by King, Susan
"In here." One of the guards knocked and opened the door.
Tamsin entered the chamber, which contained a large curtained bed and several pieces of furniture. A window, its lower shutters opened, spilled golden sunlight into the room. She walked past the bed and stood in the middle of the wooden planked floor, her father just behind her.
Three men watched them. William Scott stood by the window, leaning a shoulder against the wall with taut grace. Nearby, Jasper Musgrave and a third man, younger than the other two, sat in chairs beside a table.
In daylight, Jasper Musgrave was huge, with pale, doughy skin, sparse gray hair, and a quilted maroon doublet stretched tightly over his belly. By contrast, William Scott was lean and striking to look upon. Long-limbed and raven-haired, his jaw darkened with the smudge of a few days' beard growth, he wore clothes that, while simply cut, were far more elegant in their plain quality than Musgrave's elaborate satin doublet. Quiet strength and simplicity made him seem like a portrait of a dark, intense angel beside Musgrave's representation of gluttony.
Despite his natural and appealing beauty, despite his kindness of the night before—she still wore his brown doublet—Tamsin let herself see only the scoundrel. His association with Musgrave made her suspicious of his character. She wished her father would see that also.
The third man was a young, slimmer version of Jasper Musgrave, his features pleasant. The young man seemed vague, as if he faded beside the power of William Scott and the massive presence of Jasper Musgrave.
The guards murmured with Musgrave and took their leave, shutting the door behind them. William Scott watched Tamsin steadily, his blue eyes flashing in the sunbeam that cut through the window glazing. She glanced away—and gasped.
A thick, knotted noose lay on the table with papers, a few goblets, and a wine jug. Musgrave played with the hempen tail that spilled down to the floor. He watched Tamsin and Archie through narrowed eyes.
She drew a breath and raised her chin. "From the rafters, Jasper Musgrave? You think to hang us, here and now?"
"Quiet, gypsy, lest I tell you to speak." Musgrave let go of the rope and took up a goblet, sipping noisily. Beside him, the younger man sifted through the parchments.
Scott folded his arms across his chest and remained silent. His remote manner set him apart from the others, but Tamsin saw a small muscle pulse in his jaw. A rosy stain crept into his cheeks as he watched the other men.
Dark as a raven he might be, she thought, but he had fair, telling skin. What tapped at his conscience or roused his anger to produce that blush, she could not guess.
"Hey, Arthur," Archie said to the younger man. "Come to protect yer father from the likes o' me?"
"My son is here as my deputy," Jasper said. Arthur nodded.
"Yer lad is a fine reiver," Archie said. "He's taken sheep and horses from me, I know that. And now he's a deputy. What a braw lad!" His false heartiness edged on sarcasm.
Tamsin sent her father a warning glare. He ignored her.
"I have an offer for you, Archie," Jasper said.
"I am nae yer man in any matter," Archie replied stiffly.
"As a laird who can summon a hundred horse—" Arthur began.
"Two hundred," Archie interrupted. "Scoundrels all."
"Exactly what we need," Jasper said. "You may be a scoundrel, but your name is respected among the Scottish marchmen. There are many men who will follow your lead."
Tamsin frowned at William Scott, whose expression remained impassive, although the pink hollows of his cheeks gave a glimpse into his thoughts. Something angered or bothered him greatly about this interview, she realized. She wondered if he was displeased with the Musgraves or the Armstrongs—or if his own conscience troubled him.
She narrowed her eyes. His insistence that they accept Musgrave's offer might come from Scott's own need to trick them or to be rid of them. She was not certain. He was clearly not like the Musgraves. He was intriguing, mysterious, and wholly compelling. And she could not seem to stop looking at him, her gaze stumbling over the glances he slid toward her.
Jasper Musgrave tapped a parchment sheet that lay beneath his hand on the table. "I could hang you for horse thievery. But we may be able to bargain, you and I."
"I willna bargain wi' ye, Jasper. So hang me." Archie straightened to his full and considerable height.
Tamsin felt her heart sink at her father's words. She feared that Jasper Musgrave would lose his temper and hang Archie without further questions. The noose lay on the table like a coiled, sleeping snake. She suddenly wanted to run, to be free of this place at any cost.
She saw William Scott slide another glance toward her. His blue eyes conveyed a silent, intent message, and she remembered his words from last night: Say "aye" to whatever Musgrave offers, else you will both hang, he had told her. I want you both out of this.
Now he said nothing, but she was sure that he still wanted them away from here. A subtle sense of danger spun in her gut. She edged closer to her father.
"Da," she whispered, "listen to Musgrave. We must get out of this however we can." Archie growled in full temper. She looked at William Scott, but he had turned his head, breaking the gossamer bond between them, dispelling the fragile hope for his support that she had begun to feel.
"You are a captured criminal, Archie," Musgrave said.
"Ye tricked us last night, Jasper," Archie answered. "Those horses—er, halters we took were laid out a-purpose to lure us into yer trap. I willna bargain wi' ye."
Musgrave slapped the table. "I'll trap you further, with a noose around your neck, if you don't shut up! King Henry will be generous with all Scots prisoners to honor Scotland's new queen, out of the grace of his great heart. You will be pardoned, if you cooperate."
"There is nae grace from a graceless heart! Think me a fool, man? Henry wants to conquer Scotland! Our queen is a wee babe. The noblemen squabble for power, and argue whether a lass of any age should sit the throne. Henry seeks to purchase Border support so he can take Scotland in his grip. Ye willna have treachery o' me!"
"King Henry will expect support for his cause in Scotland, in return for pardoning you and your daughter!"
"Fine!" Archie shouted. "Go tell yer king we wish him well! That's all the support he'll get o' Archie Armstrong! Now leave me be—or hang me high!"
William Scott stepped forward as Musgrave began to sputter. "Tempers serve no purpose here," he said calmly. "Jasper, explain your offer to the laird of Merton."
Musgrave grunted. "I have been instructed by Lord Wharton, who takes his orders from King Henry, to find Scottish Border-men to help advance a plan formed by the king himself."
Aware that her father's temper had not yet cooled, Tamsin stepped forward before Archie could retort in anger. "Say out what you want of us, Jasper Musgrave," she said.
"You keep a woman of the Egyptian race in your house, Armstrong," Musgrave said, ignoring her.
"Ye know Tamsin is my daughter," Archie replied.
"But her mother was one of the Egyptian race. Does she have contact with roaming gypsy bands?"
"She has kin among one band. That doesna concern ye."
"Gypsies have been banished from England and from Scotland." Musgrave scowled. "Harboring them breaks the law in both lands."
"My daughter," Archie growled, "has been in my house since she was six years old, and ye will leave her be."
"Where was she born?" Musgrave persisted.
"I was born in Scotland, and baptized in a parish kirk," Tamsin answered.
"She is a proper Scot," Archie said. He towered protectively beside Tamsin. Even with bound hands, he radiated a rough power. "Ye canna punish her for her gypsy blood. Leave her be, and say what ye truly want."
"King Henry and Wharton, with others, have designed a plan to further the king's cause in Scotland. We need men to support that."
"Ye need lairds wi' loyalty to the English, nae such as me," Archie said.
"We also want common Bord
ermen," Musgrave answered. "The success of our plan depends on help from men like you, Archie."
"Men who would never be involved with the English," Tamsin said, "will be hard to convince."
"Coin heals a variety of political ailments," Musgrave answered, though he did not look at her. "And we could also benefit from the help of gypsies, who never turn down coin for any task. I hear that once they give their word, they keep it."
"Of course they keep it!" Tamsin snapped. "You can leave your spoons out around the Romany."
Musgrave lowered his brows. "And what does that mean?"
"She means the gypsies are trustworthy," William said.
"But you willna get their promise for this plan," Tamsin said.
"Will I not?" Musgrave growled.
"Gypsies and rogues!" Arthur Musgrave, who had been listening intently, looked at his father. "Dinna listen to her—we take too great a chance in dealing with such men."
"They are exactly what we need for this," Jasper said. "Rascals all, eager for coin, without Scottish loyalties but with Scottish ties. With Rookhope, Armstrong of Merton, a few Border scoundrels, and a handful of gypsies, this plan will succeed nicely."
"What is your scheme?" Tamsin asked.
"A plan to benefit all, north and south," Musgrave said.
"War?" Tamsin asked, horrified.
"Nay. I cannot say as yet." Musgrave glanced away.
"King Henry wants only good for Scotland," Arthur said. His father nodded. "Our king is greatly concerned for his northern neighbors, who lack a strong ruler. The little queen of Scotland needs his guidance."
"Aye, he sees a chance to take over Scotland!" Archie said. "I willna help ye." He set his jaw stubbornly.
"Think of your daughter, man. She could be hanged for a tawny and a thief. And you, gypsy"—Musgrave looked at Tamsin—"will you dance at the end of a rope?" He picked up the noose that lay on the table, and drew its loop through his thick fingers. "Will you watch your father dance there?"
He handed the rope to Arthur and murmured to him. Arthur stood and came forward. In a quick and surprising movement, he stepped toward Tamsin and dropped the loop over her head. He slid the knot tight, jerking her head back.
Tamsin cried out as she felt the wrenching pressure at her throat. She raised her bound hands to the rope and clawed awkwardly at it with the fingers of her right hand. Arthur tightened the knot again, until she felt dizzy, heart pounding, knees growing weak.
Through a haze of shock and fear, she heard Archie bellow at Arthur, and saw William Scott stride toward her.
"Stay where you are!" Jasper Musgrave said. "Arthur, if either of them comes near, pull the knot hard. Now, Archie," he said smoothly, "tell me again that you refuse to help us."
"She has naught to do with this!" Archie shouted.
"Leave her be," William said. His voice was quiet, a growl of thunder in the room. Tamsin saw him step closer, saw Musgrave throw up a hand to stop him.
"Archie only needs convincing. She will not be harmed." Musgrave smiled. "We can use the skills of a gypsy—this one, or another of her acquaintance, if she will not cooperate. Archie will know who to hire for us."
William ignored him and looked at Arthur. "Let go of her."
Arthur paused, and Tamsin pulled helplessly at the rope. Musgrave heaved himself to his feet and walked toward her. With one finger, he traced her throat. Waves of dizziness and fury washed over her.
"A fragile neck," Musgrave murmured. "'Twill snap quick."
Swift and sure, William Scott swept past Musgrave like a bird of prey to grab Arthur's arm. He slipped his other arm around Arthur's neck and pulled back. Tamsin felt another tug as Arthur kept his grip on the rope.
"Let go, Arthur," William growled, "else your own neck will snap!"
Chapter 4
"Have you any gold, Father?" she says,
"Or have you any fee?
Or did you come to see your own daughter hanging
Like a dog, upon a tree?"
—"The Broom o' the Cathery Knowes"
Time and breath seemed to stop for a moment while William waited, heart pounding, the crook of his arm around Arthur's neck. "Jasper," he said. "Tell your son that I mean it."
"Eh, let go of her, lad," Musgrave rumbled.
Arthur released the rope. William flung him aside, scarcely noticing as Arthur stumbled to the floor and regained his feet.
The girl struggled for breath and clutched at the rope with one bare hand. William widened the noose and slipped it over her head. He whipped the rope away, and it smacked into the wall and slid into a heap. The girl coughed, and William touched her shoulder, his fingers trembling.
She looked up at him. Her green eyes had a startling clarity, as if her unguarded soul glimmered there, as elusive and shining as the shadow of a fish slipping past underwater.
A moment passed, no more, while he wondered at what he saw: innocence pure enough to tug at his heart, a precious spark of trust. Then her eyes clouded and she looked away.
"Th-thank you," she murmured, her voice hoarse.
"Tamsin," he whispered. "Are you hurt?" He cared only that she was safe. He scarcely noticed the three men who stared at him, one in gratitude, two in anger. They were dim candles beside her eloquent flame. He felt her heat beneath his hands, spreading into him.
"She's unhurt." Jasper Musgrave waved a hand casually as if to dismiss the incident.
"Tamsin?" William asked again.
She nodded, her bare fingers easing over her throat. "I am fine." Her voice was faint, strained. William merely nodded, though he felt a raging impulse to throw a Musgrave or two through a window. Silent, deliberately calm, he lifted his hand from her shoulder.
"Lassie, are ye sure ye're unharmed?" Archie asked beside him. The girl nodded, and her father turned to William. "I thank ye, sir, I do," he said gruffly. His eyes were as light and vibrant a green as his daughter's, William noticed. Relief and gratitude, and something more, seemed to shine there.
"I did what was necessary to stop a cruel thing," William said, looking at Musgrave in disgust. He walked away, turning his back on the others to stare out the window.
"Eh, she's fine," Musgrave muttered. "'Twas but to make a point with Archie."
"The devil's own point, Jasper," William snapped over his shoulder. "Ill thought and ill done."
"'Tis a mighty fuss over a gypsy," Jasper replied in a low voice.
"Over a woman," William corrected.
"Aye! And a bonny woman she is, and shouldna be treated thus! Rookhope knows it, hey!" Archie said.
William heard Jasper snarl at Arthur, blaming his son for a cruel act that had been his own suggestion. Arthur slammed the door as he left.
William stared unseeing through the thick window glass. He fisted his hands and took in a breath as he mastered his temper. The sight of the noose around the girl's neck had shaken him deeply. Such a threat meant little to men like the Musgraves. Hanging was a common punishment dealt out by reivers, lawmen, and kings alike. But William did not regard the act of hanging so casually.
Even the sight of a noose could bring a cold sweat upon him, could make his heart pound and edge his temper toward boiling.
He would carry the gruesome memory of his father's death forever.
Seventeen years had passed since that day. He had learned to cool his anguish, to bury it deep, suffering the occasional dreams and memories in silence. But nooses, ropes, and cruel acts such as Musgrave favored could draw the pain and the anger to the surface in an instant, challenging his usual calm.
When he had seen the rope around that fragile, beautiful throat, a well of fury and fear had gathered within him. Control alone had kept him from exploding into a savage act. Now his temper still rocked, his legs still trembled. He flexed his hands and stared through the window in silence.
"She's a fine lass," Archie said, capturing William's attention. "Some man will be fortunate to have her to wife. And nae Musgrave is worthy to
speak her name! Ye're the de'il's own, Jasper, and yer son. I willna forget this."
"You and your damned tawny stole my horses, you scoundrel!" Musgrave shouted. "'Tis a hanging crime!"
William turned. Though he did not look directly at the girl, he felt her gaze, full and luminous, on him. Since the moment she had walked into the room, she had claimed a steady thread of his awareness. Now he felt the thread strengthen to a cord, as if his act of protection had truly bonded them.
"Jasper," he said. "If you want my cooperation, deal with these people honorably."
Musgrave drew a breath. "Armstrong, your girl's life will be spared... or not. That depends on what you decide now."
"'Tisna necessary to threaten me through my daughter! 'Tis a coward's way. Eh, maybe 'tis yer way, ye blackhearted dog."
"I willna hesitate to hang her! There are laws against tawnies wandering free in England. I have the full right of this, and you know it. Make your decision. Agree to help me, or watch her hang, and then be hanged yourself."
William saw Archie sigh, saw his shoulders slump in visible defeat. The girl watched her father with wide eyes.
"What will ye have of me?" Archie asked, sounding resigned.
"Gather men who will follow me, and gypsies as well," Musgrave said. "I will supply coin for you to pay them all, but I want a list of willing names and signatures, or their marks, and how much you paid to each. I want the list in a fortnight, and then you will learn more."
"I must know more now," Archie said. "Borderers and gypsies are a suspicious lot. They will ask questions."
"Just use coin, man," Musgrave said. "Or threats. As you choose. See it done within a fortnight."
"This secrecy and intrigue speak ill of your scheme, and of your king," Tamsin said hoarsely.
"If Henry Tudor means to start new wars along the Borders," Archie said, "I willna help ye. I will turn the Bordermen against ye, Jasper Musgrave. And that will cost ye nae coin at all!"
Musgrave gestured toward William. "Rookhope sees the sense of this scheme! And he is a man of reputation in the Borderlands, and at court. If you have any sense at all, you will see the advantage in joining us."
