Seducing His Sassenach

by Ashe Barker

  The man had appeared at his door when Archie pounded upon it clad in just the coarse loose-fitting shirt he had slept in. He blinked at the strangers on his doorstep then attempted to slam the door in their faces.

  Archie’s boot inserted into the opening thwarted that plan. He and Robbie shoved their way inside. The gamekeeper lurched in the direction of an axe that leaned against the wall, but Robbie was quicker. The man backed away, the point of the Scot’s sword positioned at his throat.

  “What do you want? We have nothin’ worth stealin’,” the gamekeeper snarled, gesturing for his wife to remain behind him. “Take what you must but leave us be.”

  “Varley, is it?” Robbie asked, his tone deceptively pleasant. “We are no’ here tae rob ye. We are here tae do business.”

  “How do you know my name? And what honest business is done at the point of a sword,” returned the man, not unreasonably.

  Robbie ignored the first question. The less these people knew of what had brought the strangers to their door, the better. “Ye have something we wish tae purchase.”

  The gamekeeper glanced about himself, taking in the meanness of his surroundings. His incredulous frown told its own story. “What could you want here?”

  Robbie tilted his chin in the direction of the rough crib in the far corner of the hovel. “Ye have a child, over there. A child not yer own.”

  “A child...?”

  The woman cowering behind her husband let out a keening moan. Robbie was not without sympathy for her plight, but there could be no happy outcome for her.

  “The child... she is not yours,” he insisted, starting to lower his sword. He sensed that Varley would offer no violence unless attacked first.

  “She is, she is ours,” cried the gamekeeper’s wife. “‘Tis me little Bessy.”

  The man turned to wrap his wife in his beefy embrace. “Annie, Annie, love. We must listen to what they have to say...”

  “No, nooooo,” she wailed, struggling to be free.

  “I am sorry,” Robbie began. “Truly I am.” And he meant it. Even on such short acquaintance it was obvious to him that these were not evil or greedy people. They were simple folk, honest, he supposed, and struggling to eke out a living as best they might out here in the wilds. What was more, it was clear that they genuinely cared for the child.

  None of this made any difference to what must now happen, but perhaps the purse of coins might.

  “You were paid to take her,” Archie suggested as he strode around the couple to peer into the crib. “How much?”

  Varley hesitated, then shrugged. “Three sovereigns.”

  “How long were ye tae keep her for?”

  The pair looked to each other in bewilderment. “Why, forever,” the gamekeeper replied. “What else?”

  “No one is expected tae return for her?” Robbie pressed them.

  “No. No one. She is ours,” wailed Mistress Varley. “You cannot take her.”

  “Hush, Annie.” The man attempted to comfort his distraught spouse. “Think of the little one yet to be born. You must not take on so.”

  “You are expecting?” Jane stepped out from behind Robbie.

  “Aye,” the man nodded. “‘Tis early yet, but... aye.”

  “We wish you well,” Robbie said, sheathing his weapon. “Our congratulations, mistress.” He fixed his gaze on the man once more. “Three sovereigns, ye said?”

  “Three, yes.”

  “I will offer ye double that, for yer trouble. An’ for the care an’ protection ye have provided for the wee mite.”

  The man’s jaw dropped. “Six sovereigns? You would pay that much for this babe?”

  “Aye, we... ouch!” Robbie glared at Jane who had just dug her elbow between his ribs.

  “My companion meant to say twelve,” she announced. “Twelve silver sovereigns. Six for... Bessy. And another six to help with the new baby when it arrives.”

  Both peasants stared at the bizarre trio who had invaded their cottage at the crack of dawn, apparently armed with more money than sense. They were both speechless. The woman was the first to find her tongue. “You would give us twelve sovereigns? That... that be a fortune.”

  “But... why?” The gamekeeper looked from Robbie to Archie and back again. “She is just a babe. An orphan...”

  “It doesnae matter why. It only matters that we have a bargain. Do we?” Robbie pulled the purse from within his tunic and dangled it in front of the astonished man. “Twelve sovereigns...” He paused to slant an irritated glare at Jane. “Twelve sovereigns an’ we leave now, wi’ the bairn. And ye say nothing about this bargain of ours. Ever.”

  Long moments passed, before the man gave a slight nod.

  His wife merely sobbed but offered no more protest. The deal was struck.

  Robbie dropped the purse onto the rough table and nodded to Archie.

  “No, let me take her,” Jane said, darting forward. “She knows me...”

  * * *

  As they rode away, Robbie considered the tale told by the couple of how they came by the little one. He was minded to believe Varley when he had told them he had understood the child to be an orphan, and of peasant stock. Varley had accepted a purse of silver from a young nobleman who offered the money in exchange for his hospitality, but he had mainly taken the baby girl in because he knew how much his wife longed for a child of her own. However, Mistress Varley was now expecting again, which Robbie hoped would soften the blow somewhat.

  The cottage was a couple of miles behind them now, and the bereaved mother’s plaintive sobbing no longer audible. Robbie glanced across to Archie, who had the sleeping baby tucked inside his tunic. Cecily was rather smaller than Robbie had expected, not that he knew overmuch about babies. She had been asleep in her crib when they forced their way into the cottage, and had not stirred once during the negotiations. As soon as the deal was struck, Jane had lifted her from the cot and swiftly carried her from the dwelling, then handed her to Archie when it dawned on her that she could not ride a horse and cradle a baby at the same time.

  And, as an added bonus, it appeared that the danger of pursuit was less than he had feared since the Varleys seemed to think that Culpepper had no intention of ever returning for the child. He might never know that Cecily had been removed from the cottage in the woods with the intention of seeing her safe back with her mother.

  They emerged from the cover of the trees, and Robbie at once spotted their escort of guards, lounging in a meadow about half a mile away. The men remounted as soon as they caught sight of their leaders and the party reunited. They remained on the edge of the forest just long enough to break their fast and plan their route back to the north.

  “We should avoid the London area,” Robbie stated. Even if Culpepper was oblivious to the fact that his plans had been thwarted, there seemed to be no point in tempting fate.

  No one disagreed.

  “So, we will no’ be using the Great North Road,” he continued. That was the usual route between England and Scotland, and relatively heavily trafficked. “If Culpepper does somehow get wind o’ what has happened and decides tae give chase, he will likely pursue us that way.”

  “The western route, then,” Archie put in. “We follow the Welsh border, then continue north through Cheshire and Cumberland.”

  “Aye,” Robbie agreed, “but we need tae send word tae Lady Falconer who will be travellin’ north also. It wouldnae do for Culpepper tae come upon her, either.”

  Archie nodded. “Fergus, ye will take two men an’ ride north. Remain within sight o’ the Great North Road but avoid it and try not tae be seen yourselves. Watch out for Culpepper. It is your task tae locate Lady Falconer’s party an’ bring her tae meet wi’ us at Stratford-upon-Avon. If ye get there first, wait for us. If we are first, we will wait until ye arrive. Then, we shall all travel together an’ cross the border at Carlisle.”

  “A long route,” Robbie observed. “We shall be weeks on the road.”

  “‘Tw
ill be worth it, tae get the child back tae her mother safely.”

  Robbie concurred. “Aye. Well, we should be gettin’ started. But first, we need tae see Jane here safe back tae Ashingburn. We can spare an escort of two men.”

  “Ashingburn?” Jane paused in sharing a hunk of bread with the baby on her lap. “I am not going back to Ashingburn.”

  “Oh? Where then?” Robbie regarded her with interest.

  “I am coming with you. To Scotland.”

  “But... why?” He was baffled. “Your home is here. D’ye no’ have family hereabouts? Your sister?”

  “My place is with Cecily. She needs me.” Jane hugged the child close to her chest.

  “She is safe now, with us.”

  “Ha! Do either one of you know the first thing about caring for a baby? What will you feed her? How will you keep her clean? And dry?”

  “It cannae be so hard,” Robbie began. “We have plenty o’ food, and we can give her a dip in the river, from time to time. We’ll no’ let her drown.”

  “Babies need milk, not just bread and cheese,” Jane pointed out. “And she will need washing more often than just from time to time. See, her blanket is wet already. She needs a dry one, and this one needs to be laundered.”

  “Oh.” Robbie peered at the infant with new respect and no small measure of awe. Perhaps this was going to be an even more perilous journey than he had imagined.

  “You need me to help care for her,” Jane insisted. “I am her nurse. It is my responsibility.” She paused, then, “Please. I... I will not cause you any trouble and I really will make myself useful.”

  Robbie exchanged a look with Archie, who merely shrugged.

  “Ye’re certain this is what ye want tae do, lass? Scotland is a long way from here, an’ there can be no guarantee that ye would ever see your home again.”

  “I am certain,” she replied, her chin high and her eyes glinting with determination.

  “An’ what if we are pursued? Culpepper will be merciless in dealing with those who have interfered with his plans.”

  “I imagine you will be able to defend me, should it come to that,” she returned. “You mean to protect Lady Falconer, so I see no reason why you should not do the same for me.”

  Robbie allowed himself a wry chuckle. “Your confidence is heartening, Jane. I daresay if I refuse ye will follow anyway. Ye have a wilful streak, lass, there can be nae mistakin’ that. I dinnae relish havin’ tae keep ye in order on top o’ everything else.”

  “I will behave, I swear. I... I shall obey you. Both of you...”

  Robbie raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I am minded tae point out the matter of six silver sovereigns which ye have cost me wi’ your ‘obedience.’”

  “They were good people. Kind people. They needed the money, and in any case, it was mine to give. Not yours.”

  “We have yet tae discuss that point wi’ Lady Falconer,” he reminded her.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I swear I shall be no trouble.”

  “I am no’ so sure about that. But I suppose ye will be useful wi’ wee Cecily here.”

  Her features split into a wide smile, the first sign of genuine happiness he believed he had witnessed from her. Robbie found he rather liked it. “So, I can come?”

  “Aye. Ye can come. We shall have tae invest some of that silver o’ yours, or rather, Lady Falconer’s, in a suitable mount for ye.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell.

  “Is there a problem, Jane?”

  “I cannot ride. I had never even been on a horse before yesterday. I am not sure... all the way to Scotland...”

  “Ah.”

  Archie clapped him on the back. “Aye, well, looks like we shall both be doublin’ up for the next few weeks, then.” He took the wriggling baby from Jane’s arms and pulled a face when he felt the damp bedding. “An’ despite this wee one’s less than polite habits, I still reckon I have the best o’ the bargain. The bairn will be a lot less bother than that one.”

  Robbie could not find it in himself to disagree, though he supposed Miss Jane Bartle could prove to be an interesting companion over the coming weeks. He swung into his saddle and offered her his hand.

  “Come, Janie. Let us be on our way.”

  Chapter Four

  “We need a goat.”

  “A what?” There was a distinct stiffening in the solid torso pressed against her back.

  “A goat,” Jane repeated, trying not to sound unduly sarcastic, but failing woefully. “A woolly thing. Four legs. Horns. And they bleat.”

  The Scot muttered something she assumed to be obscene but did so under his breath thus excusing Jane from the necessity of objecting.

  He sighed. “I know what a fucking goat looks like. What I dinnae ken is why we should be considerin’ draggin’ one o’ the daft wee beasts all the way tae Scotland.”

  “Cecily needs milk. So, a goat,” she explained. “She can manage some solid foods as long as we mash it up. Bread, maybe some boiled vegetables. But she must have milk, too.”

  “Bloody hell,” came the helpful response from the rear of the saddle. “An’ where d’ye think we might acquire a goat?”

  “There is a village about five miles from here. Corfe. It is a busy place and there is a market where we should be able to obtain what we need.”

  “Aye, an’ a castle full o’ King Henry’s soldiers as well,” observed Archie, who was riding alongside them. “Best avoided, probably.”

  “But Cecily needs milk,” Jane insisted. “I know of no other market for miles.”

  “No doubt we will come across a farm where we might buy what we need,” Robbie suggested.

  “Do you see any farms hereabouts?” Jane demanded. “And would it not draw even more attention if we were to turn up at some remote farmstead asking to buy milk and food? A town is crowded, yes, and there may be soldiers, but it is easier to hide in a crowd, surely.”

  There was silence for a few moments, then, “She may be right, Archie.”

  So, the great oaf does listen, after all...

  “Aye, she might,” their companion agreed. “Corfe Castle is a royal stronghold so we must assume any garrison there is loyal to Henry, though personally I doubt if the king’s part in this little adventure of ours is widely known. His quarrel wi’ the McGregors is personal. We might be able to make a brief stop there an’ slip away without raising much attention, though t’would be best if no one heard our Scots accents. Scotland and England are all but at war.”

  “I can manage a passable English accent if I have to. My mother’s influence...” Robbie fell silent and Jane waited for him to come up with some sort of plan. He cleared his throat. “So, this is what we shall do...”

  * * *

  “Why do I have to pretend to be your wife?” Jane demanded as she and Robbie made their way on foot through the winding streets of the bustling village. Above them towered the mighty stone walls of Corfe Castle, the heavily fortified grey structure both stern and forbidding. Mercifully, there were few soldiers to be seen, which surprised Jane somewhat. On the handful of previous occasions when she had been here, the place had bristled with guards. They were to be seen on every street corner, in the taverns, clustering in the squares and doorways. The village was eerily devoid of a military presence. She resolved to raise the matter with Robbie but her flow was interrupted when he answered her first question.

  “Why else might a man and a woman be together in a marketplace?” He looped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her toward him. “It wouldnae be decent otherwise. At least ye could try an’ look the part. Stop scowlin’ an’ lookin’ as though ye might be contemplatin’ sinkin’ a dagger between my ribs. A woman should respect her husband.”

  “If you think—”

  “Quiet. Troops.”

  At the Scot’s urgent whisper Jane held her tongue, and her breath. They were both attired in drab peasant’s clothing. Her own gown was plain enough, but Robbie had been obliged to avai
l himself of some rather disreputable garments that had been left to dry on a bush outside a cottage on the outskirts of the village. There was no reason that they would attract particular attention, but still, she edged closer to her companion.

  The voices of the soldiers could be heard as the men came closer. There were three of them, and by their unsteady gait Jane assumed they had been enjoying a mug or several of ale. She and Robbie caught a snippet of the men’s conversation as they lurched past.

  “Aye, our lads should be at Salisbury by now. Instructions were to meet up with the armies of the Earl o’ Salisbury...”

  “They’ll find no Scots in Salisbury,” observed one of his companions.

  “No, but they are to continue on north to Newbury where the Winchester forces will be waiting...”

  The three guards disappeared around a corner and out of earshot.

  “What did he mean? Why was he talking about armies?” Jane asked.

  Robbie’s features took on a grim expression. “I cannae be sure, but I have a nasty feelin’ that hostilities between Scotland an’ England may be closer than we thought.”

  “So, that is why there are hardly any soldiers here,” Jane mused. “They have all marched to Salisbury.”

  “It would seem so.”

  “But Lady Falconer said that King Henry was away in France so how could he be fighting a war with Scotland?”

  “How indeed? But it sounds as though someone has seen fit tae mobilise troops, so we need tae be watchful.” He pulled her to a halt and peered around the corner where the soldiers had gone. “Looks tae be all clear, but we shall have tae hurry. D’ye ken which way tae the market?”

  “It will be in the village square. I could ask the way...”

  “No need. Look.” Robbie pointed to an elderly man heading toward them carrying a sack of turnips and a dead chicken. “The market isnae behind us, so it’s safe to suppose he’s comin’ from there. This way, eh?”

  He was right. A couple of streets further and they found themselves in the busy market square. Stalls were set up in haphazard rows and merchants yelled out the merits of their wares to all who passed. Jane politely declined the offer of a handful of ribbons, then shook her head at the prospect of purchasing two ducks. The next stall they arrived at sold honey.