Claimed by a Scottish Lord (28 page)

Duncan rode at its head. Seeing Ruark, he broke ranks and turned his horse up the hill to where Ruark reined Loki around to meet him.

Raucous cheers continued to greet the newcomers as they jostled for space beside those already lining the riverbank. Heckles and jeers on the other side followed and soon swords were raised as taunts were lobbed from both sides. This went on up and down the river for as long as it took Duncan‘s men to move their lathered horses into place.

Loki, perhaps sensing Ruark‘s mood, sidled away as Duncan‘s arrival was met with jovial backslapping by those on the hill. Duncan looked at Ruark. Scraping a hand across his bearded jaw, he leaned slightly in the saddle. ―Sorry we are late, nephew. Nothing occurred while I was gone?‖ His gaze swept the gathering troops across the river. ―I would hate to have missed the excitement.‖

Showing yesterday when expected would not have had the same dramatic effect on the clan and its foes as his arrival this morning. No doubt, Duncan preferred the more substantial role as this day‘s hero, especially considering the part he‘d played bringing about these events in the first place. In some way, whether advertent or not, he had played a part in all the events, including yesterday‘s events that led up to Ruark‘s marriage to Rose. Had Duncan arrived as planned, the proceedings might not have progressed as far as they had, and Rose might not now be his wife.

But the effect of Duncan‘s arrival on morale was palpable.

―Your presence is welcomed, Duncan,‖ Ruark said.

It seemed appropriate that he should smile.

T
he first time Rose heard the raucous voices raised in cheer had been shortly after the carriage left the market square north of the abbey. The coach had not stopped but continued to careen over cobbled streets as if the devil himself were on their tails. But now the black coach came to a grating standstill in the middle of an ill-maintained road five miles outside Jedburgh. In the silence that followed their unexpected halt, Rose heard the faint crack of musket fire.

She moved aside the heavy curtain and peered outside, unable to see any part of the outskirts of the town through the dull gray mists. McBain climbed down from the coachmen‘s roost to join Colum, who had dismounted and walked off the road away from the clank and creak of the coach as it settled. The ten outriders, the coachmen, Rose, and Anaya all bent their attention apprehensively toward the sounds floating faintly across the valley on the awakening breeze.

Without waiting for the step to be lowered, she swept aside her heavy skirt and exited the coach to go and stand beside McBain.

―Were those
shots
fired?‖ Rose asked, hoping he would tell her this was a positive sign that everything had gone to plan and not the bloodcurdling sounds that preceded battle and the spilling of blood.

Anaya was leaning her head out the window. ―Aye, mum,‖ she said.

McBain exchanged a telling glance with Colum that she did not understand. ―Does this mean the trade is completed?‖ Rose asked.

The fact that no one could answer her only added fuel to an already heated temper. Then Colum pointed his finger. Rose followed his gaze. She felt the low reverberations beneath her feet just as she watched riders materialize from the mists. They were miles away and would pass them at a distance. But the sight was impressive as the mass continued to grow into hundreds strung out along the rustic river valley, high spirits all. She would not have wanted to be in their path.

―Duncan must have arrived with the men just after we left,‖ Colum said.

―Aye, he‘ll fancy himself the hero this day to be sure,‖ McBain replied.

Rose cared little who was the hero this day as the thunder of their passing faded, leaving only a handful of slower riders, their horses following at an unhurried lope as if they knew the others would have to eventually slow. Halfway across the valley they stopped and seemed to look in Rose‘s direction. One rider broke away and turned his horse toward her. She did not have to recognize Loki‘s deep red coat to recognize his rider.

She started to follow Colum and McBain down the rocky incline to meet him, but he was not looking at her as he reined in the horse in front of the two men. Dust darkened his handsome countenance.

―Is the boy well?‖ McBain asked cautiously.

―Aye, he will do fine for now. He has gone on ahead with Duncan.‖

―You would let Duncan arrive at Stonehaven in your stead?‖ McBain asked. Again, Rose was reminded of the earlier look he had exchanged with Colum.

Ruark laughed. Leaning forward with one forearm on his thigh, he said, ― ‘Tis a day‘s ride to Stonehaven. I have no doubt I will catch up to him in a few hours.‖

Then his head lifted and his eyes found her. She was standing some distance away. But not so far that she couldn‘t hear every word he spoke or feel his gaze touch her. ―Would you care to join me, Lady Roxburghe?‖

Indeed, she had more than earned her place to ride to Stonehaven at his side.

Chapter 17

B
y the time the first stop was made at an inn to eat and rest the horses, most of the riders had broken away and pressed onward in different directions. Later the boisterous group passed the outskirts of Hawick and stopped for supper before the last stretch to Stonehaven. The men, bristling with all manner of arms, took over the common room, running off anyone who did not belong to their crowd, and compelling the poor innkeeper and his wife to feed the unruly throng.

The two rescued Kerr cousins, Rufus and Gavin, found it amusing to have Rose look over their wounds. Since McBain remained in the slow-moving coach, he was not expected back at Stonehaven until tomorrow. So it was left to her to see to the injuries the three incurred while in the warden‘s care. She should not have bothered with concern or kindness, or worried that the injuries already showed signs of corruption, because the two considered them badges of honor to be bragged upon and displayed. Perhaps if they were not so drunk they would have taken her more seriously or felt more pain. She wondered what they would think when a foot or an arm rotted and dropped off.

Ruark said nothing over his ale as the men backslapped one another and guffawed as if the three-month ordeal had been naught more than a test of their precious Scottish manhood. The young Jamie was now newly initiated among their ranks. Though far less boisterous.

―McBain should be here tending you,‖ Rose had said with some asperity, frustrated with their nonsensicality.

―But this McBain, he is not here, lass,‖ said the younger of the unruly louts as he attempted to pull her onto his lap, perhaps not fully grasping that she was his laird‘s bride.

Though Rose understood a person‘s need to release pent-up emotions like a heated tea kettle spouting steam, they also needed baths, haircuts, and someone to shake them.

One glance at Ruark told her she needed to contain the situation quickly. He seemed to be allowing her to handle it for now, but the last thing she wanted was for Ruark to rescue her from his own family. She snatched her hand from the grip holding hers.

―I‘d be careful if I were yournself,‖ Angus said casually from a wooden bench across the planked table from the two cousins. He held a drumstick the size of his fist and ripped at the greasy flesh with his teeth.

Chewing evenly, he grinned at the pair, who beneath all that black hair were probably only a year or two older than she. ―The lass ‘bout skewered Hereford through the gullet with a claymore.‖ The words were spoken casually with many an ―aye‖ echoing from the crowded tables around them.

Rose felt her throat tighten, realizing the public comment was as much a declaration of their allegiance to
her
as it was to protect the lads from their own stupidity and arrogance. Not because she would harm them, but because Ruark would. Of that, she had no doubt.

Duncan leaned forward on his elbow, the bench creaking beneath his weight. ―Did ye now, lass?‖ he asked, interested. ―Was that before or after ye married our laird?‖

―Before.‖ Ruark raised the tumbler of whisky to his lips, his eyes on the unkempt cousins.

―I would have let her split the bastard‘s gullet if he had not had the lot of
you
in chains.‖

Sitting beside Duncan, Jamie was watching Ruark cautiously through a lank fringe of blond hair, then he quietly tended to his meal. She had not seen Ruark and his younger brother exchange one word, though Ruark was always near and the boy seemed to steal an occasional glance his way. Rose felt strangely akin to Jamie. Perhaps because he and she both were out of place in this room filled with oafish bewhiskered men. Or perhaps because he seemed a little lost despite the manly show of bravery he‘d exemplified all day. Or maybe in some small way he reminded her of Jack.

Then, bellies full, they were horseback again.

A rain-dampened, subdued and smaller group arrived at Stonehaven near midnight. Rose had never been so glad to see a structure as she was to see the old baronial estate. It rose from the sea of fog that hovered over the countryside, a brilliant amber beacon visible only at first as small dots of light through the red ash trees. Lights burned behind every window. Torchlight up and down the drive glowed dimly in the mist.

She looked over at Jamie, riding just ahead of her on a dun-colored gelding, his blond head bobbing listlessly with the horse‘s slow gait. He was barely staying in the saddle. Every time he‘d nodded off, she‘d wanted to reach her hand out to him, but the boy, for all his twelve years, considered himself a man and like most men, she suspected, would not appreciate interference from a woman. A Sassenach woman at that.

As she rode through Stonehaven‘s arched iron gates surrounded by darkness and fog, the reasons for her feelings did not matter. He‘d got sick shortly after leaving the inn, and hadn‘t kept anything down for two hours. Now, he looked as if he would fall off his horse. Clearly, something was wrong. Then suddenly he was toppling.

―Stop!‖ She dropped from the horse to catch him, but Ruark was already off Loki and running toward Jamie.

Ruark caught him before he hit the drive. Rose dropped to her knees on the ground beside him, testing his face for fever. His skin was chilled to her touch. She stripped off her cloak and wrapped it around him.

She swung around and glared at those who had climbed down from the horses and stood around dumbly. ―Get some water, for pity‘s sake,‖ she ordered.

A skin of something liquid was thrust into her hands. After pulling off the stopper and smelling the contents, Rose was satisfied she was giving the boy water.

―I do no‘ feel well, Ruark,‖ she heard the boy say as the first shouts from the direction of the house sounded.

―Aye,‖ Ruark said gently, a chuckle in his voice. ― ‘Tis probably the ale ye drank at the inn,
a’bhrarhar
. Can ye walk?‖ Rose glared at Ruark
. How can you be so heartless
? she wanted to shout. She did not believe Jamie suffered only from the drink Duncan had given him at the inn. The boy was exhausted and ill nourished.

―Aye, he can walk,‖ Duncan said, coming up behind her, a dark looming shape in the darkness. ―The lad is no babe to be shamed.‖

Rose pushed herself to her feet. ―Do not be ludicrous. Can you not see he is ill?‖

―He is a Kerr. He does no‘ need your coddling, woman.‖

Ruark gave Jamie a hand up to stand. ―He may be a Kerr. But he has proven himself enough these last months, Duncan. Sometimes even a Kerr needs the help of another.‖ He looked down at the boy, who stood on legs as wobbly as a newborn foal‘s. Angus put a firm warning hand on Rose‘s shoulder, stopping her from moving forward to help him.

―Your mam will be down the drive at any moment,‖ Ruark said to the boy, an unspoken question in his voice.

Over Ruark‘s shoulder, Rose glimpsed those filtering out of the house, now hurrying down the drive toward them. Julia‘s heavy satin gown flared about her like a peony as she ran.

―Mam,‖ the boy whispered, newfound strength in his voice.

Throwing off the cloak, Jamie struggled up the hill on his own volition to meet the human onslaught coming toward them. Jamie had recovered for the moment anyway, and for now, he was twelve years old again and in his mother‘s loving arms. Watching the happy reunion, Rose felt a surge of bittersweet feelings, yet comforted to note that there still existed loving families in this world. She should not be jealous but she felt exposed and awkward.

The other men who had ridden through the gate with them began to move toward the stables, taking Loki, leaving the more intimate reunion to closer family members, which Rose was not. Angus remained behind with her, and from their place in the shadows said, ―Ye did right not interfering, lass.‖

Only because he‘d prevented her from doing so, Rose thought. ―In my world, a person is not afraid to give or accept aid from another,‖ she said. ―He is only a boy.‖

―The lad is old enough to be hanged for his misdeeds. Ruark, more than most, understands. In our world, no Kerr should be carried on his back to his own front door unless he is dead. Especially in front of the men.‖

Rose didn‘t much care for Ruark‘s world and thought it in need of compromise. But she understood.

―Strength lies as much in perception as action,‖ she said quietly.

Angus clapped her on the back as if she were one of his clansmen. ―Aye, ye be remeberin‘ that yourself, and you‘ll do right among us, lass, even if ye do come from Hereford‘s stock.‖

Rose glared up at his gruff face, but he was already looking to the needs of his horse and bending down to reach the reins.

She turned to look for Ruark and found him on the drive in conversation with Duncan, though conversation might be the wrong word. Ruark jabbed a finger in the middle of Duncan‘s chest, their harsh whispers growing in strength.

―What happened this morning with Duncan?‖ she asked worriedly, remembering the exchange between Colum and McBain earlier.

Angus saw where she was looking. ―Hmpf. There be history between those two, lass,‖ he said. ―You best stay clear of it and go inside. Ruark will find you when he‘s done with Duncan.‖