Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (18 page)

“What is the other side of pleasing Fife?”

“That if you please one person, you invariably displease someone else.”

“That someone being me, I expect.”

“As matters transpired, aye. But you may recall, too, that I did not tell anyone in my family,” he said.

“You feared it would displease them?”

“There was dispute between my parents and yours,” he said. “I do not know why, but I’d heard my father speak the name Cavers disparagingly before Fife mentioned a possible marriage. But Fife did not approach my father either. Instead, he waited until shortly before I came of age and put the matter directly to me.”

“Do you think he knew what lay between them?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “He may have, but looking back, I can see that I thought I was taking control of my life. I felt like a man, and I had a long habit of following Fife’s orders. As nothing came of it, it did not occur to me until much later that I
ought
to have talked to my parents before taking such a step.”

She understood that. Young men who wanted to make something of themselves made it a habit to obey those in authority over them. Hugh had, but he had admired James Douglas and was proud to follow where James led.

After her years with Isabel, she found it hard to imagine any man of integrity staying loyal to Fife, let alone admiring him. But she knew that many honorable men
were
loyal to him and admired his strength as a ruler. Archie the Grim supported Fife, although Archie had said he did not always trust him.

They continued in silence to the hilltop overlooking Akermoor Loch, an oval body of water a third of a mile long and a quarter mile wide. As they watched, the sun dipped below hills to the west, its last rays gilding the one on which they stood.

As they started down the steep, pine-needle-strewn path toward the loch, Simon said, “Where would your father and Alice stay if they do go to Edinburgh?”

“I reminded him that I have access to Isabel’s chambers in the castle.”

He chuckled. “You’re treading on thin ice, lass. Even if he is unaware that the princess houses no men in her chambers, he will find out soon enough.”

“My godfather also keeps rooms there, in the gate-house tower.”

“Aye, sure, I should have remembered you can call on Douglas to aid you.”

As she took her next step, she looked up at him, wondering if he mocked her. Her right foot, coming down on dried pine needles, slid right out from under her.

Somehow he caught her by one arm and managed to swing her toward him and catch the other. Pulling her close, he steadied her against his warm body. He was not wearing his cloak, but she could smell its spicy scent on his doublet. Indeed, she could detect an underlying scent of lavender.

Heart pounding, and with unexpected heat surging through her, Sibylla pushed against his chest with both hands and looked up at him.

A glint in his eyes was her only warning before he pulled her close again, lowered his head, and captured her mouth with his.

Simon felt her soft lips yielding against his, and primal instinct surged through him, urging him to overpower her and claim her for his own.

A tiny, nearly unheard voice from the civilized part of his brain gently advised resistance to that urge. Every other fiber of him sided with the urge.

His arms encircled her, holding her close, and his mouth moved against hers as if it would devour her. His mind and body both anticipated her resistance, but none stirred. She pressed her body to his, breasts to chest, hips to hips. Her lips parted beneath his, inviting his tongue into her mouth to explore.

Accepting that invitation, he shut his eyes, savoring sensations that burned through his body, yearning to tear her clothes from her and see her again as he had in the moonlight at the pond. His hands slid up over her back to her shoulders.

With his right palm between her shoulder blades, his left hand stroked the back of her head and pulled off the soft cap she wore and the netting beneath it. Dropping both, he laced his fingers through her thick hair as his right hand moved to cup the nearest breast.

His lips and tongue continued to investigate her mouth as the hand at her breast began to explore, easing over its softness to the tip, prominent now beneath the soft cloth of her bodice. When he rubbed the nipple, she moaned.

He opened his eyes. Hers had shut. Her tongue moved against his.

Her hips moved, too, and he felt himself swell against her.

Aching for her, watching expressions play on her beautiful face, he shifted his hand from her breast to her lacing.

Her eyes opened. As his fingers began to tug, she touched them.

Aching more than ever, he shut his eyes again, this time in a wince.

Groaning his reluctance, he released her and opened his eyes.

Hers were dancing.

“We should go back,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse in his own ears. “It is too dangerous here.”

“It is, aye,” she agreed. “I understand gey well now why you thought my father should not trust you.”

“I did
not
say that,” he retorted indignantly. She did not reply, but her eyes twinkled more.

Chapter 10

D
espite her amusement, Sibylla knew that to stay where they were would be unsafe. Simon was much more dangerous to her sensibilities than she had realized.

Had anyone told her she would meet a man who could make her react to one unexpected kiss as she had to his, she would have laughed that person to scorn.

She had felt comfortable walking with him through the shady woodland. They had talked easily of matters important to each of them, rather than exchanging socially polite phrases as people who scarcely knew one another usually did.

He had subjected her to none of the flirtatious comments she so often heard from gentlemen in company. Nor had she expected such flummery from him. But neither had she expected him to speak so openly about himself.

Recalling that she, too, had spoken freely stirred another twinge of remorse.

She had spoken only the truth, but it was unlike her to confide her thoughts so easily to anyone else. Particularly to one so quick to judge her, as Simon was.

She gathered information. She did not share it without due consideration.

But to Simon she had spoken as naturally as, in the old days, she might have spoken to Hugh. Thinking of Hugh in the same context as Simon drew a soft smile.

“Why do you smile so?” Simon asked.

He had not said a word since they had started back, and he was looking straight ahead, watching the track. She had not realized he could see her expression.

She answered readily nonetheless, “I was thinking of my brother, Hugh.”

“Being back at Akermoor must stir many memories of him,” he said quietly. “Sir Hugh was a fierce warrior. You must be proud of him, and miss him sorely.”

“I do,” she admitted. “At times, as a bairn, I spent more time with him than with my father. I was just thinking that you and he share traits in common.”

He frowned. “I doubt we share many. I am skillful with a sword and dirk, and in a tiltyard. But I’ve fought no great battles and never sought to win my spurs.”

Fearing he might think it strange that she compared her openness with him to what she had shared with Hugh, she said only, “The other night at the pond when I saw you with your hands on your hips, scolding me, Hugh came instantly to mind.”

His lips twitched, but he said, “I warrant he’d have felt much as I did to see you in such a place. Especially at such an hour.”

“He felt exactly the same,” she said, smiling reminiscently. “You were kinder to me, though, and not nearly as loud as he was.”

“When was this that he scolded you?”

“When I was seven,” she said. “He caught me swimming in the loch by myself in broad daylight. Afterward, I couldn’t sit comfortably for days.”

“You’re lucky you could sit at all,” he said sternly. “You must have known you were doing wrong.”

“I did, aye, but Father would not go with me and Hugh was not home to ask. I asked Father if one of the other men could watch me, but he said no to that, too.”

Simon made an odd choking noise.

“I beg your pardon,” she said innocently. “I did not hear what you said.”

“I was stifling a most uncharacteristic hoot of laughter,” he admitted. “Sakes, lass, unless you swam in your shift or some other garment—”

“I swam and still swim as most people do, sir.”

“Most Border women do not swim at all,” he pointed out.

“I feel sorry for them,” she said. “ ’Tis most enjoyable, swimming.”

“It is gey fortunate for Kit that you were the one who heard her cries.”

She glanced at him and saw that he was looking solemn. No sign remained of his amusement, and she could read little in his expression.

He said no more, and she was content to walk beside him in silence.

The castle soon loomed ahead, and when they entered the hall they learned that Lady Murray and Sir Malcolm had sent Rosalie and Alice to bed. The two sat at the dais table with a chessboard between them, chatting amiably over a game of dames.

Isabel and her ladies often played the game, which French soldiers who had fought for the Douglas some years before had introduced to the Scottish Borders.

The French called the game dames after the two female pieces in chess, because each piece could move only one square diagonally as present rules of chess decreed.

Watching Lady Murray jump one of her dames over one of his and remove his, Sir Malcolm said cheerfully to Simon, “Here ye behold me enjoying defeat, lad. Mayhap ye’ll give me a game after her ladyship finishes me off.”

“She is too good for me, too, sir,” Simon said.

“You are welcome to take my place, for I am ready to retire,” her ladyship said. “I just hope you do not mean to leave at the first burst of dawn but will let us arise at a civilized hour and break our fast in a civilized manner before we must go.”

“As to your leaving,” Sir Malcolm said to Lady Murray. “A notion has occurred to me that I’d like to discuss with ye.”

“Indeed, sir,” she replied with a regal nod.

“The thing is, our Alice feels ill used because I’ve said she may not visit the royal court until she is married,” he said. “Had her mam lived, or were Sibylla married and thus able to look after her there, it would be different. But surely, for an unmarried lass to squire her sister about whilst also attending the princess . . .”

“ ’Twould not be suitable,” Lady Murray agreed when he paused. “Maidens should enjoy such events in the company of mature women who can tell them how to go on, and if possible, with friends their own age. Rosalie, of course, has me to guide her but has no companions her own age.”

“So ye said earlier, aye,” he said. “It gave me cause to think. What say ye, my lady, if Alice and I were to go with ye to town so she might also benefit from your guidance?

That is,” he said to Simon, “if ye’ll allow us to join your party.”

“You are welcome, sir,” Simon said.

Sibylla was careful not to let him catch her eye.

Simon noted Sibylla’s satisfaction and deduced that she had, indeed, twisted her father around her thumb. After years of seeing his mother do likewise with his father, he recognized the signs. And he swore—as he often had in the past—that when he did find someone to marry, he would not permit her to overset his decisions.

As Sir Malcolm was the victim of their manipulation, Simon felt only mild amusement and willingly joined him in a game of dames after the ladies retired. He found his host both interesting and genial, and less inquisitive than other men who knew of his relationship to Fife and hoped to pry information from him.

He was tempted again to ask Sir Malcolm what had happened between the Caverses and the Murrays that had annoyed his parents so. Recalling the amity he had noted all day between his host and Lady Murray, he wondered if she had been party to the disagreement or had simply supported his father’s dislike of Sir Malcolm.

As persuasive as she had been with Sir Iagan, Simon could not imagine that she would have permitted him to hold an opinion with which she strongly disagreed. And, although Sir Malcolm had said they might talk of it later, good manners forbade interrogating one’s host. So Simon held his peace.

Despite his concern about Fife’s summons, he had been looking forward to the journey to Edinburgh from the moment Sibylla had said she was going. Now that her father was also going, the last thing he wanted was to stir coals with him.

There was one matter, though, in which the older man might aid him.

“As you heard, sir, my lady mother prefers not to travel more than fifteen miles in a day,” Simon said as they were putting the game away. “I had hoped to persuade her to ride twice as far tomorrow, because I believe we can make Edinburgh by nightfall if she agrees. However, if I cannot persuade her . . .”

“Bless us, lad, why should ye? Nae female enjoys six or eight hours on a horse, certainly not when she rides in the torturous device they call a lady’s saddle as your lady mother does. I’m thankful to say both of my lasses ride astride as young Rosalie does. Still, I doubt Alice will want to ride so far in a day either, and there can be nae reason, for I’ve an invitation to stop at Penkaet Castle whenever I like. ’Tis nobbut fifteen miles from here, and Winton can put your people up as well as mine. Our lads will sleep rough, but the rest of us will be comfortable.”

Simon agreed to the plan with relief as he did not expect them to get away from Akermoor before midmorning. Nor did they. But Lady Murray was in good spirits and the two youngest ladies had become fast friends.

When Alice bemoaned her certainty that she would have nothing stylish enough for court wear, Rosalie assured her that she had enough clothing for them both if necessary. So they were getting on famously.

The Roman camp proved interesting, but they did not delay and forded Ettrick Water a short time later. Before crossing the river Tweed, they enjoyed the midday meal Sir Malcolm’s people had provided. Then, for a while after the crossing, they followed an old drove road through low, forested hills.