Wild Hearts (14 page)

Alexandria urged Tabby to slip away from the others to go and look at a Spanish booth selling knives and dirks. While she made up her mind just which blade was the sharpest, Tabby's eyes were caught by a pair of red, Spanish leather, high-heeled slippers. They were exquisite, and she knew she had to have them. She still had the money Paris had given her and hoped fervently it would be enough. They had taken her fancy to such a degree, she couldn't contemplate life without them. She haggled for all she was worth but could not bring the swarthy vendor low enough. She stopped for breath while Alexandria tried bargaining for the knife It wasn't going any better for Alexandria. Suddenly, the girls looked at each other and smiled. They pooled their money and joined forces. When the Spaniard realized he was in danger of losing two sales, he capitulated, and all three were happy.

A large crowd had gathered for the highlight of the Kelso Fair. The gypsies always had a horse and pony auction. No questions asked about where the animals came from, but you could always count on the gypsies for sound horseflesh. Tabby found it easy to separate herself from Alexandria in the crowd. Darting quick glances from side to side, to make sure Alex wasn't about, she clutched her parcels to her breast and ran, to where the couple who had offered her a ride to Edinburgh had left their wagon.

"Och! There ye are, lass. We'll be leavin' as soon as ma man comes. He's gone to fetch me some black peas. I'd dearly love to stay the nicht, there'll be pipers an' dancin' and the like, but och, Edinburgh is a long drive!"

Tabby climbed into the wagon and sat next to the woman. She fervently hoped the woman's husband came soon- before someone discovered her. The minutes stretched out endlessly. Tabby's heart was in her throat. She told herself over and over that she was doing the right, the decent thing. She knew in which direction her duty lay. Her conscience spoke clearly to her, and she knew she had no choice. The woman chattered on with Tabby, who had not heard one word of the conversation. Suddenly, a laughing group of beautiful people sauntered up to the wagon. Alex took her left hand and Lord Logan her right. Lord Lennox lifted her down, recognition lighting his eyes.

Shannon laughed. "We came to collect you."

Lord Cessford pressed some gold into the woman's hand, and Damascus said sweetly, "Our sister does strange things. Thank you for being kind to her."

Tabby looked at Lord Lennox and said in a low voice, "I'm so unhappy here, why do you not help me?"

To give him his due, Lennox looked shamefaced, but he shrugged and said, "I hope to marry Venetia. I dare not cross Rogue Cockburn."

Tabby knew she had been out-maneuvered, and took it good-naturedly. After all, it wasn't the fault of the young Cockburns that their brother had stolen her, and she had heard Paris threaten Alex only this morning. She had a fondness for this family that bordered on love. They had to obey their devil of a brother, just as she had to. This thwarted escape was only one more wrong she would add to the score. Her resolve hardened. No matter how many attempts they thwarted, she vowed to get away come hell or high water.

On the way home in the carriage she said in a small voice, "You won't tell Paris, will you?"

They stared at her, horrified. "Surely, you needn't ask such a question. What do you take us for?" demanded Alexandria.

Relief swept over her as she realized she would not have to face his implacable anger.

CHAPTER 6

Everyone slept late next morn, but when the day finally got under way, they realized they had had the best of the weather for the previous day's fair. The air was sultry and overcast. Bruise-colored clouds gathered all afternoon. The storm didn't break until after the evening meal. They all gathered in the living quarters, none daring to say they were frightened by the thunder and lightning but glad for each other's company.

Alexander and Troy played chess in a corner of the room. Troy was usually too restless for such pastimes, but the teeming rain made even him content to sit with the family.

Damascus was simply bursting to tell the other girls about Robert's proposal. Her pale green eyes sparkled with mischief as she kept her voice too low for Paris to overhear. "Robert asked me to be Lady Cessford yesterday, but he hasn't asked Paris yet. I've been expecting him all day, but this damned storm will prevent his coming."

Alexandria said wickedly, "You're not the only one to be alone tonight. This weather would keep the damned gypsies away."

Shannon cuffed her youngest sister over the ear, then warmly congratulated Damascus.

Venetia, not to be outdone, confided, "I think David Lennox is going to speak to Paris as well. He made it plain yesterday he was in the market for a certain wife!'

Damascus put her pretty chin up. "I'm very happy for you, but don't forget I was first."

Shannon laughed. "You won't let us forget, love."

Damascus, ever ready with the last word, said, "But it's important. In this world you have to be first or you have to be best. Fortunately, I'm both!"

Alexandria groaned. "How do you manage to delude yourself every single day of your life?"

Venetia suggested, "Let's bring out some of the stuff we got yesterday and perhaps we can exchange with each other."

Paris was studying a sea chart by the firelight, but every time Tabby looked up, she found him watching her: What was he thinking? What was he plotting? Something wicked, something evil, she told herself angrily, fanning the flames of resentment against him. It was her only defense as her heartbeat quickened and fluttered in her breast.

Alexandria had face powder, Venetia had rouge, and Damascus had the box of face patches and eye-black. Shannon fetched out a pot of bright red lip salve. They hadn't been forbidden makeup in so many words, but they knew it wasn't considered respectable to paint your face. The girls were absorbed with the allure of cosmetics, and Paris gave his complete attention to watching Tabby move and how the firelight turned her hair to dark sable fire. The curve of her cheek was so pretty when she put her head to one side like that.

The domesticity was shattered by a booming voice- from the doorway. "You look for all the world like a skulk of foxes, safe in your lair!"

Paris sprang up. "Bothwell! What the hell are you doing here on a filthy night like this? Come in, Francis. Come by the fire and get dry. Troy, go down and see to his men."

As Bothwell came into the room, he had to duck his head at the doorway, he was so tall. His big boots rang out sharply on the stone step. His dark beard accentuated the deep brown hair and eyes. The room was a warm and welcoming haven. The roaring fire, the beautiful tapestries and the thick red carpet kept out any dampness of the night.

Bothwell eyed the five beautiful girls with appreciation. "Forgive this intrusion, ladies." He bowed toward them, then turned back to Paris. "As you know, I'm Sheriff of Edinburgh among other things, and I'm trying to locate the young bride of a prominent citizen who has been kidnapped."

Tabby's heart leaped. At last she was going to be free to return to Edinburgh. Paris shot her a warning glance, but she tossed her head triumphantly, anticipating his defeat with relish!

Bothwell laughed. "There are only half a dozen men in Scotland with enough audacity to carry off such a plan. Naturally, you were on my list." He grinned at Paris.

"You flatter me, milord. You scared me, appearing out of nowhere like that."

"Lying bastard! Naught ever scared you, Cockburn," he said, and laughed.

Paris didn't look in Tabby's direction again, but he was acutely aware of her. "Tell me,. Francis, what would you do if you discovered this kidnapped bride?" questioned Paris casually.

"Throw her in one of my own fortresses and double the ransom, of course," boomed Bothwell.

Tabby gasped and went pale. Why, were men such devils?

Paris said smoothly, "I have no kidnapped brides, but I do have five lovely sisters, milord."

"Ah, yes, the beautiful ladies with the unusual names."

Shannon stepped forward. This was an opportunity she wasn't going to miss. Bothwell was almost a legend, and he was here, right under her own roof. Cousin to the King, James Stewart, he held more titles and land than any other peer of the realm. He owned three castles, as well as houses in almost every border town, though everything was heavily mortgaged because of his extravagance. Not always in favor with the King, he was somewhat of a black sheep, having spent time in prison for indebtedness, and had stood trial a few years back for practicing witchcraft. At the moment he was riding high in the King's favor, his titles and offices restored to him.

Shannon sank down before him, showing an expanse of bosom and slanting an upward glance at him. "Shannon, my Lord Bothwell."

"The jewel of Ireland," he said, smiling.

"Damascus, my Lord Bothwell." She swept gracefully before him.

"The oldest city known to civilization," he returned.

"Venetia, my Lord. Bothwell," she said softly.

"The most beautiful city on earth," he replied.

"Alexandria, my Lord Bothwell," she said with pride.

"A city I have never visited but hope to," he said with gravity.

"Tabrizia, my Lord Bothwell." The fifth girl in the room sank down before him.

"The capital of Persia," he said, looking deeply into the violet eyes.

Paris was startled, although he didn't allow it-to show on his face. Why in hell's name hadn't she told him her name was Tabrizia? Named for a city like the rest of them proved she was a Cockburn. Devious bitch! Wasn't it just like a woman to be secretive and sly! She'd been ready to gloat over her victory, too, by God. One day he'd make her beg to let her stay with him. He vowed it! Then they'd see which one of them did the gloating!

"By God, you are truly a rogue, never to have mentioned such lovely creatures! I'd no idea there were so many or that they were so beautiful," said Bothwell.

"Beautiful, perhaps, to any but a brother. To me they can be right little bitches." Paris laughed, looking directly into Tabrizia's eyes.

The girls sat in a circle surrounding Bothwell. Each knew she had a duty to allay his suspicions. He was without doubt the most powerful earl in the land since his Cousin, the King, had moved to England, and although be had always been their brother's ally in the past, he could have Paris arrested and incarcerated in Edinburgh Castle if the whim took him.

He was a powerfully built man. His black eyebrows met over piercing eyes as they roamed from one girl to the other.

Shannon offered, "Let me help you with your boots, milord. They are wet, and I always think a man puts comfort before any other pleasure."

"Not always." He grinned, taking the opportunity to have a good look down the front of her gown as she bent before him.

Damascus shuddered; he was far to masculine and sensual.

Shannon licked her lips over him.

Alexandria, always ready for a practical joke, whispered to him, "He does have a woman upstairs in one of the towers."

Bothwell cocked an eyebrow at her.

Venetia said, "He keeps her in the White Tower, well away from the rest of us."

He sat forward.

Before the girls goaded him into a search, Tabrizia confided to him, "It's his wife, do you want her?"

"Wife?" He wrinkled his nose. "Had one once; never cared for them!"

The girls giggled at his wicked humor. Again and again Bothwell's eyes came to rest on Tabrizia. More often than he looked at the others, Paris thought, trying to conceal his anger. In the last five minutes he'd managed to tickle her chin, pull one of her curls and hold her hand for a moment as she handed him a wine cup.

Alexander sat glowering at Bothwell, ready to do battle if his fingers strayed too far.

Paris-called, "Alex, I have an errand for you."

The boy came over to Paris, his eyes filled with resentment against their visitor.

Paris said low, "Go down to the men's quarters and tell Troy to get them drunk. Pass the word among the men to be careful of what they say." Paris saw with satisfaction that Damascus was about to play her stringed lute and Venetia was going to sing. He beckoned Tabrizia with his eyes. She was becoming used to reading the expression in them whenever he looked at her For a moment she thought she might pretend not to understand, just to annoy him, then thought better of it

Paris said low, "Tabrizia, I want you to slip away to bed, now. Bothwell can be dangerous if he chooses." He said her name as if it were a caress, and she knew in her heart that he was protecting her. She nodded and rejoined the girls until a moment presented itself when she could retire without attracting too much attention.

Paris called, "Shannon, come and we will find Francis some of that fine brandy I have stacked below for special occasions." When they were out of earshot, he said to his sister; "I want Bothwell to have his mind fully occupied every moment he spends in our castle. The other girls have no experience with men, and I know you are equal to the task. I want all his thoughts to be filled with you."

"That shouldn't be difficult." She smiled.