Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (8 page)

There certainly were a lot of them, too many. One was a splendid bay with a lightning-shaped blaze on its face. Wat recognized it instantly, for the beast was as well known in the Borders as its master was.

The Earl of Douglas had come to Scott’s Hall.

Chapter 6

“To him men in arms are the same thing as thistles . . . At Durham and Carlisle his prowess I saw . . .”

A
lthough they had come twenty miles since leaving Elishaw at two o’clock, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, because days were growing longer. So Meg had a clear view of the three stone towers that formed three sides of the broad courtyard at Scott’s Hall. Ten-foot walls connected the towers, but each tower had its own entry. A strong, iron-barred gate had opened to admit them.

Meg rode beside Amalie behind Sir Walter. Having been unnaturally aware of his lithe, muscular body just ahead of them throughout the journey, Meg easily noted now that something about the bustling activity in the yard had surprised, perhaps even dismayed him.

“What is it, sir?” she asked.

“Jamie Douglas is here,” he said without looking at her.

Briefly confused until she realized that only one Douglas would presently concern him, she said, “The
Earl
of Douglas?” When he nodded, still studying the courtyard scene, she followed his gaze as she added, “Does he come here often?”

“He has come many times before,” he said. “But of late, he’s been staying nearby at Hermitage, so he usually sends for us to meet him there.”

She knew of Hermitage Castle, of course, for it was the greatest of the great Border strongholds and Elishaw was but seven or eight miles from it. Moreover, they had cut through the hills just north of it on their way to the Hall.

She glanced at Amalie, who had drawn rein beside her. But her sister’s restless gaze was moving speculatively over men in the courtyard. Meg hoped she did not mean to begin a flirtation with any of the Douglas’s men-at-arms or Buccleuch’s.

The responsibility for Amalie seemed suddenly heavy, but Meg told herself she would feel better after a good night’s rest.

She was tired, for they had stopped only once, when Amalie had insisted on answering a call of nature. Sir Walter’s men had been respectful, though, and Meg felt safe with them. Young Sym Elliot had ridden beside them for a time, his curiosity about them overflowing. When he announced that he was to serve Meg until she did not want him anymore, then dared to ask her why she had married Sir Walter, he had earned himself a sharp rebuke from his master.

The lad had retired then to ride beside a large man who was apparently his brother, and Meg had been sorry. She had enjoyed his careless chatter.

“Will you let me help you down, my lady?”

Startled, she realized Sir Walter had dismounted while she was watching the bustle around them. He stood by her mount now, ready to assist her.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, turning so she could rest her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her down. His grip was firm at her waist, and he lifted her as easily as if she weighed no more than her bed pillow.

As he set her on her feet, his hands suddenly gripped harder, then relaxed as quickly. Following his gaze, she saw two men striding across the yard toward them. She had never seen either one of them before, but she had no difficulty deducing who they were and swiftly curtsied.

Beside her, Amalie did the same, and Meg realized that her sister had either dismounted by herself or had accepted help from one of the other men.

Then a voice eerily like Sir Walter’s spoke curtly, saying, “What in the devil’s name have you been doing, Wat?”

Meg had lowered her gaze as she made her curtsy, but she peeked up under her lashes at the speaker looming over her and saw an older version of her husband.

“My lords, may I present my wife, the lady Margaret Murray of Elishaw?” Sir Walter said as if the introduction were an ordinary one. “This is the Earl of Douglas, my lady,” he added, gesturing toward the dark and frowning young man with Buccleuch. “And this is my lord father.”

James Douglas was not what Meg had expected. Although she knew that men of power were not always men of great age, she had assumed he would be older. She saw now that he could not have many more than thirty summers behind him. His hair was dark and shaggy, his skin likewise dark, and as he drew nearer, she discerned authority and an intelligent mind behind his deep-set dark eyes.

His strong jaw was set hard. The Douglas, plainly, was angry.

Buccleuch, on the other hand, revealed no expression as he said politely, “I think we may allow this young lady to rise now, my lord.”

“Aye, sure,” Douglas said. “Forgive me, Lady Margaret. So unexpected a meeting has made me forget my manners.” He held out his hand, and she placed hers in it, allowing him to assist her.

“It is an honor to meet you, my lord,” she said. “And you, sir,” she added, looking at Buccleuch. “May I present my sister, the lady Amalie?”

Buccleuch nodded to Amalie, then ordered gillies to see to their horses. “We’ll go inside,” he said. “Clearly, we have much to discuss.”

Douglas nodded grimly.

Meg glanced at Sir Walter, but he had his lips pressed together. Easily deducing that he would not welcome comment, she made none.

Amalie, too, had the good sense to remain silent.

Wee Sym began to chatter to someone in the yard, excitedly bragging about his great adventure. His older brother sternly silenced him.

The bustle in the yard quieted, too, as men turned to watch curiously.

Ignoring them as the others did, Meg hurried with Sir Walter in the wake of Buccleuch and Douglas to the central tower’s entrance.

Inside, as they mounted well-worn stone steps, she judged that this tower was the keep. And when they entered the great hall at the first landing, she saw at once that, despite the Hall’s stout wall and gate, it was a comfortable dwelling.

Gillies were laying out straw pallets, much as they would be doing at Elishaw at that hour, but all the bustle and noise had been left outside. Men-at-arms and servants might sleep in the hall, but they did not live there or leave their belongings lying about. The rushes on the floor seemed admirably fresh, too.

A cheerful fire burned on the hearth near the dais table. And no sooner had they entered than a plump, matronly looking noblewoman wearing a plum-colored side-surcoat over a russet gown entered through an archway at the far end.

Seeing them, she paused until her gaze met Meg’s. Then it shifted swiftly to Sir Walter, and a frown creased her brow.

Buccleuch turned a sour look on his son. “You must introduce the lady Margaret to your mother and mayhap suggest that she show her to your chamber.”

Turning then to Meg without awaiting a reply, he added with a charming smile, “I know you will forgive us for abandoning you so soon after your arrival, my lady, but we have important matters to discuss. Walter’s duty to the Douglas requires that he take part in our discussion, but his lady mother will be pleased to show you to his chamber and help you with any arrangements you may require.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Meg said, making another deep curtsy but watching her husband out of the corner of her eye as she did.

He looked wary and on edge, but he waited patiently for her to rise. Then, telling his father he would be back straightaway, he offered her an arm.

As they walked toward Lady Scott with Amalie close behind them, Meg felt him tense more with each step.

Her ladyship’s eyes had narrowed.

Meg straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She had no idea if propriety demanded that a bride meeting her mother-in-law for the first time act in any unusual way, but she did know that she wanted to get on well with hers. Coming from a long line of proud women and having a good deal of pride herself, Meg had no trouble understanding that she stood in her mother-in-law’s house.

She also knew enough not to speak until Lady Scott spoke to her.

When they reached her, Sir Walter said, “Madam, I cast myself on your mercy. I have brought the lady Margaret and her sister Amalie to stay at the Hall, where they can be safe until we have rid this area of the English threat.”

Meg swept a deep curtsy at the word “madam,” and was grateful that Amalie silently followed her example.

Lady Scott said, “From whence do you and your sister come, Lady Margaret?”

“They are Murray of Elishaw’s daughters,” Sir Walter interjected evenly, sparing Meg the need to reply. “More to the point, though,” he added, “the lady Margaret is my wife.”

Looking up at her involuntary hostess to see with a sinking heart that Lady Scott’s stern but curious expression had changed in a blink to one of shock, Meg said as she arose slowly from her curtsy, “It is an honor to meet your ladyship.”

“Your mother was Annabel Percy, was she not?” Lady Scott said.

“Aye, madam, before she married my father,” Meg said.

“She is the Earl of Northumberland’s kinswoman.”

“Aye, they are second cousins.”

Lady Scott turned to her son. “Bless us, Walter, what
have
you done?”

Unexpected anger surged through Meg. “By my troth, madam, it was not—”

“I have married, Mother; that is what I have done,” he said, cutting Meg off. “I know you will treat my wife and her sister kindly, as this is none of their doing.”

“Indeed,” Lady Scott said acidly. “One of your men came here yestereve spinning a tale of how you rode to Elishaw to recover lost stock and fell captive to Elishaw’s master. Do you mean to tell me that tale was a falsehood?”

“It is true,” he said. “Whilst I was at Langholm, Murray lifted my kine, as well as several horses and two hounds. When I went to reclaim them, he captured seven of us, including Wee Sym Elliot, and threatened to hang us. He said we could live only if I’d agree to marry his daughter and do so at once.”

Reading her ladyship’s grim expression, Meg feared she would say she had liefer Sir Iagan had hanged him.

Instead, Lady Scott looked past Sir Walter to Buccleuch and Douglas. Then she said briskly, “If you mean to leave your young ladies here, I must see to providing them with bedchambers, so you may leave them in my charge now and rejoin your father and Douglas. They are eager to talk with you, and mayhap can provide a solution for this awkward coil of yours.”

Meg felt a shiver of anxiety when Sir Walter nodded and turned away without another word. Did he also view their marriage as just an awkward coil?

“I wager you’ve had naught to eat, either of you,” Lady Scott said. “I’ll give orders to my people to attend to that before I show you where you will sleep.”

She was scarcely beyond earshot when Amalie said, “I shan’t be surprised to find myself sleeping in a cellar. What a horrid woman!”

“Keep such thoughts to yourself,” Meg said sternly. “She expected him to marry a cousin of the Douglas. Think how you’d feel if in the midst of arranging a great marriage for your son, he married another woman without a word to you.”

Amalie shrugged. “That is no reason to be mean to us.”

“If you want to go home, I will arrange it tomorrow,” Meg said.

“Don’t be a dafty! As if I’d leave you to face such a harridan alone!”

Stifling a sigh, Meg wondered how much comfort her younger sister would provide. By the look of things, she was likely to create even more distress.

Wat strode toward his father and Douglas, hoping he looked more confident than he felt and that his unease was not apparent to everyone in the hall. His mother thought he’d made a muck of things, but despite her displeasure, she was not unkind or unfair. She would make Margaret and her sister comfortable.

His father would not take out his anger on them either, but neither would he spare Wat. On the contrary, since manners had forced Buccleuch to keep his temper in check with the ladies present, Wat braced himself for an explosion.

The Douglas’s presence did not help. Although Wat had known he’d have to face each of them on his return, he had not expected to face them both together.

Their stern, steady gazes seemed to sear him as he crossed the hall, but when he reached them, his father said only, “We’ll talk upstairs in my chamber.”

Wat followed the two of them into the stair hall and up to the next landing, where his father’s private chamber lay. Buccleuch unlatched and pushed open the door, then stood back for Douglas to precede them.

The chamber was utilitarian, and Wat had never associated it with comfort of any sort. But with Douglas and Buccleuch dominating it and, however temporarily, restraining their tempers, the room seemed smaller than ever.

Douglas sat on the back-stool behind the table where Buccleuch usually sat to interview or berate those who came before him there. And, as Wat shut the door, Buccleuch moved to stand against the wall facing the table.

Douglas said grimly, “I have known you long enough, Wat, to doubt that you meant to insult my cousin Fiona. Still, I would hear as much from your own lips.”

A shiver shot up Wat’s spine. He had known Douglas well since childhood and generally thought of him as Jamie when they were together, because the two were but five years apart and their fathers had been good friends. But the black look Douglas gave him now revealed little of friendship.

He met that look and said, “I meant no insult, my lord. Murray gave me a choice, marriage or hanging. He swore to hang my lads one after the other before me, beginning with Wee Sym Elliot, who had followed us to see where we’d go.”

“I trust the lad will not do that when you follow me,” Douglas said.

“No, my lord,” Wat said. Remembering the thrashing Dod had given Sym, he doubted the boy would try following them anywhere for a long time to come.

“I’ll set aside all notion of insult then,” Douglas said. “But tell me more of this incident. In particular, what were you doing at Elishaw?”

Wat began to describe the loss of his beasts and his intent to reclaim them. But he did not get far before the Douglas temper erupted.

“We have rules for sorting out such disagreements, do we not? Wardens’ meetings and their ilk?”

“Aye, we do, but—”

“But me no buts, Wat! I made it clear to everyone on this side of the line that I want no conflict amongst our own whilst I organize my army and lead carefully planned forays across the line to discourage the English from returning here.”