by Amanda Scott
Meeting that look, Gibby hesitated. Then he said, “What if Herself should ask when she comes? I dinna lie to Herself, and nor should ye lie to her neither.”
“I don’t,” Rob said curtly. “Now, be off with you.”
The boy offered no further argument but picked up the tray and clattered off down the stairway with it.
Rob stared at the empty doorway, lost in thought of what consequences might result now from the lad’s having seen his prisoner.
“Who is Herself?”
“My grandmother,” he said, turning slowly toward her.
“The one whose property this tower was?”
“Since you would have it so, aye, that one. She is properly Arabella Carlyle, Lady Kelso. My Maxwell grandmother died before I was born.”
“Is she coming here?”
“I expect you mean the one who still lives,” he said.
“Aye,” she said, but she smiled, saying it. “Now we are even where proper grammar is concerned, sir. The lad did suggest she would be coming.”
And would likely snatch him baldheaded, Rob mused, the minute she learned he was holding a noblewoman captive at Trailinghail.
Suppressing that thought, he said, “She did suggest that she might visit. That was when she gave me the kitten to look after, and the laddie. She often says she will come, but she has not seen Trailinghail since I inherited the place. I warrant she fears I will have changed it too much for her to enjoy it.”
“Have you?”
“Nay, I have tried to do what I think she will like,” he said. “I had happy visits here as a boy. It provided a welcome escape for me now and now.”
“Did you need an escape?”
He shrugged. “I expect most lads do from time to time.”
“I would have liked a place to escape to,” she said with a sigh.
To which, without thinking, he said, “Aye, well, now you have one.”
Mairi stared at him, finding it hard to believe he would think his abducting her to Trailinghail, as he called the place, could be anything like his having visited his grandparents there as a boy.
Meeting her gaze, he looked rueful again. “I ken fine that it is not the same thing, lass, and I did mean what I said last night about making you comfortable here. I see, too, that I cannot keep you locked up until your father acts. But the last thing I want is for a great scandal to spread through the dales. I thought bringing you here would prevent that, as isolated as the place is. My people are discreet enough, but the more who know about you, the greater the risk grows. I hope your father submits quickly when he learns that he must.”
“He will not act soon,” she said. “He has gone to the north end of the dale and did not expect to be back at Annan House for at least a sennight.”
“When did he leave?”
“A few days ago.”
“How many days, lass? Do not pretend you cannot count them.”
“Three, then, as of yesterday, so four now. But he is often away longer than he expects to be on such journeys.”
“I’ll wait,” he said. “The risk of spreading gossip from here remains small, I think. In any event, I am in no great hurry.”
“Faith, I thought ’twas a matter of life and death,” she said.
“It will be, aye,” he said. “But I’m thinking Alex will do nowt till after Easter. He won’t want to offend religious folks by starting a war during Lent.”
“But I must be home before Easter!” she exclaimed. “We are to visit my cousin Jenny and Sir Hugh Douglas at Thornhill for the holy day and go to kirk with them on Easter Sunday.”
“Then we must see that this is all over by then,” he said.
“But are you sure your brother will wait? Is he so religious?”
He shrugged. “No more than most Borderers, I expect, but Alex does care about what others think. And, to many people, Lent is most holy—no time for violence. Sakes, we are all religious when it is expedient or when we fear we are about to die,” he added. “Nearly all Borderers go to kirk to celebrate Christ’s birth and rising. All say the grace before meat. Some even have their own chaplains.”
Mairi’s father had a chaplain who said the grace. And Annan town had a kirk where her family went most Sundays. But like the Borderers he described, Lord Dunwythie paid heed to little beyond his own domain. The Pope in Rome and his grace the King in Stirling were not close enough at hand to trouble him.
Remembering the kirk spire she had seen from the boat some distance along the cliffs north of the tower, and closer to the town of Kirkcudbright, Mairi wondered if he would take her there if she pretended to be pious. But the more she talked with him, the clearer it became that he believed he was doing what he must. If so, he would be most unlikely to let her sway him from his course.
“Do you truly care about my comfort?” she asked him, still stroking the kitten’s soft, furry belly and enjoying its loud purr. Its eyes were slitted, its breathing slow and even, its trust in her clear.
“I have said that I care,” he said. “I expect, however, that you just hope to persuade me to let you do something I won’t want you to do.”
“I cannot stay in this chamber without going mad, sir. Prithee, believe that. I think that my behavior last night was no more than a reaction to losing what little freedom I had. You professed to disbelieve me, but I swear to you, I had never flung anything at anyone, not even a pillow, before I hurled that stool at you.”
His eyes gleamed—with humor, she hoped, although she could not be sure.
As the thought formed, she felt vulnerable and much too exposed to him. Until that moment, she had felt nothing but flashes of anger. He might have been her brother, had she had one, for all the discomfiture she had felt in his presence.
The gleam in his eye vanished as swiftly as it had come, and he said matter-of-factly, “What is it, lass? What would you have me do for you?”
Still strongly aware that she wore only her borrowed shift and that the quilt had slipped to reveal the upper halves of her breasts—but aware, too, that her sudden tension had affected the kitten—she drew a breath and tried to relax again.
He took a step toward her, increasing the sensation tenfold.
Whatever words she had meant to say stuck to her tongue. Her body tingled its awareness of him.
“Go away,” she said. “I want to dress and break my fast.”
“But I want to know—”
“Go!”
Stopping still, he cocked his head, studying her.
The little cat leaped to its feet on her chest. When he took another step toward her, its eyes slitted again and its back went up. But it did not hiss or spit.
“You may leave my protector,” she said, her amusement easing her tension.
“I will, aye,” he said, and left without another word.
She heard the solid metal clinks that announced the locking of her door, and grimaced at the sound. Although she felt relief at his departure, she looked forward to his return—after she had dressed.
Rob was not sure what had just happened. He frequently experienced odd feelings when he was with Mairi, similar to what he sometimes felt on the water with lightning in the air. These sensations, now that he gave them thought, had other traits in common with elemental wonders.
When he was with her they ebbed and flowed like the tides. They would strike when he least expected them. And when one was upon him, the slightest change in her expression could warm him or send warning tension through him.
He had noticed the phenomenon first at Dunwythie Mains in the way she had filled his senses to the exclusion of nearly everything else around them at the time. So strongly had her very presence struck him that he had known in an instant what an astonishing effect she must have on other men.
He still had no doubt that Dunwythie would react as he’d predicted as soon as his lordship learned of her disappearance.
Watching her stroke the kitten, bewitching the wee devil, he had felt bewitched
himself. He could scarcely take his eyes from her slender, stroking fingers. He could feel her touch, and at one point, he had experienced a distinct twinge of jealousy toward the damned cat.
Her smile had the power to bewitch, too. Sakes, between watching her with the cat and listening to her cooing voice, he had nearly forgotten she was his captive. Then, when she had so wistfully said she would have liked to escape to some refuge as he had escaped to Trailinghail, he had replied like a right dafty.
Then she declared again that although she had hurled a stool at him the previous night, she had never done such a thing before. As he realized that he believed her, the strange connection had strengthened so much that he could not look away from her. It felt as if some magical power had possessed them both.
The kitten had diverted him by putting a forepaw on the billowing softness of one bare breast that peeked above the quilt. When she had snapped at Rob to go and the kitten had leaped up, ready to defend her, he had not known what to say.
He was glad now to leave the little brute with her. Only the clanking of the iron hooks as he pulled the door shut reminded him to lock it.
Not that he could keep her locked up indefinitely. To have imagined doing so while he’d formed his plans was one thing, reality quite another.
He had known that much when she had asked the evening before how he expected her to occupy her time.
His imagination presented him with an image of himself in her place. What the devil would he do to keep from going mad? At least she could hem the skirt that had tripped her, and other clothes in the kists. But what then?
Recalling the fright her fall had given him, he told himself she was lucky he had not picked her up and shaken her. Attending to the shutter had kept him from losing his temper, but he hoped she would attend quickly to shortening those skirts. He had known his grandmother was taller. He had not realized by how much.
Still, he could not imagine himself sewing, let alone doing so for hours on end. Even for a woman, it must be a most tedious occupation.
He decided he would give her time to dress and break her fast. Then he would return and discuss the problem with her. She was astonishingly easy to talk to, and clearly found it easy enough to talk to him—even to throw things at him.
Whatever the cause of the latter tendency, though, she would have to give it up before it became a habit. No man would find such behavior amusing for long.
He entered the great hall just as Gibby threw a stick across the chamber for one of the dogs to fetch. As the retriever dashed after it, skidding on thresh near the fireplace and nearly sending a pile of it into the flames, Rob said, “Gib, come here.”
Gibby approached, eyeing him warily. “D’ye want I should do summat for ye, laird?” he asked.
“I do,” Rob said. “I want you to take that beast outside if you are going to throw sticks for it. And if you see Fin Walters, you may tell him I want to see him when he has a few moments to talk. I’m going to the stable.”
“Aye, sure, I’ll find him.” Grinning and shouting for the dog to bring the stick, he dashed with it to the stairway and down.
Rob followed at his normal pace, letting his thoughts drift as they would until he decided what he would do.
His steward found him in the stable, discussing a suggestion from the tacksman that they order new harness straps from the currier in Kirkcudbright.
“’Tis a good notion,” Rob said, nodding. “Talk it over with Walters, and unless he objects… Ah, here you are now, Fin. The lad here says we need some new tack, so decide how much and order it. But I want a word with you first.”
Walters nodded at the beaming tacksman as Rob added, “We’ll go outside.” When they were beyond earshot of anyone else, he said, “Sakes, don’t look as if I’m going to bite you. I ken fine that you knew about the tack. However, I do have a problem, and I think you’re the man to aid me. First, how is our Gibby getting on?”
“He’s a good lad, laird. Me Dora fair dotes on him, so I have to take a stern tone now and now, with one or the other. But he suits us well, that lad does.”
“Good. I’d hate to be asking you for aught else if you were cursing me for handing that fountain of impudence to you.”
“Sakes, sir, if he’s been impudent—”
“Nay, just honest and saying what he thinks, so do nowt to change it. I can manage the lad with nobbut a look or a word.”
“I’ll warrant ye can, laird,” the steward said with a twinkle.
“Now, who is being impudent?” Rob demanded. But when Walters just smiled, he said bluntly, “The problem is, I need a woman, Fin.”
Eyebrows arcing upward, the steward said, “Sure, and ye dinna need help from me to find ye a willing one, laird.”
“Not for me, for the lass I brought here yestereve.”
Walters nodded. “I willna say I were no curious about that, sir, for I were. And I still am, come to that. What sort o’ woman had ye in mind?”
“A good, well-mannered lass, someone like your wife’s sister, Annie.”
“Ye’d want Annie to be staying here? Nights, too?”
“Aye, but only whilst the lass stays with us,” Rob said, choosing his words.
“I’ll tell ye plain then, sir, that I dinna like the sound o’ that. Nor will Dory. Annie’s a good, obedient lass, but she’s nobbut fifteen. I’d no want her serving a—”
“Nay, nay,” Rob interjected hastily, realizing that his own choice of words had stirred Walters to think as he did. “Her ladyship is no bed wench of mine.”
“Her ladyship! Beggin’ your pardon, laird, but what ha’ ye been up to?”
“Only what was necessary, and by my troth, I have not used her as you must think. But she has requested a maidservant to see to her needs. Would Annie agree to that? Being your kinswoman would protect her whilst she’s here, I should think.”
“Aye, sure, and she’d do it, too, for she’s been a-hoping ye’d wed soon and need a few maidser—But I be talking above me place, laird. Ye havena said ye’ll be staying on here at Trailinghail. And if the lady will be here only a short time…”
“Only as long as necessary,” Rob said. “But as I cannot say how long that is, I’d prefer that her presence not become a matter of local gossip.”
“Our people ken fine to keep still tongues in their heads, and have done since the old laird and Herself was here, sir,” Walters said. “Nowt has changed since, but we canna speak for villagers in Senwick and such places.”
“I know,” Rob said. “Also, the knacker Parland Dow will be along soon. He is a fine source of news from far and wide, but when he arrives, take good care that we do not hand him her ladyship’s presence as fodder for his tittle-tattle.”
Chapter 9
Mairi dressed quickly while the kitten, curled on one of the bed pillows, tracked her every move with its bright golden eyes.
“You look very comfortable,” she said to it.
Its ears twitched encouragingly, but Mairi said no more, lacing herself into her own old blue kirtle, which she had draped over the kists the night before to air.
Thanks to sea air through the open window, the kirtle felt dampish. But it was no more so than clothes often felt at Annan House when one put them on.
Unbraiding her plaits, she brushed them out, then braided them into one long, thick plait over her shoulder before moving to the table to break her fast.
The porridge was warm, and she poured a little milk on it. When she sat on the settle to eat, the kitten jumped up beside her, looking hopeful.
“You should not beg for food,” Mairi told it.
Unpersuaded, it continued to sit and stare at her.
Forcing herself to ignore it, she finished her porridge and spread bramble jam on a bit of bread, deciding to save the apples for later.
As she moved to get up the kitten mewed softly, still hopeful.
“Very well, I expect you are hungry, too,” she said. But she placed the nearly empty wooden porri
dge bowl on the floor.
The kitten, approving the arrangement, lapped happily for a time. Then, abruptly, it lifted its head and looked intently at the door.
Mairi heard hurrying footsteps on the stairs. Metal scraped against metal, the door opened, and Maxwell appeared at the threshold.
“Get your cloak,” he said without preamble. “I’ll take you to the ramparts for a splendid view. Then I want to talk.”
Delighted—as she would have been with anyone who offered to take her out of the chamber—she got up to go with him. Remembering the uneven stone steps, she said, “I should put on my boots first. The shoes in yon kist are a bit large for me and lack soles thick enough for those stairs.”
He nodded, and as she sat to put on her boots, she saw his gaze drift to the still lapping kitten. “I hope you did not let that beast eat all your porridge,” he said.
“And what if I had?” she retorted with one slipper in hand, the other still on. “Are you now going to command my every move and decision?”
Rob understood from her choice of words that she had not given the kitten her porridge, but he could not help responding to her challenge. “I command all here,” he said. “If I decide to command you, lass, be sure that I will.”
“And do you hope to undo me by addressing me so improperly?”
“Sakes, lass—” He grinned then and shook his head. “Lady Mairi, the plain fact is that I do not spend much time with women I must address formally. So it is by habit that I call you so and not by any wish to demean you.”
“Surely, you do not call your grandmother ‘lass,’ or your good-sisters,” she said as she leaned against the bed to pull on one hide boot.
“Nay, I call my only good-sister ‘Cassia’ and my grandmother ‘madam’ or ‘Gran.’” He smiled again at the thought of her ladyship’s likely response to a less formal address. “If I may, I’ll call you Mairi, but I hope you will forgive me when I forget, as I am sure I will. If I lose my temper—”
