Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (37 page)

A prickling sensation shot up her spine, telling her who the “him” was.

Straightening, Sibylla raised her chin. She would have liked to explain the whole thing to the Douglas first, but his forbidding expression kept her quiet.

He was not quiet. “Have you lost your senses?” he demanded, his face too close to hers and choleric with fury. “Do you know how near you came to death?”

“I—”

“Silence!” he roared. “I do not ask questions to hear your prattle but to keep me from snatching you off that horse and putting you over my knee!”

“That is my right now, my lord,” Simon said with icy calm from much too close behind Sibylla for her comfort. “She is my wife.”

She dared not look at him, so she fixed her gaze on Douglas, reassuring herself that Archie at least would not make good his threat. His expression still suggested otherwise, but at last he shifted his gaze to Simon.

“By heaven,” he growled. “I’ve a mind to hang you both if only to ease my temper! I
told
you what I’d do if I caught you conspiring with the Percys.”

“By my troth, sir, I have not done that,” Simon said. “I cannot tell you why Cecil Percy is here. We were getting to that when the horns interrupted us.”

“Aye,
Stewart
horns,” Douglas said. “You’ve no right, unless Fife be with you, to be blowing such.”

“I did not order it,” Simon said. “To my ken, Fife is nowhere near here.”

“That was my fault, my lord,” Sibylla said, her eyes still on the Douglas but only too aware that Simon was within arm’s reach of her. “I told my hornsman to blow as if the King’s whole army were behind us. He . . . he misunderstood.”

Stunned silence greeted her explanation.

“As . . .” She swallowed. “As soon as I realized what had happened, I told him to blow the Murray notes instead. I’d seen the Percy men below and a host of riders to the west, so I thought the Percys had lured Simon into ambush. That’s why I—”

“Enough,” the Douglas said curtly. He turned to Simon. “I expect I’d better hear what you have to say.”

Movement of riders wending through the mass behind Douglas soon revealed to Sibylla that she had more to face than Archie’s temper and Simon’s.

Meeting first Buccleuch’s harsh gaze and then Garth’s reminded her that they both regarded her as a sister now, subject to their authority as well as Simon’s.

With an inward sigh, she looked back at the Douglas. He had turned to Buccleuch and Westruther. “You two should also hear what Murray has to say,” he said.

“With respect, my lord,” Simon said. “I’d ask that Cecil Percy join us. Unless I much mistake the matter, he has concerns about this incident, too.”

“Aye, sure, why not?” the Douglas said with more than a touch of sarcasm. “At least his men, though armed to the teeth, are holding their peace.”

Sibylla, shocked to think the leader of the visitors to Elishaw had been Cecil Percy after all, and wondering where else her thinking had gone amiss, turned to catch a glimpse of Percy only to find her gaze locked with Simon’s instead.

Simon had had all he could do not to snatch her off her horse right there in front of God and two armies and use her exactly as Archie had suggested. His fingers fairly itched to grab hold of her. But when she turned, and her silvery gaze met his, all he could think was how blessed he was that he hadn’t lost her.

Such thinking, however, being clearly unacceptable under the circumstances, he forced icy calm into his voice to say, “Do not expect thanks for this, madam.”

“I am not so foolish, my lord,” she said. “I know that when you decide on a course, you remain certain you are right even when events prove you wrong.”

“We will talk later,” he promised, turning to watch Cecil Percy approach.

Behind Percy, four men-at-arms flanked two others, whom Simon recognized with astonishment and a sense of irony as the Colville brothers. Casting a glance at Sibylla, he saw that she had recognized them, too.

As her gaze met his, her lips curved wryly, making him sure that, believing Kit was Lady Catherine, she had leapt again to conclusions—this time about the Colvilles. The two might well be involved, but he had yet to see evidence of it.

Nevertheless, as he heard Douglas order his men to fall back and give them space to talk, he looked forward grimly to hearing what the Colvilles would say.

Sibylla watched the Douglas’s men move a short distance away and saw, too, that Cecil Percy’s men likewise moved back—except for the four right behind him who stood with Thomas and Edward Colville.

She studied Thomas, trying to read his expression. With so many other horses moving, she did not hear one approaching her until Westruther’s voice sounded practically in her ear.

“So you’ve been riding like Auld Clootie again, as young Sym would say.”

Managing not to jerk her reins, she turned to him and said, “I did as I thought necessary, sir. Not that I expect you or Buccleuch, let alone Simon, to accept that.”

Garth’s bright blue eyes twinkled. “Simon is the only one that need concern you, lass. But I’ll wager you do have some unpleasantness coming your way. I’m a gey tolerant fellow, myself, but if Amalie were to—”

“Amalie is with child, sir. I am not.” It occurred to her as she said it that she might be, but she took care not to let that thought show on her face.

Garth was shaking his head. “Try telling that to Simon and see where it gets you,” he said. “I’m sure you had cause, Sibylla, and I’ve reason of my own to be glad you are quicker to act than to think. I wish you luck, lass.”

“As long as neither you nor any of the others mean to make me miss hearing what is said here, sir, I shall remain content for now.”

“Nay, we’ll keep you near, lass, especially Archie. Wat and I did tell him of your marriage. But as you and I both heard when he spoke to you, he still looks on you more as a daughter than as Simon’s wife. He may have more to say to you anon. But for now, he will keep you close to him for your own protection.”

Sibylla nodded but knew the Douglas would not protect her from Simon. The journey back to Elishaw would be discomfiting no matter what happened here.

Simon could wreak his vengeance on her at last, with every right to do so.

Cecil, encouraged by Douglas to speak his piece, said, “I was in the area for private reasons when I came on this chap, Colville, and his men. He warned me that Scottish reivers were on their way to harass my people again and steal their beasts. We waited with him until Murray and his men appeared. Colville said they were the reivers. I met Murray, and we’d begun to speak when events transpired as you saw.”

Simon watched the Douglas shift his fierce gaze to Thomas Colville. “You say you know of raiders attacking here in England,” Archie said. “Where are they?”

“I fear they are here, my lord,” Thomas said, gesturing to Simon.

Simon saw Sibylla bristle, but she wisely held her tongue.

He said evenly, “You know that is not true, Colville. But you and my cousin have now said enough to make me certain that your trail, not his, is the one we followed here from Elishaw. You stayed there last night under false pretenses.”

“I am not surprised that
you
would make such an accusation,” Thomas said with disdain. To the Douglas, he added haughtily, “It is wholly untrue, of course.”

Keeping tight rein on his temper, Simon said gently, “You will hardly be foolish enough to insist on that. You must know that one of your men rides a pony with a misshapen hoof that we can easily identify.”

Thomas glanced at Edward, their expressions showing that they did know.

Simon added, “My own experience proves to me that a man may do things in obedience to his liege lord, or a brother, that he would not do on his own. If you two set things in motion at someone else’s command to draw me into a trap you expected my cousin Percy to spring for you, you’d be wise to admit it.”

When both Colvilles remained silent, Douglas said curtly, “If you’ve aught else to say, lads, say it now or I’ll be drawing my own conclusions.”

“It was not like that,” Thomas said. “We had nowt to do with bringing the Percys here, though I’ll admit we used the Percy name to gain entrance to Elishaw.”

“Why?” Douglas asked.

“I knew that Lady Murray”—Thomas glanced at Sibylla—“the dowager lady Murray, that is, was a Percy, so I thought . . . that is, my lord suggested that the name would gain us entrance. When these Percys appeared unexpectedly today, I told them what we have suspected for some months now—that Murray of Elishaw is behind the raiding both here and throughout the Scottish Borders.”

“Is that notion Fife’s or yours?” Archie asked bluntly. “Both, I’m afraid, sir. We have come to see that Murray pretends to remain neutral merely to cover more disreputable activities that increase Elishaw’s wealth.”

Sibylla snapped, “That, Thomas Colville, is a fiendish lie, and you know it!”

“Hush, lass,” Simon said. “Nobbut what she speaks the truth, Colville. Are you prepared to swear that you lied to my people at Elishaw and gained entrance there with no idea but that you’d find stolen sheep and cattle in my bailey?”

“You know that was not my purpose,” Thomas said. “I don’t deny that my lord Fife would be content had we found such, but you know very well that I sought something far more valuable.”

Impatiently, Douglas said, “Well, Murray, is there aught to what the man says?”

“Nay,” Simon said without taking his eyes off Thomas. “I thought nowt but that Cecil Percy had come a bit earlier than expected to Elishaw.”

“That is true, my lord,” Sibylla said. “However, I did suspect mischief.”

“That’s enough, madam,” Simon said. “Leave this matter to us.”

“Nay then, I’ll hear her,” the Douglas said. “Go on, lass.”

Sibylla said, “You have heard of the missing heiress, Lady Catherine Gordon, my lord. The Colvilles have been searching for weeks for her.”

“I am betrothed to the lady Catherine, my lord,” Thomas protested.

“I did hear that, aye,” Archie said. “And a travesty I thought it, too. Do you mean to say you gained entrance to Elishaw to search for your wee heiress there?”

“Aye, for you see, my brother had seen her with Murray,” Thomas said.

Simon kept silent, wondering how Edward Colville would explain that.

But Sibylla said angrily, “Remember the lad Dand, Thomas Colville, and tell the whole tale! If Edward saw us with Kit and Dand, my lord, then he and his men are the villains who pitched the poor lad into the Tweed. So terrified was Kit of them that she hurled herself into the river after him rather than let them catch her.”

Simon turned to hush her again, but Douglas flicked a hand, silencing him.

Edward Colville, Simon noted, was silent but deeply flushed.

When Sibylla began to go on, Thomas cut her off, saying, “Murray, do you allow
all
your womenfolk to run their mouths so? That’s a fine tale, my lady, but my brother will tell you ’twas simply by accident those children fell into the river.”

“Is that so?” Sibylla asked Edward scornfully.

“Aye, it is,” he muttered without looking at her. Thomas said, “For Murray to pluck them out and carry them back to Elishaw like more of his ill-got beasts was nobbut theft. Edward rode at once to tell me he had them. I informed my lord Fife, and we decided that rather than set siege to Elishaw to regain what was mine, we’d try a less martial way first.”

Douglas said, “Why did you not simply ask Murray to give her back?”

The Colvilles looked at each other again.

Furiously, Sibylla said, “Because they never thought of that! They and their master had other plans in mind. So they got in by lying, then took the opportunity to cross-question poor Dand about Catherine’s whereab— No, Simon, I will
not
be silent. You do not know this part.
Then
, Thomas Colville, when Dand would not tell you where Catherine was, one of you pitched him down those stairs to his death.”

Shock stopped Simon’s breath in his throat.

Sibylla saw Simon’s ashen face and wished she might have broken the news more gently to him. “Aye, sir, it is true,” she said to him quietly. “They did it in the dead of night, after our lads were asleep, but there was a witness.”

“Kit?”

“Aye, she is safe. You were right about that.”

“There, Douglas, I told you they had her,” Colville said.

Simon said, “We do have a wee lass at Elishaw, my lord. But I’d swear on my life that she is
not
Catherine Gordon. The lad the Colvilles evidently killed—”

“That is a
damnable
lie!” Thomas exclaimed. “I’ll admit we did threaten the boy when he refused to tell us where the lass had hidden herself. But it was only by the most regrettable accident that he fell down the stairs.”

“You swung him over the stairs, threatening to throw him,” Sibylla said.

“Be silent, damn you! You cannot know such a thing to be true.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Douglas said. “Take them, lads, and if they have other men yonder amidst Percy’s lot, seize them all.”

“With respect, my lord,” Percy said. “We
are
in England, and many of us could have died here today. I’d like the privilege of hanging them myself.”

“Nay, we’ll keep them,” Douglas said. “You’ve little evidence to show, whilst it seems we can prove murder and attempted murder against them. Also, when we chat with the Colvilles’ men, I believe one or two of them, to save their own skins, will tell us more about the other raids. I’m guessing they had much to do with them, too.”

Buccleuch said casually, “I own, Percy, I remain curious about your presence here. You’ve a large tail for a man just out for a day’s ride.”

Cecil Percy glanced at Simon. “I was on my way to Elishaw,” he said. “In response to a
very
odd summons.”

Visibly puzzled, Simon said, “Summons?”

“Aye, sir, for I received a message from your lady mother, suggesting—nay, commanding—that I set the exact date for my requested visit to a few weeks hence and bring my daughters with me, mayhap my sons, too. The tone of her message indicated that you were ready to seek a wife”—he flicked a glance at Sibylla—“and might soon be seeking a husband for the lady Rosalie as well. I was in no way averse to discussing such possibilities, even an alliance, with her. However, as I had not . . .”