Border Storm

by Amanda Scott

  “Well,” she murmured as she entered the hall, “this needs doing also.”

  To her consternation, the only ones there were servants preparing tables for supper. Stopping one, she said, “Where shall I find Sir Hugh?”

  “He be out in the yard, mistress.”

  “Thank you.” Hurrying outside, she scanned the busy yard for his tall figure, hoping fervently that he had not ridden off again on some errand or other. Now that she had made up her mind to speak to him, she wanted to do so at once.

  “Laura, my dear, there you are.” Lady Marjory’s voice sounded from the steps behind her. “I have been looking for you!”

  Laurie turned impatiently. “What is it, madam?”

  “Why, I went to your bedchamber to assist you with your dressing, as I said I would, but I found only that Rose girl within. She said you had come down to supper, and here you are.

  “As you see,” Laurie said.

  “But you should not have come outside, my dear, for it is dark. Moreover, the yard is dusty and the wind is blowing.

  “The wind always blows here,” Laurie said. “As you can see, I do not require assistance. I came outside because I wish to speak with Hugh.”

  “Sir Hugh, my dear,” Lady Marjory said with an arch look.

  Laurie pressed her lips together, trapping words that begged to be spoken. Her hands clenched at her sides.

  When a large, warm hand grasped her shoulder, she realized that the arch look on Lady Marjory’s face was not directed at her but at Hugh. She relaxed when he said, “My wife surely is entitled to name me as she chooses, Aunt.”

  Lady Marjory made a graceful curtsy. “It must be as you wish, of course, my dear sir. Pray, do take her indoors, though. One cannot doubt that she needs rest after her ordeal and should not be tiring herself in this way.”

  “I will attend to her,” Hugh said quietly.

  “Shall we all go back inside, then? I warrant the servants will have our supper laid very quickly now.”

  “Please, sir, I want to talk to you,” Laurie said in an undertone.

  “And I, to you,” he said, adding in a louder voice, “Tell them we will be along directly, madam. I know that you must be hungry, so they may serve you when they are ready. If we have not returned, you must begin without us.”

  “But I took my supper at the usual time,” Lady Marjory protested. She added with an indulgent smile, “I shall send a lad to fetch you when they put the food out, if you will but tell me where he is likely to find you.”

  “Tell him to look in the little chamber near the kitchen that I use as an office,” Hugh advised her.

  She nodded cheerfully and bustled back inside.

  As soon as she had disappeared, Hugh said, “This way, lass.”

  “But this is not the way to the wee chamber,” Laurie protested when he led her through the postern door, past Meggie and the children, and up the spiral stair.

  “No, this is the way to my bedchamber,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I was just coming to look for you. Why were you looking for me?”

  With a nervous smile, she hedged, saying, “I… I expect that you must have begun to make the arrangements for taking me back to Aylewood.”

  “I know that you want to return straightaway,” he said.

  Wanting to kick herself, Laurie said nothing more as she preceded him up the stairway to his bedchamber. She had already said more than enough, babbling like an idiot, and now he thought that she wanted to return to her family for good.

  When he reached past her to open the bedchamber door, his arm brushed her shoulder, and she gasped at the jolt of yearning that shot through her. More than anything, she wished that she had the courage to turn and fling her arms around him. Instead, she walked into the tidy bedchamber, still silent but with her whole body tingling its awareness of his presence behind her.

  She heard the snap of the bolt as it shot home.

  After a momentary silence, he said gently, “Laurie, look at me. I cannot talk to your back.”

  Turning slowly, forcing her gaze to meet his, she said, “I suppose you will be glad to take me back to my father.”

  “Is that what you wanted to say, that you want to return to your father?”

  She swallowed. His tone was so even, his countenance unreadable. Surely, if he wanted her to stay, she would see it in his eyes, in his expression.

  Quietly, she said, “The sooner I return, the better, I suppose. If I submit to an examination, you will not even have to pay the tocher.”

  “If I pay it, you will not have to submit to an examination.”

  “I… I do not mind,” she said, knowing she was lying and that he probably knew it as well as she did. Remembering his warning about lies, she added hastily, “It is not fair that you should have to pay for something that you did not get.”

  “It is not right for you to have to submit to an examination.”

  “Naught else would satisfy my stepmother. Nor would it satisfy my father, for that matter, or any potential husband.”

  He frowned. “The money would satisfy them all, lass. Is that why you were looking for me, to discuss the arrangements?”

  “Is that not why you were looking for me?”

  He did not reply. He simply looked at her.

  Suddenly furious with herself, she blurted, “I don’t want to go back to them, Hugh… that is, I do but only for May’s funeral. Can you possibly… That is, would you consider…?”

  When she could not continue, he said gently, “I’ll not only consider it, lassie, I was going to insist on it. Come here to me, sweetheart.”

  When he held his arms wide, she flung herself into them, sighing with relief when they closed around her.

  He pulled off her cap and she felt his warm breath stirring her hair when he murmured, “I was in the yard because I was sending lads to Bewcastle. Nixon’s got his own parson, and I want the fellow to marry us properly at once.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye, I told them that if he’s away, they must ride after him and bring him back. I don’t care if they find him in Carlisle or Berwick, Edinburgh or London, just so they find him and fetch him here to me before we leave for Aylewood. Does that sound like I want to leave you with your family, lass?”

  “But you said—”

  “You’ll not fling my own words back in my teeth every time we have an argument, will you?”

  She looked up into his face. “Will we have arguments?”

  “Aye, I’m an argumentative man. Best you accept that from the start.”

  She cocked her head. “It takes two to argue, and I do not like it.”

  “Nay, lass, but you’ll learn. I have already detected a grievous potential.”

  “Have you, indeed, sir?”

  “Aye.” He grinned at her. “I won’t let you run away from it, either. You’ll have to stay and fight.”

  “Do you really want me to stay?”

  In answer, he put one hand under her chin, tilting her head up. Then he kissed her on the lips. He was gentle at first, then demanding, and her body leapt in response. When his hand moved from her chin to her breast, stroking lightly, she melted against him with a little moan of pleasure.

  A moment later, still kissing her, he scooped her up into his arms. Only when she realized where he was headed did she protest.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Claiming my rights as your husband,” he said gently. “If you’re going to object, you’d best do so quickly, so we can argue about it first if we must.”

  “You sound as if you are certain that you will win such an argument.”

  “Will I not? Don’t forget that I am legally your husband. I have the law on my side, sweetheart.”

  Overwhelmed by a wave of desire, she could not think clearly. Grasping at straws, she said, “But it’s suppertime!”

  “The lads will get theirs and nobody else will miss us. I’m hungry for you, lassie. I’ve wanted to taste your treasur
es these several weeks past. I’ll not force you, but ’tis my right, and if you mean to stay, we have no reason to delay.”

  “You need not persuade me,” Laurie said. “If you are certain that no one will disturb us, I have no objection.”

  He needed no further encouragement, pausing only long enough to help her remove her clothing and to remove his own. Any shyness she felt vanished in the face of his visible approval of her body, and his caresses soon stirred a passion in her to match his own.

  “Your skin is so soft that I want to kiss every inch of you,” he said moments later, suiting action to words.

  She had thought that his caresses had already taken her into realms of passion as great as any woman could ever want to know, but she soon realized her error. Even her dream had not come close. She realized, too, that she could stimulate him, too, and she delighted in his sighs and groans of pleasure.

  A sharp pounding on the door turned passion to consternation.

  Hugh’s man, Thaddeus, shouted, “Master, be ye in there? We canna find the mistress, and Lady Marjory be sore afeard that summat ha’ become o’ her. Be ye sick, Sir Hugh?”

  Lady Marjory’s anxious voice came next. “I knew you might catch a chill, my dear sir, out as late as you both were. Perhaps you will allow me to stir up a tisane as a preventative, before you fall ill from a catarrh or worse.”

  Hugh threw off the covers and got out of bed.

  Seeing him stride toward the door, Laurie snatched the covers back up to her chin, stifling an urge to cover her head as well.

  Realizing that he had given no thought to his appearance and was reaching to open the door, she said between tears and laughter, “Hugh, you’re stark naked!”

  Ignoring her, Hugh shot back the bolt and yanked open the door. “What the devil do you mean, pounding on my door like that?” he roared.

  An eldritch shriek echoed through the stairway, followed by the sound of heels retreating rapidly down the stone steps.

  Thaddeus said apologetically, “I expect I ought to have warned her ladyship that ye might answer the door wi’out thinking o’ your appearance, sir.”

  Without bothering to reply, Hugh shut the door in his face and turned, his eyes twinkling with unholy glee. “That’ll teach her,” he said. “Now, where was I?”

  When he found his place again, Laurie’s laughter turned to gasps of pleasure.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Border Storm. Once again, inspiration for the story came partially from reading Border ballads and partially from my interest in my family’s genealogy. The plot is based on the following three ballads: “The False Sir John,” also called “The Elf King,” and “Isaac-a-Bell & Hugh the Graeme,” both in The English & Scottish Popular Ballads, edited by Francis James Child (New York, 1965), and Lock the Door, Larriston by James Hogg, 1797, from the version in Scottish Border Battles & Ballads, edited by Michael Bran-der (New York, 1976).

  The wheel-lock pistol was common in the Borders as early as the first half of the sixteenth century. Interestingly, it is thought to have been invented by Leonardo da Vinci, the great Italian artist and engineer. The wheel-lock worked on the principle of a modern cigarette lighter. A wheel with a rough edge revolving very fast against a piece of stone created the spark to light the powder. Instead of flint, however, a softer stone, iron pyrites, was used. For more information on the wheel-lock and other weapons of this period, see English Weapons and Warfare, 449-1660, by A.V. B. Norman and Don Pottinger (London, 1966).

  Sincerely,

  About the Author

  A fourth-generation Californian of Scottish descent, Amanda Scott is the author of more than fifty romantic novels, many of which appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Her Scottish heritage and love of history (she received undergraduate and graduate degrees in history at Mills College and California State University, San Jose, respectively) inspired her to write historical fiction. Credited by Library Journal with starting the Scottish romance subgenre, Scott has also won acclaim for her sparkling Regency romances. She is the recipient of the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award (for Lord Abberley’s Nemesis, 1986) and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in central California with her husband.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2000 by Lynne Scott-Drennan

  cover design by Mimi Bark

  978-1-4804-0692-6

  This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media

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  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com

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