Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (21 page)

Or perhaps, he mused, her anger was with him for daring to block her way.

Her victim was on his feet and coming unsteadily toward him, clearly furious. Despite the hand clapped to his face, blood dripped from his nose. Evidently realizing he was only collecting gore, he flicked the hand to one side as if to get rid of the blood. As his angry gaze met Simon’s, Simon recognized Edward Colville.

“I suppose you saw that foolhardy wench clout me,” Edward snarled.

“I did, aye,” Simon said. “She has good aim.”

“Well, I’ll teach her not to play such tricks with me,” Edward said.

“That might not be wise,” Simon said.

“Wise or not, my sister has a lesson coming to her, sir.”

“Your
sister
?”

“Aye, sure. I warrant you can have no objection to a man punishing his sister. I told her she had no business up here without proper protection, and—”

“She clearly has little need for protection,” Simon interjected. In a harder tone, he added, “Before we continue this absurd conversation, Edward Colville, I should tell you those three
ladies
are here under my protection. I trust you will not require me to explain why I used the word ‘absurd.’ You’d do better to consider what Sir Malcolm Cavers will think of your behavior toward his daughter.”

“Look here, I don’t know who you are, but if you speak the truth about your responsibility for Alice Cavers, you know I am betrothed to her. That other—”

“Again I’d caution you to guard your tongue, Colville. Take your tale of woe to Sir Malcolm if you dare, but having lied to me, you will not persuade me now.”

“Damn it, what right—”

“As the youngest lass is
my
sister, sirrah, I’d advise you to hold your tongue if you do not want blood pouring from your mouth as well as your nose. I have held my temper so far only with difficulty. Press me further, and I’ll happily set it free. Begone now, and do not let me see you annoying those ladies again, or any others.”

“By God—”

Simon braced himself hopefully, his hands forming fists.

“Oh, very well,” Edward Colville muttered. “I suppose you will tell everyone who will listen to you what she did.”

“I do not gossip, certainly not about innocent young maidens,” Simon snapped. “But neither do I speak just to hear myself speak.”

Brushing past him, Edward strode off angrily down the hill.

Simon followed but felt sure the younger man would not try to catch up with Sibylla—not until he could do so safely, at all events.

Simon had come looking for her . . . for all three of them . . . after learning from Fife’s chamberlain that Fife would be unavailable to receive him until later in the day. Deciding then that it would be wiser to talk to Fife before taking his mother and sister to dine with the court, he had gone to relay that decision to Lady Murray.

Learning from her that the three younger ladies had gone exploring, he had strolled in search of them.

His first reaction at seeing Sibylla strike the man had been a mixture of amazement, alarm, and anger. He deplored the impulsiveness of any woman daring to strike someone so much better equipped than she was to win such a match. But underscoring those feelings had been an odd sense of pride and another of gratitude that he had been at hand to see it for himself and stop her victim from retaliating.

Now, as he walked back to David’s Tower, reason stepped in and he pondered what he would say to her. Recalling her words as she had passed him, he decided the younger Colville had insulted her or one of the others and that Sibylla had thought the insult severe enough to merit immediate punishment.

Either that or the man had said or done something to snap her temper.

Despite the mastery he now wielded over his own youthful volatility, Simon understood the sudden leap of rage she must have felt to have done such a thing.

Even so, she could not go about Edinburgh doing such things without risking dire consequences. He had to make her understand that straightaway.

Sibylla took her sister and Rosalie back to David’s Tower, aware that she would do well to avoid both Colvilles until Edward had time to come to his senses.

As they approached the tower entrance, Rosalie said, “Need we tell my lady mother what happened?”

Hearing Alice gasp, Sibylla said, “You may tell her or not, as you choose, my dear. I’ll not ask you to harbor secrets to protect me from your mother or your brother. He may tell her what he saw, however.”

Rosalie shook her head. “He will not. He may scold you—scold all of us, come to that—but he will not do so if she is present. Nor will he tattle to her.”

With a squeak of protest, Alice said, “You ought never to have done it, Sibylla. Edward must be
very
angry.”

“I expect he is, although he
should
be ashamed of himself. If I am sorry for hitting him, it is only because I should not have done so where others might see me.”

“No one was there until Simon came,” Rosalie pointed out as they passed through the entryway. “It was just luck, though, that he arrived before Edward recovered his senses enough to vent his anger on you.”

“Bad luck, too, though,” Alice said, looking sympathetically at Sibylla. “Murray is angry now, too, I think.”

“He is, aye,” Sibylla agreed. “But Rosalie is right. I own, I did not like to see him scowling at me, but we walked away unscathed only because he
was
there.”

Rosalie chuckled. “I warrant you wish he’d been a stranger instead.”

Sibylla met her twinkling gaze with a rueful smile. “I may have wished it at the time. But that stranger might as easily have been a friend of Edward Colville’s.”

That silenced them, leaving Sibylla with her thoughts until they reached Isabel’s chambers. Learning then that they would not dine with the court, after all, but that Lady Murray had ordered a small midday repast for them there, Sibylla hoped she had gained a respite from the inevitable confrontation with Simon.

Less than an hour had passed, though, when the chambermaid approached her to say that the Laird of Elishaw had sent her to ask if the lady Sibylla would join him for a stroll round the tower forecourt.

Lady Murray frowned at hearing of this request. “What
is
he thinking?” she asked. “Tell him to come here. To stroll alone with you will surely stir talk.”

“Not if I just walk about the courtyard with him, madam,” Sibylla said. “We both attend members of the royal family, after all. When the court is in residence, the courtyard is as public as the great hall. Therefore, most observers who recognize us will think only that we meet to relay a request from one royal personage to another.”

Sibylla did not include her father in “most observers” and hoped that if he did see them together, the sight would not spur him to tell Lady Murray that they had nearly married. He did sometimes forget his promises, especially if he overindulged in whisky or claret.

Quickly tidying her hair and shaking out her skirts, she went to meet Simon. Not for a minute did she contemplate refusing to walk with him, because she knew he would have his say one way or another. She would gain nothing by delay.

He was waiting quietly if not patiently on the stair landing. “We’ll be back soon,” he said. “What I have to say will not take long.”

Light in the stairwell was too dim to reveal much in his expression, but his demeanor revealed no sign of displeasure. Deciding that he believed he was merely attending to a tiresome duty, she put a hand on the forearm he extended to her when they reached the foot of the stairs, nodded pleasantly to the steward as they passed him, and let Simon take her out into the courtyard.

The sun directly overhead was shining warmly on the pebbled yard. Two other small parties strolled across the way. Otherwise, the area was deserted.

Doubtless, Sibylla thought, most people were preparing for the midday meal. “You do not dine with the Governor either?” she said.

“He is unavailable until later this afternoon,” Simon said. “That is to say he is unavailable to me until then. I do not know if he is here in the castle or elsewhere, but I thought it best that we not subject Rosalie to a possible snub.”

“Then doubtless my father will wait to present Alice, too.”

In an edgier tone, he said, “You do know that you have made an enemy here today, do you not?”

Grimacing, she said, “If you mean to scold, sir, I cannot stop you. But you will say little that I have not said to myself. I did warn you that I have a temper.”

“You must learn to control it.”

“I thought I did have it under control,” she said. “What happened?”

“Did you not see?”

“Nay, I crested the hill just as you turned and struck the man.”

“Faith, do you doubt that he deserved it?”

He looked at her, frowning. It was not the thunderous one she had seen earlier. Although he rarely showed his feelings, he was an expert frowner, and she suspected he could produce untold varieties. She had, however, begun to identify some of them.

This was his thoughtful frown.

“I saw nowt at first to tell me he deserved it,” he said. “But later, when I recalled your words as you stormed past me—”

“I am sure I walked past you with dignity, sir. I do not storm.”

“Don’t cavil, lass. You cannot warn me of temperament one minute and declare that you have none the next. In troth, I shifted my gaze from you when you asked me— nay, commanded me—to keep young Colville from pursuing you. Only later did I recall your exact words. I do not think you commonly call someone an ill-bred knave without cause. So I will ask you again. What happened?”

“He strode up to us when we came out of the chapel, caught Alice by the shoulders, and kissed her. He’d have kissed her on the lips had she not turned her cheek to him. He then suggested that she had pursued him here.”

“Rude behavior,” he said grimly. “But hardly actionable. He is betrothed to the lass, after all.”

“She shrank from him, sir, and then he rebuked her for not presenting him to her bonny companions.”

“I can understand that that angered you, but—” “Sakes, that was not all,” Sibylla said impatiently. “I do not rise to baiting so quickly, I promise you. I reminded him that he owed Alice more civility.”

“Calmly.”

“Calmly, aye,” she said. “He asked who I might be that I dared speak so boldly to a nobleman.”

“So . . . calmly
and
boldly,” he said. But she had felt his forearm tense.

Careful not to look at him, she said lightly, “Did I mention that he dared to address me as his beauty?”

The forearm tensed more. “You know you did
not
mention that.”

“Aye, but he did, so I told him that if he wanted an introduction, he should apply to someone in a position to present him to me. Until then, I said, he should step away from us. I was still perfectly calm, I assure you.”

“What did he say next?”

She remembered Colville’s words exactly. “That he does not dance to a wench’s command, especially one who would make such a pleasant armful.”

This time the hand at the end of his forearm clenched, and she detected a near growl. Hoping these signs indicated that she would not have to endure one of his chilly rebukes after all, she kept silent and let Colville’s words echo in his mind.

“We must hope no one ever sends the man on a diplomatic mission,” Simon said at last. “But I doubt you hit him for that.”

“Nay, I said we were leaving, but he told Alice he wanted her to go into the chapel and pray with him.”

“He has no business in that chapel,” Simon said.

“I did not want to debate that with him,” Sibylla admitted. “When I urged Alice to come away, he grabbed me and spun me toward him. He was angry and I . . .” She paused, eyed him speculatively, and gave a dismissive shrug.

“I see.” He held her gaze as he added, “Don’t tell me that Sir Hugh Cavers taught you that little trick.”

Obligingly, she said, “I won’t if you don’t want to hear it.”

“
What
was he thinking?”

“Hugh said that if I were ever threatened, the best plan was to act before the villain suspected I might. He also showed me how to use an attacker’s strength against him,” she added. “Having no notion what Edward meant by grabbing me so roughly, I . . . It seemed the best course.”

When Simon put his free hand atop hers on his forearm, she tensed until he said, “Unless you want to walk all the way to the gate, we should turn back.”

Realizing that she had paid no heed to where they were going brought fiery heat to her cheeks. He might have taken her anywhere, for she had kept her attention on him, trying to read his thoughts. She had not expected him to listen so intently or to let her explain without frequent interruptions to scold.

Her father tended to fix on point after point to which he could take exception, making it difficult to explain anything to him. If Sir Malcolm was angry, explanations rarely aided one anyway. What Amalie had said about Simon and her own experience with him had led her to expect similar treatment from him.

“You surprise me,” she said when he remained quiet. “I thought you would scold more, but you keep silent, even about Hugh’s teaching me.”

He glanced at her and looked away but not quickly enough to conceal from her the surprising twinkle in his eyes.

Relaxing, she said, “Now you
laugh
at me?”

“I rarely laugh, lass, but I have done so or nearly done so more times since we met again than I can recall in any such brief period for years. I kept silent because I was trying to think how to impress upon you how great my displeasure would be if you should pass this disturbing knowledge of yours on to Rosalie without, at the same time, putting the notion in your head that you
should
do so.”

She chuckled. “Too late, sir. Rosalie has already demanded instruction.”

Chapter 12

A
group of four was strolling toward Simon and Sibylla, so they walked on quietly until the others had passed them. Enjoying the comfortable silence, Simon remembered some news he had heard in the course of presenting himself to Fife’s chamberlain, news he thought would interest Sibylla.