Stuart, Elizabeth (5 page)

He
paused. "Well, lass, what's your guess?"

She
looked down to hide her embarrassment. Obviously, he was eating.

"No
one knows you're here," he explained. " 'Twould look a bit strange if
I had supper sent up to my chambers and then took a seat in the hall."

"Of
course." Jonet kept her eyes lowered. No one knew. Then he hadn't told
Murdoch Douglas... yet.

He
shoved a plate toward her. "Here, eat. Madge's orders. You want to hold
your own with the devil, don't you?"

The
words were said teasingly. The bitterness was gone from his voice. Jonet
noticed he was smiling at her and the look flooded her senses with an odd
melting sensation. "Were I fat as a sausage, I doubt I'd do that."

"I'm
not so sure of that, Jonet Maxwell." His eyes narrowed. Something dark
flickered and then was gone. "I shall have to think on it a bit."

She
hadn't the foggiest notion what he meant but she didn't dare ask. His angry
mood had obviously lifted, and she hadn't the ghost of an idea why, but she
turned her attention to the meal, sending up a quick prayer of thanks for
Madge's timely intervention.

The
food was delicious, better even than that at her uncle's table. She ate until
she couldn't swallow another bite and there was still some left over.

Darkness
had gradually overtaken the light in the room. Alexander rose and lit candles,
then poured them both more wine. "Sleepy?" he asked.

"Should
I be?"

He
burst into laughter. It was rich and deep and made her want to join in.
"No, Jonet, I swear there's nothing in the food or wine. Christ save us,
with the amount we've eaten, we'd both be dead!"

"Do
you blame me for being suspicious?"

"No."

He
moved back to the bed and sat down. He was closer now. She could see the flecks
of hazel in his gray eyes. They caught the candlelight, more gold now than
brown, dancing like so many sparks in the night.

His
look of amusement grew. She realized she'd been staring and looked away
uncomfortably. Supper was over. It was time to learn where she stood. "Are
you going to turn me over to Murdoch Douglas?" she asked abruptly.

Alexander
leaned back on one elbow. "Let's not talk about that just yet, shall we?
Let's talk about, oh, traveling. Have you ever been to France? Italy?"

She
shook her head.

Somehow
she wasn't surprised to discover he had traveled widely. So vividly did he
describe the beauty of the lakes of northern Italy, the incredible grandeur of
the Venetian St. Mark's Square, that she sat spellbound as the time spun away
and the candles burned low about them.

"Enough
of my ramblings," he finally remarked with a smile. "Tell me about
your life."

There
was nothing much to tell, at least nothing a man like Alexander Hepburn would
find interesting. Jonet had never been anywhere or done anything. With the long
unrest in Scotland, she'd never even been to court. She'd been betrothed at age
thirteen, but when the young man had died in a jousting accident a few months
later, she hadn't grieved unduly. She'd only met him once.

Then
Alexander began to draw her out, so skillfully she didn't notice. Soon she was
telling him of her life at Beryl, of the inhabitants there, and all about
Robert.

But
the discussion was a painful reminder of the danger in which Robert stood and
of her own helplessness. "He isn't guilty, you know," she said.
"He would never attack the king! Angus maybe, but not if it might put
James in danger. The Douglases are just using this as an excuse to take what
they want!"

Alexander
shrugged. "Accusations are easy enough to make. It happens, you know, even
in the best of families. Take mine for instance."

"But
you don't understand. He didn't do it!"

She'd
put too much emphasis on the word. Alexander understood the implication.

"Well,
naturally that makes a difference," he said coolly. "Right always
wins out in your safe little world, doesn't it? Well, wake up, Jonet Maxwell.
You're about to be terribly disappointed."

They
stared at each other. Jonet measured off the seconds in long, painful
heartbeats. She had been foolish to speak so openly. She had forgotten where
she was, who this was. She had even forgotten her own danger.

But
it was abruptly recalled by the look in Alexander's eyes. He was staring at her
oddly, almost... almost as if he hated her. "You're going to give me up to
the Douglases, aren't you?" she asked softly.

Sliding
from the bed, Alexander removed the dishes to a nearby chest. "I don't
know," he admitted. "There are a great many things to consider, you
know." When she didn't speak, he turned back with a cynical smile.
"No, of course you don't. But take my word for it."

So
he hadn't made up his mind. Jonet leaned forward. His given name came easily to
her tongue; after all, he'd used hers for hours. "Alexander..."

He
held up one hand. "Don't! Don't say a word. I must decide and you mustn't
try to influence me."

But
the hard look was gone, the smile back in his eyes. He snuffed the candles with
his fingertips. "Go to sleep, lass," he ordered. "I'll be just
outside here on my manservant's pallet. If you've need of anything, just call
out. And keep yourself in that bed or I swear I'll have the shirt off your back
so quick it'll make your head spin!"

Jonet
heard him cross the floor. Then the door opened and closed. She hunched down
against the pillow, staring thoughtfully at the narrow ribbon of light showing
beneath the door.

It
was difficult to believe she had sat here in a bedchamber so companionably with
a man she scarcely knew. Impossible to believe that man was Hepburn of
Durnam—and that it had been the most fascinating evening of her life.

The
admission took her by surprise. Alexander had alternately charmed and terrified
her, but the thought of him now, of the way he had held her this afternoon, of
the way he'd looked down at her then made her heartbeat quicken and her skin
flush warmly in the darkness.

And
he hadn't said he was going to give her up to Murdoch. He'd said he hadn't decided.

Propping
her chin on her hand, Jonet chewed one finger thoughtfully. Perhaps she would
ask Alexander Hepburn for something. After all, she had little to lose and
everything to gain. Yes, if he was in one of his approachable moods tomorrow,
she might ask for a very great deal.

***

The
master of Durnam was frowning when he drew the door closed behind him. Across
the room, Grant slumped at a table, idly tossing a pair of dice with one hand.
He glanced up. "Did you discover where Mure's in hiding?"

Alexander
shook his head. "I didn't ask."

"Didn't
ask?"

"There
are a hundred ways to discover a thing," Alexander remarked thoughtfully.
"Some take a bit longer but are far more certain."

"And
if she won't talk?" Grant prodded. "Never tell me you're going to beat
it out of her."

"I've
an idea she's about to take us straight to our quarry. I only hope we find him
before Douglas does. Mure's no good to me dead. After he talks and I get my two
hundred pounds, they can have his head with my good will.

"Any
news on those two who were helping her?" he added. "I want them where
I can put my hands on them if need be."

"No
sign of them yet, but some of the men are still out. Wat and Jem. And Will
Simon hasn't reported in."

"Good
men," Alexander remarked absently. Sighing, he ran a hand through his
hair. "Christ, Grant, the lass is so trusting, I could have a halo by dawn
if I'd a mind to. Mure was a fool to raise her like that. She hasn't the
slightest idea what I'm up to."

The
older man sent him an odd look. "You're no' so bad as you like to think,
lad."

Alexander
moved to the table. The remainder of Grant's supper sat on a tray, along with
his own personal favorite, the flask of aqua vitae. Alexander dragged it toward
him, turning it up for a long pull. The evening had left a sour taste in his
mouth. He needed the burning, biting liquor to take it away.

"She
thinks Mure a saint," he remarked, lowering the flask. "Scarcely a
step down from the Holy Trinity."

Grant
stared at the dice, carefully keeping his own counsel.

Alexander
took another long drink. "I'd almost forgotten such innocence
existed," he remarked bitterly. "I wonder if ever it did in my
world."

By
the
time she saw Alexander again, Jonet had enlisted Madge's help to dress, and she
was feeling more equal to the challenge of facing his lightning mood shifts and
quicksilver conversation. He bade her an easy good morning, and she returned
the civility stiffly. Then he smiled. "Still angry with me from last
night, lass?"

"No.
Just frustrated. And if you want the truth, perhaps frightened a little."

His
heavy eyebrows quirked upward. "Of me?"

Jonet
was sitting in a large, high-backed chair. She had never felt more
uncomfortable. "A little. But more of the future."

He
drew a stool near her feet. Gracefully folding his long, booted legs, he eased
down before her. "Aye, the future's a frightening thing to contemplate
sometimes. It isn't an easy world for a man, much less for a woman."

She
sent him a sharp glance. There was that in his tone she didn't trust.
"You've decided then?"

"Yes.
I'm going to turn you over to Murdoch. As I see it, 'tis the only reasonable
thing to do."

Jonet
managed to hold his gaze evenly. "I see." She forced a deep breath,
determined to keep her voice as steady as his. "Do you mind telling me
why?"

"First
and foremost, because I can't let you go chasing off alone across the
countryside." He smiled. "You may not give credence to it, lass, but
there are worse dangers out there than Hepburn of Durnam."

She
didn't speak, so he continued.

"Second,
I happen to work for Angus off and on. It's an irregular arrangement, little
more to his liking than mine. But he wouldn't be pleased to learn I'd duped
him. And you'll have to agree, Angus isn't the man any wish as an enemy. Then,
three..."

He
hesitated and looked up. "Returned safe and sound, you're worth a hundred
pounds to me. There's two hundred more if I help Douglas find Mure. And I
happen to need the money, lass. As a matter of fact, I need it badly."

Money.
For some reason she'd thought better of Alexander. Foolishly, she'd hoped he
thought better of her.

She
sent a scornful glance around the beautifully appointed room. "Do you
gamble? Drink? Waste your substance on loose living? Or is it those scented
soaps and fine crystal, all the little luxuries you've brought across the
border? There certainly seems no lack of funds so far as I can see!"

"Ah,
so you think I've a taste for high living, do you, lass? You've yet to learn
things aren't always as they appear."

Her
eyebrows rose questioningly.

"My
mother has a bit of income from English properties she shares with her brother.
I'll not take her money but it pleases her to send me things occasionally.
Little things she knows I'll enjoy —fine cloth, liquor..." He smiled.
"Scented soap which I will not be using again.

"This
is only one of a handful of rooms that are furnished in Durnam," he
continued. "The rest are empty and closed. I returned from England two
years ago to a home little better than a stone shell. The place had been
stripped of everything that could be carted off and sold."

Turning,
he glanced thoughtfully about the room. "This bedchamber belonged to my
mother and father. This furniture was theirs. I traced it to a merchant in
Edinburgh and paid a small fortune to get it back. Had the fool only known, I'd
have paid double what he asked."

He
smiled then, his face softening, and she could tell his thoughts had drifted to
happier times. "I can remember wrestling with my father before this
fireplace, tumbling across that bed in dozens of pillow fights with my
parents."

His
words drifted off. A short silence hung between them, the very stillness alive
with laughter and love and the ghosts of a past long since dead. Jonet had
neither the wit nor will to break it.

"It's
foolish, I know, but it's a comfort having everything as it Was then." His
smile became twisted. "A bit of the boy that never grew up, I suppose. But
there... I've never told anyone that. Do me a favor and forget it if you will,
lass."

Their
eyes met and Jonet found her anger had ebbed. Alexander Hepburn was a man
unlike any she'd ever met—and obviously Durnam Castle wasn't the only thing
that wasn't what it appeared.

"So
I came back after thirteen years," he went on matter-of-factly, "to
an empty home, land that had been ruined by lack of husbandry, and the best
forests cut down for ready cash. I spent that first year searching out the
people who'd been turned off Durnam lands and scattered the length of Scotland,
the second fighting to keep us all fed and clothed. Every groat I can spare
goes into this land. Yes, I need money, Jonet. And I make no apologies for
however I find it."

"But
who did that to you? Who ruined Durnam?"

"Murdoch
Douglas," he said flatly.

"And
you would help him now?" It was a cry of outrage.

"For
now, yes, for the reasons I named earlier. But not forever, lass. The time will
come when he'll pay."

His
voice remained soft, but something about it sent a shiver down Jonet's spine.
The day would come when Murdoch Doug-las would rue making an enemy of this man.
She only wished she might hasten it along.

But
then perhaps she could.

"Alexander..."
She leaned toward him. "What if I pay you to help me reach my uncle?"

"Jonet,
don't be foolish. I'm sorry, truly I am, but I've made up my—"

She
slid from the chair to her knees beside him, fingers gripping the fine Spanish
leather of his boot tops. "No, listen!" she interrupted. "You
can have my jewels—whatever my uncle doesn't need to get away, that is. They're
worth far more than Murdoch is offering. Then my uncle will pay you two hundred
pounds when this struggle with the Douglases is over and he comes back from
France. Four hundred," she amended rashly when she saw his skeptical look.

"Jonet,
do you know how many Douglas troops are out there looking for you and Mure?
More than I care to take on. We'd never make it through."

"Yes
we will! There were two men helping me. They made it through once, and if they
did, so can we. Perhaps we can even join up with them—Duncan Maxwell, a cousin
of my uncle's, and one of his men named Gordon. If they're still free, they'll
be looking for me."

She
hesitated, then studied him thoughtfully. "And as for duping Angus, you'll
just have to chance he won't find out. Something tells me that fear isn't
holding you back."

"No,
but there's a lot to consider. We may not be successful. If I try to help you
and fail, I risk losing everything I've worked for the better part of my
life."

"And
if we are successful, you'll earn my undying gratitude and that of my
uncle," she put in quickly. "He's a powerful man, Alex, and this
trumped up charge of treason will never stand. He could help you—we could both
help you! I'll have wealth some day in my own right. If you help me now, I'll
give you whatever you ask."

His
gaze rested on her thoughtfully. "Ah... there is that."

"Angus
can't hold James forever. The king just turned sixteen. There'll be civil war
if the chancellor forces a regency much longer. And his high-handed arrogance
has alienated most of Scotland. Just who do you think would stand with Angus if
it comes to that?"

"Henry
Tudor?" he queried mildly. "Perhaps a few thousand English
troops?"

"But
we'd have France on our side."

"Aren't
you forgetting France and England just signed a treaty?" he asked with a
smile. "I doubt the French king will come to the aid of the Scots at the
risk of war with England again. Francis is much too canny for that."

"Everyone
knows that treaty isn't worth the paper it's written on," Jonet countered.
"It'll never last. The English will be up to their tricks and France will
need Scotland as an ally once more. Some say French agents are all over
Scotland right now, just watching to see what the English are up to."

"And
does Mure fancy a French overlordship, then, rather than an English one? This
is him speaking, I take it."

Jonet
flushed and looked away. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? If we have to
have one or the other?"

"Certainly.
However, I can't say either is to my liking. But we stray from the point. Do I
gamble on the wealthy and powerful Lord Mure or stay with a sure bet and
collect my hundred pounds from the Douglases?"

"Alexander,
please." Jonet's hand slid to his arm. It was warm and strong and she felt
the muscles cord and shift beneath her fingers. "Please, this is my life
you're discussing so casually. Murdoch Douglas wants the Maxwell lands. He's
already gotten his hands on Beryl, but he isn't satisfied with that. I'm
certain he plans to force me to marry his son."

A
flicker of something unsettling showed in Alexander's eyes. She couldn't read
it, and it was gone almost before she knew it was there.

He
covered her hand with his own, holding it lightly. "Ah, no, Jonet, 'twould
be a rare shame. You're not the lass for Thomas Douglas. Not the lass at
all."

"You'll
help me then?" She held her breath.

"I'll
do my best to get us to your uncle. I can say no more than that."

Her
fingers twisted to clasp his. She had an instant vision of them stroking the
strings of the lute, an instant remembrance of the gentle feel of them in her
hair. "Thank you, Alexander," she breathed. "Whether we succeed
or not, I'll never forget your help!"

His
eyes held hers. "No, Jonet," he murmured. "I don't imagine you
ever will."

He
left her then, but was back a short time later, a bundle of clothing tucked
under one arm. "Here," he remarked, pitching it toward her. "A
shirt and some breeches I borrowed off a kitchen lad." He grinned.
"You're in luck. Yesterday was wash day."

She
caught the clothes but looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"We'll
need to see how they fit. I'll step out while you change, but be quick about
it."

Jonet
glanced incredulously from Alexander to the pile of rough clothing in her arms.
"You don't expect me to... to wear this? 'Twould cause a dreadful
scandal!"

His
expressive eyebrows rose. "What's another scandal, more or less?"

"But,
Alex, it's not proper! Robert will be furious."

"If
he lives to find out," Alexander responded impatiently. "Look, Jonet,
was setting out across Scotland with two men proper? Was entertaining me alone
in this bedchamber half the night proper? Face it, lass, innocent as it was, if
word of any of this leaks out, your reputation is ruined. Why not be ruined in
France with Mure rather than here where Murdoch Douglas can use it to his
advantage if he chooses?"

Jonet
fingered the rough cloth of the shirt. "I... I suppose I hadn't thought
about it like that. I'm being ridiculous again, aren't I?"

Alexander
moved toward her. Firm fingers caught her chin, tilting her face toward his.
"Listen to me, lass. You're new to this kind of thinking, but I've lived
by my wits since I was ten years old. In times of trouble you'd best have only
one real goal if you hope to be successful."

His
fingers tightened until she felt the pain through her jaw. His eyes held hers.
"What is your goal, Jonet?"

She
didn't hesitate. "To reach my uncle."

His
grip eased. "Then you'll do whatever you must to achieve it and nothing
else matters. I'll not go one step further until I know you're committed to
this, that you'll do whatever I say without question." His hand fell away.
"I don't care a damn about Mure personally, but I'd hate to see you fall
into Douglas hands."

They
stared at each other in silence, then he grinned, unexpectedly at his most
charming again. "And there is a little matter of my own future at stake.
If the warden catches me transporting you across Scotland, I'll have to be more
persuasive than an angel to save my skin."

Jonet
took a long, deep breath, like one she would take before plunging headlong from
a cliff. "I understand the risk you're taking, Alex, and I'll be forever
grateful. And I am committed. I promise I'll do whatever you tell me."

"Very
well." He smiled briefly. "Get dressed."

He
turned then and was gone. Jonet stared at the clothing. Alexander was right.
She had to reach Robert. Nothing else was important.

***

Alexander
stepped out of his chamber just as Grant was entering the anteroom. "Good
news, Alex. Will Simon has one of the men you were wanting. No sign of the
other, though the lads are still looking."

"Damn,
I wanted them both!" Alex frowned, then shrugged resignedly. "Well,
one's better than none, I suppose. The other's probably ridden on to Mure. We'd
have heard if he'd been taken. If he's smart he'll get his lordship out of the
country, though I'm gambling they'll wait a few days in hopes of finding the
girl."