Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (32 page)

She believed him, because even now the thought of what his touch could do to her stirred responses all through her body. But she could not let it happen.

If it did, it would destroy a friendship she had come to cherish and any tenderness or desire he might feel for her.

Her mother had made that clear, and Lady Murray did not lie.

At least he was not angry with her—not yet. He had also called her Molly-lass again, just as he had in the hall. She had trusted him then, and perhaps she could trust him now, but she did not understand why everyone else thought they were married. Even if they were, it would not last long.

Softly, he said, “Lost your tongue?”

Swallowing, she said, “I just don’t understand why we must couple at once.”

“Because until we consummate our marriage, it won’t be a real marriage.”

The realization struck her hard that
he
truly believed they were man and wife, and he meant to treat her accordingly.

But they had reached Isabel’s bedchamber.

Alarmed that Lady Averil or one of the other ladies was about to see her slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain, she murmured hastily as Garth raised his free hand to knock, “Prithee, sir, put me down first.”

“I will, aye,” he said as he lifted her easily and set her on her feet. Still holding her, he looked into her eyes as he added, “I’d as lief not have to discuss all that has happened tonight with anyone else yet, so wait until—”

The door opened, and Lady Averil stood on the threshold, her eyebrows soaring upward when she saw them. “Sir Garth,” she said sternly, “you know that gentlemen are not allowed in this part of the house. Amalie, I am astonished at—”

“The princess sent us, my lady,” Garth said. “Amalie and I are married now, and she kindly offered us her own bedchamber for the night.”

Radiating disapproval, Lady Averil looked at Amalie.

Reluctantly, she said, “Isabel did send us, my lady. She said she will share your chamber. If that is too great an imposition, then perhaps—”

“No command of hers is ever an imposition,” Lady Averil said austerely. “Pray send for me, sir, if anything here is not to your liking.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Garth said. “I am sure we will not disturb you.”

Lady Nancy was in the room, too, but when Lady Averil summoned her, she quickly emerged.

“How does Sibylla fare?” Amalie asked, remembering her sudden illness.

“I am sure it was just a temporary upset,” Lady Averil said with a glance at Garth. “Good night now. We wish you both very happy, I’m sure.”

“Thank you,” Garth said, urging Amalie inside and shutting the door.

The princess’s room was large and cool, its window shutters open to admit the soft night air. But to Amalie just then it seemed hard to breathe there. She turned to face Garth and saw, to her relief, that he looked only concerned.

“You’ve had quite a night, Molly-lass,” he said. “But I should tell you first of all that the lady Sibylla was not sick. She is the reason I returned when I did.”

“Sibylla pretended to be sick so she could send someone to fetch you?”

“She rode after me herself. Said it would take too long to persuade anyone else that someone should. Sym Elliot says she rides like the devil, and he’s right.”

“She never counts cost,” Amalie said, wishing she need not do so. His presence was having the same effect on her that it always did.

“Just don’t be trying to emulate her,” he said. “She took a great risk, riding as wildly as she did, not to mention riding out alone with all of Fife’s men milling about on that hillside. I don’t mean to be a harsh husband, lass, but I would react badly to such behavior on your part.”

She sighed. “Are we really married, sir? I had no idea one could marry so easily, without banns or hearing a priest say the words.”

“We can be married in a kirk later if you want,” he said. “But we are as legally bound now as if we’d had the banns read and all.”

“Can naught be done to change it?”

He hesitated. “Simon could demand an annulment. You need only tell him that you stayed silent because you did not know what it would mean to—”

“Faith, is that what it was?
I
did it?”

“We both did it. I made the declaration, and by law, if a man declares before witnesses that he is married and the woman does not deny it, the marriage is legal.”

“Mercy!”

“I must tell you,” he said, “I held my breath, expecting you to declare it a lie.”

“But if you never lie, I’m surprised such a notion even occurred to you.”

“I did not think of it,” he admitted. “Isabel did.”

“Isabel
told
you to lie?” She felt an odd surge of disappointment. “Is that why you did it?”

“No, lass. I would not lie for Isabel unless someone threatened her life and I required the use of such a ruse to save her.”

“Did you believe my life was in danger?”

“I did not.”

“Then, why did you deceive them so?”

His gaze met hers. “Because I could
not
let them force you to marry Boyd.”

“That was kind of you, sir, but you must want an annulment now.”

“Must I?”

“Aye, sure. You cannot tell me I am the sort of wife you seek.”

“In troth, lass, I had not thought of seeking a wife yet. Still, I’ll own that you do not meet the qualifications I once thought I would require.”

“Of course, I don’t,” she said. “You are forever telling me how I ought to behave, and in the most irritating way. Doubtless you want a wife who will do as you bid without your even having to tell her.”

“The lass I had designed for myself was comely, of course,” he said with an air of wistful memory. “She was also pure of heart and mind, and perfectly virtuous, as well as being gentle, courteous, kind, and
always
obedient to my will.”

“I don’t fit any of those requirements,” she said. “But she sounds tiresome.”

“She would be, aye,” he said. “Now, as for you, you are certainly comely enough, and you come from a noble family, which will be important to my mother. You are often courteous. You have any number of other attributes to offer a man, and I have not the least doubt that you are entirely virtuous.”

With a mournful catch in her throat, she forced herself to say lightly, “Do gentlemen always seek entirely virtuous ladies to marry?”

“Aye, sure, but you’ve nowt to worry you on that head. Now,” he went on before she could decide how to reply, “you will want time to ready yourself for bed, and I must have a word with Tammy. I’ve a notion I’m not going to sleep for some time yet, so he and Sym must ride to Archie and explain my delay to him.”

“You
will
have to go, though, won’t you?”

“I will, because I must tell him all that has happened and confess that I’ve learned nowt about Will’s death or James’s that we did not know before. Although Isabel is sure that both were acts of murder and I
know
that Will’s death was, I cannot provide Archie with any useful evidence. The details about James are debatable, and the accused armorer has died. Evidently, so has the man who may have killed the armorer. I dislike having to admit failure, but there it is.”

“What will you do?”

“Archie expects to see me tomorrow midday at Hawick. If Tam and Sym ride out at first light, they should arrive in time to meet him. I’ll follow when Simon, Fife, and their men have departed for Elishaw. I cannot take you with me to Archie, so I must stay here at least long enough to know you will be safe.”

“Am I not to go home then?” The relief she felt stirred instant guilt. How could any daughter but a wicked one feel relief at missing her father’s burial?

“You’ll not go with Simon and Fife as escorts,” he said. “I think Archie wants only to know where Fife is going and if I’ve learned more about Will or James. If that is all, I will return late tomorrow or Wednesday. We can ride to Elishaw then together. Have you any idea how long Simon will wait to bury your father?”

“Well, it is summer, but recall that he sent Tom to fetch our mother, and I doubt he will proceed without her. She would be dreadfully angry if he did.”

“As I recall, she does not travel swiftly,” he said.

“No, and Tom most likely did not reach the Hall until late this afternoon. Also, he will have to arrange a proper escort for her, because . . . What?”

“I told him to leave her escort to Buccleuch to provide. And Buccleuch does
not
travel slowly. Therefore, his men are unlikely to do so either.”

Amalie shook her head. “Go and talk with Tammy, sir. But do not worry about Wat. Even he cannot get my mother out of her bed before midmorning, or force her to travel more than ten miles in a day. The distance from Scott’s Hall to Elishaw is more than twice that far.”

He looked skeptical, but she urged him to go and have his talk with Tam.

When he had gone, she curled up on a cushioned window seat and tried to think about anything other than what he would think of her by morning. Since she could imagine only that he would end a marriage she had insisted she never wanted, it was infuriating that her eyes welled with tears at the thought.

A rap on the door gave her time to dash the tears away before Sibylla walked in. “Don’t scold me for intruding,” she said. “I heard Sir Garth go downstairs, and I’ve brought a jug of wine and two goblets. Even if you do not want any, I warrant that, after such a day as he has had, he will be grateful for some.”

“He told me you rode after him to bring him back.”

“Aye, I did. The sight of that priest padding in Fife’s shadow like a tame cat told me what they were about. And since you have made it plain that Harald Boyd repulses you, I thought you’d rather not be forced to marry him.”

“You were right, and I thank you for what you did. But Garth should not have tricked me into marrying him, either. I’ll wager you’ve heard by now how that happened, so what am I to do, Sibylla?”

“Is it so dreadful, being married to Sir Garth?”

Tears spilled down Amalie’s cheeks, and as she wiped them on her sleeve, she said, “I should
not
be crying. I never wanted to marry and he won’t want to stay married, so I should just be glad he was willing to tell such a huge lie to rescue me.”

“He won’t seek an annulment, Amalie,” Sibylla said quietly.

“You cannot know that.”

“Aye, sure, I can. That man shows his feelings in every expression and gesture he makes, just as do you, my dear. I predict you will both be very happy.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about. He is forever correcting me, and I have ignored and defied him. That is not behavior that makes a good marriage. What’s more, I lack
every
quality of the bride he hoped to marry.”

“Do you?” Sibylla said dryly.

Amalie could not explain exactly what she lacked, not to Sibylla, so she said, “Sakes, you should not even be here. Thank you for the wine, but pray do go away now and let me cry in peace.”

“You won’t cry, because I brought you something besides the wine,” Sibylla said. Taking a small vial from her sleeve, she held it out. “Dab a little on your wrists and behind your ears before he returns. He’ll like it, I promise you.”

“Thank you,” Amalie said. “It won’t make any difference, but thank you.”

“Keep that vial,” Sibylla said with a grin. Then she was gone.

Chapter 17

I
t was dark in the garden and silent except for a few crickets chirping.

Garth’s eyes quickly adjusted to the soft glow of myriad stars, and staying on the grassy verge to muffle his footsteps, he followed the white-pebbled path to the gate. Gently opening it and shutting it after himself, he crossed to the dormer, found Tammy and Sym, and took them into the dormer’s entry hall to speak privately.

Cutting off their astonished exclamations at learning of his sudden marriage, and strictly adjuring both to keep the news of it to themselves, he told them what else he wanted them to do.

“Aye, sure, sir,” Tam said. “We’ll be off for Hawick then as soon as it grows light enough to see where we be a-goin’.”

“At the screech o’ dawn,” Sym said, adding hopefully, “Won’t we ha’ to push the horses hard, even so, sir?”

“No need for that,” Garth told him. “The Douglas won’t look for me until midday, and you’ll have at least five hours and won’t be stopping at Dryburgh. So you should make it in time. If the Governor and Murray leave here early enough, I may be just a short while behind you.”

Bidding them goodnight soon after that, he walked back to the garden gate, trying to imagine what lay ahead. With a half smile and a shake of his head, he pondered what he had done and wondered what demon had possessed him to do it.

Had he been a fool? His father would have said so if he had submitted to such an impulse before that gentleman breathed his last. But the late Lord Westruther had gone beyond any ability to call his son to account for his misbehavior.

Even as Garth was thanking the Fates for that, he felt a twinge of disappointment that his sire would never meet Amalie.

He smiled then, knowing that his father would have liked her the moment he clapped eyes on her. His mother might be more difficult, because he had it on the word of his sister Joan that mothers-in-law rarely liked their sons’ wives, especially wives of their eldest or only sons.

But Lady Westruther was a woman of strong good sense and a ready sense of humor. Where his father would have condemned his impulsive lack of forethought or discussion, and berated him for both, her ladyship was bound to think he had got just what he deserved. She would insist that all her sympathy lay with his bride.

Crickets still chirped in the garden, but the only other sound he heard as he retraced his steps was the distant, soft whicker of a horse in its stable.

First things first, he decided, reaching the steps. Before he could introduce Amalie to his family, he had a task to complete. He could not allow his thoughts to dwell on the people he must tell, or what anyone else might think of his marriage.

As he opened the door into the corridor, his senses alerted again for voice or footstep. He continued to listen warily as he bolted the door and went up the service stairs. Most servants who used them would not know that he had Isabel’s consent to be there, so any he met would point out his error. He hoped he would have a chance to explain himself before anyone raised ruckus enough to catch Fife’s attention.