Kidnapped by a Rogue, kindle

by Margaret Mallory

  “France wasn’t all bad,” George said, tilting his head. “Ahh, those French women…”

  She and George had always been the peacemakers of the family, though their methods were different. While she soothed tempers and accommodated others’ demands, George employed his sharp wit and easy charm—and got what he wanted.

  “There’s no profit in dwelling on the past,” Archie said, brushing his hands against each other. “The Douglases will soon have everything we had before and more.”

  “I still don’t understand how ye came to be residing here at Holyrood Palace with the king,” Margaret said.

  “The King’s Council has recognized that, at thirteen, our king is too young to rule without the protection and guidance of more mature men,” George explained. “They’ve decided that custody of the king’s person shall be rotated every three months among the most important noblemen of Scotland.”

  This complex arrangement was obviously designed to prevent another fight like the Battle of the Causeway among the Scottish magnates for control of the young king. Still, Margaret could not help but feel sorry for the lad, separated from his mother and shifted from one set of guardians to another every three months.

  “Archie has the king for the first three months,” George said, and exchanged a look with Archie that she could not read.

  “I want to see my father,” Lizzie said. “Where is he?”

  “He’s keeping watch on the king,” Archie said.

  Keeping watch. That was an odd turn of phrase. It almost sounded as if the king was their prisoner.

  “He’s giving the king lessons in sword fighting in the courtyard,” George told Lizzie. “The king is so impressed with your father’s skill that he’s given him the nickname of Greysteel.”

  After Lizzie left to join their uncle, Archie narrowed his eyes at Margaret and said, “I suppose she’ll require new gowns for court.”

  “That fool William was so jealous he made her dress to hide her beauty.” George grinned and flung his arms out. “I say, let our princess shine, as she always should have.”

  “New gowns are not necessary,” she said. “I won’t be staying long.”

  “You will,” Archie said. “I require your presence here.”

  Margaret’s stomach lurched at the thought of staying here at court and getting caught in her brothers’ political machinations. “Why do ye want me here?”

  “As the queen has refused to play her part as my wife,” Archie said between thinned lips, “I need a woman to serve as my hostess.”

  “Wouldn’t you prefer Lady Jane?” she asked, referring to his mistress. At least, Jane was his mistress before he was banished, and they had a daughter together.

  “Having Jane play that role at the royal palace would be inappropriate,” George said. “More importantly, it would upset the king, and we must all do our best to make him happy.”

  “But Alison will have her baby soon,” Margaret said, managing to keep the edge of desperation from her voice. “She needs my help.”

  “Alison breeds like a rabbit and has a castle full of servants if she needs help,” Archie said. “I need you here. The Douglases need you.”

  Margaret felt their expectations closing around her like a trap, making it hard to breathe.

  “And while you’re here, we can find you a new husband,” George added.

  “I don’t want a husband.” Never, never would she let them marry her off again.

  “Nothing need be decided now,” George said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “We’re together again, and that is what’s important. Please stay for a few weeks so we can spend time together.”

  That sounded so reasonable. How could she say nay? They would not let her refuse anyway.

  “Of course I will,” she said, because her mother had taught her that when you could not avoid an unpleasant task, you may as well be gracious about it.

  “I knew ye would,” George said. “Ye always do what’s best for the family.”

  “Just for a few weeks,” she said. “I won’t stay longer than that.”

  Her brothers, however, were no longer listening.

  ###

  Finn sat in a tavern a few miles from Huntly Castle with a lass on his lap, another beside him, and a drink in his hand. Not long ago, this would have been enough to make him happy, but he was just killing time, delaying the inevitable, as he had been for the last few weeks.

  God’s bones, he dreaded leaving Scotland, but what choice did he have? He was nearly out of money. After buying one last round of drinks, he had just enough left to pay for his passage across the sea.

  “Which shall it be,” Finn said, holding up a coin for everyone to see, “Ireland or France?”

  Wagers were quickly placed. As he flipped the coin high into the air, shouts of “Ireland!” and “France!” filled the tavern. With all eyes on the spinning coin, no one else appeared to notice the two warriors who came through the door wearing their weapons and dead-serious expressions. They were the Earl of Moray’s men, and their gazes were locked on Finn.

  The shouting in the tavern turned into a roar of complaint when Finn let the coin bounce off the table and disappear into the filthy straw that covered the dirt floor.

  A coin would not decide his fate, at least not today.

  An hour later, Finn was ushered into the small room behind the hall that the former Earl of Huntly had used to conduct private business. He was surprised to find Moray here alone and sitting at Huntly’s table with a stack of parchments before him.

  The Earl of Huntly’s death left a lad of eleven as the new earl and chieftain, which meant the Gordons, like Scotland itself, had no clear leader. Finn had wondered which of his Gordon uncles would fill the void, but he should have known it would be Moray instead. The Earl of Moray was a close Gordon ally and was the young earl’s royal uncle. The boy’s mother was another illegitimate offspring of King James IV.

  “You smell like an alehouse,” Moray said, in lieu of a greeting, and gestured for Finn to take the seat across the table from him.

  “I suppose that comes from spending time in one.” Finn slid into the chair and picked up an apple from a stunning silver bowl on the table, feigning indifference. It never paid to show you were desperate, especially to a man like Moray.

  “Archibald Douglas returned to Scotland a few weeks ago, with the backing of Henry,” Moray said.

  “Henry who?” Finn asked.

  “Ye know damned well who,” Moray said. “His brother-in-law, King Henry VIII of England.”

  “What does Douglas’s return matter to us?”

  “My nephew was placed in royal guardianship when his father died,” Moray said.

  “Even though his grandfather was still alive then?” Finn asked.

  “The queen followed my father’s practice of making orphans who were heirs to important titles wards of the crown,” Moray said. “That served to protect them and their lands during their minority.”

  Finn suspected that keeping the young heirs close during their formative years also served to ensure their future loyalty to the crown. James IV had been a wily ruler.

  “Douglas was in exile at the time, so we agreed to it,” Moray said. “Our understanding was that the boy would live in the queen’s household, where he would be the king’s close companion, as the two are near in age.”

  Unease prickled at the back of Finn’s neck, though he could not guess where this was leading or what it had to do with him.

  “But now Douglas is back and, as the queen’s husband, he’s claimed guardianship over my nephew.” Moray fisted his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Young Huntly should be in my care, rather than in the hands of that grasping Douglas.”

  Grasping? That was the pot calling the kettle black.

  “If Douglas would steal from a Tudor,” Moray said, “he’d surely do it to his Gordon ward.”

  Finn remembered hearing that when the queen was forced to flee to England
after their marriage, Douglas collected the rents from her estates for himself and lived on her money with his mistress in one of her castles. Folk said the queen was even more enraged over the rents than the mistress and that she’d hated her husband ever since.

  “I have an unusual task I need done.” Moray folded his hands and smiled as if he knew he had Finn over a barrel, which he did. “I believe you are uniquely suited to accomplish this task due to your particular talents and…attributes.”

  What in the hell did that mean?

  “We need leverage,” Moray said. “Something that will persuade Archibald Douglas to release young Huntly.”

  “What is it ye have in mind?” Finn asked.

  “I want you to kidnap a Douglas.”

  “Kidnap a Douglas?” Finn repeated, not quite believing he had heard correctly.

  “We need a hostage to trade for my nephew,” Moray said.

  By the saints, nothing could persuade him to do that.

  “Why not just take young Huntly?” Finn asked.

  “Because Huntly is always with the king,” Moray said. “And the king is extremely well guarded, night and day. You’d never get close to him. It has to be a hostage.”

  “A lot can go wrong in taking a hostage.” Finn leaned back in his chair and pretended not to sweat. “What happens if this hostage—an important noble who is close kin to the king’s stepfather—puts up a fight and gets hurt?”

  “I’ve given a good deal of thought to that problem,” Moray said. “We can’t risk spilling blood and starting a war with the Douglases. His brother George and uncle Greysteel are both skilled swordsmen and are usually in the company of a large force of Douglas warriors.”

  Finn relaxed, pleased that Moray had just talked himself out of the hostage plan.

  “There is an uncle who is a bishop and another who’s an abbot, but we don’t want to take on the Douglases and the church.” Moray paused and cleared his throat. “That leaves the Douglas women.”

  “Ye want me to kidnap a lass?” Finn sat up straight and raised his hands. “Nay. I can’t do that.”

  “From what I hear, you have considerable charm with women,” Moray said. “You ought to be able to seduce one of these Douglases and persuade her to run off with you.”

  “I never deceive women to bed them,” Finn said, folding his arms.

  Moray raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I don’t,” Finn said. “And I won’t.”

  “Well then,” Moray said, “you’ll simply have to capture her.”

  “I can’t, not a lass,” Finn said. “If I’m the one who takes her, I’ll be responsible for whatever happens to her afterward.”

  “I assure you she’ll be treated as an honored guest while she is here,” Moray said, “and returned safe and sound to her family.”

  It was Finn’s turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Mistreating the hostage would cause a blood feud with the Douglases, and that would not serve my purpose. All I want,” Moray said, spreading his hands out, “is a simple exchange. A hostage for a hostage.”

  If Moray had claimed some high-minded reason for protecting the hostage, Finn would not have believed him, but his pragmatic explanation was persuasive. Still, Finn did not want any part of this scheme.

  “There could be no better way for you to regain the trust—even the gratitude—of your clan than by being the man responsible for the return of their earl and chieftain,” Moray said. “Young Huntly will be grateful as well. And remember, he’s only eleven and likely to be your chieftain for the rest of your life.”

  This was almost enough to persuade Finn. But the notion of dragging a lass from her home didn’t sit well with him, and the prospect of a long journey of rough travel with a spoiled Lowland noblewoman was worse.

  “I understand you have an interest in acquiring lands.” Moray steepled his hands and tapped the tips of his fingers against his chin. “If you succeed in this task, that could be arranged.”

  Ach, Moray knew exactly how to tempt Finn. Janet must have told him.

  “The property I have in mind is not large, but sufficient to support you in comfort.” Moray paused. “I’m afraid it’s quite a distance from your family, up on the north coast of Sutherland.”

  If Finn could live anywhere he wished, it would be in Sutherland—and at a very great distance from his family. With property, he could sleep under his own roof, in his own bed, before his own hearth. He could be his own man.

  “I’m giving you the chance to make amends with your Gordon clansmen and gain lands of your own,” Moray said. “But if you would rather leave Scotland and fight for foreigners…”

  Finn sighed inwardly. Moray was offering him everything he wanted. He demanded more assurances that the hostage would be well treated, but they both knew he would do it.

  “Which Douglas lass do ye want me to take?” Finn asked, dread settling in his stomach like a lump of lead.

  “Three of the sisters are married to powerful men. Not only are they well protected, but it would be foolhardy to bring their husbands into this dispute,” Moray said. “That leaves Archibald’s sister Margaret and his cousin Elizabeth.”

  “What do ye know of them?” Finn asked.

  “Margaret was married for several years to a distant Douglas relative, William of Drumlanrig,” Moray said. “But he had the marriage annulled some time ago.”

  Finn shuddered as he envisioned a sour middle-aged woman who would make the rough journey a misery for both of them.

  “What of the other lass, the cousin?” he asked.

  “From what I hear, Elizabeth—they call her Lizzie—should be fairly easy to take,” Moray said. “She’s loosely supervised, considering she’s a sixteen-year-old virgin.”

  “I’m not kidnapping a sixteen-year-old virgin!” The thought gave him hives. Besides that, traveling alone with him would destroy the lass’s reputation and hurt her chances of a good marriage.

  “Then it’s settled,” Moray said, folding his hands with a small, satisfied smile. “You’ll kidnap Lady Margaret.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Margaret stared out the window at the gardens below, wishing she could leave Holyrood Palace and never return. Though she had only agreed to stay for a short visit, she’d been stuck here for weeks. She was sick to death of being paraded before men her brothers viewed as potential allies for them—and husbands for her. Lately, however, they had ceased pressing suitors on her, which gave her hope that they had finally accepted her refusal to wed again.

  Her thoughts of escape were interrupted by Lizzie, who came storming into the bedchamber they shared in the palace and slammed the door behind her.

  “If I have to spend another day with the king and that Gordon brat, I swear I’ll punch one of them in the face,” Lizzie said, and flung herself down on the window seat.

  “Those two certainly can be a trial.” Margaret sat beside her cousin and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Try to remember, ’tis not entirely their fault. Everyone caters to their whims because they’re a king and an earl. At their age, ’tis bound to go to their heads.”

  Unfortunately, Archie did nothing to curb their behavior. If he would fill their time with worthwhile pursuits, the boys would not have so much leisure to spend on frivolous ones. The king’s father would be so disappointed. James IV had been a well-educated man who spoke several languages and supported artists, musicians, and universities.

  Lizzie’s father did train them in sword fighting, which endeared him to the boys, but Margaret sensed that the men of her family were more concerned with keeping the king entertained than with training him to be king.

  “Hopefully,” Margaret said, “the king and Huntly’s behavior will improve as they grow older.”

  “They’re old enough now to know better.” Lizzie folded her arms and pressed her lips together.

  “What’s wrong?” The anger in Lizzie’s voice made Margaret suspect the boys had done something worse th
an usual. “Did something happen?”

  “You’re too nice to the king,” Lizzie said, and fixed her gaze on the floor.

  “Too nice?” Margaret felt sorry for the king, being separated from his mother and passed from guardian to guardian. Though he was difficult, she tried to be kind to him.

  “Aye,” Lizzie said. “Ye must stop it.”

  “Stop being nice?” Margaret asked with a laugh. “Why?”

  “The king talks about you,” Lizzie murmured.

  “Talks about me?” she asked. “How?”

  “He’s always saying how beautiful ye are.” Lizzie cast a furtive sideways glance at her. “He brags that he’s going to take ye to his bed.”

  Good heavens, the king was not yet fourteen. Though this infatuation could not be serious, it was best to nip it in the bud. Time and distance would solve this problem.

  “I must leave Edinburgh, at least until Archie passes the king onto his next set of guardians,” Margaret said, getting to her feet. “I’ll speak with my brothers at once.”

  She could barely contain her glee. The king had given her an excuse to escape court, one that her brothers would have to accept.

  Once she was away, perhaps she could stay away.

  Margaret found her brothers in the royal solar, which Archie had taken over for his own use.

  “I’ve had a new gown made for you to wear tonight that will be stunning,” George said. Then he winked and added, “Without my help, ye might be mistaken for a laundress.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve something more important than gowns to discuss with ye,” she said.

  Her brothers listened closely as she explained the problem and did not interrupt her with either expressions of disbelief or criticisms. This was going better than she had hoped.

  “As I’m sure ye can see,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her, “I must leave Holyrood at once.”

  “Ha! Our Margaret has the king wrapped around her little finger.” A teasing smile tugged at George’s lips as he held his finger up. “What did I tell you?”