Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (15 page)

“I accuse you only of delay. When did you come by this message?”

“At Perth. That is, at the festival on the Inch
near
Perth, to celebrate her grace’s coronation. Your parents and brothers were there, and when your brother Simon presented me, your parents asked me to relay the message to you. Simon suggested you might reward me for the warning. Dare I hope he was right?”

“Reward you? Sakes, what sort of reward had you or Simon in mind?”

“As you have already shown yourself to be a bold, adventurous lass, I’d hoped I might win a kiss or . . .” He shrugged, clearly leaving the options open.

Foreboding swept through her. Only if he were the man Simon expected to force her to marry would he dare speak to her so. But
what
had Simon told him?

“I thank you for the warning,” she said, letting the chill she felt cool her tone as she put more distance between them. “I would be more grateful to you, though, if you would remember to address me properly. You are too familiar, sir.”

“I meant no offense, my lady. Indeed, I had hoped we might become fast friends. Simon and Tom assured me that you were of a friendly nature.”

“I expect they thought they were being helpful, sir,” she said, fearing her brothers had told him more than that. “In fact, I prefer to choose my own friends.”

“Aye, sure, lass, I understand.”

She gave him a look.

Meeting it, then reacting with a clap to his head, he said, “Sakes, but I must beg your forgiveness again, my lady.”

“Just try to behave yourself, Sir Harald. This glib manner of yours does not please me. Nor will it please our royal mistress if you display it in her presence.”

He bowed. “You will have no cause in future to complain, my lady. May I see you to your chamber now?” he added as they reached the steps to the house.

“This is far enough,” she said, repressing a shiver. “Perhaps no one told you, but men are not allowed in this part of the house except in the entry and the hall. Some have rooms in the north wing but do not come through the house.” She saw no reason to mention the north-wing door under the rear service stairs, near the door to the walled garden, or her disbelief in his ignorance of the house rules.

However, instead of taking her words as dismissal and leaving, he looked her in the eye and said in a harsher tone, “Do not think to dismiss me so abruptly, Lady Amalie. In future you may come to regret such rude behavior.”

If she had needed confirmation that he was Simon’s chosen husband for her, she now had it. For no other reason could she imagine a man of his stamp—and a knight of the realm, at that—addressing her so.

She said, “I do thank you for your escort, sir, but I must not tarry.”

With a nod, she hurried inside and upstairs to her chamber, thanking the fates that the house was large and sprawling enough to provide each of Isabel’s ladies with a small room of her own near the princess’s chambers.

She did not like Harald Boyd. He was too glib, and his charm seemed false. She had thought his patting her hand too familiar a gesture, but she recalled that Sir Garth had put his hand over hers, too, at Scone. She had not thought about it then or since, other than to note at the time the warmth of his touch.

Her fear that Simon had somehow given Boyd to believe he could have his way with her still chilled her. But it infuriated her, too. If Sir Harald Boyd expected rewards, he would quickly learn his error.

Sending a silent thank-you to Isabel for assuring her that she need not marry anyone she did not want, she decided that the sooner she reminded Simon of that fact, the better it would be for everyone. She was not going to marry a man she could not trust, and she had yet to meet a man she could.

Certainly, that man was not Sir Harald Boyd. She did not trust him one bit.

She glanced back when she reached her door to be sure he had not followed her. Even if he had, surely he would not dare to come to her bedchamber.

Nevertheless, she had a bolt on her door, and she used it.

Garth found Isabel in the garden with the other ladies. Despite the early hour—for it could be no later than half past eight—the ladies Averil, Nancy, Sibylla, and Susan all sat with her on turf seats at the center of the garden in a broad patch of sunlight. A pavilion formed of vine-laden trellises stood in shade against the eastern wall. The only tribute to the hour was the blanket each lady had spread beneath her over her doubtless dewy turf seat.

“Good day to you, sir,” the princess said. “I expect Sir Harald told you I wanted to speak with you.”

“He did, madam. How may I serve you?”

“Let us walk for a time. My ladies will rest here.” So saying, she rose gracefully to her feet. “We’ll go this way, I think,” she said, gesturing. “The pear trees are bearing fruit now. Mayhap you will pick some.”

Nodding, he walked beside her along a path between raised beds of a long, narrow, rectangular herb garden.

“I’ve not taken time before to speak with you, my lord,” she said when they were out of earshot of the others. “I wanted to judge what manner of man you were.”

“I hope I have won your approval, madam. But, if you please, address me as Garth or Sir Garth. Whilst I’m here, I’d liefer use my knightly title.”

“Many knights do prefer it, and it will draw fewer questions,” she agreed with a smile. “I’ve not had a landed baron serving as a member of my household before.”

He smiled back. “I warrant you have not.”

“When Archie Douglas told me at Scone that he was sending you to replace Sir Duncan, I own it did surprise me. But then he explained that you might help me learn the truth about Jamie’s death. I should tell you, though, I do not always trust the Douglas. He is friends with Fife and, I believe, wants you to prove Fife had naught to do with Jamie’s death. What say you to that, sir?”

“In troth, madam, I know no more yet than you do about James Douglas’s death. I have been trying to find the man who killed Will Douglas in Danzig.”

“Still, you must have heard things about James’s death,” she insisted.

“Aye, sure, but naught that you have not also heard.” He went on to relate all he had told Archie about the armorer and James’s cuirass.

“No one doubts the armorer failed to fasten his cuirass properly,” he said. “But Buccleuch said the throat wound would have killed James even so.”

“The armorer can tell us naught,” Isabel said.

“Aye, I ken that, too,” Garth said. “He is dead, killed in a dispute over nowt, his people say. I’ll admit, though, men may be paid to
say
anything.”

“And the man who killed the armorer is also dead,” Isabel said.

“I’ll not argue that. But if he is, no one admits knowing who killed him.”

She looked into his face, studying it, and he thought as he had before that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Part of her beauty lay in the fact that she did not indulge in the gestures and affectations that so many women, beautiful or not, used to draw attention to themselves.

The lady Amalie shared that trait.

Feeling guilty at the thought, he refocused his attention firmly on Isabel.

“Tell me about Will,” she said quietly. “Archie said you were with him.”

“I was,” he said. Collecting his thoughts, he told her what had happened.

“I don’t know anyone named Haldane, do you?” she said at the end.

“No, madam. The man was just a common man-at-arms, hiring himself out for the expedition, but one of Will’s men did say he’d seen him at Edmonstone.”

“At Edmonstone! My husband’s home?”

“Aye,” Garth said. “But none there had ever heard of him.”

“You must ask Sir Harald Boyd,” she said with a wry look. “He came here from Edmonstone, supposedly at my husband’s behest.”

“You doubt his word?”

“Not his, Edmonstone’s, who told me Sir Harald would be coming when I saw him briefly at Scone. But sithee, although Sir John was the Douglases’ choice for me, he would not stand against Fife even to inquire as to my wishes. Sakes, Archie is Fife’s friend, so why should not Edmonstone be as well?”

Garth frowned. “Forgive me, madam, but might you be seeing enemies where there are none? I don’t know Boyd, but surely, to suspect Fife’s hand—”

Grimacing, Isabel said, “Sir John told me he was sending one of his own knights. Now, I expect Boyd stayed at Edmonstone long enough to speak truthfully about being there. But he knows less than I do about the place. So, I suspect that my brother Fife has sent him here to spy on me. He likes to know what I’m doing.”

“I am surprised that you do not send Boyd away if that is what you believe,” Garth said, hoping she would do just that. That would solve Amalie’s problem, too.

“Life is more agreeable if one does not infuriate one’s brothers, Fife especially,” she said. “It is dangerous enough to cross him, and I’ve done much of that these past two years, in protecting my interests from his grasping fingers.”

“Sakes, madam, how did you accomplish that?”

She smiled impishly. “Chiefly by persuading my father to sign a paper and my brother Carrick—his grace now—also to sign it, giving me life interest in the properties from which James granted me income. That document also reinforced my right to my own properties, such as this one. James signed Sweethope Hill House over to me as a betrothal gift. It was ramshackle then, but I love it most dearly now.”

“ ’Tis a fine house with beautiful gardens,” he said.

“Aye, the gardens are thriving,” she agreed. “But now, tell me more about Will, because I mean to help you all I can to prove the truth.”

He was willing enough to comply with that request, but the door to the house opened just then and Amalie stepped onto the stone porch, diverting his attention.

Chapter 8

A
malie loved the gardens at Sweethope Hill House. The front one, with its tall, thorny rosebushes to keep out wandering livestock, and its raised flowerbeds and wide walkways of scythed grass, was pleasant and welcoming to visitors. But the walled garden was her favorite.

She entered it through the back door of the house, located between the service stairs and the rear anteroom to the great hall. The stairs led up to the rear of the floors above and down to the kitchen. A nearby door led into the north wing, and a corridor connected the rear entryway with the front entrance hall.

As soon as Amalie stepped outside, she saw Sir Garth and Isabel strolling along a gravel path by the herb garden. Beyond them, the other ladies sat chatting in the rose ring, a sunny circle of turf-covered seats with rosebushes behind them. Pink and white roses bloomed in massive numbers on those bushes and, with the varied colors of the women’s dresses, provided a colorful scene.

The garden was warm even at so early an hour, because the high stone wall protected it from the winds that frequently blew through the Vale of the Tweed. Even so, it was early for Isabel and the others to be outdoors, so Amalie decided Isabel must have wanted to talk privately with Sir Garth.

For a princess to be private with a man who was not her father, brother, or husband was not easy, but the garden afforded excellent opportunity for such discourse. Amalie wondered what they were talking about but knew better than to look overly curious. As it was, the others were already watching her.

Lady Sibylla Cavers smiled, and Amalie hurried to join them. As she arrived, Lady Susan said, “He is very handsome, is he not?”

Amalie’s stomach growled. She wondered if the others had broken their fast already. She’d had a pear from the hall table before her ride, but that had been hours ago.

Lady Averil said, “You must have better things to talk about, Susan. Did you not bring your stitchery out with you?”

“No, my lady. I did not think we would be outside for so long.”

“Your thoughts should concern nothing beyond your duty to the princess,” Lady Averil said. “Pray, go back into the house and fetch something to occupy your hands—
and
your mind,” she added dryly.

Susan looked at Amalie’s empty hands and said, “I fear that Amalie, too, has neglected to bring her work with her, my lady. She can bear me company.”

“I want to speak with Amalie. Moreover, it is not for you to decide such things, Susan. Go along now, at once.”

Making her curtsy and then rolling her eyes so that only Amalie could see her, Susan passed her without a word and went inside.

“Have I also done something I should not, my lady?” Amalie asked, taking the turf seat Susan had vacated.

“No, my dear, but that young woman is too concerned with other people’s business. It is my duty to snub her.”

“But you enjoy that duty, Averil,” Lady Nancy said with a teasing smile. The two were of similar age and experience with the princess, so Nancy took liberties that the other ladies dared not. “Mayhap you ought to take yourself to task for that.”

“No doubt,” Lady Averil retorted dryly. “Being senior companion to Isabel does provide some advantage, though, and Susan’s airs and affectations annoy me.”

“I think we are all in accord on that subject, my lady,” eighteen-year-old Sibylla agreed with a chuckle as she shifted a loose plait of dark auburn hair off her shoulder. Turning to Amalie, she said, “Did you enjoy your ride this morning?”

Taken aback, and anxiously casting a glance at Lady Averil, Amalie said warily, “I did, aye. ’Tis a fine morning and I watched the sunrise.”

Lady Averil said, “I trust you took more than one groom with you, my dear.”

“Aye, two, my lady.”

“Then you were
very
well protected, were you not?” Lady Sibylla said with teasing glance. “I told everyone that you had gone for a ride, of course, because Isabel asked. But he
is
a handsome gentleman, just as Susan said.”

“Sakes,” Amalie said. “I thought she was talking about Sir Harald.”

Lady Averil’s gaze sharpened. “What is all this then?”

“Nowt to trouble anyone’s mind,” Sibylla said cheerfully. “Sir Garth also rode out, sometime after she did. But he did follow you, did he not, Amalie?”

“He did,” Amalie admitted. “But my grooms never left us.”