Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (20 page)

“I’ll come at once, aye,” she said. Without daring to look at Garth again, she hurried away with her sister to Lady Murray.

The ladies Sibylla and Susan both being proficient with the lute as well, and the company knowing a number of ballads in common, the evening turned into a musical one, making for a pleasant change. Despite the entertainment, Amalie was conscious of tension, but whether it stemmed from Garth’s displeasure with her or Sir Harald’s continued, unwanted attention, she was not sure.

The only sure thing was that she wanted to say goodnight to them all and go to bed. But when she slept, her dreams turned nightmarish, and twice she awoke abruptly, trembling, from dreams of the old mill near Elishaw. In the second one, she had fallen onto the floor, where icy shards of scattered grain poked her painfully.

One of the lass’s smooth, bare arms lay across his belly. She leaned up on the other elbow and stroked back the stray lock of hair that always tumbled onto his forehead. Then her soft lips pressed against his, sending a shock of warm desire through him. He set his hands at her narrow waist and shifted her so her body lay along the length of him, her wonderfully soft breasts flattening against his chest.

She rubbed herself against him, moaned, and eased a hand down, seeking his cock. Wrapping warm fingers around it, she eased it between her soft nether lips.

He gasped, the candlelight vanished, and black terror filled him.

He was no longer in that pleasant bed but running downhill as fast as he could, pursued by a thousand armed men through pitch darkness that threatened to stifle him like a harsh and heavy cloak.

He could not see a thing, but the need to run faster increased. When the ground disappeared beneath him and he began to fall, he screamed in terror.

The landing was surprisingly soft, springy, and strangely sticky.

He tried to pull away, to find purchase beneath him, but the stuff into which he had fallen closed around him, cocooning him with strands that felt familiar to his touch. The thought that it was a spider’s web struck hard, and as he wondered what size its occupant would be . . .

Garth woke to find himself sitting bolt upright in his bed, his hands clammy and his heaving gasps so loud that he feared half the household must hear them.

The Murray men prepared to depart the next morning soon after the household broke its fast, Simon to ride back to Lauder, the others to Elishaw.

As Amalie followed them from the dais into the entry hall with her mother and sister, Tom stopped, looked back, and said, “Rosalie, would you not rather go home with our lord father and me?” To Lady Murray he added, “She will only be underfoot at the Hall, madam. What say you?”

Amalie glanced at Simon, who looked at Rosalie. “What do you want, lass?”

“I am going to see Meg’s new baby,” she said. “Mother promised.”

“I did promise her,” Lady Murray said. “It was kind of you to think of her, Thomas, but she will be busy at the Hall. Some experience of a lying-in will be good for her. She won’t be present at the birthing, of course. That would be unsuitable, and Meg would not like it. But she can see her new cousin. As for being underfoot,” she added with heavy humor, “do you think me unable to prevent that?”

Tom hastily assured her that he had thought only of her convenience and Rosalie’s amusement. Then he hurried upstairs.

Isabel said from the great-hall doorway, “I expect you will travel to Scott’s Hall by way of Melrose Abbey tomorrow, will you not, madam?”

“Of course,” Lady Murray said. “Simon has sent a man ahead to warn the abbot of our coming. We will spend one night in the guesthouse there.”

“Then I will ride with you, if you do not object,” Isabel said. “I had thought I might go next week, but it will be pleasant to travel with friends. Moreover, it will allow you to extend your visit with Amalie.”

Only then did Amalie realize that the subject of her return to Elishaw had not arisen again. She doubted that her mother or Simon had given up the idea of marrying her to Sir Harald, but apparently they had realized it could do their cause no good for Lady Murray to drag her to Scott’s Hall and then home.

Her mother’s next words made things clearer: “Do your knights all travel with you when you leave home, madam?”

“Sir Kenneth will stay here with enough men to look after things. Sir Harald, Sir Garth, and the other men will be more than enough for this short journey.”

“It will be especially pleasant to have Sir Harald along,” Lady Murray said. “I find him quite charming. I have not spoken with Sir Garth Napier, however. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

Amalie glanced at Garth, who had walked up behind the princess in time to hear her announce that he and Sir Harald would accompany her to Melrose.

A thoughtful look entered his eyes as he shifted his gaze to Amalie.

Remembering their last exchange, she lifted her chin. He might be riding with their party, but he had better understand that his advice to anyone other than Isabel was both undesirable and unnecessary.

“Do you favor Melrose Abbey over Dryburgh, madam?” Lady Murray asked as they waited for the Murray men. “I prefer the latter. Such a beautiful setting.”

“Yes, it is,” Isabel said. “I prefer Melrose because my lord husband did.”

“You speak of James Douglas, of course,” Lady Murray said. “I do recall now that he lies buried in the churchyard there. But you have remarried,” she added with a frown. “Do you continue to visit his grave?”

“Yes, I do,” Isabel said. “James Douglas was the love of my life, and until I can discover exactly how he died, he will not rest in peace.”

“She looks gey displeased,” Rosalie whispered to Amalie.

“Hush, dearling,” Amalie murmured back. “It is painful for her to speak of him, and we must respect her grief.”

“But James Douglas has been dead two whole years!”

“Rosalie, what
are
you prattling about?” Lady Murray demanded.

“Naught of any import, madam,” Rosalie said easily. “I was just teasing Amalie. I have missed her, so pray do not scold me.”

“Go and fetch your stitching, my dearling. You were too lazy yesterday and must be more industrious today. You know I do not tolerate idle hands.”

“Aye, madam, I’ll go at once,” Rosalie said, casting a droll look at Amalie.

Amalie watched her run upstairs and heard a commotion as she disappeared from sight. Sir Iagan came down almost at once afterward, shaking his head.

“Nearly bowled me over,” he said with a smile. “That bairn has more energy than is good for any young woman.”

His tone was indulgent, and Amalie realized that her parents both treated Rosalie much more kindly than they had treated her or Meg, or even their brothers. Not that they did not indulge Simon and Tom, for neither could do wrong now, it seemed, but their parents did not treat either of them as dotingly as they did Rosalie.

The child had been only eleven when Amalie had left Elishaw, and in many ways she did not seem older now. But she was beginning to be a woman, and her body and features showed signs of maturity, if her personality did not.

Sir Iagan came to Amalie and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Ye’ve grown into a beauty, lass. Ye do me proud, and ’tis glad I am to see it.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said doubtfully, recalling a time when men at Elishaw and elsewhere had termed the Murray daughters three of the homeliest lasses in the Borders. They had done so, however, only until Meg married. Now that she was wife to Buccleuch, who had a quick, fiery temper, the comments had ceased.

Her father squeezed her shoulders, planted a kiss on her lips, and turned to make his bow to Isabel. “I thank ye, madam, for your hospitality and wish ye a safe journey to Melrose. Ye’ll be welcome at Elishaw whenever ye choose to come to us.”

“Thank you, Sir Iagan,” Isabel said with a smile. “I should thank you for your daughter’s companionship these past months. She is a great comfort to me.”

Simon and Tom came clattering down the stairs and led the way outside.

As Amalie moved to follow, a touch on her arm stopped her, and she turned to find Sir Garth gazing somberly down at her. Heat fired her cheeks, and she had an instant desire to flee, although she could not have explained why.

Garth saw the color flood her cheeks as he said, “Art still vexed with me?”

“I . . . I thought I had vexed you,” she said. Then she squeezed her eyes shut as if she wished she had not spoken.

He almost chuckled but decided that would be tactless. Instead, he said, “I did not mean to anger you. I was just uneasy, because to tease a man can be dangerous.”

“I don’t tease. I
want
to discourage him.” She looked around, but even Isabel had gone outside. “I should go, sir. My brothers and my father are leaving.”

“I know. I also heard that when your mother travels to Melrose tomorrow to stay the night there, Isabel will go, too. Simon is taking his men back to Lauder with him, and your father will spare only a few to accompany her ladyship and your sister, so the princess is likely to send some of her own men with them when they go on to Scott’s Hall.”

“ ’Tis safe enough from Melrose to Rankilburn Glen, sir. No one would interfere with them,” Amalie said.

“You may be right,” he said. “But Sir Kenneth told me that as the princess always travels with a large escort, she seeks to see other women as well protected. It was he who told me she will want to send some of us along to Scott’s Hall.”

Amalie knew he was right. Isabel had done as much before, for other female travelers. It would disturb her to allow Lady Murray and Rosalie, who had been her guests, to depart with a smaller escort than the one with which they had arrived.

She said, “I wonder if Isabel will stay longer than usual at Melrose, then.”

He shook his head. “She need not. We can divide our group and still protect both parties. It is only about twenty miles to the Hall from Melrose, after all.”

“Is it? I’ve not traveled there from here.”

“We’ll follow Ettrick Water, which joins the Tweed at Melrose.” He hesitated, then said, “I shan’t return straightaway.”

“You’re going away? But where?”

“To Galloway.”

A wave of disappointment struck her. She would miss him. Worse, if he went away and Sir Harald stayed, the latter would prove a nuisance. And if Simon tried to force the marriage he sought, she was not sure Isabel could protect her—especially if Simon acted under Fife’s direction.

“What is it, lass? Don’t say you’ll miss me, for I shan’t believe it.”

“Are you leaving for good?”

“Nay, but I’ve learned that Fife is to journey through the Borders, and I’ll warrant Archie knows nowt of it. So I thought I’d better go myself to warn him. Sithee, Fife tried once to seize Hermitage, and Archie will want to do all he can to prevent him from making such mischief again.”

Realizing he did not know that her brothers had taken part in the attempt on Hermitage, and not wanting to tell him, she said, “Fife is Chief Warden of the Borders now. Doubtless he thinks it is both his right and his duty to meet with landowners and inspect their estates.”

He grinned. “That may be what is in Fife’s mind, but I can tell you that few Border lords will heed his orders if Archie issues contrary ones. Archie is still Warden of the West March and still considers himself lord of all three, despite anything Fife may think to the contrary. So Archie would not thank me for keeping this news to myself. I’ll be gone only a few days, though.”

Amalie was silent, assuring herself that his absence would mean nothing to her, that Simon would stay at Lauder and she could easily manage Sir Harald.

Although her disappointment lingered, it eased considerably when she realized that her awareness that Garth would ride all the way to Threave Castle in Galloway to warn Archie about Fife had banished the last lingering vestige of concern that he might somehow serve Fife.

Garth watched the expressions play across her fascinating face and wondered what she was thinking. She had looked near tears when he had said he was leaving. But then she had nearly smiled, so whatever had troubled her about his departure was nowt to what had pleased her.

Thus did the lass continue to disturb his thoughts, so his dream the night before had been both prophetic and a well-deserved warning. That she attracted him was patently obvious. It was equally obvious that if he continued to respond to that attraction, he would soon find himself in the suds one way or another.

Buccleuch’s image stirred in his mind’s eye then. When memory of the sticky web followed, he told himself firmly that he could not allow her to divert him more now, in any event, because it was important that he get word to Archie.

He had first learned of Fife’s intent soon after the Murrays arrived, and had expected the first obstacle to warning Archie to be a lack of easy access to Isabel. In his position as serving knight, it was no part of his duty to approach her, let alone to request what might be lengthy discussion with her. Then it occurred to him that, as Kenneth was to stay at Sweethope, he would take charge of the journey to Melrose.

Midway through that afternoon, as he had confidently expected, Kenneth told him that Isabel wanted to see him.

“She’ll be in the garden, lad. Go to her there.”

Garth found her with all of her ladies including Amalie.

“You will take charge of my escort, sir,” Isabel said.

She did not ask him to walk with her, however, so to keep her from dismissing him at once, he said, “I am honored, madam. I have traveled that way often to visit my kinsmen.”

“I assumed that you had,” she said. “I thought, too, that you might enjoy a brief visit at the Hall, so I mean to send you and some of our men with Lady Murray and Rosalie from Melrose. You will return here as soon as you see them safely arrived and have rested your men and the horses.”

“Yes, madam.” He hesitated.

“Was there something you wanted to add, sir?”

“There is, aye,” he said. Unable to think how to phrase his request without stirring undue curiosity among the other ladies, he was relieved when she stood and suggested that perhaps they should walk.