The Border Trilogy

by Amanda Scott

  With a grimace, Mary Kate admitted that her sister-in-law most likely had the right of it. “But Sir Patrick said that I must make Adam listen to me,” she said reasonably, “and you yourself admitted that I should have to tie and gag him in order to achieve such an end. I could think of nothing else to do.”

  Margaret stared at her with her mouth wide open, but Sir Patrick’s laughter spilled over at last, and tears of merriment were streaming down his cheeks by the time Ned returned.

  21

  FIRST HIS EYELIDS FLICKERED. Then a muscle on the left side of his jaw twitched, as though he became aware of the gag before he exerted himself to open his eyes. Or perhaps he exerted himself because of it.

  Mary Kate had pulled a back stool up close to the bed and sat now, hands clasped upon her knees, hunched forward so as not to miss the least hint that he was waking. And he was. With the first twitch of his eyelid, she had stopped breathing. Planning for this moment had been one thing; living it was quite another. Douglas opened his eyes.

  She had been prepared for anger, or thought she had. But for a moment he was bewildered rather than angry. He frowned. Then his gaze encountered hers, and his expression hardened. He moved to sit up and became aware for the first time of the ropes that bound him to the bedposts, whereupon his expression altered ludicrously from annoyance to astonishment and disbelief. He did, in fact, turn his head first to one side and then to the other, as though his vision must confirm what his other senses had told him. Then, sharply, he looked back at her, and despite the breath she had been holding, she took in more air in a sudden gasp at the blazing fury in his eyes. He struggled at the bonds, and she knew brief terror at the thought that he might break free. But the knots held.

  She gathered her courage to speak. “It would be best, sir, if you do not struggle. The bonds are tight, and you might do yourself an injury.” The sound of her voice was unfamiliar, as though she listened to someone else, someone whose heart was not thudding loudly enough to be heard in London and whose toes were not rattling in her shoes, someone who was altogether poised and indifferent to consequences. Nonetheless, the very fact that she could speak at all calmed her. She sat straighter and squared her shoulders. “Adam, I have much to say, and this was the only way I could be certain you would listen to me.”

  He managed to grimace in spite of the gag, but the fury in his eyes abated somewhat.

  Mary Kate collected her thoughts. She knew her voice would work properly now, though she dared not meet his gaze except for brief seconds from time to time. She twisted the ring he had given her on their wedding day.

  “I know you are furious with me, sir, and I cannot blame you, but I cannot bear to have all this misunderstanding, even deceit, between us any longer. If you despise me for the things I am about to relate to you, then so be it, but I hope you may find it in your heart to forgive me instead—if not at once, which may well be too much to ask, then at least someday.” She paused, darting a glance at him.

  Though his expression was still forbidding, she saw that she had succeeded in capturing his attention. Breathing more steadily now, she said carefully, “You have taken umbrage at what you choose to call my flirtation with Kenneth Gillespie—” When he growled beneath the gag, she studied the reflection of the sunlight on her ring, glad he could not speak, and went on, steadily insistent, “You must believe me, sir, when I tell you that I never sought to flirt with him. I know I behaved badly at Critchfield, but that was through innocence and high spirits, nothing more. And I had eyes and thought only for you afterward, never for him. He chose to take advantage, however, of our small acquaintance, to presume upon past meetings.” She forced herself to look directly into his eyes. “I give you my solemn word, Adam, that there never has been and never can be more than that between him and me. I pray you will believe me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper with these last words, but she did not look away, and he did not growl again.

  Emboldened by his silence, she allowed herself to study his countenance for some clue to his feelings, deciding briefly that the new expression in his eyes would have been encouraging had she not come to the most difficult part of the whole business. It would be nice, she thought, if she could simply stop at this point and beg his pardon for having annoyed him, but the matter was not so simple as that. He would demand explanations, and she would be back where she had begun, with him bellowing at her or worse. Better, she decided reluctantly, to get the whole business over and done at once.

  “I know you will find it difficult to believe that I have not encouraged him, and I know it has looked as though I have done nothing to discourage him.”

  The anger that flickered in his eyes then made her swallow hard and drop her gaze, wishing the next thing she had to say were easier.

  “I—I must tell you, t-too, that he said himself that he thought I had a t-tendresse for him. He said he thought so even before you married me. But if he truly thought that, sir, it was by fault of my innocence, never by design.” She paused again, then muttered, “I know you must wonder why I did not come to you and tell you that he had become a nuisance, and I should like nothing better than to be able to say that that was entirely his fault. Indeed, the temptation is great to lay all the blame for this madness at his door, especially since he is not here to defend himself. But that would be neither a fair nor a true statement. And if I did somehow encourage him to believe that I was attracted to him, then the gravest fault is mine. In any case, when he demanded today’s meeting, I was unable to rebuff him, not because I did not want to do so, but because he threatened to lay information against you if I was unkind to him, information that I was unable, for reasons of my own, entirely to disbelieve.”

  She had looked away again, but a sharp movement from the bed caught her attention, and she looked up to find him quizzing her with his eyes. She bit her lower lip. “I scarcely know how to continue, Adam. What I did was inexcusable, and I had hoped you need never know of it, but since you are truly in danger now, I must tell you everything. Last winter at Critchfield, I overheard part of your conversation with Sir William MacGaurie and the others. Johnny Graham’s odd behavior and your response to it aroused my curiosity, you see, so I followed you back to your bedchamber purposely to discover what was going on. I…I listened at the door.” She did not dare to look at him now but studied her fingertips instead. “I would never have done such a despicable thing had I not had too much mulled wine to drink, and if I had never heard what I heard then, perhaps I would not have reacted as I did when Mr. Gillespie accused you. However unwisely, I would no doubt have sent him rapidly about his business. But I knew you had worked with the others on Queen Mary’s behalf. He called it a conspiracy. He said you and the others meant to overthrow the king and return Queen Mary to the throne. He even said there was a plot to assassinate Elizabeth. In any event, I knew his accusation alone would be dangerous to you, and some of what I had overheard myself led me to believe that some part at least of what he said might be true.”

  She still could not bring herself to look at him. “There is more,” she said quietly. “Yesterday at Margaret’s wedding party, he told me of Sir William’s arrest, and he threatened me, told me that if I refused to grant him certain favors he would go straightaway to King James with his accusations, but that if I behaved as he wished me to do, he would forget what he knew. He said he would call upon me here today. I-I thought I was prepared to do as he demanded.”

  The silence was unbearable. She had to look at him. But looking did her no good at all, for his expression was entirely unreadable, as though he had drawn a curtain over his feelings.

  She went on wretchedly, “Not until he was actually here in the house did I realize I simply could not go through with it. I made up my mind then to tell you the whole, although I confess I had not planned to tell you so soon as this or in this particular manner. Having decided to tell you at all, however, I realized that, one way or another, I had to thwart him until I could think of how to dispose o
f him.”

  At a choked sound from beneath the gag, she looked up to see a glint of amusement in her husband’s eyes. At this auspicious sign she sighed with deep relief. “Perhaps, sir, if I were to remove your gag, you would be more comfortable.”

  He nodded vigorously.

  She leaned forward, reaching for the knot at the back of his head, but paused before loosening it. “I shall not untie you yet, Adam—not until I have told you the rest—so pray do not ask that of me. And I warn you now that if you lose your temper, I shall replace the gag.”

  He frowned heavily, causing her to draw her hands back from the knot.

  “Perhaps I ought first to finish what I wish to say, sir, since I doubt you will be able to cage your tongue once the gag has gone. First of all, I assure you that Mr. Gillespie was unsuccessful in his attempt to have his will with me. The details of his visit are therefore unimportant. I can relate them to you later if you insist. It is far more important now that I tell you how sorry I am for having had to place you in this undignified position. My aunt believes you were swine-drunk and will no doubt make some sharp comments the next time she sees you, but I truly thought this the only way to make you hear me out. Had I attempted to explain the matter in any other fashion, you would have lost your temper long before I had finished, and we should have had a dreadful quarrel, presuming of course that you had allowed me to speak at all. At least this way I shall have had ample opportunity to present my defense, meager though it is. There is none at all, of course, for listening in upon your private conversation, but now that things have come to such a pass, I know that I must tell you everything so that you will be able to defend yourself when that horrid man takes his tale to the king.” She looked at him again and sighed. “I shall remove the gag now, sir, and you may say what you like to me.” So saying, and with fingers that trembled only a little, she unfastened the gag.

  Douglas worked his mouth for a moment. Marks at its corners showed that the cloth had been tied uncomfortably tight.

  “Loose my bonds as well, lassie.” His voice was low and surprisingly gentle.

  She looked at him miserably, but she had known the moment must come sooner or later. Slowly, she unfastened first one knot, then another, and another. He sat up, rubbing numbness from his wrists, and untied his left leg by himself while she struggled with the ropes securing the right one. Then he swung his feet to the floor.

  She stepped back two paces.

  “Come here, Mary Kate.”

  She stood still, facing him, with no wish to go closer. “Adam, I know you must be fearfully angry with me, but—”

  “Come here, lass.” The tone of his voice did not alter but remained low-pitched and calm despite the glint of unmistakable amusement that had crept into his eyes.

  Mary Kate didn’t see the glint, however, and her feet were leaden as she moved to obey him. A moment later she stood directly in front of him, her eyes downcast.

  “Am I to understand that you agreed to submit to Gillespie’s unconscionable demands in order to protect me from Jamie’s wrath?” he asked, still in that gentle tone.

  She nodded. “Aye, but I did not submit to him, sir.”

  “So you said, more than once. I should be interested to know how it came about that you were able to avoid doing so. How exactly did you…uh…dispose of him? I believe those were your words.”

  “Aye.” She glanced at him uncertainly, but there was nothing in his demeanor now to indicate the state of his temper. “I…that is, we stripped him of his purse and handed him over to the watch for a drunken vagrant.”

  “We?”

  “Well, to speak truly, Sir Patrick and Ned did so,” she confessed, still watching him closely.

  “Do they know about this madness, then?” There was a new, sharper note in his voice.

  “No, sir,” she replied hastily, anxious to calm him again. “Not about all of it. Only that Mr. Gillespie was annoying me and that I did not wish…” She hesitated.

  “Did not wish to bring the situation to my attention?” he suggested helpfully.

  She nodded, explaining the rest in a rush: Ellen’s assistance, Gillespie’s collapse just as Tammie surprised them, the gillie’s flight, the hurried concealment of Gillespie when Sir Patrick’s knock sounded at the door, and her own continual fears. Then she paused before mentioning that she assumed that Tammie must have carried his tale to Holyrood.

  “Aye, he did that, which is why I came home in such a rage, of course. Had it not been for your aunt’s presence—”

  “And Ellen’s sleeping potion,” she interjected ruefully, admitting the worst.

  “Is that what it was?”

  “Aye, in your punch. It sent you off straightaway, just as it had Mr. Gillespie earlier on.”

  “I see.” He regarded her steadily. “You have been busy, have you not, madam?”

  She bit her lip but did not answer, waiting uncomfortably for whatever would come next.

  He stood up, looking down at her sternly. “I do not approve of listening at doors.”

  “No, sir.” The words came in a whisper.

  “However, you seem to feel even more strongly about that fault than I do. I should have been much more displeased had you confided the information you overheard to anyone else.”

  “I would never have done that,” she muttered.

  “No,” he agreed gravely, “I do not believe that you would have, although that does not minimize your fault. Moreover, I do not approve of wives who conspire with others to deceive their husbands.”

  “No, sir, but truly I did not intend to deceive you.”

  “Then why did you not tell me about this pliskie nonsense with Gillespie before now?”

  Wretchedly she spread her hands. “I could not tell you what I had done at Critchfield. I have been told all my life that such behavior was contemptible, even criminal. I feared the knowledge of what I had done would make you despise me. Indeed, I could bring myself to tell you today only because I…because Sir Patrick said—though, truly, he does not know the whole tale—that you would have to know everything I knew in order to be prepared to deal competently with the king’s wrath.”

  “Jamie will not be angry, sweetheart.” He spoke more gently than she had ever heard him speak before.

  Puzzled, she looked up, searching his face for explanation. “But you were working with Sir William to free Queen Mary. I heard you. And Sir William was arrested for conspiring to assassinate Queen Elizabeth in an attempt to restore Mary to the throne of Scotland and to put her on the throne of England as well. Mr. Gillespie said James would consider such a conspiracy no less than treason.”

  “So he would, had that truly been my cause. But you ought to have known better, lassie. I am, first and last, the king’s own man. His trust in me is not ill-founded and never will be, for my loyalty is to him and has never been to any other.”

  “But you did try to free Queen Mary,” she protested. “You knew she was to be executed, and you said you would do what you could to save her.”

  “We knew the English intended to try her for treason,” he said patiently. “Even if we could have been sure that the result of such an undertaking was preordained, Jamie could scarcely have raised an army only to protest an English trial.”

  “But the trial cannot have been legal,” Mary Kate said, striving to keep her voice as calm as his. “A sovereign of Scotland surely cannot be tried for treason against England. Only a subject of Elizabeth’s—”

  “That is naught but a quibble,” Douglas said. “However accurate your logic may be, Elizabeth is queen and had the power to do what she did, and if she was willing to take such a risk—for risk it was to set such a precedent—then there was naught to be done to stop her. You ought to have listened longer,” he went on wryly. “We did arrange to send Jamie word of the trial, and there was a concerted effort to save her life. But everything was done secretly, diplomatically, and with the king’s full knowledge. If MacGaurie conspired furth
er to assassinate Elizabeth or to put Mary on the throne of England, even to return her to the Scottish throne in Jamie’s place, it was not done with my help or within my hearing, for he knew full well that my association with him and the others was arranged at Jamie’s command. The king had agreed to no more than a diplomatic effort to persuade the English to free Mary, and he wished me to keep him informed of activities performed on her behalf, but my specific task was to do what I could for Mary without antagonizing Elizabeth. That was the main reason for not making Mary’s potential predicament known to the Scottish people before Christmas. There would have been an outcry, perhaps even more than that, and Elizabeth might have been seriously annoyed.”

  “But Mary might have lived,” Mary Kate said stubbornly.

  Douglas sighed. “Sweetheart, Jamie had no reason to believe that her life was truly threatened. So long as he believed that Elizabeth would hesitate to take the life of another monarch for fear of setting that precedent I mentioned earlier, Jamie dared not antagonize her unduly. That is why he was vexed with Angus. Angus was in London and ought to have been cannier about what was going forward there. It was he who kept insisting that Jamie need not fear an execution, who kept telling him Elizabeth would never do so daft a thing. Jamie was surprised by the execution. He’d never had cause to believe Elizabeth would go so far.”

  “You believed she would,” Mary Kate said, knowing she risked angering him again but needing to have every point explained. “I heard someone say that it was impossible that both Elizabeth and Mary should continue to live. If that did not mean you were going to do away with Elizabeth, then surely it meant that Mary was meant to die. The king must have understood that much, too, if you repeated those words to him. Did you?”

  “I did.” Douglas paused a moment, clearly ordering his thoughts. Then, with a rueful smile, he said, “Even more than Jamie wanted the crown of Scotland does he want the crown of England, lassie. Had Mary agreed to leave well enough alone—that is, to have left him in full reign over Scotland and to withdraw the claim she made years ago to England—he might well have worked harder to free her. That much I cannot deny. But she insisted upon ruling, if not in his place then at his side. He hardly knew her, lass. He saw her only as a rival for Scotland and as an obstacle to getting England. He would have protected her if he could, but he truly did not want her free.”