Tamed by a Laird

by Amanda Scott

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “But, properly, I am Lady Easdale.”

  “Aye, sure, me lady,” the man said with an uncertain glance at Hugh, whose arm had stiffened where it stretched across her shoulders. “I ken fine that Himself will be sorry he were no here to welcome ye personally.”

  Still smiling but well aware of Hugh’s reaction, Jenny said to Tam, “I expect his lordship must already be at Threave.”

  “Nay, Himself were meeting some o’ his visitors at Morton Castle for a day’s hunting. But he means to return on Wednesday to greet folks who come by sea. Your galley captain may want to take his boat upriver, me lord, for the laird means to have a water tournament wi’ jousting from galleys. I mean to see that, I can tell ye. But come ye in now. Me lads will help daft Lucas see to stowing your gear.”

  “Mind your long tongue, ye gaumless gawk,” Lucas said with a snort. “If ye be in charge of these fine lads ’ere, happen ye should set them a better example.”

  Tam Inglis chuckled, clapped Lucas on the back, and shook hands again with Hugh. Then, giving rapid orders to his men, he escorted Hugh and Jenny to the gate.

  “Ye’ll take your usual chambers, sir. I’ve nae doots the steward were meaning to assign them otherwise, but he’ll ken fine that Himself ha’ decreed they be yours whenever ye’ve a mind to use them. Ye’ll have a window, me lady, looking across the river into Borgue with its grand forest and the Firth beyond it. Sakes, on a fine day, I warrant ye might see to the Irish Sea from up there.”

  Inside the wall, they crossed a graveled courtyard to a massive round keep rising at least five stories from the court to its crenellated ramparts.

  Jenny looked around in awe. The place teemed with men-at-arms, but she and Hugh crossed the yard quickly in the captain’s wake and entered the keep by way of a timber stair that led to its second-level entrance.

  Inside, they crossed a winding stairway in the thickness of the wall, then went up a single stone step into the great hall.

  “Is Lady Archibald here?” Hugh asked.

  “Nay, sir, she’s a-visiting kinsmen, but Himself means to bring her back wi’ him, and I’m thinking she’ll be gey pleased to see ye married.”

  Tam left them in the hands of Archie’s steward, who informed them that they would be serving supper in an hour and took them straight up to their chambers.

  “This castle is as big as Lochmaben,” Jenny said when they were alone and she discovered that they had a tiny sitting room and a large bedchamber.

  “And we have a proper-sized bed,” Hugh said.

  Knowing she was blushing, she said quickly, “But Lucas will be coming—and others, too—with our baggage.”

  “Mayhap that is why we have two rooms, Lady Easdale.”

  Her blushes forgotten, she eyed him warily. “I am still Easdale of Easdale, sir. Our marriage did not alter that. Are you vexed?”

  “I just wish we had talked about it first,” he said. “You are Janet Douglas now, after all, but ’tis my own fault that we have not discussed your title.”

  Shaking her head at him, but feeling as if she ought to have raised the subject after Sadie had wondered what to call her—and just as aware that she did not want to argue with him—she went to the tall, narrow window and looked out.

  Most of the snow had melted, and the land across the river was green and heavily forested. There were rolling hills in the distance and she could see other, higher, snow-capped ones to the north. To the south, she could indeed see the Firth.

  “Do you think we can really see the Irish Sea from here?” she asked.

  “Nay,” he said from right behind her. He put a hand lightly on her shoulder and turned her to face him, his touch having its usual effect.

  “Kiss me, lass,” he said quietly, lowering his mouth toward hers. Hesitating before his lips touched hers, he added, “I shall have to accustom myself to the fact that your rank matches my own, but it may take some time.”

  Without awaiting a reply, he kissed her, and she responded instantly.

  Lucas interrupted them with the luggage before things had gone far, and Hugh cursed him, but his man only grinned and said he’d hurry the other lads along.

  As soon as they left, Hugh barred the door and took Jenny to bed.

  They made it to supper with time to spare and found other guests, also awaiting Archie’s return. But none tempted them to linger, and there was a full moon.

  The next two days passed too quickly to suit Jenny or Hugh, because they were able to spend them together. Hugh talked much of Thornhill, and Jenny knew he longed to get home. She said nothing about Easdale, wondering when it would occur to him that they had negotiated no marriage settlements between them.

  Archie arrived as promised late Thursday afternoon with his lady wife and a party of men-at-arms, having sent his hunting guests on to Threave.

  He soon sent a message to Hugh, informing him that he and Jenny were to take supper at the high table. Before suppertime, however, more guests arrived, including Lord Dunwythie, his wife Phaeline, his two daughters, and Reid Douglas.

  Chapter 17

  Hugh and Jenny discovered the new arrivals when they entered the upper hall for supper. Reid looked uncertain, Phaeline angry, and Dunwythie rueful.

  Shaking hands with Dunwythie, Hugh said, “You surprise us, sir. You should have told me you were coming. We might have traveled together.”

  “Och, lad, by my troth, I didna ken we were coming. Then, too, we make a large party by ourselves for a galley. I did hope to attend the celebration at Threave, m’self. But sithee, I’d meant to ride there, and young Reid here was still making up his mind whether to come with me. Then our Jenny ran away, and when you returned with her at last, the news of your marriage unsettled us all. By my troth,” he added, lowering his voice, “I fear it nearly caused my lady to lose her bairn.”

  “How dreadful,” Hugh said. Wondering why Jenny, beside him, did not respond, too, he glanced at her as he added, “It surprises me even more then that Phaeline has come with you, sir. Surely, she ought to be at home, resting in bed.”

  “She frets too much so,” Dunwythie said.

  “But such a journey—”

  “Nay, she likes sailing and kens fine that she can also take a boat from here to Threave,” he said. “She would upset herself more were she to stay home.”

  Hugh glanced at Phaeline, talking with Joanna Douglas and looking perfectly stout. Finding Dunwythie’s explanation implausible, he wondered what had really prompted his sister to undertake the journey. She had displayed little interest in Threave or Archie Douglas, although he was as much her kinsman as Hugh’s.

  He noted, too, that Reid stayed close to her, as did Mairi and Fiona. Neither had yet greeted Jenny, making him certain that Phaeline had forbidden them to.

  Hugh had nothing he wanted to say to any of them. But evidently, Phaeline desired to speak with him, for she approached him alone just as Archie entered and began wending his way to the high table. He took his time, pausing to shake hands and talk with some of his guests.

  “I see you arrived safely, Hugh,” Phaeline said, watching as Jenny slipped away to greet Mairi and Fiona. “Because of your odd burst of temper the other day, I must assure myself that your sense of rectitude and hope for an annulment have prevailed. Pray, tell me that you’ve had the good sense not to couple yet with Janet.”

  “She is my wife, Phaeline. I declared as much before we left Annan House.”

  “Then you have taken her. That will make things more tedious, I expect, but I believe we can still get your marriage annulled. I must say, I am grieved that you would so unashamedly try to rob your own brother of his intended wife.”

  “Go back to your husband, Phaeline, before I tell you what I think of what you and Reid—aye, and Dunwythie, too—tried to do to Jenny. If you truly mean to seek an annulment, I would also recommend that you consider well what others will think of such a foolish action against the head of your own f
amily.”

  “Pish-tush,” she said. “The fact is that Reid and Janet are betrothed, my dear Hugh. And a prior betrothal, as you said yourself, is grounds to annul any marriage. Moreover, my lord tells me the Bishop of Glasgow will take the mass on Sunday. Doubtless, he will take a dim view of any priest acting in a minstrel play. He has the power to grant your annulment, and we mean to ask him to do so.”

  Since the Bishop of Glasgow was the very man who had approved the special license for which Hugh had supposedly applied, he was afraid Phaeline might be right. He realized, too, in that moment, that he would fight buckle and thong to keep Jenny as his own. Reid clearly wanted only her wealth, her title, and sufficient power to force her to do his bidding. Hugh wanted Jenny for herself.

  To be sure, they would fratch some, because he wanted her as his wife and she was determined to remain and act as a baroness in her own right.

  But she would learn, he thought.

  And, doubtless, so would he.

  Having moved to stand with Mairi and Fiona while Phaeline talked with Hugh, Jenny kept an eye on him as she exchanged greetings with her cousins.

  “Is it not astonishing?” Fiona demanded. “Who would have thought they’d bring me to Galloway? One wonders particularly why Uncle Reid wanted to come,” she added with a mischievous look at Jenny.

  “Hush, Fee,” Mairi said quietly. “Your voice is too loud.”

  “What if people do hear me? I did wonder, that’s all.”

  Jenny wondered, too, but seeing Hugh gesture to her as Phaeline left him, she excused herself, saying, “We are to sit at the high table, so I must go. I’ll talk more with you later this evening or when we all ride to Threave tomorrow.”

  “Oh, we are not riding,” Fiona said. “Phaeline said we are to go in a boat.”

  Jenny nodded, smiling, but her attention had already fixed on Hugh.

  He was annoyed. His expression looked as placid as usual, but she knew he was angry and wondered how she could tell.

  When she reached him, he smiled and offered his arm. Curious though she was, she resisted asking him at once about his conversation with Phaeline.

  Resting a hand lightly on his forearm, she went with him to the dais and saw with relief that he relaxed as he greeted Archie Douglas.

  Tall, lanky, and broad-shouldered with dark, eaglelike features, Archie grinned back at Hugh and clapped him on the shoulder. Then he took Jenny’s hand as she curtsied to him, and said, “We are pleased to greet you, Lady Easdale, and to extend our felicitations on your marriage.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said, then curtsied again as he presented his lady wife, Joanna.

  Indicating that Jenny was to sit beside Joanna, Archie moved to his place with Hugh beside him, and Jenny knew she would hear none of their conversation.

  The hall was too noisy. Musicians in the gallery played music she could barely hear, and Archie had provided no other entertainment. Service was swift, too, making it clear to her that he did not intend his guests to linger over their supper.

  Joanna leaned nearer to Jenny and said, “My ladies and I, and some others, will depart early in the morning, my dear. Do you come with us in the boats?”

  “Sir Hugh said we would borrow horses and ride to Threave, madam,” Jenny said. “But, pray, do call me Jenny.”

  “Most ladies prefer the boats, Jenny. Are you sure that you want to ride such a distance? To be sure, the boats will take longer, rowing against the current as they do. But ’tis a pleasant journey, and we will stop on the way to eat our midday meal.”

  “Doubtless the riders will stop, too, madam,” Jenny said smiling. “If it will not offend you, I should prefer to ride with my lord husband.”

  “I do not take offense so easily, and of course you would prefer it, as newly married as you are. I am still stunned at our Hugh’s taking another wife! Sithee, we were certain he would hold by his word and never remarry. But what extraordinary dimples you have, my dear. I vow, they must be an inch deep, both of them!”

  They chatted amiably as they ate, and Jenny was careful to talk with the lady on her left, too. But it was not long before Archie said to Joanna, “We will leave now, my love. Hugh wants a private word with me, and doubtless others will, too.”

  Obediently, Joanna stood, and everyone else did likewise. Many would stay after their host and hostess left the hall, but Jenny would not be one. As Joanna turned to leave, Jenny stepped aside for her and thus nearer to Douglas.

  “Pray, my lord,” she said quietly, “I do not know if Sir Hugh mentioned that I would also like to speak with you…”

  Archie looked surprised but said politely, “Nay, my lady, he did not. Nor do I think it suitable for a woman to take part in men’s conversation.” Motioning for the lady who had sat at Jenny’s left hand to follow Joanna, he turned to Hugh. “What say you, lad? Did you expect your lady to take part in our talk?”

  “I did not,” Hugh said, giving Jenny a stern look.

  She ignored it, saying to Archie, “With respect, my lord, what Sir Hugh is about to discuss with you is a matter that I brought to his attention. I heard things said, and experienced other things, that he did not. Nor, I fear, does he view the matter as seriously as I do. I would ask, therefore, that you hear me as well.”

  Archie looked at Hugh and back at Jenny.

  Hugh said firmly, “Madam, I will tell him all we know. There is no need—”

  To her surprise, and clearly to Hugh’s, Archie cut him off with a chuckle and said, “Bless us, lass, I think you’ll lead our Hugh a dance. But I like you. So you may come with us now and keep an eye on him if you want to be sure he tells the whole tale. I own that betwixt the two of you, you have piqued my curiosity.”

  Jenny took care not to let Hugh catch her eye as they followed their host to a private chamber.

  Archie shut the door himself and gestured toward two back-stools near a large table. As they sat, he took the chair behind the table and nodded to Hugh.

  “Let’s hear it, lad.”

  Hugh began to explain Jenny’s concern that certain incidents and associations might suggest mischief-makers plotting to disturb the royal celebration at Threave. He no sooner mentioned the minstrels, however, than Archie stopped him.

  “Hold there, lad. I may, from experience, imagine how you came to get yourself mixed up with such a tribe. But I cannot imagine how your lady could do so. Begin at the beginning now, and don’t be leaving things out.” With a roguish look at Jenny, he said, “I begin to see why you were fretting, lass.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks, and although she managed to smile, she could feel Hugh’s increasing displeasure. She had known he’d have to include the minstrels in his explanation, but it had not occurred to her until that moment that the most likely reason he had wanted to talk to Archie without her was that he had meant to omit mentioning her altogether. Now, though, she was sure he had meant to do just that.

  She knew, too, although he had not said a word to her or done aught else to reveal it, that he was angry with her—even more so than she had guessed before.

  Nevertheless, obedient to Archie’s command, he described the betrothal feast, its aftermath, the attack on the knacker, and their suspicion that someone might have exploited his first-head privilege to smuggle jewels out of Annan House.

  “I should perhaps describe the Joculator,” Hugh said just as Jenny was about to mention that someone had returned the Annan House jewels.

  “The Joculator?” Archie said.

  “Their leader,” Hugh explained. They all call him so. As I recall, a joculator is proficient in most if not all of the minstrel arts. He has many talents, including juggling, acting the fool, deftness in training animals—and legerdemain.”

  “Sleight of hand?” Archie said. “A good way to steal jewels, I should think.”

  “Aye, and I must say, although I like these minstrels exceedingly, sir, and believe they are as honest as any, I did wonder about that.”

 
“It is not just about the jewels, though,” Jenny said, deciding it was not the time to mention that the theft at Annan House might have been a prank. “For one thing,” she went on, “the sheriff’s men searched the camp at Dumfries and found no sign of them. But something is amiss. People talking together break off when they see one watching, and twice I have heard mention of Threave Castle spoken in such a way as to sound ominous. One of those times was at Lochmaben Castle.”

  “Lass,” Hugh said sternly, “you heard that voice in a dream.”

  “Aye, sure,” she admitted, this time avoiding Archie’s gaze and Hugh’s. But she added nonetheless firmly, “I am sure now, however, that not all of it was a dream, sir.” Meeting Archie’s gaze then, she said, “I continued to hear at least one voice after I had wakened, my lord. It was the same voice that had said, ‘So, I’m just to take ye along to Threave, am I?’ The one arguing with that one had said, ‘We pay well for what we want,’ and something about a chance to get inside the castle.”

  “I own, I don’t much like the sound of that,” Archie said.

  Jenny waited for Hugh to protest, but although he opened his mouth as if he would, he shut it again and was silent.

  “Is that the sum of it?” Archie asked him.

  “Aye, it is,” Hugh said evenly. “It is not much, I’m afraid.”

  “Even so,” Archie said, “it does sound as if something is in the wind, and I cannot have upset at Threave when the purpose of this tournament is to show off the new seat of Douglas power and honor his grace’s third year on the throne. Any trouble could undermine the peace we have now in Galloway, and in the Borders.”

  “Only if they succeed, my lord,” Jenny said. “Mayhap we can learn—”

  “We have done our part by warning his lordship,” Hugh interjected then. “He is entirely capable of handling it now without our help.”

  “Now, now, lad,” Archie said. “When has a man ever had too many eyes and ears? I’m thinking that since your lady has shown us that she can use her wits, she may be the very one to identify them. I would have her at hand.”