“Ahhh, lassie, look! There is Dunmor,” the earl said, pointing ahead to where a small castle sprang from a distant hillside. “Ye’ll be sore with the long, hard ride we’ve had this day.”
“Savage,” she snarled at him, “have you no delicacy at all?” She struggled about on her precarious perch to slap him, and he laughed again, skillfully managing his dancing stallion, all the while avoiding her blows.
“What a little spitfire ye are, lassie,” he said, and chuckled, not in the least offended. “There must be some Scot in ye, I’m thinking. Grey is a Scot’s name as well as an English one, and the border Greys are a sect of the Stewarts, ye know. Perhaps we are related, lassie.”
“I’d sooner be related to a donkey than to you, my lord!” she replied spiritedly.
He chuckled again. “I wonder if Jasper Keane knew just what it was he was getting in you,” Tavis Stewart remarked. “It will take more of a man than he is to handle ye, lassie. Yer more woman, I’m thinking, than he could have ever managed.”
“Handled? Managed? My lord, you make a woman sound like a disobedient animal to be properly trained. A good wife is a man’s helpmate, though she be but the weaker vessel. She is not a possession to be handled and managed!” Arabella retorted angrily.
“Indeed, madame?” he gently mocked her. “Where did a little English lass get such bold ideas? Certainly not from yer gentle mother, who looks as if she would fear her own shadow. These ideas are more suited to a Scotswoman than a weak bit of a lassie from the other side of the border,” he teased.
“You great buffoon of a Scot!” she fumed. “What could you possibly know of the English that was truth?”
Before the earl might reply, however, the young man who had earlier cautioned the earl within the church rode up next to them. “Tavis, why not let us take the lass on to Mother at Glen Ailean?” he said. “She’ll hae companions in Ailis and the two Hamilton lasses to help her while away the hours until her release.”
“Nay, Colin,” the earl said. “Dunmor is impregnable to attack, and I would have the lassie where I know she is safe. Arabella Grey, this is my half brother, Father Colin Fleming. If ye fear for the lass’s virtue, Colin, I will put her in yer charge. No one can then say that I mistreated her, for ye will guard her vigilantly. The English will nae disbelieve a priest, for the church wipes away all nationalistic boundaries, does it not, little brother?”
“You are a priest?” Arabella said, surprised, looking at the young man in his plaid. There was nothing to distinguish him from any of the other borderers.
“I am, my lady,” was the quiet reply.
“And you are his brother?’
“Aye.” Colin Fleming grinned lopsidedly at the tone of her voice.
“Then why do you wear different plaids?” Arabella asked pointedly.
“Because I am a Fleming, my Lady Arabella, while my eldest brother is a Stewart.”
“Eldest brother? There are more of you?”
The young priest chuckled, a warm sound filled with genuine humor. “I am the youngest. The others are Gavin and Donald Fleming, and we have a little sister near to your age as well.”
“You are the children of your mother’s second marriage?” If she was going to be forced to remain in Scotland for any length of time, and it appeared that she was, Arabella thought it would be best to sort out the family relationships at the start.
“We are the children of our mother’s only marriage, my lady,” Colin Fleming said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tavis’ father was King James II, our mother’s distant cousin. The Stewarts are a close and loving family, as those of us who are not Stewarts well know.”
“You’re a bastard?” It was out before she could stop herself.
The earl, however, laughed. “A royal bastard, lass, which makes all the difference in the world here in Scotland. The Stewarts, a loving clan, as Colin points out, are gracious wi’ their favors. When my mother’s only brother died wi’ out legitimate heirs of his own, my father made me my maternal grandfather’s heir, which is how I came into my earldom.”
“Then you are King James III’s half brother,” Arabella said, astounded.
“Aye, though Jemmie be my elder by some six years; and in answer to that unspoken question I see quivering on yer lips, my half brother and I are on the most cordial of terms. I barely remember my father, however, as he managed to get himself killed before my third birthday,” the earl told her, and again there was a hint of laughter in his voice. “Jemmie’s mother, Queen Mary, was a kind and devout lady who never held my birth against me, and who was always a friend to my own mother, who, though she loved the king, was somewhat embarrassed to find herself enceinte with his child. She had the good sense not to flaunt herself at court, but rather asked the queen’s pardon, and thereby gained her undying friendship.”
Seeing her shock, Colin Fleming spoke up in an attempt to turn the subject away. Lady Arabella Grey had obviously lived a most sheltered life. “Ye’ll be quite safe and comfortable at Dunmor, my lady,” he told her. “‘Tis a fine castle, and our mother lives nearby.”
“She dinna need cosseting, little brother,” the earl said, chuckling. “She’s a wee spitfire, our little English captive, are ye not, lassie?”
“Go to hell, my lord,” Arabella snapped angrily. She was tired, sore, and hungry. “I despise you for what you have done to me this day!”
“Lassie, I’ve done little to ye but save ye from a bad marriage,” Tavis Stewart replied. “Ye owe me yer thanks, nae yer anger.”
“You expect gratitude from me? You are daft, my lord!” Arabella said angrily.
Tavis Stewart said nothing further on the matter. The girl was young and inexperienced. She obviously had no knowledge of the vicious beast Sir Jasper Keane really was. Some day she would realize that she had been fortunate to escape him, but for now the earl knew he was wise to place her in his priestly brother’s charge. Arabella Grey would remain his honored captive until Sir Jasper either accepted his challenge or Jemmie Stewart ordered her returned to her family for an appropriate remuneration to be paid both to himself and to the Hamiltons in the matter of Mistress Eufemia Hamilton’s death. There would be time enough to kill the Englishman, for he was unlikely to change his ways, and would eventually find himself another border mistress. When he did, the Earl of Dunmor would know, and he would trap the English fox that he might send him to eternal damnation.
Arabella had let her gaze wander to Dunmor Castle. It was not as big a castle as Middleham and other large fortresses she had seen when she and her mother had gone south almost two years ago. It was certainly larger than Greyfaire, and from the weathered darkening of its stone, which was covered with gray-green lichen, it was surely as old as Greyfaire. It was a squared building with four towers, one at each corner of the structure. Upon the crenellated tops of the walls she could see men-at-arms, alert to any danger, pacing. As they began their climb up the hill upon which Dunmor was perched, Arabella saw that there was also a water moat about the castle.
“Where does the water for the moat come from, Father Colin?” she asked the kilt-clad priest.
“There is an underground spring within the castle courtyard, which is why Dunmor has always been so impregnable to attack, my lady. Tavis’ maternal ancestor cleverly diverted that spring into two streams. One provides freshwater for the castle’s inhabitants, and the other keeps the moat well filled. Since the mouths of both channels are within the castle, neither can be dammed by an enemy.”
The drawbridge to Dunmore lay open to the visitors, for the earl was recognized and expected. They clattered across it into the castle courtyard. There were many open-mouthed stares directed toward the girl with the beautiful, flowing mane of pale gold gossamer hair who sat so regally in her silver gown before the earl upon his saddle. Arabella held her head high and refused to lower her glance. Let them all see how a brave Englishwoman behaved before her captors.
Drawing his great stallion to a halt
before a wide swath of stairs leading up into his home, the earl slid to the ground. He reached up to help Arabella dismount, but the girl pushed his hand away, protesting,
“I am quite capable of dismounting a horse myself, my lord.” But then, to her intense mortification, as her feet hit the ground her legs collapsed beneath her.
“Dinna be such a proud little fool, lassie,” he admonished her as he scooped her up and carried her up the steps into the castle. “Yer legs are tired from the long ride.” He carried the irate girl into the Great Hall of Dunmor and deposited her as gently as he might into a high-backed chair by the fire. Then, looking down at her, he took her chin in his hand and tipped it up so he might see her face. “This is my house, Arabella Grey, and I will nae be shamed wi’ in it by anyone, least of all a wee slip of a girl. Yer my captive, but I will treat ye wi’ kindness and honor as long as ye merit it. Try my patience, however, and I will lock ye in the north tower and toss the key down my well.”
“Nicely done, Tavis,” came an amused voice as it moved nearer to them. “If I were this young lady, I think I should be tempted to find something sharp and stick it in ye.” The voice gained a face and form as an elegantly dressed woman moved gracefully across the hall and joined them. “Where have you been, my son? Did you forget that today is Ailis’ birthday and the family has come to Dunmor to celebrate?”
“Mother!” Tavis Stewart kissed the lovely lady and then apologized. “I did forget. There was an opportunity to settle this matter with Sir Jasper Keane, the man who murdered Eufemia, and I simply took it.” He went on to explain to his mother.
Arabella tried to be discreet in her examination of the earl’s mother, but she was frankly curious about this woman who had loved, and been beloved of a king. Margery Stewart Fleming was almost six feet in height. She had dark red hair and her eyes were dark green, like her son’s. Her features were strong for a woman, and Arabella would have called her more handsome than beautiful. Her voice was deep, but mellifluous. She had beautiful hands, which she used to punctuate her speech, and her fair white skin made even more dramatic her coloring.
Behind Lady Fleming clustered three young girls, one who looked so very much like her that it could only be her daughter. As for the other two, the elder had lovely chestnut-brown hair and large blue eyes, and the younger was a brown blonde with the same blue eyes. Sisters, perhaps, Arabella considered. She blushed when she saw that she was under as intense scrutiny from the girls as they were by her.
Lady Fleming turned her gaze to Arabella, and she immediately arose and curtsied to her elder.
The older woman smiled, well-pleased. “What pretty manners you have, my child,” she said, then slapping her big son on the arm, she demanded, “Introduce us properly, Tavis!”
“Mother,” the earl replied, “may I introduce to you Lady Arabella Grey.” He directed his speech next to Arabella. “Lassie, this is my mother, Lady Margery Fleming.”
“You poor child,” Lady Fleming said almost immediately. “You must be chilled to the bone coming across the hills on such a damp and cold day wi’ out even a cloak. Ye’ll come wi’ me, and I’ll see ye hae a nice hot tub. Then we’ll see if we can find ye something more comfortable to wear, and we’ll do what we can to salvage yer beautiful gown. Are ye hungry, child?”
“Aye, madame,” Arabella said, “and thirsty too. The wedding was to be early, and I had not yet broken my fast because there was to be a Mass.”
“Ye hae nae eaten or drunk this day?” Lady Fleming looked astounded. “Tavis! Yer a brute to treat this poor little thing so badly. Did I raise ye, then, to think so poorly of women and their needs?”
“Peace, Mother!” the earl said. “When I went over the border this morning I did nae think I should be returning wi’ a captive.”
His mother continued to look somewhat askance at him. “Continue wi’ yer introductions, then, my son,” she replied.
“Lady Grey, my sister, Ailis Fleming.”
Ailis Fleming curtsied to Arabella, who said, “Felicitations on your birthday, Mistress Fleming.”
“Lady Grey, Mistress Margaret Hamilton, and her sister, Mary.”
The Hamilton sisters curtsied to Arabella, who returned their greeting in kind.
“I’m a wee bit taller than ye, Lady Grey,” Meg Hamilton said, “but I think we might alter some of my gowns to fit ye, though none would be as beautiful as the gown yer wearing.”
Arabella smiled shyly. “‘Tis the finest dress I have ever owned,” she admitted. “‘Tis my wedding gown.”
“Aye, Meg,” the earl said wickedly. “Lady Arabella was to have wed this day wi’ yer sister’s murderer. She has had a most fortunate escape, although she canna seem to see it that way, can ye, lassie?”
“You really are a bastard, my lord,” Arabella said furiously.
There was an awkward silence, and finally the earl said, “Will no one say anything?”
“What do you expect them to say?” snapped Arabella. “You have just introduced me to the Mistress Hamiltons as the bride-to-be of a man who must surely be their bitterest enemy. Do you assume that Mistress Margaret and Mistress Mary can so easily overlook that? Whatever she may have done, Mistress Eufemia was their elder sister and they loved her. Once again you display to me a lack of delicacy of feelings, my lord earl.”
Lady Fleming almost laughed, but she restrained herself with much difficulty. This petite young girl’s attack upon her son was most refreshing. Women were usually apt to make fools of themselves over Tavis. His title, his royal relations, and his handsome face seemed to be irresistible until now.
“Oh, please, Lady Grey,” Meg Hamilton said earnestly, “do not think that we would hold you accountable for anything that Sir Jasper Keane did. I know I speak for my whole family when I tell ye that we dinna. Indeed we are most astounded by yer appearance in our midst, but ye must believe the earl when he tells ye that ye have had a most narrow escape. Sir Jasper is nae a kind or a good man.”
“Where do ye intend housing this child, Tavis?” demanded his mother.
“In the west tower, Mother. There is but one entrance and exit to the west tower apartments. Lady Grey is not, I suspect, above attempting to escape my custody, are ye lass?” he said with a grin.
“Are you asking for my parole, my lord?” Arabella said sweetly. “Well, I’ll not give it you! Offered the opportunity, I will escape you!”
“I know,” he replied quietly, “and so ye’ll be guarded at all times, lassie. If ye behave yerself, however, ye may have the freedom of the hall, the chapel and my gardens. Misbehave, and ye’ll find yerself confined most strictly.”
She glowered at him. “I understand, my lord,” was her icy answer.
“This child must have someone to look after her, Tavis,” Lady Fleming said.
“I know, Mother.” He turned and called to a motherly looking woman across the hall. “Flora, to me!”
The woman, obviously an upper-servant, hurried over to the earl. “My lord?” she said, curtsying.
“This is Lady Grey, Flora. She is both my prisoner and my honored guest. She is to be lodged in the west tower, and I would hae ye look after her wi’ kindness. She is never to be left alone, and Father Colin is responsible for her. Ye will go to him, unless, of course, the matter is a serious one.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Flora said, “and I’ll take good care of the little lassie for ye, dinna fear. I’ll go now and see that her rooms are prepared and a fire lit, for the day has been cold for June and the night will be as well. The west tower can be damp in weather like this.” She curtsied again and hurried off.
Arabella was well warmed now, and she allowed the earl to lead her to the highboard, as the dinner hour was upon them. He seated her on his left, his mother on his right. Sitting next to Margery Fleming was her husband Ian, a large, bluff man who kissed Arabella’s hand as he introduced himself. They were joined by the earl’s sister, Ailis, Meg and Mary Hamilton, the earl’s three half brothers, a
nd a handsome young man who was introduced as Robert Hamilton, the Laird of Culcairn. Below the highboard, tables were brought, and placed along with benches, which were quickly filled with the earl’s retainers and servants. Other servants began entering the hall with steaming platters, bowls, and plates filled with hot food.
Arabella was ravenous. Forgetting her threat to starve herself, she heaped her silver plate high with salmon, lamb, several slices of sweet pink ham, a wedge of rabbit pie, a spoonful of small onions and carrots covered with a sherried cream sauce, some braised lettuce, and a bit of raw cress. All of this she liberally washed down with a large goblet of rich red wine, mopping the juices from her plate with a small trencher of bread which she daintily broke into little pieces.
About her the talk swirled, and though she half listened, she did not join in while she ate, giving all her attention to her food. She was determined to dislike Tavis Stewart for using her as a pawn in his game with Jasper Keane, yet those about her, his family and servants alike, treated the earl with a mixture of respect and fondness. Perhaps he was not as bad as Jasper, but he had used her. Still, Jasper Keane had used her as well. Used her to gain a foothold at Greyfaire, which she realized now was his only interest in her. His own home—a poor place, the earl had said—was destroyed. He needed Arabella Grey for but one thing, Greyfaire Keep. And the king had used her as well. He had used her, and he had used her inheritance to bind Sir Jasper Keane to him in loyalty. Arabella considered that perhaps cousin Richard had not known Jasper Keane at all, for he was, Arabella now suspected, loyal only to himself. Arabella spooned up the last bit of a sweet tartlet with its blanket of heavy cream.
“I think we may be of an age, Lady Grey,” said Meg Hamilton, leaning over to speak to her. “I am almost fourteen.”
“As am I,” Arabella replied. “Will you call me Arabella, and may I call you Meg?”
The Spitfire Page 11
