Stuart, Elizabeth (6 page)

He
looked up. "Tell the men the other's probably long gone, but to keep an
eye out just the same. I want this one drugged before he's brought here. He's
not to know who's holding him."

Grant's
expressionless face didn't change. "Aye."

A
hesitant knock sounded against the door, along with a softly voiced,
"Alex, I'm ready."

He
glanced toward the door and then back to Grant. "And tell the men we'll be
leaving. Tonight," he added quietly.

Grant
shot him an inquiring glance. "She's agreed?"

Alex
nodded.

Grant
turned toward the outer door with a frown. "If only all our enemies were
women, we'd be in Holyrood House a'ready," he remarked dourly.

"Ah,
but I've no desire to be king of Scotland. And I suggest you keep your mind
only on those matters which concern you."

Grant
paused in the doorway. "But I do, lad. Believe me, I do."

Alexander
turned without comment and opened the bedchamber door. Jonet stood nervously a
few feet from the bed, staring in his direction.

His
eyes slid over her consideringly. "A nice fit... in most places."

Jonet
flushed scarlet and turned away, unknowingly presenting him with a most
enchanting view. The girl was trim and lovely, the soft curves of her breasts
and hips emphasizing a narrow waist he could easily span with his hands.

"The
hips are just a bit too broad, the chest a bit too rounded," he remarked
matter-of-factly. "But with a loose doublet to cover it all, you'll do,
lass. Thank God, you're not one of those voluptuous creatures with flesh
sagging about in all the wrong places."

Jonet
couldn't meet his eyes, but she could hear the amusement in his voice. It
probably wasn't possible to feel more humiliated than she did now. To have her
body sized up and found inadequate by a man like Alexander Hepburn was
distinctly unnerving. And he'd made an uncanny guess about her size. She
wondered if he'd helped Madge that first night after all.

"Yes,"
she got out. "Thank God."

"Just
one thing more." He dragged a three-legged stool toward him with the toe
of one boot, then drew a pair of shears from his belt. "Sit," he
commanded.

Jonet's
eyes went from the stool to the pair of shears in his hand.

Her
hair.

The
shock swirled over her like a dousing of cold water. Merciful heaven, not her
hair! Her heavy auburn mane fell well past her shoulders. It was Robert's pride
and her one vanity.

Alexander
remained silent, his eyes unrelenting. After a moment of stunned disbelief,
Jonet moved forward wordlessly.
He
was going to cut her hair.

She
collapsed onto the stool and Alexander knelt beside her. With Madge's help she
had used pins this morning to dress it up and away from her face. As Alexander
removed the pins her hair spilled onto her shoulders in a profusion of auburn
silk.

She
closed her eyes, concentrating on just two phrases.
What is your goal,
Jonet? To reach my uncle.

She
heard the snip of the shears, felt the gentle tug of Alexander's fingers. It
was ridiculous, but for the first time since entering this nightmare, she felt
the ache of tears behind her lids.

And
then it was over.

"It
will grow back, lass," Alexander said softly.

She
opened her eyes and found him gazing at her with a look all too knowing.

"You're
a beautiful woman, Jonet, with long hair or short." His hands framed her
face, his fingers gently threading the soft new curls about her ears. "And
you'll never in a million years be mistaken for a lad. Take my word on
it."

It
wasn't so much the words that stopped her breath, nor the feel of his hands
against her face that sent her heart racing. But the avid look in his eyes, the
sight of his mouth, sensual and firm, his lips half parted only inches from
hers, they did something to her, something she couldn't even begin to
comprehend.

She
swallowed against the unexpected tightness in her chest, the trembling of her
insides. "God help me then," she managed. "Next you'll be
ordering me to grow a beard!"

Laughter
flickered in his eyes. The tension melted away. He tweaked one short curl.
"Believe it or not, lass, this is all the damage I intend doing."

He
rose to his feet and slipped the shears back into his belt alongside his
dagger. Her gaze fell to the floor and the dismal mass of shorn hair scattered
about.

"It
may comfort you to know you passed a most important test just now, Jonet. If
you'd questioned my actions or made even one squeak of protest, I was going to
be done with this insane venture and turn you over to Murdoch Douglas."

She
looked up, eyes widening in horror. Alexander was staring at her
dispassionately. "Do you know you've the most exquisite green eyes I've
yet seen." One finger traced alongside her cheek. "The color of the
sea in winter sunlight," he continued. "An intriguing color for a
lass... a damned intriguing color."

The
earth seemed to be shifting unsteadily. Alexander's gaze held hers and she felt
warm and weightless suddenly, as if her whole body had gone boneless.
"You're quite good at this, aren't you?" she managed. "You could
almost do this for your bed and board... or perhaps you do."

He
grinned and something like respect dawned in his eyes. "Aye, but sometimes
I tell the truth. Like today."

He
changed the subject abruptly then by jerking his head toward the bed.
"Take a nap now if you're able. Madge will clean this up and bring you an
early supper."

"But
I'm not tired," she protested. "I haven't had a bit of dizziness or a
headache since yesterday. I'm well, truly I am."

He
moved toward the door without looking back. "I'm glad to hear that, Jonet.
For it's tonight we ride out."

The
brilliant orange sun slipped below the horizon far too fast. Jonet stood at the
window watching the hills shade from green to blue-tinged silvers that
gradually faded into twilight. She was just beginning to wonder if she
shouldn't light a lamp when a stranger appeared in the doorway. She hadn't
heard him approach, but all at once, he was there.

"You
must be the new lad Alex mentioned. John, isn't it?"

Jonet
stared at him, too surprised even to speak.

"Come
along then if you're riding with us." He turned. "The men are ready
to leave."

Jonet
swallowed hard and grabbed up her cap, then hurried after his disappearing
figure. She caught up with him in the hallway. "Your name, sir?"

"Grant."

She
hastened along beside him. "Is Lord Hepburn coming? He didn't tell me when
we'd be leaving or anything about—"

"The
master is finishing some business in the hall," Grant interrupted.
"He sent me to tell you we're leaving."

"Oh."

Grant
shoved open a heavy oak door, and they strode down a series of stone steps into
a shadowy courtyard. Overhead the sky still blushed with the lavender-rose of
sunset, but here within the high walls of Durnam darkness already ruled.

A
half dozen men stood talking desultorily, holding the reins of impatient,
stamping horses. A boy moved about with a torch of flaring pitch, the
flickering orange light picking out rough clothing and hard, bearded faces that
could have belonged to any outlaw band.

Jonet
swallowed hard. Surely Alexander didn't expect her to ride out with these men.
They looked more like border ruffians bent on mischief than soldiers of a
Scottish laird. She drew the heavy, padded doublet protectively about her body.
Alexander still hadn't appeared and she was becoming more anxious by the
moment.

Then
a ripple of movement went through the group. Men sprang into their saddles
without a word, and Jonet was left staring in surprise as Alexander Hepburn,
striding a big, skittish gray, rode through the cluster of men on his way to
the open gateway of Durnam.

Belatedly
Jonet realized he wasn't going to acknowledge her. He didn't even look back.
She caught her reins tightly. Putting her toe in the stirrup, she hauled
herself up, praying desperately the horse wouldn't shy.

The
mare slid forward eagerly, and Jonet settled into the saddle. She caught up
with the others and breathed a sigh of relief. No one was paying her any
attention. Maybe the men did think her a lad. In any event, Alexander was here.
That fact alone brought her comfort.

They
moved through the shadowy archway and over the drawbridge into the night. Jonet
felt a shiver of excitement run through her as the evening wind brushed her
face, toying with her curls in a way reminiscent of Alexander's caress.

They
rode for an hour without speaking. Some wild, secret part of her came alive to
the night and the wind and the freedom of cantering over the rough hills, of
splashing through frothing burns that cut like jagged slashes of silver across
the darkened landscape. The stars came out, winking like tiny candle flames in
the heavens. Jonet had an absurd urge to throw back her head and sing from the
sheer, glorious beauty of it all.

Then
Alexander was beside her. "Well, John, weary yet?"

"I
can't imagine growing weary of this."

He
chuckled. "Tell me the same thing come dawn."

They
rode in companionable silence. A steep, sloping hill rose up just ahead, its
dark summit crowned with a flickering crimson halo.

Jonet
squinted into the night. She'd thought at first it was the moon, but unless she
had lost all direction the moon should be coming up off to her right. And
moonlight didn't flicker. "Alex, what's that?"

"The
May's eve bonfires. Have you forgotten what tomorrow is, lass?"

May
Day, the pagan holiday handed down from a mysterious people who had walked the
land generations before even the earliest believers. It was still celebrated
throughout the countryside, often with towering bonfires that burned to keep
evil spirits at bay and fuel drunken revelries that went on through the night.

At
Beryl it was a time of feasting and dancing and happiness all around as young
people cut festive May garlands and danced through the dawn—sometimes with the
inevitable result nine months later. But this year the ashes of the great
bonfires would remain cold. She doubted there would be dancing anywhere on the
Maxwell estates.

"Perhaps
you should harken to the bonfires, lass. There may be evil spirits abroad in
the land."

"Yes.
And they go by the name of Douglas."

Alexander
smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the shadowy featurelessness of his face.
"It may interest you to know that in case we meet up with them, we're on
our way to Dryburgh to the May's eve revels. We're going wenching," he
added wickedly.

Jonet
cocked her head. In the easy cloak of darkness her own newfound recklessness
quickened. She answered in much the same tone. "Then some lass is going to
get a tremendous surprise, don't you think?"

Alexander
threw back his head and laughed, and Jonet joined in. "By all the saints,
you're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked.

Jonet
hesitated. "I know it sounds dreadful, but truly I am. I know we may meet
with disaster any moment, but for some reason I'm not afraid. I feel—"

She
broke off and stared out over the darkened countryside, frosted now with the
exquisite silver of a new-risen moon. "I feel as if I need to taste and
see and do everything now because... because I may never get another chance.
And if disaster comes, if the worst does happen, then the only thing I'll
regret is if it brings you to ruin."

Alexander
was silent for a very long time. "Said like a true Scotsman," he
remarked at last. "Chance brought us together, Jonet, and chance has a
great measure in deciding our fate. Keep your goal uppermost, but live for the
moment. Live for the moment, lass, and never look back."

He
moved forward abruptly then, and his men closed in around her. Jonet pondered
his words as they rode, skirting settlements and avoiding roads but always
heading east.

The
moon crept halfway across the heavens. Jonet was chilled and stiff, but her
spirits were still high when Alexander finally called a halt. No one offered to
help, so she swung herself from the saddle and tried not to flinch as she
dropped to the ground.

"Jem,
Grant, John... you men, over here!" Alexander snapped.

John.
That was her, she supposed. Jonet moved obediently in Alexander's direction and
squatted on her heels in rough imitation of the man called Grant. "We're
through the easy part of the trip," Alexander was saying. "From here
on if we're stopped it could mean trouble. Should things get ugly, you three
are to move out. We'll fight a delaying action to give you a chance to disappear."

Unbelievably
no one protested. Jonet looked around in surprise. "But you can't expect
us to leave you! That wouldn't be right."

The
men beside her stared judiciously at the ground. Belatedly, Jonet realized her
error.

"If
you've no wish to be left by the way here and now, you'll hold your
tongue," Alexander snapped. "Grant and Jem can get you where you're
going. I trust them both with my life and yours. If anything happens to me,
they'll continue toward the Lothian country as you've instructed us."

Jonet
wanted to sink into the ground. She wasn't used to such a tone. But then she
had promised she wouldn't protest, that she would do as Alexander ordered. But
the thought of him risking his life while she galloped blithely off was
intolerable. Robert would certainly never do such a thing.

Alexander
turned on his heel and moved off to give orders to the others. The dissolute
looking Jem strolled away into the darkness, but Grant took something from his
pocket and held it out. "Eat, Mistress Maxwell. It'll be a long time till
our next stop."

She
stared at him in surprise. "You know who I am?"

"I
do. But the name John has a fine sound to it, don't you think?"

Taking
the proffered jerky, Jonet took a small bite. "No one paid me any mind. I
thought perhaps I had passed for a lad."

Grant
chuckled. "No one paid you attention, lass, for a very good reason. Alex
threatened to flog them to bits personally if they did."

"Oh."
She took another bite then followed Grant's example and relaxed on the ground.
"Why?"

"He
wanted things to appear normal. We've no idea if we might be watched. His
orders were no special treatment, no attention because you were a lass—to get
the men into the way of it if you ken. And nobody disobeys Alex. They've seen
him follow through on his threats oft enough. He's the very devil when he's
crossed."

They
ate for a while in silence. Grant passed her a flask of water and Jonet drank
deeply, washing the dry, salty bite of the meat from her throat. "Do you
know him well," she asked suddenly.

"Alex?
Better than most, I expect. Been with him better'n eight years now. He came
across me one night in a London slum, backed against the wall of a rundown
tavern. Three Englishmen were about to finish me off. Didn't like my Scots way
of speakin', so they said. Only sixteen and he took 'em all on by himself. Been
his man ever since."

Jonet
took another drink of the water. "You know, I didn't mean I doubted you
and Jem could get me across Scotland when I said that earlier."

"I
know that, lass. So does he."

"Then
why was he angry? I know I shouldn't have challenged his orders, but—"

"He's
a bit on the prickly side right now. Something's sticking in his craw, I
suspect."

Jonet
bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. Perhaps Alex was more worried than he'd let
on. "What is it, Grant?"

He
rose abruptly and held down a hand. "Looks as if our rest is over. There's
Jem with the horses."

So
he wasn't going to tell her. With a wry grin, Jonet reached to take the
proffered hand. "Aren't you afraid you'll be flogged within an inch of your
life?"

"The
lad wouldn't dare. Besides," he added, stone-faced, "he's not
looking."

They
rode till all the stars burned away and the sky overhead pearled to gray. The
wavering light of a mist-shrouded dawn crept over the land, fading the black
and silver landscape until the harsh outlines of valleys and braes began to
take shape. And with them, some two dozen mounted men in a hollow off to the left.
They were wearing the crowned heart badge of the Angus Douglases conspicuously
on their sleeves.

Jonet
blinked, then blinked again. The men had materialized from the low-lying mist
and were moving toward them at a smart trot.

More
weary and frightened than she had ever been in her life, Jonet glanced ahead at
Alexander. He made no sign he was even aware of the approaching disaster.

The
sense of adventure that had earlier sustained her had long since fled, and now
a keen frustration seized Jonet. She had been through so much. She had tried so
hard to be brave, to keep her wits.

Now
she was exhausted and just wanted to be home. And most of all she wanted the
familiar comfort of Robert Maxwell. She wanted him to put his arms around her
and tell her that all would be well. That life could get back to normal.

But
reality was rushing toward her in the shape of a score of muddied Douglas
soldiers. And what in God's name was Alexander going to do?

The
little band continued toward the patrol at a trot. Alexander raised his hand in
greeting. Grant edged his mount nearer, and somehow his presence was
comforting.

The
two groups reined in their horses. Jem had moved up on her left, but the rest
of Alexander's men were turning out along the trail, slumping in the saddle in
weariness and boredom. She was amazed. Surely they knew the danger.

Alexander
moved forward to confer with the leader of the Douglases, and Jonet held her
breath. He looked as arrogantly unconcerned as any king, as innocent as an
archangel. The hilt of his sword caught the first golden rays of sunlight,
glinting splendidly at his hip. Jonet found herself praying suddenly, praying
that he wouldn't die.

She
settled herself more closely in the saddle. Any moment Alex might strike out at
the man, sending her and her two escorts on a bolt for freedom. She didn't like
the idea of leaving him any more than she had that night with Gordon and
Duncan. She had yet to learn if the two men were alive and their fate had
haunted her. How much more would Alexander's?

She
gazed at his broad shoulders and proud, dark head, remembering the easy
laughter they had shared a few hours earlier. Then unexpectedly, he was drawing
some papers from within his doublet and handing them over to the Douglas
captain. The man studied them while Alexander relaxed in the saddle, gazing out
over the countryside.