Seduced by a Rogue

by Amanda Scott

  Her intent was to take advantage of the low water to follow the shore outside the cave until she came to a path leading up to the clifftops. There had to be such a path below Senwick, where Rob beached the galley. How much any guard might see of her from the ramparts she did not know. She had not been able to see the shore below when she had stood up there. But the water then had been high.

  Even in the light of the full moon, she thought she could keep the watchman from seeing her if she hugged the cliff face as she made her way along the shore.

  She ought likewise to be able to conceal herself on the way up the path. And, once she was atop the cliffs, she would be able to see where she was going without having to concern herself with any vagaries of the shoreline.

  She and Rob had ridden the track north along the clifftop, and Annie had told her that at Senwick, it met the track heading west to Borgue village. It went the six miles straight on to Kirkcudbright as well. Mairi’s intent was to follow the cliffs to the head of the bay and make her way from there to Castle Mains, where she would surely find someone willing to help her get home to Annan House.

  The light improved, and as she emerged from the enclosed spiral stair to the steep open stairs against the cave wall, she saw moonlight pouring through the tall arch of the cave opening below to her left. The long stone wharf stretched along the wall toward it, and the shiny dampness of the cave floor gleamed below.

  She could feel a stronger, more direct breeze through the opening, and the moaning she had heard was louder. It was, she decided, as if a wind god outside were blowing over and across the bay, sending his breath humming past the opening and creating the odd sensation of wind dancing over the cave walls and drifting up the stairs, as if to see where they led.

  Then, as if her wind god had inhaled, the fickle current of air drifted down again, giving her cheeks an icy caress as it passed her on its way back outside. She was smiling at her own whimsy when she heard a distant dull thud above.

  Tensing so much that she was sure her stomach must be curling up inside her, she listened for any other suggestion of imminent discovery. Hearing only the sighing wind and the rhythmic soft lapping of waves outside, she relaxed. Doubtless the noise had been no more than a strange echo of the restless water.

  Continuing down the open stone steps with even greater care than in the stairwell, Mairi reached the wharf and walked to the end nearest the opening. Only when she looked for a way down to the cave floor did she see clearly that what she had taken for a damp sheen there was a sheet of dark, calm water clear enough to reveal the rocks below. Although the tide had to be nearly out and no water was entering the cave other than occasional droplets of spray, the shallow area between the base of the wharf and the cave opening was water-filled.

  Refusing to let the sight daunt her, she examined the wall from the end of the wharf to the archway. With care, she thought she could find enough hand- and footholds to get outside. Although she saw only water from where she was, she assured herself that the area nearest the cave must, at low water, be sand or shingle. Not until she reached the opening and looked out did she see that that was not the case.

  Beyond lay only surging and retreating water. She had seen from her window that at low tide, a beach ran from below Senwick to the head of the bay, leaving only the river Dee’s channel as water. But Senwick lay a mile or more north of her.

  Looking up, she saw that the cliff face jutted sharply outward, making it clear that she could not climb it even if she were foolish enough to try such a feat.

  As for inching northward along the face of the cliff until she could reach the beach at Senwick, she could never manage that safely in her long skirts and cloak.

  “Damnation,” she muttered, borrowing a favorite epithet of Rob’s.

  No wonder the man did not bother to post guards at the door to the cavern. She ought to have known from that alone that no one could simply walk in—or out.

  The only remote possibility for escape seemed to be a challenging swim. But she was not a strong enough swimmer to attempt it. In any event, that she would have to remove most if not all of her clothing would deter her. At home, with her people at hand and her life at stake, she might have risked it. But the thought that one of Rob’s men might find her naked on the shore and take her back to the tower was enough to put the idea of trying such a stunt right out of her head.

  “I would rather die,” she said with a sigh, certain that she spoke the truth.

  Making her way carefully back to the wharf, she decided she would have been wiser to have learned more about the bay’s shoreline before attempting such an escape. Hoping the shore outside the cave might prove more accessible if the next cycle brought the water even lower, she made her way back upstairs to the top of the dark spiral tunnel and pushed against the timber door. It did not budge.

  She knew then that the thud she had heard had been the draft pulling it shut.

  In the darkness, feeling up and down its rough-timber length, she could find no latch or latch chain, no way at all to open it from outside.

  When she pounded on it, she hurt her hands and her fists made only soft thuds. No one inside would hear her, even if someone were there.

  She had trapped herself in the cave, the tide would soon turn, what light there was in the cave would be gone, and she had no idea how high the water would rise.

  Something touched her skirt, making her jump and cry out in alarm.

  Her unexpected companion replied with a plaintive “Mew.”

  The journey to the river Annan was swift and, Rob thought, uneventful.

  That Gibby did not share that view had been plain the moment one of the first huge incoming rollers had caught the galley and heaved it forward. While the men rowed hard and skillfully to keep from capsizing, the boy watched it all, wide-eyed, as if he thought the great froth-topped rollers were demons chasing them.

  Watching his alarm change to grinning delight, Rob remembered his own first such experience. He had been terrified they would overturn and sure he was not a strong enough swimmer to make it through such rollers to shore. It had taken him just a short time, too, to realize he loved the sense of pitting himself against the waves.

  Gib clearly had the makings of an oarsman, even helmsman or captain. But Rob would have to keep an eye on him. Even outstanding oarsmen—and his were the best—had capsized boats while running a spring tide into the Firth.

  Despite their speed, by the time they entered the river Annan, the tide there had already begun its turn. The sun had not yet risen above the eastern hills.

  Rob motioned for quiet and the lads did what they could to muffle the sounds of their oars as they rowed past Dunwythie’s land and onward.

  “Take it a little farther,” he murmured to Jake Elliot as they passed the harbor. “It is too early yet to request entry to Annan House, so look for a place to set me ashore on the riverbank. I’ll walk back to town from there with one of the lads, and we’ll hire a pair of horses.”

  “I’ll go wi’ ye,” Gib offered.

  “Nay, you will stay here and behave yourself,” Rob said sternly, signing to one of the oarsmen to accompany him.

  How unfortunate it was that humans were such superstitious creatures, Mairi thought grimly. She sat on the top step, wedged into one corner, hugging the warm sleeping kitten to her chest and wishing her wool cloak were thicker. She wished, too, that she had never decided to escape or known about the wretched cavern.

  “Such foolish wishes, Tiggie,” she murmured to her softly snoring companion. “But, oh, how I wish I knew more about this awful place!”

  She had no idea how much time had passed since she had trapped herself, or even if morning had come yet, because the incoming tide had raised the water level high enough to plunge her into pitch darkness.

  Meantime, she was cold despite the kitten’s warmth, and had been fighting a primordial fear of the dark. Until the noises of the water had stopped altogether, every thunderous roar, sudden
slosh, thump, or mutter had made her shiver as if ghosts, demons, and boggarts roared or gibbered at her from secret lairs in the impenetrable blackness. But now, she was sure the water was still rising, stealing quietly up the stairs toward her, and she had no idea how high it would get.

  Wondering next if spiders could tolerate the damp chill of the place, she decided sternly that she should turn her thoughts to pleasanter things. However, imagining herself atop Annan Hill, looking out at Solway Firth, reminded her only of how wild the Firth could grow in a storm.

  She disliked storms—especially thunderstorms, unless the lightning and noise were distant. But it had been overcast the day before, and she had seen clouds when she looked out at the moon. If the wee galley got caught in a big storm…

  Tearing her thoughts from the weather, she considered what she would like to do to Rob Maxwell to pay him back for bringing her so far from home.

  But thoughts of Rob abruptly took a different tack. She could see him in her mind’s eye more clearly than she had seen the stormy Firth, although his image was just as stormy. She had no doubt he would be furious to learn what she had done.

  But she would endure his wrath, would even look forward to deflecting it, if only he would return quickly.

  However, Rob was nowhere near Trailinghail, and she did not know when he would come. Also, she had given Annie leave to stay home and had left her own door open and the bed tidily made, hoping anyone who found her gone would think Rob had taken her with him. “And I have no doubt now that they will think just that,” she muttered. Her sleeping companion made no comment.

  The plain fact was that Rob had left in the middle of the night, so no one was likely to inform anyone that she had not gone with him. It was even likely that no one would think to ask. Had she not seen for herself that Rob’s people did not express curiosity about much of anything their laird did?

  Unless someone just happened to open the unbarred door, it was unlikely that anyone would find her. Those who knew he had taken her into the tower through the cave entrance were most likely the men with him. If Annie did come, she or Gib might look for her. But neither would look in the cave.

  Mairi wondered again how high the water had crept. Even if it did not rise high enough to drown her or suck her down the stairs—and if she did not die from lack of air—how long could she survive if no one found her? Hours or days?

  Please, God, she prayed, bring Rob home swiftly!

  After an adequate breakfast at a harbor inn, Rob and his man rode to Annan House. Admitted to the yard, Rob left his companion with their horses and asked the captain of Dunwythie’s guard to inform his lordship that he wanted to speak to him.

  After keeping him waiting nearly an hour in a small room off the entry where Rob suspected tradesmen waited to talk to his lordship’s steward, Dunwythie received him in the hall, greeting him politely but without enthusiasm.

  Matching his lordship’s civility while fighting his own impatience, Rob forced concern into his voice as he said, “Forgive me if I intrude, my lord. I heard the disconcerting news in my travels that one of your daughters is missing. I have come to offer you any help I can give in finding her.”

  “Have ye now?” Dunwythie said, with a sour look. “And why would I welcome aid from a Maxwell? If English ruffians took her, God kens ye Maxwells were once their allies. If ’twas Jardine mischief, ye’d be their ally even now!”

  “Good sakes, sir, I had the honor to meet both of your daughters at Dunwythie Mains. I ken fine that you must be gey fond of them, so I should think you would gladly accept any aid in finding Lady Mairi, no matter who took her.”

  “So I would from most men,” Dunwythie agreed. “Ye’ll have to forgive me, though, if I wonder why any Maxwell would make such an offer.”

  “’Tis easy enough to explain,” Rob said. “As you know, the sheriff has any number of men at his command who could aid in your search for the lady Mairi—and access to places your own influence cannot reach. Sakes, I could gain his aid swiftly on your behalf if you would but accept my offer to do so, to track down Jardines or English raiders. But you cannot expect him to pay for all the men and supplies such a search would require, to help a nobleman who refuses to contribute his share of the shire’s expenses.”

  “Is that how ye Maxwells define the added sum your sheriff demands for collecting Annandale’s taxes? ’Tis nob-but our fair share of the shire expenses, ye say? It is nobbut extortion. But he will not succeed.”

  “Will he not, my lord?”

  “Nay, for all the lairds of Annandale I’ve talked to have agreed we must go on as we have done. We have never required the sheriff’s aid, nor will I seek it now. I’ll find my daughter by myself, Robert Maxwell. So, hie yourself back to Dumfries or wherever you’ve come from.”

  “My lord, by my troth, you would do better to hear me out,” Rob said, fighting back his rising temper.

  “You’ve nowt to say that I want to hear. When you see your thieving brother, tell him you had no better luck than he did in persuading me or any other Annandale laird to hand over our gelt to the Maxwells of Nithsdale.”

  “But I can help you find her!”

  “Nay, then, ye cannot! Now, go. I dinna want ye finding my Mairi any more than I wanted your gallous friend Will Jardine sniffing round her sister. Ye’ll have heard of that event, too, I shouldn’t wonder, belike from the same devious source.”

  Any thought Rob had had of ending Will’s thirst for the lady Fiona vanished.

  But as he commanded himself yet again to ignore his host’s understandable ire and keep to his own purpose, Dunwythie abruptly left the room, shouting for his porter to show the unwelcome visitor out.

  The next time Mairi awoke it was to pale light, a thunder of waves below, a lower rumble near at hand, and a soft paw patting her chin. She was stiff, damp, cold, and sore. But at least she could be nearly sure now that she would not drown.

  “Cold comfort,” she murmured to the purring kitten. “I’ll wager you’re hungry and thirsty, just as I am. And you probably also wish you had eaten more supper than you did, and drunk more water. In troth, I crave a drink much more than I want food. All that water down below and none for drinking.”

  The kitten made a chirping sound but otherwise went on purring.

  Wondering if the tide might be lower than it had been before, Mairi set the kitten on its feet, picked up her skirts, and made her way down the stairs again.

  She saw as soon as she emerged from the spiral part of the stairway that the sea was still making its presence much felt. The wharf rose only inches above the water, with occasional surges washing over it. The gray light entering the cavern indicated either that the sun had dipped behind the western cliffs already or that the sky had grown overcast again. She sighed. It did not matter much which one it was.

  With no reason to go down to the wharf, had it even been safe, she scooped up the kitten, which had followed her, and carried it dejectedly back upstairs.

  Rob saw as he and his oarsman rode back into Annan town that it might already be too late to return on the ebbing tide. It would likely leave them aground before they reached the river Nith. With the tides at their extreme as they were, the receding sea would leave only sand and mud for twenty miles.

  He would, he decided, discuss the problem with Jake Elliot.

  Although Rob cursed Dunwythie for his obstinacy, he soon realized the man’s reaction had surprised him less than he had thought such behavior would. His thoughts shifted next to Mairi in half-grudging, half-admiring acknowledgment that she had been right about her father. She would have good reason to gloat, if gloating were in her nature.

  She would not gloat, though. Indeed, he had a feeling that whatever she had said about her father, and no matter how deeply she had believed he would refuse to submit, she would be deeply disappointed to learn that she was right.

  They were still some distance from the galley when he realized that, as he had been thinking of her, a prick
ling unease had begun to creep through him.

  Dismissing it, he told himself it was no more than his irritation with himself colliding with his fury at Dunwythie’s utter failure to protect his precious daughter.

  But with his next breath, he said to his companion, “Walk faster, lad.”

  Waking from a doze in pitch blackness and abject terror, Mairi heard the sound of lapping water so near that she knew the sea was creeping closer. She was in what she had decided was the more comfortable of the two corners near the door.

  The kitten had been in her lap but was not there now.

  She had no idea how long she had slept. But surely, she thought, this was the same incoming tide she had heard crashing about below her for a long hour or two before falling asleep. The same thunderous noises that had accompanied its surging in would surely have awakened her in its ebb.

  Wanting to know the worst, she shifted position enough to feel carefully for the step below the one on which she sat.

  Finding it cold but still dry, or as dry as it ever was, she bent sharply forward to feel below it and nearly lost her balance. But the next step was dry, too. Below it, the next was damp. Moving one foot to it, she leaned forward again, expecting to find the sea with her fingertips but finding only the damp, shivering kitten.

  As she began to straighten with it trembling in her hands, it squirmed and dug claws into her bodice, trying to climb higher.

  Water surged then, soaking Mairi’s feet and the hem of her gown. Snatching her skirts up, she scrambled blindly up the steps and reached her corner, gasping.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on calming Tiggie, whose claws still hooked tight in her bodice, she wondered if the sea just might swallow them after all.