Wild Hearts (21 page)

Paris frowned. Everything had erupted into one hell of a mess. Magnus was already making plans for Tabrizia that were totally opposed to his own. Magnus expected her to live at Tantallon, and there would be a hell of a hue and-cry when Paris took her away in the morning. Magnus's temper would erupt like a volcano when he found out Paris intended her to be his mistress. Another thundering match was inevitable when Magnus discovered his child was married to the usurer, Abrahams, but between them, they could soon have that marriage set aside. Not so easily dealt with would be Magnus's reaction when he learned Tabrizia was the bride Paris had abducted for ransom. It might cause a breach between them that could never be healed. So be it. Paris was not about to surrender her. He decided against telling Magnus anything for the moment.

Magnus stammered, "You'll think me a great fool, but I feel the need to go down to the chapel. Excuse me, Paris."

His nephew was astounded, for a more irreligious old rogue he had yet to meet. Paris retired to his own chamber. Back in the bed where he had so recently lain with Tabrizia, sleep completely eluded him. An exultant feeling was building inside him at the thought that no other man had ever touched Tabrizia. Male power surged through his veins as he vowed no man, save he, ever would touch her. He finally admitted that it was more than just desire and lust; he had loved her for some time. What a clumsy brute he'd been to her tonight. No wonder she was near hysterics. Next time would be different. He would use infinite patience and wait until she was ready, nay, eager for him. And, yes, he admitted, he'd even go as far as giving the damned gold back, if that was the only thing that would placate her.

At first light he arose and went to her. It was very difficult to rouse her, and when she finally did sit up in the bed, she was disoriented and had an unnatural glitter in her eyes. He swore beneath his breath as his suspicions took hold.

Margaret hurried in when she heard him. Gowned in royal blue, embroidered with silver roses, she looked beautiful, as if she had spent all night in front of her mirror. But Paris didn't notice.

"Christ-all-fucking-mighty, Margaret, what did you give her last night?" he demanded furiously.

She looked hurt at his harsh words. "Why, Paris, it was only a sleeping draught. She was so upset, I had to calm her."

"A sleeping draught of poppies! I know morphia intoxication when I see it. I've had more than a passing acquaintance with the drug," he snapped bitterly. He turned back to the bed. "I've brought your cloak and your boots, Tabrizia. We are going home."

Tabrizia put her hand to her head. It ached so vilely, she couldn't think straight. This much she knew— she did not wish to go with Paris, and she did not wish to stay here. Her goal was Edinburgh, and she intended to reach it this day. She pulled on her boots and donned the cloak. She did not look at Paris but kept her own counsel. She would have to endure his company as far as Cockburnspath, but that was all.

Paris turned back to Margaret. "Where is Magnus?"

"He's asleep. He was in the chapel till after four this morning. He also took a sleeping draught and won't awaken for hours yet. I think you should wait to speak to him. He will be angered if he discovers you have left."

"I'm needed at home. The harvest feast is planned for tomorrow. Ask Magnus to bring you. He hasn't been at Cockburnspath in a year A daughter will be a lure he cannot resist."

Margaret almost hissed, "It seems others cannot resist her, either," and nearly bit off the end of her tongue in an effort to appear sweet and gentle. "Thank you for the lovely invitation, milord." She changed her mind about asking Paris to deliver a letter to her mother. If she was going to see her this week, no need to risk putting anything in writing.

Tabrizia was pointedly silent on the ride home. When she spoke, it was to Paris's moss-trooper who rode alongside her. Once she asked him, "What are these small, cave-like openings on this mountain?"

"They are for lambing time, ma'am. They are called shielings. Sometimes in the spring after the ewes have delivered, we get deep snow. The shepherds put the new lambs in these little shelters to keep them from the cold. It saves a lot of newborn stock, if they can get to them in time."

Paris signaled his man to ride ahead, so he could speak with Tabrizia. "Never take a sleeping potion again unless it is from my hand," he warned her sternly.

"Do you never tire of giving orders, milord?" she asked casually.

"Authority comes naturally to me," he stated.

"Along with arrogance, cruelty, lust and deception," she said, sneering.

"Never speak to me in that disrespectful tone again, madam, or you will find out just how cruel I can be."

"Lord Cockburn, on the ride to Tantallon I was but a waif; however, on the ride back, I find myself the daughter of an earl. I shall speak to you in any way I wish!"

Instantly, his hand was on her horse's bridle. He, pulled her mount up short and maneuvered so close, the horses' flanks touched. "If you were the daughter of a
king
, I would not take insolence from you." His dark, angry face came too close for comfort. She took a deep breath to calm herself. In spite of her momentary defiance, she was afraid of him and decided not to antagonize him further. She would not have to endure his presence much longer.

"I realize I was drugged last night. My head is aching vilely."

"I accept your apology," he compromised carefully, before letting her continue the journey. Not until she was well ahead of him did his face show the tenderness he felt toward her.

CHAPTER 9

When Tabrizia arrived back at the castle, she found Shannon with her jaw swollen from an abscessed tooth. Everyone was giving her advice. Troy offered to pull the tooth for her, but she was horrified at the suggestion. "Don't you realize when you lose your back teeth, your cheeks sink in and you look old?"

Alexandria said, "I'll go down to the kitchen and get you some cloves. If you hold one against the sore gum, it will make it bearable for a while."

Damascus wondered, "Isn't there an old gypsy remedy or spell or something? Doesn't it have to do with a cobweb? You'll have to ask you-know-who about it."

"As if I would let him see me looking like this," Shannon said scathingly, holding her swollen jaw

"I can give you some practical advice," offered Tabrizia, "We will make a poultice to draw off the poison. It can be made from either bread or oatmeal; they both draw well."

"Please show me how-to make it, the pain is unbearable. I'll try anything," said Shannon.

"It has to be put on as hot as you can stand it, and as soon as it has cooled, you replace it with another hot one. You will likely have to do it all day before it works. When the poison is drawn off, the swelling will go down."

They all rallied around Shannon for a short time, but each in turn went off to make her own preparations for the harvest festival that would be upon them with the first light of dawn.

Only Tabrizia held out and was still patiently boiling oatmeal until darkness fell in the late afternoon. Shannon noticed the dark smudges under the younger girl's eyes and felt remorse. What the hell had Paris done to her last night? She looked fragile enough to break. Shannon was by nature generous, and on impulse said, "Someone should meet Johnny Raven for me and tell him I'm not coming out tonight."

Tabrizia raised her eyes to Shannon's. "You must be able to read my thoughts. I have been planning to meet him all day. Will he take me to Edinburgh?"

Shannon nodded. "He'll take you. Your ransom was paid, it seems only fair."

Tabrizia stood on a little knoll outside the castle walls, wrapped in the dark green velvet cloak she had lent so often to Shannon. Even though it wasn't as cold as it had been the previous evening, as the mist swirled about her, she shivered with anticipation of the unknown. She could hear a horse in the darkness coming at a fast gallop, but though she peered hard into the fog, she could make out no rider. Suddenly, the horse was upon her, but before she could throw herself back, two strong arms plucked her up, and she found herself in the arms of Johnny Raven.

He was as startled as she. "What game is this? Where is Shannon?" he demanded. At close range, the gypsy had jet black eyes with long lashes. His hair curled down onto his shoulders in wild disarray. The moon, moving mysteriously through the mist, reflected upon the golden coin that dangled from his left ear.

"She's in misery with a tooth abscess. She thought you would take me to Edinburgh."

"What reward do you offer?"

"I can pay you nothing; I have nothing," she admitted honestly.

He laughed. "To leave empty-handed a castle bursting at the seams with riches is folly indeed. Are you so innocent in the ways of the world?"

"I came with very little; I am leaving with even less," she told him.

"Do you intend to offer me your body?" he asked boldly, appraising her openly.

She gasped. "No, no. Won't you help me for charity's sake?"

He looked at her with contempt. "I would die before I would ask charity of anyone. Where is your pride? It stiffens your resolve and prevents you from becoming the world's poor little victim."

She saw that she was still wearing the emerald ring on her thumb. "Here, take this," she decided, thrusting the now repugnant symbol from her.

"Wait for me," he ordered, and slid from the horse quietly. In an impossibly short time he was back with a small sheep's carcass. It had been skinned and trussed, ready for roasting on the spit at tomorrow's festivities. He fastened it behind the cantle of his saddle and remounted.

She did not protest his theft. After all; the Cockburns lived by the same tenets, didn't they? The gypsy very obviously had such a low opinion of her, so she tried to explain, "I had no control over the things that happened to me!'

"Horseshit! Fortune favors the bold. You have to seize the moment and make it happen! For instance, what you should have done was hide the emerald from me, then, the moment I left, take off for Edinburgh and steal my horse into the bargain," he instructed, digging in his heels as the animal leaped forward. He knew the country intimately. She had no need to fear the treacherous bog that lay in wait.

"So, you take whatever you want in life. Aren't you afraid that the price you will have to pay someday may be too high?"

"I shall pay without flinching," he assured her with arrogance.

Tabrizia wished she had thought of this means of escape long ago, but to tell the truth, something had always half held her back. Now the tie was severed forever, and she would put the past behind her and go forward to meet her new life. She would show those damned Cockburns, her father included, that she didn't need them.

They entered the walled city by the South Bridge. The fog from the mountains did not reach into the city tonight, though smoke from a thousand chimneys made the air thick and sooty. She thrilled to be back in Edinburgh for all its dirt and smells. It was built on the crest of a ridge, and the wind always whipped along its streets. Edinburgh Castle perched blackly atop Castle Rock, dominating the whole town.

She looked up at the tollbooth and noticed the spikes atop the turrets. She shivered at the dungeons below and said a quick prayer for the poor souls incarcerated there. She nearly retched at the stink from the Grassmarket where cattle hung bloody, and piles of innards gave off such a rank odor, it could be smelled two miles away. They passed through Tanner's Close, where the houses stood rotting in the shadows of Edinburgh Castle.

"Let me off at the Royal Mile. I'll have to walk the rest of the way to avoid suspicion."

He lowered her to the street but kept a hold on her arm. "I feel pity for you, little red hen."

"Why do you call me that?" she asked.

"Hens give their eggs all their lives and, as a reward for good behavior, end up between someone's knees, being plucked. Don't let them do it to you, sweeting!" He laughed sarcastically and sped off.

She walked until she found her husband's house. How strange it seemed to her. She had used all her energies getting here; now she wished she had given some thought to a plausible story she could give the man who had married her. She knew it was sometime between midnight and dawn. The household would be asleep at this hour, but sure of her welcome, she did not hesitate to knock loudly.

The doorman roused the butler, who informed the houseman, who brought the majordomo, who in turn informed the master's body servant, who awakened Maxwell Abrahams himself. Flanked by this male bastion of servants, he entered the library where she had been told to wait. When she saw him; she opened her mouth to speak and was immediately silenced by his imperious, cold look. His eyes narrowed to slits as he contemplated her. Finally, after an interminable scrutiny, he uttered, "Who?" One word.

She was prepared to tell him everything save the identity of her kidnapper. "I don't know," she faintly stammered.

He picked up a long pole used for reaching books from high shelves and slashed it across the table beside her. The crack rent the air and nausea gripped her.

"Liar!" he hissed: "It was Rogue Cockburn. That's who you are protecting. What I want to know, and will know, is why."