by Amanda Scott
She heard him speak again and froze, straining her ears to hear him, hoping that he had changed his mind about harming May. His words reached Laurie’s ears this time, aided either by a breeze or by the fact that she was closer and he had raised his voice to be sure that May heard it over the noise of the river.
“Don’t waste time now, lass. Take off the rest, as I bade you. Those garments be worth a tidy sum, and I don’t want to lose them to the river. And save your tears. They will avail you naught, and they annoy me.”
May bit her lip and reached for the lacing of her bodice with hands that Laurie was certain must be shaking with terror.
Laurie moved closer, trying to think. The man’s English accent reminded her of the two men she had seen in Tarras Woods, but it was no time to be thinking of them.
“You said you loved me,” May said.
“Be damned to your romantical nonsense. Take off your clothes!”
“I can’t take them off by myself,” May protested through a new burst of tears. “I have a maid! I cannot even reach the fastenings down the back.”
Muttering angrily, the man dismounted and walked toward her.
He had his back to Laurie now, but he still held his gun pointed at May, and Laurie gritted her teeth in frustration. She did not dare shoot for fear of hitting May. Even if she could hit him without hitting May, if he fell against May, they both would go into the water. She would have to wait until he moved away again.
She wished she could see his face and try to read his intent. What if he just picked May up and threw her into the turbulent river?
Rapidly, she considered her options. She could not just step forward and demand that he unhand her sister. There was nothing to keep him from pushing May in then, because Laurie was not sure she could wound him even if she fired.
She had never fired a pistol in her life, and she was sure that there was some skill involved. What if it failed to go off when she pulled the trigger? It had a mechanism that one was supposed to wind at some point. She did know that much, but she had not asked Willie how to do it. She could only hope that someone had wound it before hanging it on the wall. Still, even if she had only to point it and squeeze the trigger, the man looked much smaller when one thought of him as a target rather than as an enemy who threatened one’s safety.
If she could get close enough, he might believe her threat, but would he also be able to tell if the gun would not fire? Even if it did, if she missed him, he could just snatch it away from her. That would put her in as much jeopardy as May.
While these thoughts tumbled over each other in her mind, she saw him move closer to May. For a terrifying moment, she feared he would push May in, but then she saw that he had tucked his pistol under one arm and was actually helping May unfasten her gown.
He was talking, too, for Laurie could hear the sound of his voice if not the words that he spoke. When he had released the hooks in the back, which he did with a speed that revealed some practice in the art, May suddenly turned to face him, shifting position slightly so that Laurie could see their profiles. May’s gown gaped at the back and had slipped from her shoulders. Moonlight touched her breasts.
Laurie could not hear what she said, but she saw May’s hand move to the man’s face in a surprisingly gentle gesture. Then, to Laurie’s shock, May tilted her face up, clearly inviting the villain to kiss her.
Obligingly, he bent his head down, and his lips touched May’s. As he shifted the pistol from beneath his arm to his right hand, that arm went around her waist, pulling her nearer. The other hand moved to her cheek, stroking it and cupping her chin. Then briefly the hand grasped her throat before stroking downward toward those inviting breasts.
Laurie could not breathe. Was May trying even now to seduce him?
Suddenly, May’s knee came up hard between the man’s legs. As he doubled up toward her, she slipped from his grasp. Then, before he could recover, she turned back, put both hands against him, and shoved hard.
He tumbled into the water, and the current swept him away.
Nine
Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
Lie there instead of me.
GAPING, LAURIE FOUGHT TO collect her wits. Then, lowering her pistol, she ran up behind May and grabbed her arm.
May jumped and cried out, bringing a hand up defensively as she turned.
“It’s me, May! It’s Laurie! Oh, my dearest dear, are you hurt? Whatever happened just now?”
“He tried to kill me, that’s what,” May snapped. “But I sent him to lie for eternity with his other wives, and now I suppose that you and everyone else will say that I got no more than what I deserved. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I followed you, of course,” Laurie said, understanding May’s fury albeit little else. “But why would he try to harm you, May? I thought that he wanted to take you to England and marry you.”
“You know a great deal about it,” May said bitterly. “I suppose Isabel has been talking out of turn again. That child wants whipping.”
“We will not speak of what anyone wants or deserves,” Laurie said quietly.
Peering at the river, she saw no sign of the man. The current was swift, its power undeniable, as the river swept on down the hillside. Doubtless, it was the end of him. Although Laurie felt no sorrow, she silently offered a prayer for his soul before turning back to her sister to ask, “Where are the things you took?”
“So you know about that, too, do you,” May said bitterly.
“Where are they, May?”
“Yonder,” May said, pointing toward the palfrey and the black standing quietly beside it. “In two sacks tied to his saddle.” She bent to pick up her cloak, clutching the front of her gown to her bosom with the other hand as she did.
“We should leave at once,” Laurie said, moving to make sure that the sacks were still where May said they were. When she found them, she added, “We are too close to the village. Even at this hour someone may be up and about, and it would not do for anyone to see us.”
“But what should we do with his horse?”
“I don’t think we should leave it here, and I’d rather leave those sacks tied where they are than carry them.” Laurie patted the black’s neck. “It seems well trained and would make a fine addition to our stable. We can say we found it wandering free.”
“Oh, indeed,” May said sarcastically. “We’ll ride into the yard in the middle of the night and say that whilst we were out, we happened upon a stray horse. We’ll say it followed us home, just as Isabel said about the kitten she found last year.”
Laurie grimaced. “It will not be as bad as that. Bangtail Willie let me out through the postern gate, and he is there now, awaiting our return. He will tell no one that he has seen us.”
“How can you be certain of that?”
“Faith, I think he is more worried about Bridget getting back safely than he is about us. So, turn around and let me do up your gown. Then we’ll go home.”
When May’s hooks were fastened again, Laurie left her to put on her cloak and led the black to where she had left her bay gelding.
May followed silently a moment later, leading the palfrey. She had not even protested Laurie’s decision to leave the sacks of gold and jewelry where they were.
With her thoughts taken up by the recent events, and then on protecting the precious sacks and getting away from the village unseen, it was not until they were riding up the slope above Kershopefoot that Laurie remembered what May had said about sending her false knight to his other wives. She glanced at May now, riding silently beside her, hunched over the palfrey’s neck as if it were too much effort to sit straight on her saddle.
“What did you mean back there when you spoke of his other wives?”
May shot her a look of resentment, but Laurie easily detected the hurt beneath it when May said bitterly, “He has been married before, Laurie. I don’t know how many times, but more than once. He told me he married the others
only for their dowries. Once he had their dowries safe, he killed them.”
“Godamercy!”
“He is a wealthy man,” May went on. “But a man cannot be too wealthy, he said, and it occurred to him that he did not need to marry me to get my dowry, since I had brought it with me and had told no one where I was going. I forgot how much I had told Isabel.”
Laurie opened her mouth to say what she thought about May’s behavior, but she shut it again. It was no time for recriminations.
May was quiet for a few moments. Then she said, “Why did he not tell me before that he had had other wives? Many men marry more than once. Wives die in childbed or from disease…. Why didn’t he tell me, Laurie?”
“He did not think it important, I expect.”
“Well, I think it was important!”
“Aye, but you did not ask him, nor do you seem to have heeded other matters of practicality,” Laurie pointed out. She added more gently, “You thought you loved him, May.”
“I did.” With a sob, she added, “I was a fool, Laurie. He killed them and told their families they died in childbed. He wanted to kill me, too, but instead…” She hesitated, glancing back the way they had come. “How quickly does a dead man become a ghost, do you think? What if his ghost comes after us?”
“It will not,” Laurie said calmly. “And if you fear that he might somehow have survived, May, recall that the river was very swift and he was wearing chain mail. I do not see how he could survive. Did you see him even try to swim?”
“No, he went under straightaway, and I never saw him again. He’s dead. I’m sure of it, but I do fear his ghost.”
She faced forward again, straightening her shoulders, as if to show Laurie how calm she felt. Then, suddenly, her face crumpled. “I killed him! Godamercy, Laurie, what if someone finds out? We cannot take his horse home with us. They’ll know what we did!”
Laurie pressed her lips firmly together to keep from pointing out that they had not killed the false knight.
She heard another sob and saw that May had bent forward again. Her whole body was shaking.
Reaching to grasp her shoulder, Laurie said, “No one will know, May. Even if we take his horse to Aylewood, all anyone will know is that we found it. Willie will just put it with the others, and no one will think anything about it. Strange horses often show up in the stables. No one asks questions about them. And no one can possibly know what happened between you and Sir John, except me, and I won’t tell a soul. I will protect you, May. I promise, I will.”
“Oh, Laurie, can you?”
“Of course I can. Now, dry your tears. We’ll have more immediate trouble to deal with if anyone has discovered our absence, so think about that instead.”
May gulped and brushed a hand across her eyes. “What will become of me?”
“One day, whether I marry or not, you will find a man who is worthy of your love, my dear. Then, you will marry him and bear his children and live happily ever after,” Laurie added, hoping she spoke the truth.
Bangtail Willie admitted them at the postern gate, and they slipped into the yard without incident.
“Bridget’s back,” Willie murmured the moment they were inside the gate.
“Good,” Laurie said.
“Aye, her dad brung her straight back when she told him she didna have her ladyship’s permission to go.”
“Did anyone see her?” Laurie asked.
“Nay, then, I dinna think so. No one who would speak of it, any road.”
He seemed surprised to see a third horse, but he accepted Laurie’s glib explanation of finding it roaming free beside the burn. Folks living along Tarras Burn, like those in Liddesdale, often spoke of mysteriously acquired horses, and children learned from the cradle not to ask many questions about them.
May and Laurie each took one of the heavy sacks from the black. Hefting hers, Laurie knew that Bridget had to have helped May carry them.
No one challenged them in the yard before they reached the safety of the tower, however. And when they had succeeded in returning the gold and jewelry to Sir William’s strongbox, Laurie felt confident that her father and stepmother would not learn that May had been outside the wall, let alone that she had run away in the hope of marrying a villainous Englishman.
Leaving May at her bedchamber door, Laurie went quietly to her own room. Pushing open the door, she walked in to find glowing coals on the hearth and her stepmother dozing on the bed with a coverlet pulled over her. Faint orange light from the coals colored her cheeks. Her ruffled cap had slipped to her eyebrows.
Moving cautiously, Laurie took off her cloak, gloves, and boots and put them in the wardrobe. Then, slipping her feet into lambskin slippers and drawing a deep breath, she tiptoed to the fireplace and bent to lay a fresh log gently atop the hot coals. Blowing on them, she waited until flames leapt merrily around the log before she went to the bed and gently touched Blanche’s shoulder.
“Madam, wake up. Why are you sleeping in my bed? Were you looking for me? Is aught amiss with my father?”
Blanche started at her touch, then glowered at her. “Where have you been? If I learn that you have been consorting with one of the servants, I swear that I will order you soundly whipped, Laura.”
“I have consorted with no one, madam,” Laurie said. “I could not sleep, so I went outside for a short time. How long have you been here?”
Blanche looked around. “Not long, I expect. Something woke me, and I got up to see what it was that I’d heard. I had someone make a fire, so I must have dozed off quickly, for it has scarcely died down at all.”
Laurie nodded but said nothing.
“If you must know,” Blanche said, “I looked out a window and thought I saw someone riding down the hill. I… I came to see if you knew who it might be. When you were not here, I assumed that it must be you, and I waited to see if you would return.”
Laurie suppressed a sigh, knowing despite her stepmother’s matter-of-fact tone, that it was unfortunately more likely that Blanche had hoped she would not return. Had she really believed that the rider was Laurie, she would surely have roused the men to search for her.
She would at least have awakened Sir William. However, since it was far more likely that she had hoped Laurie was running away, Laurie knew that Blanche had doubtless intended to give her a good head start before alarming anyone. For that, May would be grateful if Laurie was not.
She said evenly, “I must apologize, madam, if I gave you concern by leaving my chamber.”
“You had no business to leave it,” Blanche said curtly, getting to her feet. “You would be well served should I order you to keep to your bedchamber tomorrow as punishment.”
Laurie kept silent.
“I will speak to your father of this,” Blanche said, moving haughtily to the doorway. “It would behoove you to mind your manners, Laura.”
“Yes, madam.”
When she had gone, Laurie shut the door and leaned against it with a deep sigh, wondering what it would be like really to run away. Even Isabel would not miss her for long, she thought. Sir William would profess to miss her, but she doubted that he would try very hard to find her. His life, after all, would be more comfortable without her around to stir Blanche so frequently to anger.
These thoughts, although dismal, did not particularly distress her. She had thought the same thoughts before, many times, and had felt the same feelings.
She supposed that other people were happier in their lives than she was in hers. Indeed, she knew that many were, for she could see as much for herself whenever she visited Davy Elliot and his family. Davy’s Sym, during the good times, was as merry a child as one could know and loved his family dearly.
Thinking of Sym turned her thoughts to Tarras Wood and an image flashed to her mind of the Englishman with the red curls. Would such a man be married, she wondered. Doubtless, he would. Would he have many children?
She tried to imagine herself married—not to him, of course,
but to any man. There were times when she thought that, since marriage would take her away from Aylewood and Blanche, she ought to marry the first man who wanted her. But she had seen little to make marriage seem appealing.
How had her father come to marry Blanche? How did people so mismatched end up together? The answer, she knew, was that marriage had to do with property and with little else. Men married women who could provide them with more property than they had previously possessed. It was generally just that simple.
Sir William was a man of some wealth and would provide each of his daughters with a respectable dowry, but like most Borderers, he preferred to display what he had by bedecking his wife in jewelry. He did not give anything away easily.
Had he owned vast acres of property, Laurie knew that men would be demanding her hand even without seeing her or knowing a thing about her. She was his eldest daughter. They would expect a great landowner to dower his eldest well.
Gentlemen were not beating down the doors at Aylewood, although over the past five years she had received numerous offers. No man had offered enough to make Sir William order her to marry, though, and she had not seen anything in any suitor that made her want to accept his offer. It occurred to her now that she might have felt differently about a man who had persisted despite her lack of interest. Surely, no woman leapt by choice into marriage with a man she scarcely knew.
Even as that thought flitted through her mind, though, she knew it was foolish. Her own sister had not only been willing to leap into marriage, she had gone through dark of night to meet a man she hardly knew and had intended to ride off with him to a foreign country. May would have married Sir John without a qualm and without the support or approval of her family.
Laurie sighed and went to find her bedgown. She did not understand May, but clearly she herself was at least partially responsible for May’s flight and, thus, for the cost of that flight. She had promised to protect May from the consequences, and so far, she had managed to protect them both. She did not know how long she could do so, however, and just the thought of what might lie ahead made her feel dismal again. Altogether, she decided, it had been a dismal day.
