried sister. 'Tis kind of my kin to allow the offer to be made to you. We all know the circumstances of your... relationship with my daughter."

William narrowed his eyes and waited for his temper to cool before he spoke. And he wondered, as he often had in the past, how Jeanie could have been the daughter of this man. But in Malise's dark blue eyes, and in his narrow, handsome features, he saw fleeting hints of Jeanie's laughing blue eyes and lovely face. The memory of her made him draw in his breath.

Just before she died, while he had held her hand and prayed silently for her strength to return, he had promised her that he would come to peace with her father. In his heart, he did not know if he could keep that oath. But for the sake of Jean's memory, and for the sake of their daughter, he had to try.

"I thank you for your concern," he said in a cool voice. "But when I wish to take a wife, I will choose her myself."

"You could have made that choice last year," Malise barked. "My daughter died unwed."

"Had you allowed her to contact me, you would have no grievance with me now," William said through clenched teeth.

Malise glanced away, his face set hard and pale. "I didna think she would die," he murmured.

William let out a hard sigh. "We all would have lost her, either way, to a hard birth."

"Will you dishonor my granddaughter now? Katharine has royal blood in her through the Hamilton line. Her uncle is the Regent of Scotland, and second in line to the throne. She requires a home and a mother befitting her blood."

"She has a fine home. And she had a fine mother."

Malise thinned his mouth, flared his nostrils. "I want Katharine raised in a Hamilton household. Rookhope Tower is naught but a den of thieves."

"I was raised in that den of thieves," William said between his teeth. "And flourished there, until you and the earl of Angus's men took me forcibly away from my kin. I wager my daughter will flourish among rascals just as well."