The Border Trilogy

by Amanda Scott

  Mary Kate chuckled. “Oh dear, how little you know. To think that you can believe everyone made a fuss over me when Adam was, and is, truly livid with anger.”

  “But I saw him,” Megan protested. “He was beside himself with fear when word came of your capture, and today he had his arm ’round your shoulders, helping you up the front steps.”

  Mary Kate stared, then shook her head in wry amusement. “Megan, he was not helping me. He was forcing me. The last thing I wanted to do just then was to go into the house with him. He thought—still thinks, in fact—that I ran away yesterday rather than obey his command to beg your forgiveness for calling you a bitch.”

  Megan’s mouth opened. “Is that what that word means?”

  “Aye, near enough.” Mary Kate bit her lip, feeling warmth surge to her cheeks. “And I am sorry I said it. But Adam probably thinks being captured by brigands is nothing compared to what I truly deserve. He would like nothing better than to use me as you fear Sir Reginald will use you. But his lordship intervened.” She grimaced. “He did so, mind you, not because he thought Adam’s wrath unjustified but because he feared that Adam’s beating me would distress Lady Strachan. In point of fact, I probably owe my escape directly to her. I’d not be surprised to learn that, knowing precisely what Adam would do in such a case, she begged his lordship to protect me. So much for fussing over me!”

  “I didn’t know.” Megan shook her head. “I am so ashamed of myself, Mary Kate. My uncle is right. There can be no excuse for my behavior. I wish now that I had been kinder to you. We might have become friends.”

  “We can still be friends,” Mary Kate said, smiling. “Perhaps, if I were to speak to his lordship—”

  “Oh, if only you would! I confess I had hoped you would suggest such a course, for it is the only thing now that might weigh with him, but I could not ask, for I know I do not deserve your help. If you will try,” she added huskily, “I will be forever grateful to you.” She hesitated then, fiddling with a fold of her skirt. “He said I am to leave first thing in the morning, so perhaps you could speak with him after supper?”

  Mary Kate nodded absently, for her mind was racing. She did not doubt that, in the long run, she could convince Lord Strachan to alter his decision, but she pondered the advisability of waiting until after supper to approach him. There was always the likelihood that Douglas would return and interfere, one way or another, and she wanted the matter over and settled before ever he heard about it. He would be displeased, to say the least, if Megan were sent home on her account to face Sir Reginald’s wrath. On the other hand, perhaps it would alleviate some of his present displeasure with her if she were able to prevent that. On the thought she consulted her watch, flicking open the intricate gold case with her thumbnail.

  “It lacks half an hour of supper,” she said briskly, rising to her feet and shaking out her skirts. She moved to study her reflection in the Venetian looking glass on the wall by the press cupboard, speaking as she went. “Do you remain here, and I shall speak with him at once.” Smoothing her hair, she turned. “Should Adam return in the meantime, pray tell him only that I am with his father.”

  Megan agreed with becoming gratitude, and Mary Kate sallied forth to confront his lordship in the bookroom. When she requested a private interview, he obligingly dismissed young Ned to change for supper, seated her in the big armchair, perched himself against the edge of the huge table, and gave her his undivided attention.

  At first he refused to consider her request, giving it as his opinion that Megan had stepped beyond all bounds by applying to her for assistance in what he readily agreed was a pretty tangle. He declared flatly that although he might decline to exert his authority so far as to take a good stout rod to his niece’s backside, he had no qualms whatever about sending her home to a husband who could be depended upon to exercise that authority to the fullest degree. When he added, smiling, that Mary Kate was displaying her own generosity of spirit by supporting Megan, she tried to disabuse him of that notion by insisting first that she believed the other young woman was being punished more harshly than the situation merited and, secondly, that her own motives were selfish ones.

  Earlier, when she had described her difficulties to him, she had been honest without dwelling upon her own contributions to the problem. In describing the incidents preceding her departure from Strachan Court, she had said only that Douglas had given her a tongue-lashing for being uncivil to his cousin. Now, albeit reluctantly, she filled in more of the details, emphasizing the fact that she, too, had been much at fault. She even admitted having told Megan that she, rather than Rose MacReady, had belonged upon the repentance stool. That part did not anger Strachan, as she had feared it might. He even smiled a little. But he was no longer smiling when she finished describing precisely what had taken place in the window hall.

  “Your coming to me this way speaks well for you, Mary Kate,” he said then, “but I understand now why my son was so angry with you.” He paused, and she waited anxiously, chewing her lower lip. “None of what you have told me excuses Megan’s rudeness, nor Adam’s, for all that. But where his was heedless, hers was willful, and nothing you have said alters that fact. That she, a Douglas born, could so forget her duty…” He shook his head grimly. “Common courtesy, if nothing else, is expected of her at all times, and I am not inclined to forgive her easily.”

  “She knows you are displeased with her, my lord, and she is sorry for what she has done, so can you not reconsider your decision to send her home? Sir Reginald will be furious with her. She is certain that he will not allow her to attend the wedding, which will disappoint Margaret as much as it will disappoint Megan. Her absence will also distress her ladyship,” she added shrewdly, “and there is still Adam to be considered. You yourself said that I shall have difficulty making my peace with him, but my task will be doubly difficult if he believes that Megan is being sent home in disgrace on my account. And that is what he will believe. She has apologized to me, after all, and I find that I am able freely to forgive her. I should like her to be my friend.”

  He stood upright and walked to the window, where he remained some minutes, lost in thought. Mary Kate kept silent. When he turned, his expression was stern, and she held her breath.

  “I care not one whit for Sir Reginald’s fury,” he stated firmly and unencouragingly. “The lass deserves his fury. And her disappointment at being made to miss the wedding is likewise of no concern to me. As for Adam, I’m tempted to have another talk with him that he would enjoy even less than our last one. However,” he added with an eye to the changing expressions on her face, “I confess to you that I had not thought about what his reaction to Megan’s departure might mean to you. If he were simply going to miss her company, I’d say ‘God rot him,’ for he deserves to miss her. But I’d not want him to blame you for aught of my doing, lass, and I agree now that he may well do so. Moreover,” he went on thoughtfully, “it would mean much to me and to my lady as well if you and yon prickling lass should form a friendship, much more than it would mean to know that Megan was back at Somerville sporting a striped backside.” He grinned at her, raising her spirits considerably.

  “Then she is to stay?”

  “Aye, for the present. But you are to tell her for me that the future rests with herself. Her husband has every right to know how she comports herself when she is away from his sight, and I will certainly have something to say to him on that subject when next we meet. You may explain to her that the wording of that conversation will depend entirely upon my opinion of her behavior betwixt now and then.”

  “I will tell her, sir, at once. I promised to return to her before supper.” Smiling, she rose and began moving toward the door, looking back only to say, “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Aye, you’re welcome, but lassie—”

  She turned. “Aye?”

  “Don’t feel too smug about your success with me,” he warned. “You’ve still an unpleasant time of it ahead of you, and meth
inks not all of it is unmerited.”

  She grimaced. “I doubt I shall have any opportunity to forget that, sir, but with Megan to stand my friend, I believe it will not be so bad as it might have been.”

  “Aye, ’tis true,” he agreed. “Get along with you now. You’ve little enough time before supper, and you tell that lass for me,” he added firmly, “that she is to present herself at the table. I’ll brook no sulks.”

  Mary Kate agreed and a few moments later was excitedly reporting the success of her mission. Megan’s relief was profound, but it flagged when she learned that her uncle still meant to speak to Sir Reginald.

  “Don’t distress yourself unduly,” Mary Kate recommended. “Such a discussion cannot take place for more than a fortnight, so we have plenty of time in which to change his mind.” When Megan looked doubtful, she laughed at her. “Bustle about now. You must wash your face, for ’tis time we were alow. I am like to starve if I don’t eat soon.”

  “Oh, no, I cannot. I must look a fright, Mary Kate, and I feel utterly nauseous after all my upset. I cannot face them all like this. You must make my excuses for me.”

  Sighing, for she had hoped it would not be necessary, Mary Kate relayed his lordship’s command, whereupon Megan offered no further protest and proceeded at once to do what she could to repair her ravaged complexion. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but the tearstains were gone when she meekly followed Mary Kate to the winter parlor. She seemed to have regained most of her composure by the time they joined the others, but sitting through the meal was clearly an ordeal for her, and she did no more than pick at her food. Neither her aunt nor Ned commented upon her appearance, but the air was pregnant with the young man’s curiosity, if not with Lady Strachan’s.

  Mary Kate had expected to hear sounds of her husband’s return long before she and Megan descended the great stair to supper, and when he had still not put in an appearance by the time they adjourned to the great chamber for the evening, she did not know whether to be concerned or relieved. By bedtime, however, she was undeniably worried, and by their expressions, so too were the others.

  Lord Strachan and Ned, contrary to their usual custom, had chosen to remain with the ladies, for by now everyone knew that Douglas and his men had ridden in pursuit of the brigands. Mary Kate found after an hour of listening to small talk and to Megan’s aimless plucking of the lute’s strings, that she could no longer keep her eyes open and reluctantly went to bed. She left the door to Douglas’s bedchamber ajar, certain that she would thus hear his return, and promptly fell asleep.

  The next morning when she awoke, the door was shut. A few minutes later, as she lay in bed wondering if she dared look to see if he were really home, Annie Jardine entered from the gallery, carrying a ewer of hot water. She set it upon the wash stand and moved to open the curtains.

  “Annie,” said Mary Kate anxiously, “did you shut the door to Sir Adam’s room, or did someone else?”

  Oddly, the maid seemed to brace herself. She did not turn from the window. “Nay, mistress. Sir Adam shut it himself sae as not tae disturb ye.”

  “Then he is home.” Mary Kate sighed. “And Sesi?”

  Annie turned slowly. “Safe in her stable, mistress. And your jewels be in m’lord’s lockbox in the book-room.”

  “My jewels?”

  “Aye, didna ye know? They was part o’ the ransom.”

  She hadn’t known, but the information made sense. If she hadn’t been in such a hurry when she left Strachan Court, she would have put her watch away properly in her jewel case. Then, when she looked for it later, she would have known. But since she wore so little jewelry at a time and had heedlessly tossed the watch into the open trinket box on her dressing table, she had had no idea until now that the jewels were gone. However, it didn’t matter since they were back now and her beloved Sesi was safe in her stable.

  She sighed again. Now perhaps she would be able to clear the air with Douglas, to tell him what she had learned about her feelings, alone in the bourock. Perhaps she would even discover whether the little signs she had seen from time to time indicated a possibility that he returned some of those feelings.

  “Are the men all safe, Annie? Was anyone hurt?”

  “All safe enough, mistress,” Annie said with a carefully casual air, “and they got the reivers, every last one o’ them. Our Willie says most of ’em are wi’ their Maker, but four are on their way tae join their feckless comrades in Roxburgh Tolbooth, just as master promised. And as tae injuries,” she added more reluctantly, “I might as well tell ye that he did suffer a sword cut tae his left arm, but Trotter tended it and said ’tis naught. One o’ the others had a nasty slice taken out o’ his leg, but that, too, will mend in time, barring infec—” She broke off with her mouth hanging open when Mary Kate scrambled out of bed.

  Not having comprehended at once what Annie had said, she was white now with the realization that Douglas had been wounded. She spoke hastily. “Get my things, Annie, and quickly. What is the hour?”

  “It lacks a guid while to dinner, mistress. There be nae need for haste. My lady expected ye would sleep late and said I wasna tae disturb ye earlier.” She spoke hesitantly, as though she would say more but knew not whether she should.

  “I must see Sir Adam,” Mary Kate insisted. “Even if he is still sleeping, I must see for myself that he is well.”

  “He isna here, m’lady.” Annie spoke as though the words were dragged from her mouth against her will.

  “Not here? Don’t be absurd, Annie. What do you mean?”

  “Please, mistress, he went wi’ the others tae Roxburgh and said he will ride straight on tae Edinburgh from there. He were here only the few hours tae sleep whilst Trotter got his gear ’n’ all together.”

  Mary Kate stared at her maidservant. “Did he leave a message for me?”

  Annie had watched her warily while she broke the unwelcome news, but now she looked away helplessly. “Nay, m’lady, none that I ken. He may ha’ said something tae the mistress or tae m’lady Somerville.”

  But Mary Kate knew he had not done so. Though he might have made some vague, polite statement to his mother, that would be all. He had gone away without a word to her.

  Despite his father’s orders to leave her be, she had expected him to scold her at the very least, if only to relieve his temper after all the worry and distress she had caused him to suffer; however, it was clear now that he would not speak to her at all, that she would not even see him for some days to come. As a punishment that would be far worse, for it meant that they would travel to Edinburgh without his escort. What would people think of such behavior? She brushed a strand of hair off her face and, becoming aware of Annie’s apprehension, took herself firmly in hand. The situation was dreadful, but it was none of Annie’s doing.

  “Fetch my clothes, Annie,” she said gently, “and do not, I beg of you, look so wretched. Being the bearer of unwelcome tidings is not easy, but one no longer kills the messenger.”

  “Nay, m’lady,” Annie said, looking alarmed at the very thought. “I didna mean tae fash ye. Certes, young master meant naught by sae rapid a departure. ’Tis nobbut that he didna trust the others tae bring yon reivers safe tae Roxburgh wi’oot him. He wants tae see them end where they canna mak’ more mischief.”

  “That will do,” Mary Kate said more sharply than she had intended. She was sorry for her tone but consoled herself with the thought that it was not proper to allow Annie to discuss such things with her. The maid was a servant, after all, not a friend. An hour later, however, she was wishing she could snub Megan so easily.

  On the whole, dinner was not as difficult an ordeal as she had anticipated it would be. Lord Strachan commented on the successful capture of the reivers, of course, and his lady expressed gratitude that the success had been achieved without loss of life or limb amongst their own. But the subject of Douglas’s abrupt departure was scrupulously avoided. He might just as well have been snug in his bed, Mary Kate thought, a
s halfway to Roxburgh. She sensed a sympathy for her difficulties among the others; however, no overt attempt was made to discuss them with her until after dinner when Megan drew her inexorably into the warm inner courtyard.

  “You look dreadful,” Megan said when they had seated themselves on the stone bench. “Did you quarrel with Adam again before he left?”

  Her frankness accomplished what tact would never have done. “I wish I had,” Mary Kate said dismally. “I didn’t even see him. He didn’t even say good-bye.” Her eyes welled with tears, but Megan wisely expressed no sympathy.

  “How uncivil of him,” she said briskly, “but he said nothing to me, either, you know. Or to anyone else, except no doubt for my aunt. I suppose he was in too great a rush to be bothered with common courtesy.”

  “But what will people think when he arrives in Edinburgh without us? They will know at once that something is wrong.”

  Megan chuckled then with unfeigned mirth. “Don’t be a goosecap, Mary Kate. You didn’t imagine that Adam would plod tamely along with his mother’s cavalcade, did you? You, of all people, must know how he travels. He might have made an effort, of course, but it wouldn’t have been long before some errand or other occurred to him that necessitated his leaving us behind long before we reached the city. No one who knows him will think it the least odd when he arrives before us.”

  Mary Kate acknowledged the truth of these words and began to feel better. Nevertheless, it was a relief four days later, after a long, tiresome, and uncomfortable journey, to discover that Megan was absolutely right. No one seemed to think it at all strange that Douglas had preceded the rest of his family to the city. Mary Kate had been particularly concerned about her initial reception at his house in the Canongate; however, when at last they approached the tall, imposing house standing in its own grounds, she barely had time to catch her breath after it had been identified for her by the others before the front doors were flung wide and a familiar figure appeared on the threshold.