Besieging Tarras Wood wasn’t like besieging a castle, where doors and windows were easy to see. The forest sprawled for miles. She was confident that if she were in any position to visit the Elliots, she could slip into the woods, make her way to the cottage, and slip away without Sir Hugh or his men being any the wiser.
She kept these thoughts to herself but decided that Sir Hugh was less likely to succeed in his siege than to fail. Nevertheless, as the days passed, she found her thoughts often returning to Sir Hugh and the people of Tarras Wood.
The castle hummed with activity. Matty and Sheila had taken up residence in a room near Meggie’s, and although the other maids went home at night, by day the sounds of their chatter and singing as they attended to their work enlivened life at Brackengill considerably. Even men who had been unhappy that Sir Hugh had left them behind to guard the castle grew more cheerful as each day passed.
For a time, Laurie was content with her role as chatelaine. Her days were so busy that she even looked forward to relaxing evening conversations with Lady Marjory. However, once things settled into a routine, her contentment vanished. She knew the maidservants liked her and that none resented her supervision, but she was not accustomed to the role and Meggie no longer needed her assistance.
Although Blanche had complained that she shirked her duties at Aylewood, she had not evaded them so much as she had evaded Blanche. Nonetheless, the result was the same. Without obvious work to do and with maids who knew their business better than she did, she soon found herself at a loss.
Had Brackengill been as much her home as most of the servants seemed to think it was, she might have sought advice from Meggie, Matty, or even Sheila. As it was, still uncertain of her right to take charge, she did not make the attempt.
The weather outside remained warm and beautiful, and she chafed more than ever at her imprisonment. She had expected Sir Hugh to return after a few days, either having succeeded or failed in his undertaking, and she missed him.
The longer he stayed away the more Lady Marjory’s incessant, inquisitive kindness grated on her nerves.
“You must miss our dear Sir Hugh dreadfully,” Lady Marjory said as the two of them lingered at the dinner table one afternoon when he had been gone nearly a fortnight.
Laurie stared at her in astonishment, for although the older woman seemed to have read her thoughts, she was determined not to let her know that. Since she could think of nothing to say, it was just as well that Lady Marjory required no assistance in maintaining a flow of conversation.
“This sort of thing—when men insist on going off to do battle or whatever it is that they choose to do—is always hard on women,” she went on. “Brampton used to spend his time talking politics with friends in London when he was not waiting upon the Queen or traveling to outlandish places to look after business affairs.”
“You must have been lonely, madam,” Laurie said courteously, hoping to keep her talking about Brampton. “I imagine that when your husband came here to attend to Brackengill’s affairs, he must have been gone for weeks at a time.”
“Faith, he frequently was away half the year,” Lady Marjory said. “Not that he spent all that time here, of course. He was used to say that Sir Hugh’s tutor was so reliable that he needn’t do more than look over the accounts once a year.”
Smothering a yawn, Laurie apologized. “Forgive me, madam. I should not be sleepy so early in the day.”
“What you want is fresh air, my dear,” Lady Marjory said. “Perhaps you would like me to walk with you in the bailey. I know that you enjoy exercise, and I believe it would not harm me to accompany you.”
Knowing that she would maintain a snail’s pace, Laurie smiled and said, “I expect you would prefer to take your usual nap, madam. Still, I thank you for your kindness. What I really want is to get on a horse and ride for an hour on the fells.”
“Then do so, by all means, child. The exercise will cheer your spirits.”
Having already begun to suspect that Sir Hugh had said nothing to her or to his men about ordering her to remain inside the castle wall, Laurie hesitated on the brink of explaining, yet again, that she was not really mistress of Brackengill but its master’s hostage.
Lady Marjory had never understood the situation, and Laurie’s private opinion was that she did not want to understand it. Prisoners, in her ladyship’s mind, were loathsome creatures—never females, and certainly never persons with whom one could enjoy an absorbing conversation.
Less than a moment’s reflection persuaded Laurie that she was capable of keeping her word to remain Sir Hugh’s hostage and still allow herself to enjoy occasional, much needed physical activity. Her pony was in the stable, after all, eating oats and getting fat.
Ignoring her conscience, which accused her of evading the truth, she said, “What an excellent notion, madam! I believe I will go for a ride if I can persuade one of the men to saddle a horse for me.”
“You have merely to command it, my dear, but you should not go alone, you know. Take two men with you, and be certain they properly arm themselves.”
“Aye, madam,” Laurie said, but her spirits fell. Most of the men were friendly, but she doubted that any would provide her with a horse. Since she did not want to suffer the humiliation of having her order ignored or, worse, denied, she sought out Meggie, finding her in the kitchen nursing wee Susan.
“I’d like to explore the countryside a bit,” Laurie told her after a few moments of desultory conversation.
“Aye, ye should do that,” Meggie said, nodding. “It being Wednesday, Matty and I baked this morning. Mistress Janet were used to tak’ fresh loaves to them that couldna bake their own. Likely ye’d enjoy meeting some o’ Sir Hugh’s tenants, and since Ned Rowan’s made no objection to our Andrew goin’ about his business again, he could gae wi’ ye, to show ye who should get the loaves.”
“I’d like that,” Laurie said, surprised to discern no hint of disapproval in Meggie’s expression. Was it possible Sir Hugh had said nothing to anyone except her? She said with a sigh, “Lady Marjory said I must take two of the men along.”
“Find my Andrew, then, and tell him ye want your pony saddled. He’ll ken who amongst the men-at-arms should gae wi’ ye. Or ye can ask that Geordie. He be acting captain o’ Brackengill, ye ken, whilst Sir Hugh and Ned Rowan be awa’.”
Laurie nodded, still unable to believe that her plan might succeed. She liked Geordie, but if Sir Hugh had given him orders to keep her inside the wall, he would do so. Deciding to put it to the test, she went into the bailey and soon found him in the stable, overseeing yet another repair of a stall.
“Godamercy,” Laurie exclaimed when she saw the splintered wall, “what happened here?”
Geordie grinned. “’Twas that lad yonder,” he said, pointing toward a large black in a neighboring stall who chose that moment to toss its regal head and snort. “He kicked out the boards and fair frighted the wee gelding in the next stall to death. We’ll ha’ it fixed in a twink though, mistress.”
“I’m sure you will,” Laurie said with a smile. “Will you have someone saddle my pony, please, Geordie, and one for Meggie’s Andrew. I’d like to explore some of the countryside hereabouts and Meggie has loaves she said I should take to some tenants if you can spare Andrew to show me where they live.”
Geordie nodded. “Aye, that’s a good notion, that is, for they’ve missed their bread since Mistress Janet went awa’ into Scotland. I can send Small Neck Tailor wi’ ye, as well. We’ll no miss him this afternoon. ’Tis been quiet as a grave hereabouts.” He frowned, and Laurie tensed. “Ye’ll no go far, mistress,” he said. “The master wouldna like it an ye went north o’ the Lyne.”
“Then you must tell Andrew and your man,” Laurie said calmly, “because I have been outside the wall only the one time since I came, and I am not certain that I would know the River Lyne from the Black Lyne if I walked into it.”
Chuckling, Geordie said, “I’ll see they keep ye dry, mistress.” Then, cupping a hand alongside his mouth, he shouted for Andrew.
The boy came running, and when Geordie explained the task ahead of him, he grinned widely and agreed at once.
“Run to the kitchen and fetch the loaves whilst they saddle our ponies,” Laurie said. “Your mam will tell you where we should go.”
She stayed in the yard, not wanting to take time even to change her dress, lest Geordie change his mind and decide that he should not let her go.
Ten minutes later, when Andrew returned with a sack of loaves, the horses and Laurie were ready. Mounting astride, she kilted up her skirts and tucked them around her legs for propriety’s sake. As she, Andrew, and the man-at-arms called Small Neck Tailor passed through the main entrance, the tall gates swung shut behind them.
Laurie drew a deep, satisfying breath of fresh air.
The afternoon was warm and sunny. Puffy white clouds floated in an azure sky, and a light breeze stirred grass and heather on surrounding hillsides. For a time, she was content to follow Andrew with Small Neck Tailor plodding behind, but after they had visited two cottages, she began to find the sedate pace tiresome.
“I am going to ride ahead to that thicket of trees in the distance,” she called over her shoulder to the man-at-arms. “If you want to accompany me, you may do so. Andrew, do not drop the bread!”
With that, she dug her heels into the pony’s flanks, and it leapt forward, clearly as eager as she was to go faster. A trail of sorts stretched ahead, and she followed it, knowing that if she did the pony would be less likely to step into a rabbit hole. Her spirits soared, and when she drew rein at the edge of the thicket, she felt more like her old self than she had since her arrival at Brackengill.
“Oh, that felt good,” she said when Tailor and Andrew joined her. “I’d like to ride like that every day. Indeed, I believe I will begin taking a horse out regularly unless we receive news of danger in the neighborhood.”
No one at Brackengill expressed objection to her plan, and so, reassuring herself that as long as she returned to the castle no one could object, she continued to ride out each day. Some days Geordie would assign a second man-at-arms, and she would know that he had received slightly disturbing news, but he never shared that news with her. Nor did he refuse to let her ride outside the wall.
Laurie began to feel perfectly safe in her outings, and sure than no one could object to them. It was no more, after all, than the freedom other hostages enjoyed.
A successful siege requires the patience of a saint, and Hugh Graham was no saint. Neither was Corbies Nest, the abandoned peel tower that he had taken over as his headquarters, a place that offered much comfort; however, the tower overlooked the Moss and Tarras Wood, which made it strategically ideal. Having reinforced its timber walls, he remained, determined to flush out the reivers.
Had the men now hidden in Tarras Wood been sensible, they would, he believed, have yielded at first sight of his small but powerful army. The law gave him the right, as deputy warden, to pursue back to their dens in Scotland any raiders who attacked English villages. That same law gave him the right to demand support from the opposing warden, and that he also had done, sending messages both to the warden at Aylewood and to his deputy at Broadhaugh. By rights, Hugh’s mission should have succeeded. That it had not he blamed on a number of factors.
Halliot, although protesting that Hugh had provided evidence against no man in particular, merely an accusation against a legendary outlaw whom no one had yet proved really existed, nevertheless agreed to send men to assist him as soon as he had any to spare. Quinton Scott of Broadhaugh, Halliot’s deputy, had likewise agreed to lend what support he could, but not until the past week had Hugh seen any sign of the promised help from either one. Then Halliot had sent four men to report that they had found no indication that men of Liddesdale or Teviotdale had taken part in any raid across the line since Buccleuch’s legal pursuit of villains into North Tynedale after his release from Blackness.
Hugh received the report and the offered assistance of a mere four men with barely concealed scorn. He had expected no more, however, and his position with regard to Halliot was particularly delicate, since he was presently holding the man’s daughter hostage.
Halliot had also included in his message a bleak statement that his daughter May’s maidservant had been found dead on a Liddel riverbank, information that Hugh decided not to relay to Laura until he learned more. Even Halliot had not suggested that the maidservant’s death meant that her mistress had died with her, and Hugh did not want to upset Laura unnecessarily. Halliot had not mentioned Laura, even to reply to the message Hugh had relayed for her.
He contented himself, therefore, with sending terse thanks to Halliot and nothing more.
He also sent a report of his activities to Scrope, but the only reply was a message informing him that his lordship was away from Carlisle, the guest of an indecipherably named lord. Knowing the likelihood was that Scrope was engaged in his favorite form of entertainment and that his reaction to the siege would depend on how much he won or lost did not improve Hugh’s mood.
He spent his days overseeing his men, strengthening the wall round his tower in case the siege continued through the autumn, and practicing his swordsmanship. He had not been pleased with the showing he had made the night of the raid on Carlisle Castle and was determined never to lose such a match again.
He did not visit Brackengill. His body’s reaction to the mere thought of Laura Halliot sleeping in his sister’s bedchamber was enough to warn him that he should not seek her out. Even when he believed his mind was focused on his duties, a stray memory would catch him unaware. He would wonder idly if the skin under her clothing would be even softer to touch than the swell of her breasts above her bodice had been. He wondered if she would yield to his desire if he made it known to her. The wondering way her eyes widened when he caught her gaze and held it made him yearn to try her passions.
He dared not reveal his feelings, however, for he doubted that she shared them. Even if by some miracle of a benevolent God, she should come to do so, he knew it would only complicate matters. As her jailer, he could afford her some protection. If others suspected his feelings for her, it would become more difficult.