Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (17 page)

He held her gaze for a time in silence. Then he said, “I do understand your reluctance, lass, and I won’t press you to name him. Just tell me what they said.”

She nodded. Recognizing that his trust placed an added burden on her to be honest with him, she said, “I think Fife wanted the other man to kill someone.”

Garth drew a long breath. He had exerted his patience nearly to its limit but knew he’d be a fool to reveal that now. Although she clearly believed that one of the men in her family was the other person in that room, he would not learn today which one she suspected. All three Murray men had attended the coronation.

He considered the best course to take with her. She appeared to be strong-willed and capable, even saucy from time to time. But underlying all that, he sensed something fragile that affected her ability to trust.

She reminded him of a puppy or young horse that had been mistreated. She had the same wariness, the same inclination to snap or kick. He hoped she would respond to patience in the same way, too. Still, he had to know all that she knew before he could decide if it aided him in any way.

“Who does Fife want to kill?” he asked.

When she began to shake her head, he felt his jaw tighten and drew another long breath, determined not to let his impatience show.

She detected it though, because she said, “Truly, I don’t know. You snatched me away before I heard a name or anything else that might identify the man.”

“It was a man, though.”

“Aye, sure. Why would Fife want to kill a woman?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But it may be important to know why you thought it was a man.”

She frowned, thinking, and he kept silent.

“Fife said ‘him,’ ” she said at last. “He said, ‘If we give
him
enough cause, he will cooperate, but we cannot trust
him
from one minute to the next.’”

“That cannot be all he said.”

“Nay. The most chilling part was when he said it would suit him better not to have to concern himself with him at all. Then the other said, ‘Sakes, sir, is it murder you seek?’ Fife said, ‘I did not say—’ And that is when you grabbed me.”

“So Fife denied murder.”

“Aye, he did say those words, but there was a note in his voice . . . He speaks like syrup pouring from a pitcher, sir, all sticky sweet but smooth withal. I’d say he murmurs, but his voice carries easily. It just—”

“I know, and that is an apt description. Did he speak that way throughout?”

“No, he sounded terser when he first spoke of the . . . the subject of their exchange. I thought he was annoyed. At the end, it sounded as if he’d accept the man’s murder if it served his purpose, and if reasoning proved useless.”

“We must hope their target is not another Douglas,” Garth said, mentally scanning a list of Douglases who might annoy Fife enough to incite murder.

“It cannot be the earl,” she said. “He is Fife’s ally.”

“Archie is his own man first,” Garth said. “He will support Fife as long as he thinks Fife should rule Scotland, because he knows his grace cannot handle the job and does not want it. But, believe me, Archie would spit Fife’s head on a pike over the gates of Threave Castle if he were to discover that he was responsible for or complicit in James’s or Will’s deaths.”

Amalie was not sure she could believe that Douglas would have Fife’s head for any reason. Was not the Governor the most powerful man in the realm?

She recalled others saying the Earl of Douglas was the most powerful. But at the time, they had been talking of the second earl, not the third.

James Douglas could raise ten thousand men in days. Archie had given up Tantallon Castle to Fife. Some said he’d forfeited the Douglas stronghold on the coast east of Edinburgh to win Fife’s support and become the third earl.

Fife’s support might not have been the sole reason the Douglases had chosen Archie, but it had helped. Any number of Douglases believed as he did that Fife was the only one in the royal family strong enough to rule Scotland.

The rest of her conversation with Garth was desultory until they had eased their hunger. Then he escorted her back into the garden.

As they approached the others, he said quietly, “Your instincts about Boyd are sound, lass. Take care not to be alone with him again.”

Anger stirred, but she could say nothing then. She had forgotten Isabel’s basket, too, but no one mentioned it, and the ladies all soon went inside.

The rest of that day passed without incident, as did Saturday and Sunday. On Monday, Sibylla strode into the hall just before Nones, announcing as she stepped onto the dais to join the others that visitors were approaching from the north.

“Despite the sky’s inclination to drip today, they fly the Murray banner, Amalie, dear,” she said. To Isabel, she added, “I sent word to the kitchen, madam. Indeed, I warned them yesterday that we might have visitors today.”

“How far away?” Lady Nancy asked her.

“Oh, a mile or two, I expect.”

Isabel said, “You cannot have seen their banner at such distance, Sibylla.”

Sibylla chuckled. “I could say its spirit wafted to me on the wind. But as dreary as it is today, if a wind stirred, it would just carry more drizzle. They sent someone ahead with the banner, of course. The rest will arrive in a half hour.”

“Very well, then I expect you also told our people to put off serving us until our visitors have had time to dry themselves,” Isabel said.

“I did, madam,” Sibylla said with a nod. “I knew you would want to wait.”

Amalie wondered if Sibylla had also learned of Garth’s nightmare from someone else. Perhaps that was how she so often seemed to know things others did not.

In any event, the Murray family arrived in an impressive cavalcade with the Murray men riding at its head and Rosalie riding beside Lady Murray’s horse litter.

Lady Murray’s waiting woman rode at the litter’s other side, and Sir Iagan’s usual tail of men-at-arms followed. The morning’s drizzle had eased to soggy air.

Amalie hurried with Isabel to greet them, hugging her younger sister with delight but a little surprised to find both Simon and Tom with them.

Tom leaped down to lift Rosalie from her pony.

Simon had long since made clear his belief that service to Fife was excuse enough for his part in the business at Hermitage two years before, but Tom had carefully kept out of Isabel’s way since then—and Amalie’s, for that matter.

Since Archie Douglas now controlled Hermitage, and since neither Fife nor any of his minions was likely to try seizing it again anytime soon, Tom doubtless hoped Isabel had forgotten by now that he’d taken part in the attempt.

Isabel had not forgotten, nor would she. But Amalie knew her well enough to know that she would politely accept him and Simon as guests in her house, while offering nothing friendlier. The princess was affable to an extent that her haughtier brothers derided as a fault. But she could be haughty, too. Indeed, Amalie knew that Isabel could change from one demeanor to the next in the blink of an eye, especially if someone angered her.

Undisturbed by the damp, Sir Iagan followed Rosalie, bowing to Isabel and hugging Amalie. She hugged him back. She had not missed him, but she enjoyed the familiar feeling of his embrace, as well as his blustery greeting and smacking kiss.

“Ye’re looking well, lass,” he said, as if he had not seen her just eight days before. “ ’Tis a fine, comfortable-looking house, this is now.”

“Thank you, Sir Iagan,” Isabel said. “It has taken two years to bring it to this state. But if you recall how it was when James gifted it to me, you know the work took nearly every minute of that time.”

“Aye, sure, thanks to the damnable English. Bless us, but we must hope this latest truce lasts its time. Raiders do far less damage than the English army.”

“They are also less likely to attack us here,” she said, adding as her gaze drifted beyond him, “Welcome to Sweethope, Lady Murray. We have held dinner for you, so I warrant you will want to refresh yourselves quickly. Amalie can take you and Rosalie to her chamber and then show you the way back down to the hall.”

“Thank you, madam,” Lady Murray said, sweeping her a deep curtsy. “We have enjoyed the great honor of your esteemed brother, the Governor’s, company these past two days. You will be pleased to hear that he is in excellent health and looking forward to seeing you
very
soon.”

“Indeed,” Isabel said, evincing no pleasure whatsoever in that news.

Chapter 9

R
osalie demanded directions to the garderobe, so Amalie turned her over to a friendly housemaid. Then, dutifully taking her mother up to her own room, she looked hastily around as she entered to be sure that neither she nor the efficient maidservant who attended her had left anything out of place. Lady Murray would take instant, censorious note of untidiness.

Surprisingly, Lady Murray condescended to compliment Amalie on her appearance, and even to approve of the little room. Speaking with uncharacteristic cheerfulness, she declared it a pleasant place indeed.

“It has a fine view of the walled garden,” Amalie said with a nod toward the single, narrow, half-shuttered window.

“I warrant it does, and there is water awaiting you in this ewer,” Lady Murray replied. “So I see you are well served.”

“Aye, sure, we are comfortable,” Amalie agreed warily.

“I am sure the princess looks after you well,” Lady Murray said. “One presumes that you have made the acquaintance of her serving knights.”

“Yes, madam.” Aware now of where her mother’s unusual geniality would lead, she said, “As they often eat in the hall with us, it would be odd if I had not.”

Lady Murray shot her a look that might have scared her witless as a child. Today it had no effect. Amalie was having too much trouble concealing her fury.

She did wonder why her mother hesitated to speak her mind, for she was not usually one to delay sharing unwelcome news.

Lady Murray had turned to dry her face, neck, and hands with a towel. Turning back as she put it down, she said archly, “Dare I hope you may prefer one of those knights to the others? ’Tis said that one is especially handsome and charming. He also enjoys excellent connections.”

“Madam, forgive me, but coyness does not suit you,” Amalie said. “If you have aught to say to me, pray say it and have done. I have no interest in any knight, or indeed, in any man. I thought I had made that plain.”

Discarding the arch tone, Lady Murray said, “You will do as your father bids you, Amalie, just as Meg did. And you will do so without unseemly discussion. You will
not
disgrace your family by continuing to be obstinate.”

“No one in my family has paid me any heed these two years past, madam. Why should your wishes now take precedence over my own?”

“Take care, girl,” Lady Murray said. “I am still your mother, and you are not yet of age. Moreover, Sir Harald is a close connection of—”

“—the Earl of Fife. Yes, I know. I had deduced for myself that Sir Harald is the man Simon wants me to marry. Well, I have met Sir Harald and find him overly familiar, distastefully fond of his own conceit, and rude withal. You and Simon may proclaim his supposed virtues as you please. I will have none of him.”

“I see,” Lady Murray said grimly. “Then I shall say no more, and we will go down and join the others. Am I to share this tiny room with you, or are there rooms enough here to spare one for your father and me?”

“The housekeeper will have all that in hand, but he will sleep in the north wing, because male guests do. I doubt Isabel was expecting Simon or Tom, but—”

“Faith, I cannot think why she would not. They were with us at Scone. And if she did not know that the Governor was traveling to Lauder Castle from there, she should have. He is her brother, after all.”

Amalie did not offer a reply to that, knowing she had pressed her luck enough already in challenging her mother at all. That she had done so must have surprised her ladyship, for it had certainly surprised Amalie.

She wondered if Sir Garth’s bluntness was having an effect on her and decided she must have adopted some of it from him. She was not usually so quick to speak out. Although, she reminded herself, she had felt increasingly confident of her opinions about everything except men since the day she had left Elishaw to travel with the newly married Meg to Scott’s Hall.

Rosalie entered then with Lady Murray’s woman in her wake, and shortly thereafter the three Murray ladies descended to the hall.

Isabel awaited them on the dais and directed Lady Murray to the seat at her left, with Sir Iagan on her right. Amalie gratefully took her own place, offering her younger sister the one next to her, at the end of the table.

“A chamber is ready for you and Sir Iagan in the north wing,” Isabel said when Lady Murray had settled herself. Casually, she added, “I warrant you will want to rest this afternoon. How long are we to enjoy your company?”

“I will stay two days, if that pleases you, Lady Edmonstone.”

Isabel said quietly, “You are welcome to stay as long as you like, but I prefer to be addressed as ‘madam’ or ‘Princess Isabel.’ ”

“That must certainly be as you wish, madam,” Lady Murray said with a regal nod. “ ’Tis a pity that our princes and princesses are not treated to the same degree of dignity as their English counterparts and called ‘highness.’ But then men of our royal family may not even claim the title of prince, only that of earl. I consider that most unfortunate. See you, I am of English birth, myself.”

“Yes, Lady Murray, I did know that.”

“You may call me Annabel if it pleases you,” Lady Murray said with more condescension than Isabel had ever displayed in Amalie’s presence.

“Thank you,” Isabel said. “Someone will show you to your chamber after we dine. Do ask for anything you want. If we have it, someone will produce it.”

Lady Sibylla, sitting at Amalie’s right, leaned nearer and murmured for her ear alone, “Your mother was Annabel Percy before her marriage, was she not?”

“Aye,” Amalie murmured back. “She is cousin to Northumberland.”

“Then why is she eyeing our newest knight so hungrily? ’Tis the expression of an eager lass eyeing a potential husband.”