Virginia Henley (33 page)

“Back inside,” the leader ordered. Robert’s driver and his armed guard, who had been trussed with rope, were shoved into the carriage with Carey and the ladies.

Robert had a pretty good idea that they were members of the Armstrong clan and immediately thought of the day that Hepburn had hanged Sim Armstrong. “Do exactly as they say, Catherine. These men would not cavil at harming a woman.”

Within minutes the coach began to move. Whoever was in the driver’s seat turned the coach around and headed back into the city.

“Dear God, Hepburn warned me that Scotland was too dangerous for me, but I didn’t believe him!” Cat’s heart was thudding with fear and heightened excitement at the thought of being kidnapped.

“They may not know your identity. It may be me they want. We must all avoid giving them your name,” Robert said urgently. He was convinced they would search him and find the king’s letter.

The coach stopped in a derelict part of Edinburgh that neither Robert nor Catherine had ever visited. The carriage door was thrown open and its occupants were ushered at knifepoint into a shabby three-storied house with shuttered windows. As soon as they were inside, the women were separated from the men and taken upstairs by an evil-looking brute designated as their guard.

Maggie clamped her mouth shut and glared her outrage, but Catherine demanded, “What do you want with us?”

The man leered. “Yer Hepburn’s fancy piece. He’ll pay gold tae get ye back, or we’ll get our money’s worth atween yer legs!” He went over to the shuttered window to make sure it was locked.

The moment his back was turned, Catherine became a wildcat. She palmed her dagger and stabbed him in the shoulder.

The ugly brute cried out in pain. “You bitch!” He plucked the knife from his flesh and backhanded Catherine across the face.

She went down to her knees, holding her cheek, which was quickly turning purple. Maggie knelt beside her. “My lamb!”

The Borderer opened the door and shouted, “I need help!”

Cat retrieved her knife from the floor and sheathed it beneath her cloak as heavy boots thudded up the stairs. “Firkin’ hell, can ye no’ guard a lass an’ an owd woman?” When he saw Catherine’s face he roared, “We’ve orders not tae harm the wench! Christ, Hepburn will cut off yer nuts fer this! Get the hell downstairs.”

The second man was as dangerous-looking as the first to Cat. She could hardly tell them apart. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, trying to ignore the smell of damp mold. She decided to behave from now on, but she was filled with a sense of secret satisfaction for the reckless thing she had done.

Patrick Hepburn could not shake the premonition of impending peril. Each time he closed his eyes he saw Armstrongs, which convinced him that the night riders who’d been seen at Crichton while he was away were members of that clan. As soon as he left the city, he urged Valiant into a full gallop, heading home. One minute his path lay clear; the next, he was surrounded by thugs. Outnumbered by five, he was ready to fight until the leader spoke.

“Come quietly, m’lord. We ha’ yer lady and Robert Carey.”

The danger I sensed was for Catherine and Robert as well as myself.
It was a revelation that gave him little satisfaction, for he’d done nothing to protect them. He was certain that none had followed him and Catherine on their trek for the wild horses, but it was obvious someone had been watching Crichton for his return. They’d seen him go to Seton, then escort Cat to Holyrood. He hoped to God that they’d taken Robert Carey because he was a Border warden involved in the hanging of Sim Armstrong and not because they knew he was a secret courier for King James. He bottled up his fury behind a calm façade. “I’ll give you no trouble, gentlemen. Lead on.”

The mounted men surrounded him as they rode the two miles back to Edinburgh. Hepburn was familiar with the seedy area they entered near the Grassmarket, where freshly killed cattle were hung; he could smell the piles of offal left by the butchers. They clattered through a narrow wynd and then behind a tall house. Patrick recognized Catherine’s trunks piled on the black coach that stood in the yard. The men dismounted and tethered their horses and Hepburn did the same, silently vowing annihilation to every man jack of them if aught befell Valiant.

The front door opened and he walked inside with four of the men close on his heels. The windows were shuttered and the only light came from oil lamps. Patrick’s inner eye focused on Catherine. He sensed that she was nearby, either a few stories above him or perhaps in the house next door. He knew that Carey and his driver and guard were being held separately from the women.

The outlaw who was in authority laid out his demands, but Patrick noticed with grim satisfaction that he kept a safe distance between them. The man was not Foss Armstrong, the Border warden, but Hepburn knew it was the warden who’d devised the plot.

“You hung Sim Armstrong.”

“I
hanged
him,” Hepburn corrected laconically.

“We ha’ the English Border warden, Carey, who conspired in Armstrong’s murder, an’ we also ha’ yer Seton woman. We demand ten thousand Scots pounds fer their ransom as compensation, or their lives are forfeit.”

Hepburn’s mouth set and then he said calmly, “Impossible. You cannot get blood from a stone.”

“We can if the stone is Crichton Castle. Eight thousand!”

A mortgage is anathema to me. It took me years to pay off the one my father saddled Crichton with.
Hepburn was relieved that they seemed to have no idea Carey was a courier for the king. He thought about Catherine and his gut knotted. “Five thousand.”

“Done!” The leader agreed with a nod.

“I’ll need a couple of hours to arrange a mortgage.”

“An hour! Jed, go wi’ him.”

Hepburn and his escort rode up High Street to Gordon Herriotts, the king’s goldsmith, with whom Patrick and his father had previously done business. Within thirty minutes he had mortgaged Crichton Castle and received a note for five thousand pounds. Over an hour had elapsed by the time Hepburn returned to the house. He handed the note to the thug who had set the ransom demand.

The man’s eyes gleamed with victory as he carefully read it, then they lifted to meet Hepburn’s. “Ye’ve not signed it.”

“How observant you are,” Patrick said quietly.

The man handed back the note. “Sign it!”

“When all your captives have been released and allowed to go freely on their way, I will sign the note.”

“Do ye take me fer a bloody fool? How do we know ye’ll sign it, once they’re freed?”

“You will still have me as your captive. I won’t sign it until they are freed.” He bared his teeth like a wolf. “If you kill me, you will never get it signed. If you kill them, you will have nothing left with which to bargain.”

It took a minute for the outlaw to digest Hepburn’s ultimatum. Then he summoned three of his cohorts and told them to take Hepburn and hold him in a back room. In a few minutes Patrick heard someone clear his throat and knew it was Robert Carey. A short time later he heard Catherine’s voice.

“You filthy swine, I hope the bloody wound I gave you festers!”

“Keep yer tongue between yer teeth, my lamb.”

Hepburn smiled at Maggie’s words. Cat was far too impulsive. One of the shutters was broken and he saw the ladies’ backs and then Robert’s as they entered the coach. A few minutes later it was driven from the yard. Patrick, ignoring his guards, walked from the back room and asked to watch the carriage depart the area. He could tell that the captives were free for the moment and knew he could do nothing for them until he gained his own release. With a flourish he put his signature on the promissory note, opened the door and went outside. He mounted Valiant and, showing no haste, trotted his horse down the street and through the narrow wynd. The minute he was out of sight of the house, he rode hell-for-leather the entire eight miles to Crichton.

He was shouting orders as soon as he neared the stables. By the time he had changed horses, six moss-troopers were saddled and ready to ride south. An hour’s hard gallop brought Carey’s coach in sight. Lumbering under the weight of passengers and luggage it had covered only a dozen miles. Hepburn was relieved to see the carriage was not being followed. He kept well back until the afternoon light began to fade, then sent Jock ahead to the inn at Peebles to make sure it was safe before the coach arrived.

“Can we not go faster, Robert? We’re being followed!”

“Yes, I was alarmed until I realized it was the Border lord.”

“Bloody Hepburn!
He’s
the reason we were kidnapped, isn’t he?” She touched her bruised face and winced.

“Patrick and I are both to blame, I’m afraid, Catherine.”

“What did you do?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“It was Border patrol business. You don’t want to know.”

“He’s the reason for all my troubles!”

“He’s the reason we were released, Catherine.”

“By making a deal with the Devil?” she mocked.

“By paying our ransom—I suppose you could call it a deal with the Devil.”

Cat shuddered. “Scotland is peopled with barbarians.”

“The village of Peebles is just ahead. We’ll stop for the night at the inn there. If we start early tomorrow we should make it across the Border by nightfall.”

“Ah, good, no barbarians in England,” Maggie said sardonically.

When they arrived at the inn, Robert ordered three rooms. One was for the ladies, one for their driver and guard, and the third for himself. As all their luggage was being hauled upstairs, Maggie told the innkeeper’s wife, “My lady will need a bath after supper. She likes her water hot.” Then she muttered, “She’s never out of hot water.”

“I heard that,” Cat declared. Then she smiled guiltily. “I know I’m a sore trial to you, Maggie.”

“Ach, lambie, I’d have no adventures if it weren’t fer ye!”

When Cat and Maggie entered their room, Catherine turned the key in the lock. “If Hepburn comes knocking, you are not to let him in. I would die of mortification if he ever saw my face.”

“I warrant he’s seen more than yer face.”

“If you want the truth, Maggie, he saw more than my face the first night aboard ship when we were ankle-deep in spew.”

“Well, if that dinna put him off ye, nothing will!”

“Put
him
off
me
? I can assure you it is the other way about!”

An hour later, Robert sat in the taproom drinking ale with Patrick. “How did you get the money?”

“How do you think?” Hepburn said shortly.

Robert knew Hepburn would not mortgage lightly. “Thank you. I shall find some way to repay you, my lord.”

“There is no need for that. The Armstrongs will repay me.”

“They’ll be long gone by now,” Robert pointed out.

Hepburn smiled. “Scotland isn’t big enough for them to hide.” He drank his ale. “I was afraid they would find James’s letter.”

“You’re a liar, Hepburn. Nothing on earth frightens you.”

Upstairs, after Catherine had eaten, a wooden tub was dragged into her room and filled with steaming water. She urged Maggie to bathe first so that she could examine her cheek carefully in the mirror and bathe it with cold water from the jug. Cat then took her bath. As she soaked, she feared that Hepburn would arrive at any moment.

An hour later, dressed in night rail and bed robe, she began to fear that Hepburn would not come.
The least he could do is offer his apology that I was kidnapped, threatened and injured.
Then she remembered that he was not a gallant courtier.
The untamed lout has likely never apologized for aught in his life!

The next day, with their moss-trooper escort, they covered the seventy-five miles that took them across the Border to Carlisle Castle, where Carey’s brother-in-law, Scrope, was the constable. Catherine was overjoyed to see Philadelphia, who had returned to Carlisle Castle with her husband, Lord Scrope, after her father’s funeral.

“Darling, whatever happened to your face?” Philadelphia cried.

Cat poured out the whole story to sympathetic ears. She turned quickly as she recognized the spurred tread of Hepburn’s boots.

“Lady Catherine is going home. Seton was unsafe for her. I believe her cousin resents the fact that she is her grandfather’s heir. He fancies himself as the next Earl of Winton.”

“That is a blatant lie!” Catherine was in a blazing fury. “How dare you claim I am in danger from Malcolm or Andrew? My danger came from my association with
you,
Hepburn. I vow that association is ended today.” She turned and swept from the hall.

“The irresistible attraction of opposites is stronger than ever, I see,” Philadelphia said dryly. She placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you for delivering them safely, Patrick. I warrant the cost was high. Is there aught I can do to help?”

“Just make sure the little hellcat doesn’t elope before she comes of age, Lady Scrope.” He grinned and kissed her fingers.