Border Fire

by Amanda Scott

  “Take off your clothes, Jenny.”

  She froze. “What…what are you going to do?”

  “We are going to bed, lass. I am too tired to fratch, and if you press me too hard, I am like to do something we will both be sorry for. Now, can you manage by yourself or do you need help?”

  “I…I’ll need help,” she admitted. “This dress has too many laces and hooks in the back for me to do it myself.”

  Quin watched the play of emotions on her expressive face and hoped that he had made his position clear to her. He understood her difficulty. Living with a man like Hugh Graham and lacking the guidance of a mother or any other responsible female, she had grown up in a most haphazard way. He would not quickly teach her to submit to his authority unless he were willing to treat her as he believed her brother would. He did not want to be harsh, but his hands fairly itched to shake her for what she had done. She could ignite his temper more rapidly than anyone he had ever known before.

  He had taken off his belt and his doublet and pulled his shirt free of his breeks before he could trust himself to touch her. He was glad that she did not speak. She just watched him, and her expression remained wary.

  He was glad, too, that she showed the good sense to be a little frightened of him. He would never have another peaceful moment if he could not trust her to rein in her impulses and behave sensibly. The Borders were too dangerous, and the Scotts had far too many enemies. Not all of those enemies lived across the line, either. Jenny did not know whom she could trust and whom she could not.

  She trembled when he put his hand on her shoulder and turned her away so that he could unhook her gown.

  His body stirred, just being near her, and he wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her, to force her complete surrender to his will. Gently, resisting the temptation, he helped her take off her dress, then loosened the lacing of her underbodice. A few minutes later, standing in her smock, with her fine, silvery-blond hair unbound and pushed back behind her ears, she looked like the child she insisted that he believed she was. She was no child, though. The soft, inviting breasts beneath her smock were plain testimony of that. Her nipples thrust hard against the linen. She was getting chilled.

  “Get into bed, Jenny,” he said gruffly.

  “Quinton, I want to—”

  The words ended in a gasp when he grasped her shoulder and turned her toward the bed with one hand and gave her a smack on the backside with the other.

  “Go,” he said, knowing from her reaction that he had smacked harder than he had intended. Watching her scramble into the bed, he felt an impulse of his own to apologize, but ruthlessly he quashed it. He knew that any apology would be spurious. So, too, was the thought that he had smacked her harder than he had intended. He had not. In truth, he had wanted to punish her, to put her across his knee and skelp her until she promised never to give him such a fright again.

  He was not sure even now if his failure to do it sprang from nobility or fear that he might do her an injury.

  She had terrified him, not once but twice. First she had nearly got herself raped, maybe even murdered, and then, only a few hours later, she had defiantly left Broadhaugh with only a single lad to protect her.

  He paused to put two more logs on the fire before divesting himself of the rest of his clothing and moving to join her in the bed. She had not asked again about Tip, and that was just as well. He knew her well enough to believe that, as punishment, her worry about the little man’s fate would serve as well if not better than any beating.

  She wriggled away to the other side of the bed when he got in. Plumping the pillows behind him, he leaned against them, extended an arm, and said, “Come here, lass. I have some few things left to say to you. I want you to pay attention.”

  Though her reluctance was plain, she obeyed, shifting herself to lie stiffly in the curve of his arm with her head against his shoulder.

  This would not do, he decided. He wanted to watch her expression while he spoke to her. With the fire dancing high again and the bed curtains open, there was enough light, but the angle was wrong. He was looking at the top of her head.

  Shifting onto his side, he felt her stiffen more and knew that she was still afraid of what he might do. “Relax, Jenny,” he said. “We’re in bed because you were getting cold and because I did not want to chance becoming so angry with you that I’d do something I do not want to do.”

  “You just want to give me orders,” she muttered. “All men are the same.”

  “I’ll warrant we all have traits in common,” he said, “but we are not all the same. Would Hugh react to what you did in the same way that I have reacted?”

  She was silent, but when he saw her nibble her lower lip, he knew she realized that Hugh would have been just as angry with her, if not much more so.

  “More to the point, lass, you say you followed us because you were afraid that something would happen. You have told me that you care about your brother, too. Would you have followed him and his men on a raid?”

  He felt her shudder.

  “Answer me, Jenny. Would you have done that?”

  Her gaze flicked toward him resentfully. “You know that I would not, but neither did I allow Hugh to dictate my every move and opinion.”

  “I have not attempted to do that either,” he pointed out. His anger had dissipated the moment he had climbed into bed with her. The stirring in his loins had not. It took every ounce of his will to lie quietly beside her without touching her. This matter was too important to both of them to let his baser instincts guide his actions, however. He just wished the lower half of his body understood that as easily as his mind did, or that his mind could control his lower half more easily.

  She moved, and he suppressed a groan at the sensations that radiated through him. Then she said quietly, “It’s true that you do not try to order my every breath, sir, and you have been generous about the household and…and my clothes. You have also exerted yourself to be patient with me, perhaps more patient than I deserve. I do know that. But you also dismiss my feelings and my opinions as if they held no merit. Had you not simply sent me away when word came of the raid on Cotrigg, had you allowed me to take part in the discussion, at least, and to know more about your plan, perhaps I would not have felt as fearful.”

  “It is not the business of men to discuss their battle plans with womenfolk, lass, and raiding is much like going into battle. I have told you that I will protect you, and I will. Truly, you can trust me on that head.”

  “It is not that I do not trust you,” she said. Then, catching his eye, she grimaced. “You may be partly right about that. Perhaps I would not have reacted so impulsively to my feeling of unease if I had not met you in a dungeon. I cannot be certain one way or another about that, but your point is reasonable. I can see that now. Why can you not see that my feelings of unease were likewise reasonable? Had those men not stumbled across me, you would have run right into them.”

  “Most likely they would have ran into Tip first,” he said.

  She met his steady gaze, and kept silent.

  He realized then that he had made her point for her. “Very well, they might have surprised us,” he admitted. “They might even have succeeded in calling down a large patrol around our ears. I will grant that your instinct for trouble was a good one, but what you did in response to it was not, Jenny. You know it was not.”

  “Aye, I can see that now,” she said. “Indeed, if I must speak honestly, I knew it when Tip and I reached the bailey and I realized that on my own I would not have been able to order a horse to ride out, that anyone I asked would most likely have refused to do my bidding.” She paused, and he knew as if she had spoken the words that she wanted to ask him again about Tip’s fate.

  “I do not know that anyone would have dared defy your direct order,” he said, deciding that her honesty demanded a like frankness on his part. “What I hope would have happened is that you would have found it necessary to explain yourself, an
d that someone would have ridden after us to warn…” He fell silent, realizing that the point was no good.

  “You know that no one would have paid my instincts any more heed beforehand than you did afterward,” she said.

  “Including myself,” he admitted. “I do see that. I did not even heed my own custom last night, and I’ve been thanking the fates that Buccleuch did not learn about that when he learned the rest. The only place I left anyone to watch our back was near Kielbeck, so we would know that our route out of the dale was safe. I did not take enough men with me to leave lads at points all along the way.”

  “Thank you for admitting as much,” she said. “Now, if you would just call me Janet, instead of Jenny…”

  He shook his head. “I don’t do it to annoy you,” he said. “I just like Jenny, for it has a softer sound in my mind than Janet does, and it’s the way I think of you in my mind. Mayhap, Jenny just sounds more obedient,” he added with a sigh.

  Shifting so that she looked directly at him, she said, “I know that I’ve made mistakes, Quinton. I acted without thinking things through both in following you last night and in riding to Branxholme this morning. In fact, I suppose Hugh would say that I acted impulsively when I freed you from your cell at Brackengill.”

  “I have not objected to that impulse, however,” he said with a little smile.

  “That’s not really true,” she said. “You were angry when you first saw me that night, because you had told me to stay away. Then you abducted me because you did not think I could deal with my brother’s anger. I do see now that I cannot leap to action here in the same manner that I might have at home, because I do not know the way of things here as well. Still, I will learn, sir. My being a woman does not make me a fool.”

  About to reassure her that he had never thought her a fool, he realized that he had dismissed her, that he had sent her away whenever something important arose, and that he had done so the night before knowing that she opposed the raiding. Not only had she feared for his safety and that of his men but also for the people of Kielbeck, who were her countrymen.

  She moved and her hand inadvertently touched his bare thigh. Inhaling sharply, he forced himself to focus on their discussion, saying, “We both have been thoughtless, Jenny. If I try to do better, will you do likewise?”

  “Aye,” she said, but her expression looked wary again.

  “What?”

  “Will you expect me to obey your every command without question?”

  “I should be able to expect that,” he said, but the amusement her words stirred revealed itself in his tone, and he knew she heard it.

  Her eyebrows shot upward. “I do not believe that even the Scottish marriage rite made me your slave, sir.”

  “You promised to obey me.”

  “Aye, and I will when your commands are reasonable.”

  He sighed. “Jenny, lass, I have admitted being thoughtless. I know that in fairness I ought to have taken time to hear what you had to say before sending you away, both before I left for Kielbeck and later, before I sent you to your room. But do not take that to mean that I will debate my every command with you, for I will not. If you insist on defying me, you will invite grief, so from now on, if you decide to ignore an order of my giving, be prepared to suffer the consequences. I promise you, I am not always as understanding as I am trying to be now. Our marriage is young, and I want it to grow strong. Thus, I am willing to compromise, but only a bit, lass. You will not usurp my position as master of Broadhaugh.”

  This time, when her hand touched his thigh, he knew she did it deliberately. His body did not know the difference, though. It leapt in response.

  She said softly, “Hold me close, Quinton. I want you to make love to me.”

  He did not hesitate, and if there was any question about who won the final point, he did not care.

  Janet lay awake for some time after her husband had fallen asleep. The fire had died to embers, and she could no longer make out his features, but she liked to listen to his breathing and to feel his body close beside her while he slept.

  Their lovemaking had taken on a new dimension. He had taken her as if he had meant to conquer her, to force her to abject surrender, and it seemed curious that she had not minded. Indeed, when he had teased her body, taking her to heights of sensation beyond any she had experienced before, she had responded in a way that surprised her. Learning from his actions, she tried many of the same tactics with him, and learned that she could enjoy tormenting him and making him beg for more. In the end she was not certain who had conquered whom, but the encounter had been more than satisfactory. She looked forward to repeating it.

  During the next ten days, she gave him full marks for keeping his word. She noted on more than one occasion that before issuing a command he took a moment to explain to her what he was about to do. Instead of simply disappearing from the castle with a party of men, he told her where he was going. And twice, when he went elsewhere, he even sent someone back with a message. It was far more than Hugh had ever done.

  She kept busy, too, preparing to go with him to the wardens’ meeting; and she kept her end of the bargain. She did not even attempt to leave the castle without an armed escort of at least two men, and once, when Quinton said that he did not think it safe for her to go out, she submitted gracefully to his decision.

  They remained at Branxholme for two days, so that Buccleuch could prepare his deputy as much as possible for the meeting. Before they left, he had accepted the fact that his leg would not mend in time for him to make the journey to Dayholm and made it plain that Quinton would act in his stead.

  “’Tis a good thing that the horse races at Langholm are still more than a month away,” he added, “or ’tis likely I’d have to miss them, too.”

  Proud as she was to know the important role her husband would play at Dayholm, Janet greeted the news with mixed emotions. She saw little of Quinton after they returned to Broadhaugh, for his duties took him away from home nearly every day, and often he was gone overnight.

  As soon as they returned, she tried to discover what Tip’s fate had been, but although the little man answered her summons, he refused to answer her questions.

  “I’m no to speak of it,” he said flatly. “The master did say he would make me gey sorry did I tell ye what transpired betwixt us, and I ken fine that he would. Pray, mistress, dinna command me to speak of it.”

  Since Tip displayed no visible signs of rough treatment, Janet was willing to drop the matter, recognizing her husband’s devious intent immediately.

  She told herself that he had not flogged the little man, that he had merely scolded him the same way that he had scolded her. Even so, she could not help wondering about it and knew that Sir Quinton had taught her a lesson.

  For the moment, things remained good between them, but she believed that was due as much to his frequent absences as to anything else, and she was not so foolish as to believe they would remain so indefinitely. In any event, she resolved never to involve others in any future escapade.

  Chapter 18

  “O were there war between the lands,

  As well I wot that there is none…”

  TRUCE DAY ARRIVED AT last, and Sir Quinton and his lady rode at the head of a respectable entourage to Dayholm, where narrow Kershopefoot Burn divided the two countries. They had dressed with particular care—Sir Quinton because he wanted to look as grand as Buccleuch would look on such an occasion, and Janet because her pride was at stake. She expected to see old friends and did not want them to think that she had made a dreadful mistake in marrying across the line.

  “You look grand, sweetheart,” Quinton said with a smile, raising his voice to be heard over the jingle and thud of harness and hooves, punctuated by bursts of conversation and laughter. “You’ll have every man slavering with lust and every woman spitting in envy.”

  “I don’t look for such vulgar reactions,” she said, lifting her chin but struggling not to smile back. “I just
want to do my part to lend you consequence, sir. Scrope will be less likely to make outrageous demands if you surround yourself with the trappings of Buccleuch’s power, and that includes a richly garbed wife.”

  “And a dutiful one,” he replied dryly. “Doubtless I shall test that trait before the day is done, lass. Just see if I do not.”

  “You may try,” she said, but she laughed at the threat. The day was filled with sunshine, her pony wore trappings rich enough for King Jamie, and she knew that she looked her best. Ardith had arranged her hair more elaborately than usual, and if the pins tended to pull, the small discomfort did nothing to spoil the day.

  The men and women behind them laughed and chatted gaily. The entourage was not excessively large, but it included many members of the Scottish Border nobility, their men-at-arms, and a few of their wives.

  Even the more somber aspects of the day would not detract much from the merriment and feasting, Janet thought. Certainty that both sides would honor the truce would give everyone a sense of unfettered release. The feeling was welcome, for it was one that rarely visited the Borders. Janet heard men singing as they rode, and someone was playing the pipes. The lively music made her smile again.

  Riding south by way of Hermitage Water till it met the Liddel, they crossed the river at Whithaugh and continued toward Kershope, keeping to higher ground once they could see the merrily tumbling little burn and follow its course. They rode in a more westerly direction now, toward the meeting site at Dayholm on the flat bit of ground where the Liddel met Kershopefoot Burn.

  Janet glanced at Quinton, remembering that it was not far away, across that burn, that Hugh’s men had trapped him. Thinking of Hugh reminded her that her brother might attend the meeting, but she did not think he would recognize Rabbie Redcloak in the richly garbed, clean-shaven gentleman who rode at her side.