by Amanda Scott
“Doubtless you would like an escort,” the leader said. “I could perhaps spare two o’ my lads here tae see ye safe tae Bothwell.”
“Aye,” Patrick said feebly. “That is kind of you.”
Beth knew he did not want them, so she drew herself to her full height and said testily, “You would better serve us, I believe, by catching the man who ran through our campsite. You say you do not know who he is. Is he dangerous?”
“In truth, my lady, we dinna ken that either. It be clear enough he were running, but why he ran be a puzzle. Still, ye ha’ the right o’ it. We should track him down afore he does any mischief. Be ye sure ye ha’ nae need o’ us?”
“I am sure,” Beth said. “As you see, we are not grandly dressed, so I doubt that any ruffian would think us worthy of attack. If one does, my dog will protect us, and we have only a short distance to go.”
He gave her a long look but did not argue. Signing to the others to follow, he mounted his pony, and soon the last lingering hoofbeats faded into the distance.
“Jock,” Patrick said, “follow them, and be sure that they have truly all gone.”
Chapter 13
Patrick said no more, and his expression was such that Beth, too, held her peace for the few minutes it took Jock to run to the top of the hill and back.
“Only the six,” he said. “They be a-riding on tae the next dale. I counted.”
“Good lad,” Patrick said. “Where did you pop from so handily, anyway?”
“I were on the ridge, like ye said, and I saw them riders, so I ran tae the woods tae hide, lest they be reivers after Jackie. Ye near clouted me wi’ your sword belt when ye flung it.”
“Why did you not come out then?”
“Ye started heaving things about like ye were having a fit, and them men was coming, too, so I laid low till I saw the mistress and heard ye say that about Thunder and Zeus. I ken fine that an earl’s daughter be a lady, and since ye couldna warn her, I showed m’self. Sithee, she’s got a brain and all, so I kent she wouldna say I were daft if I said ‘your ladyship’ tae her.”
“You were splendid, Jock,” Beth said. “Quick-witted, too.”
“You played the lady of the manor as if you’d been born to it, lass,” Patrick said, tugging off the red wig.
Beth detected an edge to his voice that made her look at him more carefully. “I just pretended to be Lady Farnsworth with a bit of Drusilla thrown in,” she said. “What if they go to Bothwell Castle and find that no one there knows us?”
“We’re not going anywhere near Bothwell now,” he said. “We’ll take the north road out of Lanark instead. They’ll not seek us there.”
“I do not even know who they were,” she reminded him. “They never said.”
“They carried Cardinal Beaton’s banner,” he said.
“Cardinal Beaton! But I thought you said—”
“Not now, lass.” He cast a glance at Jock. “We can trust no one until we reach Stirling.”
“Aye, he ha’ the right o’ that, mistress,” Jock said wisely. “Ye canna trust anyone on the road. Likely, they’ll only want tae lift what’s yours for theirselves.”
“Ready the ponies, Jock,” Patrick said. “Stow your things in my pack, so you and Mistress Beth can ride Jackie. I don’t think those men will return, but if I am wrong, I want to be away as soon as possible.”
When Jock had gone to do his bidding, Patrick gave Beth a look that sent a shiver to her toes and made her glad that Thunder stood beside her and that she still carried the hawk on her fist. Not that it paid any heed to Patrick. It was more interested in the bit of blood showing through the rip in her sleeve.
“What were you thinking, to come striding into that nest of vipers as you did?” Patrick demanded as he cast the cloak aside and stepped out of the petticoats.
She was sure no other man could look dangerous while ridding himself of women’s clothing, but Patrick’s gaze never left hers, and his expression was stern.
Swallowing carefully and striving to sound calmer than she felt, she said, “You should be grateful that I did. They would soon have discovered that you are a man. It is a miracle you fooled them at all, because you do not look very ladylike.”
“We’ll leave my appearance out of this discussion. What were you thinking when you walked bang up to them like that?”
“That you were in danger and that I could help,” she retorted.
“And what of yourself? Do you not know what men like those are capable of doing to young women like you?”
“They seemed very much like you!”
“You know they are not.”
She did know that. “You said they were Cardinal Beaton’s men,” she said. “Surely, men of the Holy Kirk would not harm me.”
“Cardinal Beaton does not hire his men-at-arms because they are men of the cloth,” Patrick said scornfully. “In sooth, he did not win his vast power by being gentle, so you would do better not to trust him, either, lass.”
“Clearly, then, you are the only man I should trust,” she snapped.
“Exactly so,” he said.
She had had enough of his scolding, and his advice. “I have listened to you, sir,” she said, giving rein to her temper, “and now you will listen to me. I heeded your advice, perhaps more than I should have, because for years it has been easier for me to heed the advice of others than to thwart them. But you ask me to trust you and you tell me that you obey Cardinal Beaton. Then you say—”
“What happened to your arm?”
Startled by the non sequitur, Beth said, “Zeus scratched me when he pulled his hood off, but as you see, he feels just as he did when he scratched your neck.”
“Why did you not tell me about it when it happened?”
“I did not want you to scold me for my carelessness,” she said, eyeing him warily. “I was not paying attention to him as I should have been.”
He sighed. “I only want you to be safe, lass. If I scold, ’tis because I know I’ve set a bad example. ‘Fortitude’ is my watchword, and thus I dare much, but a male can defend himself more easily than a too-impulsive lass can. You should wash that scratch carefully in the burn before we leave.”
“Aye, sir, I know,” she said, resisting the temptation to point out that trying to defend himself in skirts might have proven beyond even his skill.
“The ponies be ready, master,” Jock said, startling them both.
Patrick held Beth’s gaze for another beat. “We’ll talk more anon, lass.”
Nell and Jane reached Edinburgh that afternoon, after a blessedly uneventful journey from the Borders. As they wended their way toward the castle, Nell felt a charge of energy. She was nearing her goal at last. As soon as Jamie granted her permission to stay in Scotland—and she trusted that she had enough information about Henry and Angus to exchange for safe haven—she would go to Molly, and together they would find Bessie if Molly and Kintail had not done so already.
At the castle gate, she inquired as to the King’s whereabouts, just in case James had recently come to Edinburgh.
“His grace be at Stirling, celebrating the birth of the new young duke,” the guardsman told her. “There’s tae be a grand fête on Monday. They say Davy Beaton doesna approve o’ such goings-on during Lent, but his grace did say ’twas his ain birthday and he’ll celebrate the bairn’s, too, Lent or no Lent.”
Amused, Nell was tempted to ask the man if he had heard that conversation for himself. Resisting, she said instead, “A grand celebration, you say?”
“Aye, mistress. They do say all the nobility and gentry will be present.”
“Your captain has gone to Stirling then.”
“Nay, mistress. Sir David and Lady Gordon willna leave Edinburgh till Saturday afternoon. He’d leave it longer, likely, but he doesna travel on the Sabbath and there are to be goings-on all day on Monday.”
“Then will you be so good as to show us to his quarters?” Nell asked. “Tell him that his cousin Adam’
s widow begs hospitality if he will kindly welcome her.”
“At once, my lady,” the man said, hastily summoning a minion and giving him orders to escort her to the inner bailey.
As Nell and Jane rode after the man, Jane said, “Praise be, we’ll have two whole nights in a good bed.”
“One night,” Nell said. “I mean to visit the shops in the morning, but then we’re for Stirling, and I do not want a chaperon, certainly not one as stiff-rumped as Sir David Gordon.”
Patrick and Beth moved swiftly to Lanark, keeping watch for Beaton’s men along the way, and skirted Glasgow without incident. When they stopped for the night, Patrick was satisfied that they had left Beaton’s men behind and that the clearing he found for their campsite would be safe. Nevertheless, they did not build a fire but ate cold rabbit and apples that Jock had begged from a cottager.
When the lad began to lay out their beds, Patrick said, “Take the dog and make your bed yonder at the edge of the clearing. I want to talk privately with Mistress Beth. If anyone comes, Thunder will warn us.”
“Aye,” Jock said, giving Patrick a look that said he understood more than Patrick was telling him. Patrick did not attempt to dissuade him, knowing it would be useless and knowing, too, that such a conversation would disturb Beth.
“It is not right that I sleep here alone with you,” she said.
“You want to talk, do you not?”
“Aye, but could we not talk just as easily whilst we travel?”
“Not without the lad overhearing and doubtless adding his mite,” he said. “Moreover, this may be our last chance to talk, since we should reach Stirling late tomorrow afternoon. I judge we’re about fifteen miles away, so there will likely be considerable traffic on the main road. No one will heed three more travelers.”
“I did not know we were so close.” She stayed where she was, hugging herself, avoiding his gaze.
He looked steadily at her. “Mo chridhe, if you have learned aught of me, you know that you can trust me not to harm you. Come here.”
“But others will think—”
“It is too late to worry about what others will think,” he said bluntly. “Have you thought about what will happen when we reach Stirling?”
Her wary expression told him that she had not.
“Well, I have,” he said, “and I believe I know how to protect you, but you will have to trust me. In return, it is only fair that I tell you exactly who I am and a bit more about what I’ve been doing.”
Despite the dim light, he saw her eyes widen.
“You will tell me everything?”
“As much as I can, but it is my hope that the more you understand, the more you will trust me, because now that you have claimed to be Lady Elizabeth Douglas, the sooner I get you into safe hands, the better it will be for both of us. An avowed Douglas is unsafe anywhere near the King.”
“It seemed the right thing to say, since you had said we were deep in Douglas country and the ‘lady’ part came naturally, since I am—”
“You are what?” he asked when she broke off and looked guilty.
“I had supposed you knew all about me by now,” she said. “You were certainly at Farnsworth Tower long enough to learn my entire history.”
“I did not mingle much with the Tower people,” he said. “I was busy, for one thing, and it is better not to gossip with folks if you cannot add to their knowledge. What did you suppose I had learned?”
“That although my mother was a common maidservant like me, they claim that my father was an earl.”
He grinned. “I don’t believe you. You played the lady well enough, but it would take more than that to persuade me that you had even met an earl.”
“I don’t remember doing so, but I expect I must have,” she said. “I do not think highly of him, however. A man worthy of such high estate would not abandon his child to be raised by others.”
“Is that what Farnsworth said your father did?”
When she nodded, an angry knot twisted inside him at the thought of anyone abandoning her. Then she shrugged and said, “But our purpose is not to talk of me, sir. You must keep your promise to explain yourself.”
The way she spoke reminded him of how she had made him feel earlier, and he stifled an impulse to apologize again. A vision of his mother flashed in his mind. That Beth did not use his father as a threat to make him behave made no difference. She had the same knack for revealing his faults and making him feel small.
“I’ll explain, but you’ll get cold if we don’t make our beds first,” he said.
She did not argue, and he made them while she saw to her ablutions. When she returned, he left her alone and went to tend his own needs and Zeus’s. When he returned, he saw that she had shifted her bed a little away from his.
He made no comment but punched his jerkin into a pillow, then lay on his back with his sword near at hand, his hands clasped behind his head, wondering how to begin.
She did not speak.
At last, he said, “What would you like to know first?”
“I suppose I should first know your true name.”
“It’s Patrick. I am Patrick MacRae, from a place in the Highlands called Kintail. My master is Mackenzie of Kintail. For as long as anyone can remember, the MacRaes have served the Mackenzies as I serve him.”
“Then do others in your family serve him and others of his clan?”
“Aye, although my father is dead. I’ve only my mother and sister left of our lot, but I’ve cousins and such who do. My master and I have known each other since childhood and were schooled together, so when the King took many of the Highland leaders hostage, I swore to do what I had to, to win Kintail’s freedom.”
“Who is Molly?” she asked.
He barely recalled speaking of Molly to her, but he remembered he had mentioned her when he had said she would slap him if he dared to steal a kiss from her. “Molly is Lady Kintail.” His voice softened as it always did when he spoke of her, and he smiled to think that he would soon see her again. “My first task after Jamie took Kintail hostage was to escort Molly to Stirling to be at his side.”
“You like her,” Beth said quietly.
“Aye, I do,” he said. “She is not only beautiful and spirited but also kind.”
“Do you love her?”
“ln truth I suppose she is the only woman I have ever loved, in my fashion—which I promise you is wholly chivalrous.” He chuckled, thinking of what Fin would do to anyone who dared to love Molly in any other fashion.
“Why do you laugh?”
“They call her husband Wild Fin Mackenzie,” he said.
“He cannot be so wild if you dare to laugh at him.”
“Faith, lass, I’m not laughing at him, just at the notion that my love for his wife could be anything but chivalrous in nature.”
“Oh.”
“I took her to Stirling because it was my duty and Beaton had suggested—Did I mention that the cardinal was present when Jamie took Kintail hostage?”
“No, was he?”
“Aye, and he made his disapproval of Kintail’s seizure plain, because Kintail has ever been loyal to the Crown. Beaton suggested he might help arrange Kintail’s release, so when we reached Stirling, I went to Cambuskenneth Abbey to see him.”
“And then?”
“He said he’d do what he could, but he never acts directly. Since Jamie’s present favorite, a slimy worm called Oliver Sinclair, seems to fear all Highlanders and is determined to hold on to the hostages, Beaton said he would help only if I proved my loyalty to him and to the Holy Kirk.”
“So he sent you to England to spy on Henry. Did you like spying?”
“I did not,” he said indignantly. “A gentleman does not spy on others, but I learned that Beaton has spies everywhere. He arranged for someone to introduce me at Henry’s court, but just so I could watch a Scotsman, the Earl of Angus—the most powerful of your supposed Douglas kinsmen, my lady,” he added on a teasing not
e.
Beth’s breath stopped in her throat, and she was glad darkness had fallen so he could not see her face.
Choosing her words, she said, “Angus cannot be so powerful anymore. He has been in exile for years, has he not, and his lands given over to others?”
“Aye, but he’s a treacherous fiend all the same, and having thrown in his lot with Henry of England, he is more dangerous than ever. After Henry’s court moved to York, I followed Angus north, where he met with men who say that if James refuses to meet Henry at York, they will invade.”
“But James has been awaiting the birth of his child, and Henry is his uncle,” Beth protested. “A peace between them would make the Borders safe for everyone.”
“Henry Tudor demands that the two realms grow closer to each other, by which he means that the greater shall swallow the smaller.”
“That England will swallow Scotland?”
“Aye, and he wants Scotland to reform her Kirk as England has done, and to throw off the Vatican, thus eliminating all cause, he says, for disharmony.”
She was silent, uncertain what to say.
“Would you trust Henry, lass?”
“ln truth, sir, I know not what to think about the Kirk. Folks here in the Borders carry their religion lightly, I fear. Doubtless, you will think less of us for that, but Borderers tend to give religious loyalty where they think it will serve them best. Sir Hector and Lady Farnsworth lean toward the reformers, but if the Pope—or Cardinal Beaton, for that matter—were to show his face at Farnsworth, they would instantly express their total allegiance to the Vatican. I warrant they will find it expedient to behave as fiercely devout papists whilst they are at Stirling.”
He chuckled. “Folks are no different in the Highlands, although if you tell Davy Beaton I said that, I shall deny it. The fact is, both your people and mine are far from Stirling and even farther from London or Rome. We heed our own laws and ignore those of the King or the Pope.”
“But if you serve Cardinal Beaton—”
