The Border Hostage Page 3

  “I'd know these scum anywhere. I'll find them, no matter how long it takes.”

  “Ye don't have tae do it alone—it was me they intended tae murder. How many are we after?”

  “Only five—I already dispatched two to hell.”

  Ram laughed grimly. Heath Kennedy was the only man he had ever met who had more guts than himself.

  Raven Carleton was able to reach her bedchamber without anyone seeing her shocking state of undress only because of the early hour. She knew that if she reported her encounter with the Borderer to her parents, they would forbid her from visiting the Rockcliffe Marsh and no doubt curtail her riding and hawking as well. Raven was still seething with anger at the bold devil who had accosted her and stolen Sully, who was so precious to her. She was furious because he had bested her as well. If her father or Heron asked about Sully, she would have to say that she had left him to graze in the far meadow. But God only knew what lie she would have to concoct to explain Sully's permanent disappearance.

  Raven caught sight of herself in the mirror and was shocked at her reflection. Her hair was a mass of wild tangles from her ride, and the ribbon from the bodice of her undergarment had come undone, revealing the swell of her breasts. She lifted her chin and set her hands to her hips, to see what she must have looked like to the Borderer. Suddenly her mischievous eyes filled with laughter. “My God, no wonder he mistook me for a ragtag Gypsy!” She sobered suddenly, realizing how lucky she had been to escape unscathed.

  The young lady who sat down to lunch wearing a pristine white dress bore no resemblance to the wild creature who had ridden abroad at dawn. Raven listened politely as her mother instructed her and Lark on table manners, dress code, and the ladylike behavior she expected from them both when they visited the Dacres. “It seems that we are not the only guests who have been invited to Carlisle Castle. Among others, Lady Elizabeth Kennedy, your father's second cousin, will be there. No doubt she will be husband-hunting for her youngest daughter, Beth.” Raven suddenly became more attentive. Sweet, fair-haired Beth Kennedy was formidable competition in the marriage market because of the fact that her father was the Lord of Galloway, Scotland, who owned vast acres covered with sheep, and a fleet of merchant ships to export Kennedy wool.

  Kate Carleton handed Raven an invitation that had arrived that morning. “At the end of the week, the Dacres are throwing a ball. What is this word, dear?” she asked, pointing to one of the words on the card. “I am not sure of its meaning.”

  “Masquerade,” Raven supplied, knowing her mother had difficulty reading. “It means that the guests wear costumes and masks.”

  “A fancy-dress ball. Why the devil doesn't it say so instead of using a daft French word!”

  “Oh, what fun! I am so glad Lady Dacre invited us, especially during Carlisle Fair week. May we attend, Mother?” Lark asked eagerly.

  “Of course we are going to the fair.” Raven glared at her sister for asking permission.

  “Christopher Dacre and your brother may escort you, if you both promise to conduct yourselves with propriety.”

  “Raven wants to have her fortune told at the fair.”

  “Of course I don't,” Raven denied, aiming a discreet kick at Lark's ankle.

  “I should hope not,” Kate Carleton said repressively. “Gypsies cannot be trusted; they are all thieves, liars, or worse.“

  Raven swiftly changed the subject. “It will be a nice chance for you to visit with your friend Rosalind.”

  “Raven told me that when Lord Dacre was young, he kidnapped his bride and carried her off! Is that true?”

  Raven aimed another kick at Lark. Why could she not learn to keep her mouth shut?

  Katherine pursed her lips together and gave Raven a look of disapproval. “What an exasperating girl you are.” She turned to Lark and explained, “Rosalind Greystokes was a ward of Lord Clifford of Westmorland. Clifford refused Thomas Dacre permission to marry Rosalind, so the reckless young devil carried her off and wed her!”

  “What a dreadful, wicked thing to do!” Lark was appalled.

  “I think it the most romantic thing I have ever heard!” Raven declared passionately. “Only imagine having a man love you enough to kidnap you!”

  Kate gave Raven a quelling glance. “It was indeed dreadful, and caused a horrendous scandal, I can assure you. Poor Rosalind was blameless, but her reputation was ruined.”

  “What the devil did her reputation matter? She became Lady Dacre, didn't she?”

  “A spotless reputation will be paramount for any female aspiring to become the next Lady Dacre,” Raven's mother said pointedly.

  Raven steered the conversation away from her mother's favorite topic. “What costume will you wear, Mother?”

  “Some English queen or other is very tempting, if I could get up the courage to wear a crown.”

  “Boadicea,” Raven suggested mischievously. “All you need is a spear!”

  Lark had a rapt look on her face. “If Mother is a queen, I shall be a princess. What about you, Raven?”

  She had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing at them. “Oh, something unpretentious, I think. A goddess perhaps.” Raven excused herself. She had more important things to think of than costumes. She must instruct the young falconer she was training in the care of her hunting birds while she was away.

  Lady Valentina Douglas ran out to the castle's bailey the moment she heard the thunder of hoofbeats. With her hand at her throat, she watched the half-hundred men clatter beneath the portcullis. She felt her knees wobble with relief when she saw her husband and the taller man riding beside him.

  Ram vaulted from the saddle and was beside his beautiful flame-haired wife in seconds. “My honey love, are ye all right?”

  “Blood of God, I never thought to see Heath come riding in with you. How did you rescue him?”

  Ram kissed his wife soundly. “He didn't need me, he rescued himself. What are our losses?”

  “Two guards dead, half a dozen grooms wounded. Ada wouldn't let me tend them.”

  “I should think not, in your condition,” the tall, slim serving woman declared dryly. “We spent half the night scrubbing blood from your bedchamber floor!”

  “That does it, Tina! Ye go back tae Douglas where it's safe. I never should have let ye come with me this close tae the Borders.”

  Tina knew better than to contradict Black Ram Douglas before his men, but she would have plenty to say when they were alone. She shrugged a pretty shoulder and looked up into her brother's warm brown eyes. “Blood of God, I feared they would hang you.”

  He grinned down at her. “Rope costs money.” Suddenly, Heath looked at Tina intently. “Are you all right, sweeting?” Her aura had changed. His sister always gave off a golden light, which had not dimmed, but now there was a double ring around her head.

  Tina's hand went to her swollen belly beneath her loose cloak. “I am big as a pig full of figs, if that's what you mean!”

  “Ye are lovely and lush and more tempting than any married woman has a right tae be,” Ram assured her, slipping an arm about her possessively and escorting her to the castle.

  “Are you truly all right, Heath?” Ada asked low. She had seen how slowly he had dismounted. Heath and the attractive widow who served his sister had been good friends for years. He brushed his lips across her brow. “I'm fine, Ada; it's Tina we have to worry about. I think she might be carrying twins!”

  Ada hurried into the castle as Heath took Ram's mount, along with his own and the Border pony he had “borrowed,” to the stables. She caught up with the couple before they reached their bedchamber in the Master Tower, because Tina climbed the stairs slowly. Ada shook her head in disbelief, for already the two strong-willed lovers were arguing.

  “The answer is no! Ye'll do as ye're told, Vixen.”

  “Devil-eyed Douglas, you're not back five bloody minutes and you are tossing your orders about as if you rule the world!”

  They entered their bedchambe
r and stood facing each other like combatants unprepared to give an inch. “I do rule your world, Vixen. There is no earthly reason ye can give me that would convince me tae let ye stay here in the Borders.”

  “How about twins?” Ada interjected.

  Ram gave Ada a quelling glance. “Ye've never respected our privacy before, so I suppose it's too much tae expect it now,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

  “Twins?” Tina said, her hands going protectively to her belly and her golden eyes widening in wonder. “Ada, I think you may be right! Oh, that would explain so many things.”

  “Twins?” Ramsay's gut knotted with anxiety for his beautiful wife, yet at the same time hope soared in his heart.

  Tina threw off her cloak and began to unfasten her loose gown. “Help me off with this damn dress,” she bade them. “When I lie quietly in bed, I can hear and feel two heartbeats, but I thought one of them was mine.”

  Ada removed Tina's gown and Ramsay placed his callused hands on his wife's swollen midsection. His dark brows drew together in concentration, then he took Tina's hands and placed them on her belly. “What do ye think, my honey lamb?”

  Tina first shook her head, then smiled and nodded.

  “Ada?”

  Ada, who was not only Tina's serving woman but her dearest friend, placed her palms on the thin material of Tina's shift covering her mounded belly and moved them all around. “Either you're carrying twins or it's a three-legged milking stool!”

  Tina whooped with joy and laughter. “Oh, I'm so clever and cunning; I have really outdone myself!”

  “You? I am the author of this grand production,” Ram asserted, his heart overflowing with tenderness and adoration for his beloved. He picked her up gently and laid her on their bed. Then he cupped her face and touched his lips to hers.

  “Cocksure devil,” she murmured happily, “there'll be no living with you now. Of course, this means I won't be able to travel all those miles to Douglas.”

  “Ah, Vixen, ye always manage tae get around me.”

  “I'm not staying in bed though.” She slanted him an alluring glance. “Unless, of course, you come too.”

  Ram could deny her nothing. “After I've seen the wounded men, I'll bathe, then we can have dinner abed.” He turned to Ada. “Go and tell Mr. Burque tae prepare something special, and be sure tae warn him her ladyship is eatin' fer three.”

  Two hours later Tina and Ram dined in the expanse of the big curtained bed, taking turns feeding each other and laughing so much, anyone within hearing distance would have thought them naughty children. Afterward they lay entwined in each other's arms, cuddling, caressing, kissing, and whispering for hours. “I still cannot believe it!” Tina said with awe.

  “I can,” Ram said, stroking the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Ye do everything with such unique style and fervor, my little firebrand. Ye are feracious.”

  “What the devil does that mean?” she whispered.

  “It means ye are fertile, fecund, fruitful, and well-fu—”

  Tina put her hand over his mouth playfully and admonished, “None of your wicked words in front of the babies.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The next day, Ramsay asked Heath if he would like to go up to Douglas and bring back some of the horses from Castle Dangerous, as it was known. “We need spare mounts fer the moss-troopers.”

  “I would rather you sent Jock. Tonight I intend to start tracking our stolen horses.”

  “I shall make a formal complaint next month at the Border Wardens' Court fer the raid on Annan, and under the international law of the Marches, we have recourse fer our stolen horses.”

  Heath shook his head. “Tell me the rules for a lawful trod.”

  “The trod is a legal, hallowed process of pursuit. A hot trod is immediate pursuit of the thieves. A cold trod is legal within six days of the raid. But remember that under Border Law there is a clear distinction drawn between a trod and a reprisal raid.”

  “It is not my ‘fatal privilege’ to recover my property by force and deal with the thieves out of hand?” Heath asked evenly.

  “It is, if ye catch them red-handed with yer property.” Ram nodded grimly. “A hot trod is a simple breakneck chase. A cold trod seldom succeeds. The reivers could know every fold in the ground. They could lose themselves with ease while ye are faced with a guessing game, lookin' in gullies.”

  “That is true if they are Scots,” Heath said reflectively.

  “ 'Tis more certain they are English, and if ye cross the Border there are rules laid down fer a lawful trod with horn and hound, hue and cry. Ye must announce it immediately and seek assistance.”

  “Is it not unlawful to impede a trod?”

  Ram laughed. “It seems ye know the rules as well as I do! I won't join ye—I am sticking close tae Tina for the next fortnight—but feel free tae take Douglas men.”

  “Thanks, there's sure to be a few attending Carlisle Fair, so if I need help I'll seek them out there.” Heath grinned. “I will try to be back in time for the big event.”

  “Carlisle Fair is a hell of a good place tae find stolen horses.”

  “My thinking exactly,” Heath agreed. “I've sold a few stolen horses there myself.”

  At midnight, Heath set out from Eskdale with the border pony fastened on a lead behind his roan gelding. He hoped to encounter the beauteous Mistress Carleton alone, and the best odds of that would be to await her at dawn on Rockcliffe Marsh, where the River Eden emptied into Solway Firth. This time he was adequately clothed and well armed with a knife, and a blade in his boot.

  Heath's ride proved uneventful, and when he arrived at Rockcliffe, he tethered the two animals to a willow tree, wrapped himself in a Douglas plaid, and fell asleep, knowing the horses would soon awaken him to any danger that threatened. When he opened his eyes at dawn, the first thing he saw was a hawk circling in the sky above him. He watched appreciatively as it began its dive, and by its speed he identified it as a falcon.

  Heath turned over onto his stomach and watched the bird rise with its prey: a marsh duck as big as itself. It flew directly to someone who was swinging a lure. Heath put up a hand to shade his eyes and grinned with pleasure when he saw it was the Carleton girl. He was most surprised to find her hawking, a sport usually indulged in by men. It only added to her attraction, and he decided to learn her first name.

  Heath untethered her Border pony, let go of his rein, and pointed him in the direction of his mistress. Only when he heard her cry “Sully!” in surprised delight did he untether his roan and move toward her. At sight of him, the pleasure was immediately wiped from her face. “You!” she cried accusingly.

  Heath's bow held only a trace of mockery. “At your service, Mistress Carleton.” He had her at a disadvantage; she held Sully's reins in one gloved hand and the falcon's jesses in the other.

  A tinge of fear made her overbold. “Borderer, don't you dare use my name as an endearment. We are not endeared!” Her blue eyes blazed with fury. He was more maddeningly attractive than she remembered; taller too. His proud bearing proclaimed him arrogant.

  Heath looked at her with admiration. What a magnificent challenge she is. “I returned your pony, as I promised, English. A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”

  “Thank you? You expect me to thank you for stealing him! How do I know you haven't lamed him?”

  “I am not in the habit of laming animals, English.”

  “But you are in the habit of thieving them, Borderer! From where did you steal that bag of bones?” The roan gelding was a lovely horse. Such animals were in great demand for riding by English ladies, and it annoyed her that he possessed such a horse.

  “It would beat yours in a race.”

  His challenge made her temper explode, and the young falcon, sensing her anger, flapped his wings wildly. “Now see what you've done!” she accused. “Training a bird of prey requires a calm demeanor.”

  “You are the one with the fiery temper, English. My demeanor
is calm enough. Let me have him.”

  “Why the devil would I do that?” she demanded.

  “So you can race Sully against my bag of bones.”

  “By God, I'll do it, you arrogant swine!” She fastened the jesses of the falcon to the low branch of a flowering alder tree and mounted Sully.

  “What will you wager? A race is pointless without a wager.”

  “I would be rid of you, Borderer. If you lose, you will never show your ugly face on Rockcliffe Marsh again!”

  “And if I win, you will tell me your first name,” Heath stipulated. He mounted the roan and side by side they walked their animals to the shore where he had first seen her ride. She did not look at him, but Heath watched her and saw that her recklessness made her cheeks bloom like pink roses.

  The moment Sully's hooves touched the shingle, she dug in her heels and the Border pony shot forward. Heath took off after the girl, carefully keeping a wide berth between their galloping mounts. He came even with her and kept pace. She stared at him for a moment, showing no fear. He saw her decide that though he was a threat, she would ignore the danger. Clearly it excited her to play with fire. She flashed him a look of challenge and raced ahead.

  Heath drew alongside once more. He did not want to best her, he simply wanted to enjoy watching her. His roan was larger with longer legs, but the black Border pony was bred for stamina. They galloped neck-and-neck to the end of the beach, and when she saw that he could easily beat her, she purposely turned her mount into his path, forcing him to draw rein.

  Heath dismounted, shaking his head at her folly. She had cheated, but it was worth it to see her bare legs and wildly disheveled hair. She had no intention of dismounting, but lifted her chin and stared down at him. He took the folded shirt from his saddlebags, then walked closer and held it out. His dark, intense gaze swept over her, then locked with hers. “You have too much female pride to lose, but I hope you have too much self-respect to refuse to pay your wager.”