Even as she thought about him, he strode into the hall.
“Andrew,” he said, his deep voice carrying easily the length of the chamber, “run tell your mam there will be other guests to dine. There is a party coming over the hill to the east, and the men on the wall say they carry Lord Eure’s banner.”
His gaze met Laurie’s, and she felt her heartbeat quicken.
He smiled and said, “Forgive me, lass, but I must go up and let Thaddeus work his miracles. I’ve been helping Geordie and his lads repair a stall that one of the horses kicked to bits in the night, and I’m not fit for female company.”
Lord Eure arrived before Sir Hugh or his overnight guest showed himself, and Lady Marjory entered the hall on his heels. Ned Rowan, having accompanied Lord Eure inside, presented him to her ladyship.
Lady Marjory made her curtsy. “It is a great pleasure and privilege to meet another of Her Majesty’s march wardens, my lord.” As she straightened, she gestured gracefully toward Laurie, adding, “I do not believe that you are yet acquainted with Lady Graham.”
“No, madam,” his lordship said, making his leg.
Laurie, rendered briefly speechless by her ladyship’s casual reference to her, collected her wits sufficiently to say, “It is a pleasure, my lord.”
His smile encompassed them both, but it was to Laurie that he said, “Her ladyship mistakes my position, I’m afraid. I am no longer Her Majesty’s warden. I sent my resignation to the Privy Council immediately after Buccleuch’s release from Blackness and his raid on Tynedale. I received word this morning that they have appointed a man to take my place.”
“Indeed, sir,” Lady Marjory said, “and who is the lucky gentleman?”
Eure chuckled. “Lucky? I don’t count him so, my lady, but perhaps he will see the matter otherwise. We will learn that soon enough, though, for the gentleman in question is none other than your own Sir Hugh Graham.”
Laurie heard an exclamation and turned to behold Sir Hugh standing at the threshold. He did not look particularly pleased by the news.
“There you are, Hugh,” Eure said, striding to shake his hand. “I’ve brought the letter with me. It appears that Her Majesty, having learned that you not only gave your sister in marriage to an influential Scotsman but have married the daughter of another, believes you are unusually suited to serve as her warden of the middle marches, despite having been born and bred in the Borders. She says that if men with connections like yours cannot bring peace, no one can. What say you, sir?”
“I say that I shall never understand Her Majesty,” Sir Hugh said sourly.
One kiss o your comely mouth,
I’m sure wad comfort me.
T
HE DISCUSSION AT THE
high table turned to the duties of a march warden and such difficulties as he might expect to encounter in the middle marches. Lady Marjory contributed her mite whenever she found an opening, but Laurie was content to listen. Despite Sir Hugh’s obvious reluctance, she agreed with Lady Marjory in believing that he would make an excellent warden.
The gentlemen continued to talk after the trestle tables were cleared from the hall. When Lady Marjory excused herself to take her customary nap, Laurie returned to the kitchen, knowing there would be much work to do there before the time arrived to serve the next meal.
Despite Meggie’s protests, it was not long before she tied a large apron over her gown and joined Nancy and Andrew in the scullery, helping them scrub the myriad pots and platters. When Meggie informed her sternly from the doorway that it was not suitable work for a gentlewoman, Laurie laughed.
Handing Nancy another platter to scrub, she said over her shoulder, “Would you let me cook, Meggie?”
“D’ye ken how t’ do aught but turn the spit?”
“I know very little about cooking for so large a household.”
“Well, then, what use could ye be till I could teach ye?”
“But that’s just what I mean,” Laurie said as she took a pot from Andrew and looked about to see where it should go. “At present, you must let me help you the best way I know.”
“But the master—”
“I do not want to hear about the master,” Laurie said. “I tell you, he would not care, nor need he ever know. Now, where in heaven’s name do I hang this pot?”
“I’ll hang it over the fire to dry first, so it willna rust,” Meggie said, taking it from her and turning. “There be another hanging on the swey, waiting to go up on its hook, if ye’d like t’ come and tak’ it off for me.”
Laurie followed her into the kitchen, picking up a towel to protect her hand from the hot iron pot. In order to hang it from the pothook, she pulled a stool over and climbed onto it. As she reached up with both hands to hang the pot from the hook, she heard Meggie give a sharp cry of dismay.
Looking over one shoulder to see what had startled the woman, Laurie gasped at the sight of Sir Hugh standing in the doorway, frowning. She missed the hook with the pot handle, and the hot pot swayed in her grasp, burning her forearm and startling her so that she lost her balance.
As the stool went out from under her, a strong arm caught her and a big hand knocked the pot out of her hand. The heavy iron vessel hit the floor with a crash.
Picking Laurie up in both arms, Sir Hugh said curtly, “Wet a towel with cold water, Meggie.” Then, with a foot, he hooked the bench by the table where Nancy had chopped vegetables. Pulling it out, he sat on it, cradling Laurie in his arms.
“Hold out your arm,” he ordered. “What the devil’s keeping you, Meggie?”
“Here, master,” Meggie said quietly, handing him a wet towel.
With his arms still around her, he ripped Laurie’s sleeve, baring her reddened arm. Then he took the towel from Meggie and clapped it against the burn.
Laurie nearly protested his cavalier treatment of Janet’s gown, but no man had ever held her so, and not being certain what he would do next, she kept silent. The cold water felt good against the burn.
She noted that Meggie was silent, too, and that the children in the scullery were as quiet as two mice.
When Sir Hugh took the towel away, Meggie said, “Will ye want herbs or such to put on it, master?”
“Nay, there is no blister. It will heal quickly. What the devil are you doing in here, mistress?” he demanded of Laurie.
A little frisson of fear shot up her spine when her gaze met his, and she remembered the many comments that she had heard about his temper in the time she had been at Brackengill. Wishing she didn’t have damp blotches all down the front of her gown and that she could stand on her own two feet to face him, she said only, “I was helping Meggie.”
“Dry your hands and come with me,” he said grimly as he stood, still holding her, and then set her on her feet.
Fixing her gaze on the middle of his broad chest, she said, “What are you going to do?”
“Never mind that. Just do as I tell you.”
Encountering a sympathetic look from Meggie, Laurie obeyed reluctantly. As she followed him up the spiral stone steps toward the hall, she told herself more than once that he could not eat her. Still, her stomach churned, and her hands felt damp even after she had rubbed them on her skirt.
Instead of going all the way into the hall, Sir Hugh entered a small chamber near it, waiting by the door until she had followed him in, then shutting it.
The room seemed small, too small to contain the two of them. It seemed to lack air, too, for Laurie could not seem to breathe. She could still feel where his hands had touched her, and she could feel the burn on her forearm throbbing.
Trying to compose herself, she avoided his gaze and looked about the room instead. It boasted a plastered ceiling and walls, oak wainscoting, and an arched fireplace that occupied nearly the entire wall opposite the door. Its furnishings comprised only a carved wooden chest against the wall to the left of the hearth and a writing table and chair against the wall on the right. Candles burned in a pair of sconces over the table. The only other light came from the small crackling fire.
Sir Hugh turned his back to the fire, clasped his hands behind him, and scowled at her. “From the look of you, you weren’t just hanging pots. You were washing them as well. Why the devil were you working in the scullery?”
“Someone has to do it,” Laurie said calmly.
“Not you!” A single stride closed the distance between them, and his hands gripped her upper arms tightly. “There are servants to do such things,” he said, giving her a little shake. “I did not bring you here to be a servant, nor will I allow you to be used so. Meggie is going to hear what I think about this, I can tell you.”
“That’s not fair,” Laurie said, looking up into his eyes. “I offered to help, sir. She did not ask.”
He gave her another shake, and then with a groan he pulled her close and lowered his head, claiming her lips with his own.
Shocked, Laurie did not move. His lips were warm and moist against hers, but his body and arms felt hard and unyielding. She felt a part of him stir against her abdomen, and then she was conscious only of his lips and hands, and feelings they were awakening throughout her body.
Without a thought for consequence, she responded, kissing him back.
One of his hands moved to touch the bare skin of her breast above the edge of her bodice, and she heard him groan again. He sounded as if he were in pain, but he did not stop what he was doing. His tongue touched the opening of her lips, and his fingers dipped beneath the edge of her bodice. She felt a finger touch the nipple of one breast, and a burning far different from that on her arm swept through her. She gasped, and his tongue penetrated her mouth. No one had ever kissed her so, but she did not mind in the least. She pressed harder against him.
His fingers touched the lacing on her bodice, searching for the ties. Then they stopped moving. He put his hands at her waist and raised his head, glancing up at the ceiling as if he sought help from a higher source.
Quietly, he said, “That was unforgivable, lass. I did not mean to take advantage of you, but if I do not stop this, much more will happen. I could blame the fact that I have had little sleep in the past twenty-four hours, or the fact that much has happened in that time, but those things have naught to do with this. In truth, I have wanted to kiss you since the first day you came here.”
She stared silently at him, thinking that God would probably strike her down if she admitted that she had wanted him to do so and wanted him to do so again, no matter what it led to. The thought was wanton and doubtless a betrayal of her family and her country. Encouraging him would be downright treasonous.
Doubtless he had similar feelings, for his voice sharpened as he said, “Stay out of the kitchen.” He stepped away from her, adding, “You are never again to lower yourself to such menial tasks!”
“Don’t be daft, sir,” Laurie said, recovering her wits. “You cannot expect one woman and her children to go on doing the cooking and cleaning up for all the men here. It is cruel to expect such things of them.”
“I don’t expect such things,” he said wearily. “There are any number of men and lads to help them. They have only to ask, and so I have told them.”
“You cannot expect your men-at-arms to answer to Meggie or to allow the lackeys who serve them to do so unless your captain orders it,” Laurie told him.
“Then he should order it.”
“He does so but only on occasions like today’s, when you entertain company. His men will not clean the rooms, and if any of them knows that you expect him to wash pots, none has admitted as much. They expect women to do those things. We can get Andrew, Peter, and other stable lads to pluck chickens and carry wood if they are not busy with their other chores, but it is nearly impossible for Meggie to issue a command to any of your men that they will obey. You should realize that for yourself. Have you ever given them direct orders to obey her? Who should do so when you and Ned Rowan are away from home?”
To her surprise, he looked rueful. Visibly collecting himself, he said, “I admit, lass, I had not noticed there even was a problem. My sister attended to such things, and my men obeyed her as they would obey me. I assumed that they did the same chores for Meggie, or if not for her, for my aunt. I will tell them that they must, but you are not to labor at such tasks again.”
“Truly, I do not mind helping, sir,” she said. “I have little else to do, and I am unaccustomed to being idle. Your aunt means well, but this household is not what she is accustomed to. In London, her steward commanded twelve menservants and as many maidservants. She had only to hint at a wish to see it fulfilled—or so she tells me, at all events.”
“No doubt she is speaking the truth,” he said with a sigh. “But if the pair of you want more maidservants, you have only to tell Meggie to hire them.”
Surprised, Laurie said, “Can she do so? I am sure she does not know it.”
“Then you must tell her,” he said. “I have no time for such stuff, and if my aunt has had any complaints, she certainly has not spoken of them to me. I assumed she thought everything was fine as it is.”
“She has her own maid, and she does not like to trouble you,” Laurie said.
“Well, I don’t deny that it would be a nuisance to look for maidservants,” he said. “Indeed, I hope Meggie will attend to whatever you require, because I have no time for such stuff. I don’t mean to linger here, as it is.”
“You must leave again?” Unexpected disappointment washed over her.
“Aye,” he said. “Your Liddesdale men been raiding again, and not only has Scrope ordered me to deal with them as his deputy but now I am warden for the middle march. James has agreed to turn Buccleuch over to Sir Robert Cary at Berwick, which means the Liddesdale men will be wild again.”
Laurie tensed but forced herself to say calmly, “What are you going to do?”
“I intend to teach them another lesson,” he said grimly. “This time, I’ll make it clear that I will not tolerate their thieving in Redesdale or Tynedale.”
“When must you go?”
“It will take my lads a day to gather the men, but I expect to be away by dawn’s light on Thursday.”