It took Sim Armstrong a minute to comprehend his meaning. The next minute, he was gone.
Heath Kennedy concealed his knife in his boot, expecting to be challenged when he walked into Carlisle Castle. “Take me to Lord Dacre; we have business.” Two more guards were posted outside the library door, fully armed with knives and swords. When they knocked, Dacre opened the door himself and admitted Kennedy.
“You are wasting your time; I won't bargain.”
“I think you will.”
Dacre's eyebrows went up in surprise at Kennedy's audacity.
“You and your son would far rather have me for your prisoner than Donal Kennedy. I'll take his place if you will release him.”
Dacre stared hard, wondering if he had heard right, suspicious of some ruse. He went to the door and asked the guard to summon Christopher, never taking his eyes from Kennedy. “Where's Armstrong?” he demanded.
Kennedy spread his palms. “Escaped,” he said blandly.
When Christopher Dacre entered the library and saw who was with his father, his lips curled with hatred. Then he said with relish, “There is no amount of money will ransom your brother.”
Dacre cut in, “He isn't offering money—he's offering himself.”
Chris Dacre's eyes widened with disbelief.
Heath Kennedy repeated his offer. “I'll take Donal's place if you will release him.” He watched the expression in Chris Dacre's eyes change to avidity, and he knew the deal was done. Dacre lusted to have him at his mercy.
It seemed to take a long time for the guards to produce Donal Kennedy, and Heath surmised that was because he was imprisoned deep in the bowels of the castle. When he was brought into the library, Heath saw that there was blood on his clothes and that he had a decided limp, but at least he was upright and could walk.
When Donal saw his half-brother, Heath, he could not hide his surprise. “You ransomed me?”
“I did,” Heath answered quickly, before anyone else could speak. “You will find the tents of Ram Douglas and his men in the meadow, set up next to the Maxwells.”
“You are free to go,” Dacre informed Donal. “Tell Douglas that I am holding his wife's brother until he withdraws all claims before the Wardens' Court tomorrow.”
Donal Kennedy seemed to be in a daze, but when a guard opened the door for him, he went through it as quickly as he could.
Chris Dacre ordered the guards to seize Heath Kennedy, but his father uttered a quick warning. “Search him first. He would not come here without a concealed weapon.” When they discovered the knife in his boot, Chris Dacre held out his hand. “I'll take that.” Then he made a mocking bow. “After you, gentlemen.”
With a guard on either side holding his arms and Chris Dacre following behind, Heath was taken to a dank prison cell beneath Carlisle Castle. He marked the winding passages down which he was dragged and knew he was being lodged in the most ancient, seldom-used part of the fortress.
Dacre lit a torch so that the guards could shackle his prisoner's arms in metal wall rings.
Heath cursed silently, knowing he would not be able to lie down. Then he laughed at his own folly, for of a certainty he had not expected to be treated in a civilized manner.
When Dacre was certain Kennedy was fully secured, he told the guards, “Leave us!” He lifted the torch so that the light shone on his prisoner's face, and suddenly Kennedy's proud, dark beauty filled him with fury. “You arrogant bastard! You are nothing but a Gypsy by-blow, yet still you stand there looking down on me!”
“Look down on you? You should be honored I'm looking at all.”
Dacre's fist slammed into Kennedy's face. “I'll be back tomorrow night. We'll see how arrogant you are after you've been standing for twenty-four hours.”
Heath licked his split lip and tasted his own salty blood with perverse satisfaction.
Ram Douglas was quaffing a jar of ale when Donal Kennedy limped in. He set the ale down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “How the hell did Heath gain yer release when I failed?” Suddenly comprehension dawned. “Christ's holy wounds, he took yer place!”
Donal nodded. “How did ye guess?”
“The reckless fool did it for me once.”
“Dacre says he'll hold him until ye withdraw all claims before the Border Wardens' Court tomorrow.”
Ram knew Dacre's word meant nothing, but once he had withdrawn the claims, Ram could think of no reason for Dacre to hold Heath Kennedy indefinitely. Moreover, Dacre knew that if aught befell Kennedy, Douglas would avenge him. Ram threw up his hands at his friend's brash courage. “We'll get ye home tomorrow. 'Tis not only yer women who will weep tears of joy. Yer father will kill the fatted calf when ye return!”
At Carlisle Castle, Heron Carleton's father was in a less jubilant mood. Sir Lancelot summoned his son to his chamber. “I did not see you in court today.”
“No, Father. Raven was being fitted for her wedding gown, and Lady Rosalind and Mother set me a dozen tasks, not the least of which was measuring the length of the aisle in Carlisle Cathedral.”
Lance Carleton was not diverted. “If you had sat in on the session, you would have witnessed Heath Kennedy accuse the Dacres of deadly reprisals because he had held Chris Dacre for ransom of some mares. When I challenged him, asking if he expected us to believe such a thing, the arrogant devil suggested that if I didn't believe it, to ask my own son!”
Heron licked dry lips. “Mmn, yes, Christopher did mention something about a kidnapping for ransom.” Heron was torn. He wanted to tell his father that he believed the Dacres had raided in Scotland, but he didn't want to involve Raven.
“How was Heath Kennedy so certain you knew about it? Were you involved in this?”
“No, Father, but I believe it happened. Kennedy is your kin; why would you not believe him?”
“Heath Kennedy is no kin of mine. He has been a thorn in the side of my cousin Elizabeth since her wedding. He is Rob Kennedy's illegitimate son by some Gypsy girl!”
Raven opened the chamber door. “Oh, sorry, Father, I thought you were alone.”
Sir Lancelot stared at her, as he suddenly remembered something she had said a few nights ago. For argument's sake, let us say I chose to marry a Scot, a Borderer. What if he were illegitimate and had Gypsy blood? “Come in, Raven, and close the door.”
She glanced at Heron, and his expression put her on her guard. The silence in the room stretched to the breaking point. “Father, is there something you wish to say to me?”
“Two words: Heath Kennedy.”
Raven's cheeks blushed the color of roses. “You told him?” she asked her brother.
Heron replied quickly, “Yes, I told him that Chris had mentioned that he was kidnapped and held for ransom by Heath Kennedy.”
“Do I look like a gullible fool?” their father demanded. “Would you like to tell me the whole sordid story?”
“No, Father,” Raven said quietly. “There is nothing to tell.”
“A conspiracy!” Carleton declared.
“As a dutiful daughter, I have agreed to wed Christopher Dacre. Let that be an end to the matter. Leave it alone, Father.”
Raven spoke with such quiet dignity that as he looked at her, Lance Carleton realized his daughter was no longer a girl, she was a woman in her own right. He bowed to her decision. “So be it.”
As they walked back to their own chambers, Raven asked her brother, “Why was he asking about Heath Kennedy?”
“His name must have come up at the Wardens' Court today.” Heron had not told her earlier that he had seen Heath Kennedy, and he was not going to tell her now. “You handled Father very well.”
Inside her own chamber, Raven leaned back against the door, feeling dreadful over the way she had spoken to her father. Let that be an end to the matter, she had said. But it wasn't an end to the matter. In two days' time she had agreed to marry Christopher Dacre, but how on earth was she going to go through with it, when she did not love him? When she was at Eskdale s
he had talked incessantly about her freedom. Raven wanted to scream at the irony of it all. She had been far more free in Scotland than she would ever be again. Marriage to Christopher Dacre was a prison from which there would be no escape.
Yet she knew she must go through with it. All the arrangements had been made. She had been fitted for her wedding dress, which now hung ready and waiting in the wardrobe. The banns had been read in Carlisle Cathedral, the guests had been invited, and their apartment in the castle had been refurbished.
Christopher had been particularly indulgent with her, allowing her to choose rich, oriental carpets along with whatever furnishings caught her fancy. He seemed ready to give her anything her heart desired, yet all she wanted from him was her freedom.
Christopher was an eager bridegroom, but whenever he got playfully amorous, she froze on the inside. She had managed to avoid intimacy, insisting that he wait until they were married, but time was rushing upon her so quickly that soon the hour would be upon her when she would no longer be able to deny him. Her complacent demeanor belied what she was feeling on the inside. Her heart was beating and fluttering like the wings of a bird against the wires of its cage, but she knew there was no escape.
Raven put her hands over her ears to stop the echo of her grandmother's words. Your heart is the doorway to your soul, my lovely. Always remember that your soul has the final say. When your soul talks to you, you must listen.
CHAPTER 24
It was the final day of the Wardens' Court, and Ram Douglas sent Donal Kennedy and half of his mosstroopers to the ship to speed up their departure once he and Jock had attended the last meeting. There were no more cases to be heard, only loose ends to be tied up, except for Ram Douglas and his promised witness. The men gathered in Carlisle Castle's great hall anticipated the clash of wills between the long-standing enemies, Douglas and Dacre.
When Douglas took the floor, the silence was so great that the crowd could have heard a cockroach fart. “Since he is gravely incapacitated, I speak on behalf of Heath Kennedy today. The charge of murder against Lord Thomas Dacre is withdrawn.” A murmur went up among the crowd. “However,” he emphasized, then repeated, “however, it can be reinstated at any time by me, since Kennedy and I have a bond of blood.” Ram knew by the look on Dacre's face that he understood the threat. “A claim for compensation fer the loss of the Kennedy merchant vessel and fer the loss of their Kirkcudbright wool fleeces will be sent tae the Crown of England. It will not be submitted through Dacre or Surrey, but sent directly tae yer king's paymaster, Cardinal Wolsey, informin' him that there is more theft and extortion by the English West March than all the Scots in Scotland!”
A cheer went up from the Scots seated in the hall. “Now on tae my own business,” Ram Douglas declared. “I do humbly beg the Court's pardon fer wastin' yer valuable time yesterday.” Laughter broke out, for Douglas had never been humble in his life, nor was he a man to beg for anything. “It seems my witness has mysteriously disappeared along with the proof of my rash claims. I'm sorry …” Everyone held his breath, not believing that Douglas was actually apologizing. “I'm sorry there's a traitor in our midst, who can't be brought tae justice, at this time.” Douglas looked as if he would sit down, then he bethought himself of something. “Where are my manners? On behalf of the Scots, I would like tae extend our appreciation fer Dacre's hospitality here at Carlisle Castle. No other host can compare with him.” Ram Douglas began to clap his hands, and the others joined in with laughter, hooting, and mocking applause.
Heath Kennedy was not enjoying Dacre's hospitality. The torch in the wall bracket had soon burned out, so he accustomed himself to the darkness, and from the silence he could tell that none of the cells hereabout were occupied. Wisely, he had pressed his back into the stone wall to keep some of his weight from his legs, and he had changed the position of his long limbs often during the endless night to maintain his circulation. Fortunately, with focused concentration and determined willpower, he was able to separate himself from the pain and misery of his body for long periods of time.
The only way he could tell that it was morning was when the torch was relit and he saw that the guard had brought him bread and water. With his keys the guard had unlocked the barred door of his cell, but he did not unlock Heath's manacles. Fortunately his chains were just long enough for him to hold his food and reach his mouth. Heath was completely passive while the guard was present and did not eat until he was alone. The guard locked the cell and retreated, but not far; he was still in the vicinity.
Heath realized it would be a long day, but he knew that when evening fell, Christopher Dacre would not be able to resist visiting him. The only reason he was being held prisoner was so that the sick swine could indulge his revenge, and the only reason Dacre needed revenge was Raven Carleton. How ironic it was that though the beautiful female had chosen Christopher Dacre and was about to become his wife, he was so unsure of her that he was riven with jealousy. Heath pitied him, for he would never possess one small part of her love.
Heath knew how easy it would be to immerse himself in thoughts of Raven and lose himself in drugging fantasy to pass the endless hours of the day, but he knew he must not do it, not now, not yet. Instead, he would separate his mind from his physical being and think about Donal sailing home to his family. When she saw him, his wife, Meggie, would be delirious with joy, and Heath pictured Donal picking up his little girl and lifting her high with exultation. Lady Elizabeth would weep tears of happiness when she saw her eldest son, and Rob Kennedy would rejoice that he had found the courage to tell the truth, which broke the curse and resurrected Donal from the dead.
When Raven awoke, her first thought was that it was the last day of July and that tomorrow was the first day of August. Her heart sank. She glanced over to her sister, who was still asleep, and remembered that Lark had been absent last night when she had gone to bed. Fleetingly, Raven wondered where she had been, then thought, What does it matter? Raven got up listlessly and wondered, What does anything matter? For days she had been going through the motions of preparing for her wedding, but she was strangely detached from it all. Actually the momentum was being carried by her mother and Lady Rosalind Dacre; she was simply following their lead.
She joined the two women in the Dacres' small private dining room for breakfast, but the food was so unappealing she could not eat, and simply toyed with it on her plate. Finally, Lady Rosalind stopped her incessant chatter about the wedding and the important guests who had been invited. “Raven, my dear, is something wrong?”
“She's daydreaming again,” Kate Carleton declared. “I swear it is a condition that afflicts all brides in the days before the wedding. Stop playing with your food, Raven, and contribute something to the conversation.”
“Perhaps she's daydreaming about going to the English court one day soon; I'm rather excited about it myself,” Rosalind admitted.
“The Tudor court in London?” Kate asked, thoroughly impressed. “What is the occasion?”
“Oh, I don't know any of the details; it is all hush-hush at the moment, but Thomas assures me I may go along, when the time comes. Did Christopher mention it to you, Raven?” Lady Rosalind inquired.
Raven looked at her future mother-in-law blankly, then a faint recollection stirred her memory. “Er, yes, I believe he did promise to take me to court.”
Her mother looked at her with reproach. “How could you have forgotten to tell me something so important and so exciting?”
“I'm sorry, I just remembered that I still have a hundred things to do before the wedding. I know you will both excuse me.” Raven hurried from the room, needing to escape from the feeling that a trap was closing in on her. When she reached her own chamber, she knew she must keep herself busy. She opened the wardrobe and began the task she had been putting off all week. She took out an armful of gowns and carried them to the apartment that she and Christopher would be sharing after tomorrow. When she opened the door and stepped inside, she heard he
r sister's laughter. Raven went through to the bedchamber and found Lark gazing up at Christopher with adoration.
Lark jumped guiltily. “Oh, Raven, let me help you with those. I was just helping Chris bring some of his things to your new apartment.” Lark took the gowns from her and laid them on the bed.
Raven looked at her bridegroom in surprise. Surely there were servants aplenty to do these things for him.
“Lark is such a sweetheart, she cannot do enough for me,” Chris said with affection, and received another adoring look from Lark.
If only I could look at him like that, Raven thought sadly. Lark fancies herself in love with him, and sooner or later he will hurt her. She suddenly remembered her sister's empty bed last night and wondered if she had been with Christopher. Raven was appalled at her suspicions. Lark was nothing more than an innocent girl; it was Chris Dacre who spawned her suspicious thoughts! “I'll be back with more of my things,” she said breathlessly.
Raven knew she must get outside in the fresh air. She needed to escape for a little while to sort out her tangled emotions. Her thoughts were in disarray, her feelings were in chaos, and her tranquility had completely vanished. If only she could ride Sully through the Rockcliffe Marsh and along the banks of the River Eden to the shore of the Solway. But she didn't even have a mount she could ride here in Carlisle. She went to the stables anyway and asked one of the grooms to saddle Lady Rosalind's horse for her. Christopher's mother was ever kind and generous toward her, and Raven was sure she would not mind.
Raven rode west, away from the castle and away from Carlisle. It seemed strange that she had been so listless lately, when usually she was bursting with vitality. As the palfrey galloped into the countryside, and she felt the sun on her face and the breeze blowing her hair behind her like a banner, Raven suddenly felt alive for the first time since she had left Rockcliffe. She followed a winding stream and watched a pair of otters playing in the water. When they scampered off, she dismounted, removed her shoes and stockings, and waded into the steam. As small silver fish darted away from her splashing feet, she laughed at the thrill of losing herself in the glory of nature.
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