Authors: Without Honor
Thomas
frowned. "So we take her and ride for home before anyone's the
wiser?"
"Aye.
And you wed her tomorrow before God and whatever priest we can bribe. Angus
will follow, of course, and claim his outrage. But what's done and done
properly before witnesses can't be undone."
Thomas
nodded, still frowning. "I just hate to leave with Hepburn missing."
"Damn,
boy, Hepburn's a dead man by now and just as well!" Murdoch exclaimed,
exasperated. "You were getting too thick with that traitor's spawn. I've
warned you before. Friendship with Hepburn would have won you naught but
trouble."
Thomas
frowned, started to argue, but Murdoch cut him off. "Enough! We've said
all this before. You'll do what I say and quickly! Get your things and tell the
men to be ready. I'll inform Mistress Maxwell of her good fortune."
Murdoch
turned away, smiled grimly. "Her things just arrived from Beryl. Isn't it
fortunate? She won't have to pack."
"Pray
forgive me, my lord. I know you've no wish to be disturbed so early."
Angus
looked up from the dispatch he was reading. "Yes, Amaury, this had best be
important."
"Well,
it's..." The man hesitated. "The fellow says he's Lord Hepburn. He's
in quite a state—clothes torn and bloodied —but he insists on seeing you. One
of the guards brought him to me privately before anyone else was awake. I
thought it best to have him wait in an empty bedchamber. No one's about yet."
Angus
rose to his feet, eyes narrowed. "Well done, Amaury. Show me where you've
put him."
The
two hurried along the hallway, then down a flight of stairs. The man swung open
a door and Angus strode over the threshold. "My God, man! What's
happened?"
Alexander
was seated, but at Angus's entrance he swung to his feet. An ugly bruise
crowned his left eyebrow along with a cut that still oozed blood. The black
velvet doublet he'd worn at court was filthy and in shreds, the shirt beneath
revealing a stiff accumulation of rusty red blood.
He
bobbed his head in the parody of a bow. "Forgive my state, my lord, but
I've been enjoying a little French hospitality. Unfortunately, the lads got a
bit rough with their play. All's well that ends well, though, and I won the
game in the end."
"For
God's sake, man, sit down!" Angus crossed the floor, putting a hand on
Alexander's shoulder.
Alexander
winced away with a grimace. "Forgive me, Angus, but they flayed half the
flesh from my back. I'm none too partial to a helping hand just now."
Angus
studied the blood-soaked shirt, then turned to his man, frowning. "Get
James's physician. Tell him a man's been whipped. And keep it quiet. We've no
need for a crowd."
The
man nodded and eased from the room. Angus turned back. "What
happened?" he asked again curtly.
"Nothing
you'll be pleased to hear."
Angus
slid into a chair. "Was it d'Estaing?"
"I've
no doubt the ambassador is aware of everything, though he's slippery as an eel.
We'll never prove it." Alexander met the chancellor's eyes. "No, the
man who sold me out was your dearly trusted lord warden."
"Murdoch?
I don't believe
it!"
"Take
a look at my back, man! Then tell me you don't believe it."
"But
he's been turning Edinburgh upside down for you!"
"He
didn't find me, though, did he?" Alexander's eyes narrowed. "Yet
there I was whiling away two nights and a day in a cellar not a half mile from
here."
Angus
took a deep breath. "What makes you think it was Murdoch?"
"He
let them ambush me in your house as I was returning from court.
Inside
your
house," Alexander repeated significantly. "And I heard the French
talking. They spoke of the two thousand crowns they'd had to pay the
Scotsman."
"Did
they name him?" Angus bit out.
"They
didn't have to."
"Hell
and damnation!" Angus began to pace. "Why would Murdoch do such a
thing? If this is true, then he lied to me. He lied and used my house for his
damned intrigues. And after all I've done for the man!"
"The
French have deep pockets."
"He's
been rewarded. Murdoch's had plenty of rewards!"
"Perhaps
it only whetted his appetite for more. Perhaps for something you couldn't or
wouldn't give."
Angus
stopped his pacing and swung around. "What do you mean?"
"After
the whipping yesterday, I pretended to be unconscious. The men were discussing
a plot to take James. I gather there's a Scotsman in on it, and the pay will be
big. And the man supposedly has easy access to the king." Alexander lifted
one quizzical eyebrow. "Can you think of anyone more likely? I
can't."
Angus
had gone very still. "I can think of no one more unlikely," he
responded at last. "Murdoch hates you. I've warned you before about
goading him. I might bring myself to believe he'd betray you to the French. I
say I might." He studied Alexander. "But this? Never! Murdoch
wouldn't betray me. He's everything to lose and nothing to gain if we lose
control of James."
Alexander
shrugged his shoulders, then winced with the pain. "You claim to know the
man better than I. Believe what you will, Angus, but don't blame me if James
slips through your fingers. You pay me to gather information and I've done my
job. Just don't ask me to sing Murdoch's praises. Without a great deal of luck
a few hours ago, I'd have sailed for France on the morning tide."
Angus
was still frowning. "Did you hear any more? About this plot, I mean."
"No,
but it's enough to give you fair warning. And do me one favor," Alexander
added dryly. "Check the contents of Murdoch's strongbox before rewarding
the man further with an heiress and free rein of the Maxwell lands. I'd bet my
last day on earth you'll find French silver there."
"It's
too late." Angus bit his lip. "That damned marriage has already taken
place."
Alexander
went totally, painfully still.
"What?"
"Worrell
and some of the others were protesting the match. The Douglases rode for their
estate some time in the night. I doubt the girl's still a Maxwell. Unless
Murdoch's an even bigger fool than you take him for."
For
a moment Alexander sat silent. When he looked up his face was grim. "Then
I'll trouble you for a mount and a change of clothing. If you've no interest in
learning the truth, Angus, I certainly have."
"Of
course I have!" Angus snapped. "I've no liking for being played the
fool and that Murdoch will learn before he sees another sunrise! I'm riding for
Whitestone, but you're certainly in no shape to come along."
"Oh,
but you're wrong." Alexander rose to his feet. "I fought three
Frenchmen and broke out of a locked cellar. And all before breakfast, my lord.
Just imagine what I can do on a meal and an hour's rest."
His
teeth flashed in a wide, humorless smile. "Give me an hour. We can easily
make Whitestone by nightfall. And just think: At the end of the ride there'll
be a lovely new Douglas bride to kiss. Why, I wouldn't think of letting you go
without me."
***
Jonet
Maxwell Douglas sat quietly at the table wondering how she was going to endure
the rest of her life. Beside her, Murdoch and Thomas ate and drank heartily of
the hastily prepared wedding feast, ignoring her for the most part.
The
Douglas men were in high good humor. They had searched out a needy priest and
the wedding had taken place privately just after noon. Jonet had had one flash
of rebellion, one moment when the lies had caught in her throat and she had
stood fast in her refusal.
Thomas
had slapped her to her knees, but it was Murdoch who had shown her the folly of
her words. He had led her away and spared no detail explaining just what a rack
could do to a man. And then he had brought her back to repeat her vows to the
nervous priest.
Jonet
glanced sideways at her new husband. As if feeling the draw of her gaze, Thomas
looked up. He raised his goblet. "To us, madam, and to tonight. May it be
one we'll always remember."
Jonet
refused to look away. Thomas enjoyed her fear. She'd learned that much already.
Well, she would deny him that pleasure for as long as she could. It was a small
enough triumph.
Murdoch
put down his knife and frowned at them both. "For Christ's sake, Thomas,
stop baiting the girl. You've got her safely wed, now let's put this
unpleasantness behind us. Jonet will make an obedient wife, and you'll be an
attentive husband. It'll all turn out for the best. You'll see."
Jonet
stared at Murdoch in stony silence. Did the man really think she was going to
forget what they'd done and settle down to running a household? She glanced at
the knife he had held. Could she commit a mortal sin? Could she kill Thomas
Douglas? And just what would it accomplish if she did?
She
thought of the day Alexander had fought the outlaws. Dear God, had it truly
been only a week ago? She had killed a man then, but it had been to save Alex.
That
memory brought her back to the thoughts she'd avoided all day. Was Alexander
dead? Murdoch obviously believed it. And somehow she knew deep inside that if
he were alive he would be here. He had promised to prevent her marriage and,
despite her doubts, she had a feeling Alexander Hepburn didn't make promises
lightly.
A
servant came hurrying across the floor. "My lord, the earl of Angus is in
the courtyard with a large retinue!"
Thomas
looked across at his father and frowned. "He wasn't supposed to come till
tomorrow. Do you think it's trouble?"
"Worrell
may have pressed him. Damn! And we've little enough food in the house as it
is."
Murdoch
rose and snapped out orders and the harassed servants scurried to drag out
supplies. In a matter of moments, Angus strode through the door. And beside him
walked Alexander Hepburn, tall and grim in dark leather breeks and a jack to
match. And he was very much alive.
Thomas
surged to his feet.
"Alex!
Thank God you're all right!"
Murdoch
swung around, toppling his wine goblet from the table. It clattered across the
floor, but no one noticed.
Jonet
gripped the edge of her chair, a fierce triumph flooding her veins like the
most intoxicating of wines. Alexander was alive. And he was here.
"Angus!
What a surprise. You're just in time to join our feasting." Murdoch
glanced at Alexander. "So Hepburn's turned up after all. I told you he
would. He always does."
Alexander
took two swift steps up the stairs to the table. "Surprised, Douglas? I
should think you would be."
"I
don't know what you mean."
Angus
paused on the bottom step, gazing coolly up as he drew off his gloves.
"This isn't exactly a friendly visit, Murdoch. You've some explaining to
do. Now. In private."
"I
don't know what you mean. If Hepburn's spun you some tale—"
"In
private!"
Angus
snapped out. "For God's sake, let's keep this between ourselves."
Alexander
stood scarcely an arm's length from Jonet's chair. An ugly bruise marred his
brow, and he looked dark and angry and taut as a bowstring. She longed to reach
out and touch him, but his attention was all for Murdoch Douglas. He hadn't so
much as glanced once at her. Slowly her feeling of exhilaration began to ebb.
"Very
well, Angus, if you insist." Murdoch stepped away from the table, moving
down the stairs to join the chancellor. Angus frowned and turned away, and the
two left the manor hall.
"Alex,
what is this?" Thomas demanded. "What's going on?"
"Your
father sold me to the French for a small matter of two thousand crowns. I
assure you, it's been most unpleasant." Alexander frowned. "I'd
likely be dead or in a French prison ship right now if I'd not managed to give
them the slip."
"I
don't believe it!"
"Angus
said the same thing at first. It's true nonetheless."
Thomas
slammed down his goblet. "God's death! I knew he hated you, but this!
Christ, how could he be such a fool? And now of all times!"
Alexander
smiled. "He's your father. You tell me." Catching up a nearly empty
flagon, he drained the wine in one draught. "Damn, but I'm thirsty! Hungry
too. That was a ride from hell. Point me to the kitchens, Thom. I'll have Grant
send something to the men, then join you in a couple of minutes."
"No.
Here, I'll send someone."
"Lord,
man, where are your manners? You can't leave your new bride alone."
Alexander glanced at Jonet. For the first time, their eyes met. "And what
a lovely bride you make, lass. My congratulations, Lady Douglas."
Jonet's
gaze didn't waver. "I thank you, sir. I only wish you could have made it
in time for the wedding."
For
a long, pregnant moment Alexander's eyes held hers. Then he sent Thomas a grin.
"You're a lucky man, Thom. Watch yourself, though, else I might be tempted
to steal the lass from under your nose." He bowed. "Lady Douglas."
And then he was striding away in the direction of the kitchens.
Jonet
reached for her wine and drank deeply, hoping it would ease the strain. It was
hard to know what to make of Alexander's behavior, harder still not to pin all
her hopes on his words.
But
he hadn't acted like a man who was going to carry her off. Besides, he'd
arrived too late. She was already wed. She sipped her wine, frowning. At least
he was alive, and he was here. She wasn't alone anymore.
And
then Alexander was returning, a flask of Muskadill tucked under one arm, a
drumstick and a slab of bread clutched tightly in his hand. He straddled the
bench across from Thomas and put down his booty. "Listen, Thom, you've
been a friend to me, and I'd hate for this mess with Murdoch to rebound on
you."