Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (41 page)

The Douglas said, “We’ll find your mam for you, lass, and I’ll see you safe, and your mam and Catherine, too. Do you know Dand’s family name, or kindred?”

She shook her head hard. “They dinna ken nowt, and I canna go back there. They’ll be sore vexed wi’ me ’cause it be my fault he’s dead—for running away!”

“Nay,” Archie said. “You’ll come with me, and I’ll see all safe. I’m thinking, if you know that your mam and Catherine crossed the river, you ken where they are.”

She shook her head again, the tears falling unchecked now, silently.

Sibylla opened her mouth but shut it again when Simon put a hand on her shoulder. He said, “We’ll keep Kit here overnight, my lord. I can meet you for our talk tomorrow at Hermitage and bring Kit with me. I warrant, as frightened as she has been, a good night’s sleep here in familiar surroundings will do her good.”

“Aye, lad, that’s a good notion,” Archie said. “In troth, Hermitage is nae a good place for a bairn.”

Sibylla did speak then, saying gently, “Mayhap, my lord, if Kit
can
remember Dand’s family name or where you
might
find her mother, she could stay here until you do. I warrant you’d travel more easily without a bairn to trouble you.”

The Douglas gaze held hers until she saw understanding of her tactics dawn. He nodded then and said without looking at Kit, “But she’ll bide here only as long as she will talk to you, lass, and
only
if she can tell you what we need to know.”

Nodding, Sibylla said, “She can sleep with me tonight, and we’ll talk.”

“Nay,” Simon said, his hand firm on her shoulder. “You may sup with her upstairs and talk whilst you eat, but she’ll sleep better if you put her to bed in Amalie’s chamber. Tetsy can stay with her there, so she’ll not be alone.”

He spoke evenly, but Sibylla detected an implacable note. When she tried to read his expression, he leaned close and murmured in her ear, “After I bid farewell to our guests, I’ll expect to find you in my bedchamber, madam, where
we
will talk. Do not make me look for you.”

“No, my lord,” she said in a normal tone. Heat flooded her cheeks then as she realized not only that Simon might misunderstand her, or choose to misunderstand, but that the others must think she disagreed with him about Kit. In an attempt to recover, she said, “Putting Kit in Amalie’s bed is an excellent idea, sir.”

Noting a grin on Garth’s face and wry disbelief on Buccleuch’s, she squeezed Kit’s hand and said, “We’ll leave you to your supper now, my lords. Come, lassie.”

“Be the laird vexed with us?” Kit murmured as they started up the stairs.

“Nay,” Sibylla said, adding silently,
only with one of us
.

As the thought formed, she heard Douglas say, “We’ll sup quickly and save most of our talking for Hermitage, so you can tend to your lady tonight, lad. If you’re wise, you’ll get on her gey fierce for that chancy bit of mischief today.”

Sibylla paused long enough to hear Simon say, “Have no fear, my lord. I can promise she won’t try to face down an army again.”

Although she allowed herself a wry smile at the un-likelihood of such a necessity arising, she was aware that only a dafty would feel optimistic about what Simon would say to her. After he’d had his say, though, was another matter.

When Kit’s small hand slipped into hers again and she realized the child had also heard what the two men had said, Sibylla’s focus shifted and she said quietly, “We’ll talk a little now, Kit, and it will all come right. You’ll see.”

Squeezing her hand, Kit nodded, still solemn. “I hope ye’re right.”

The Douglas kept his word and haled the others off with him when they had supped, and Simon went with them to the bailey.

No sign of the Governor’s presence remained there. He would travel only to Jedburgh or Kelso, but the moonless night was clear with a blanket of stars, so once out of the forest, he and his men would see their way easily. Not being Border bred, Fife would keep his torches lit and thereby miss much of the brilliant display.

Archie, on the other hand—moon or no moon—was famous for traveling as swiftly by night as by day. He rarely ordered torches unless the night produced an over-cast sky. With less than eight miles between Elishaw and Hermitage, and a good track, he and his men would make speed.

Simon’s impatience stirred when Westruther paused to adjust his saddle.

Percy and the Douglas talked to each other as they waited for him, but Buccleuch eased his skittish mount nearer Simon and said with a grin, “It has been an interesting day, has it not? Elishaw has apparently acquired another strong-minded mistress, and an intrepid one at that.”

“We’ll soon see how intrepid she is,” Simon said. He had meant to sound grim but realized belatedly that he was smiling.

Wat Scott chuckled. “I wish you joy of her and offer my felicitations yet again. Your marriage promises to be as lively as mine.”

“And mine,” Westruther said as he mounted. He was smiling, too.

Simon watched until the gates began to swing shut and then turned and hurried upstairs to his chamber, wondering if his wife would be there or had dared to defy him again. He would not blame her much if she’d managed to get the truth out of Kit at last. They’d all seen that the bairn knew more than she had told them.

When he opened his door to find candlelight blazing within and a cheerful fire on the hearth, he stepped in with a sense of anticipation, expecting to see that Sibylla had kept Tetsy or one of the other maids to protect her from the wrath she expected to face. But he saw no one he need send away, and she seemed not to have heard the latch click.

She wore a light yellow robe and stood in one of the two window embrasures, its curtain half shut, gazing out at the starlit sky.

When he shut the door, harder than usual, she turned and took a step toward him. Her robe fell open, and Simon’s breath caught.

She wore not a stitch of clothing under it, and was apparently oblivious of her magnificent body, for she made no move to cover it.

His mouth and lips felt dry, and if his heart was still beating he had no sense of it. Every bodily function had evidently ceased save one.

Sibylla had wanted to surprise him, and his stunned look told her she had.

“Did you expect to unman me, madam?” he said.

“In troth, my lord, you do not appear to be at all unmanned.”

His lips twitched.

Evidently, he was no longer angry with her. He was just as clearly not thinking of Kit or the Douglas, or of anything save her lack of clothing.

“Come here,” he said hoarsely.

She walked toward him, but he met her halfway, putting both hands on her shoulders. “Do you know what the Douglas expects me to do?” he asked.

Feigning innocence, she said, “Nay, what?”

“This,” he murmured, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed.

As he put her down on it, she said demurely, “Art sure Archie meant you to ravish me, my lord.”

“If he did not, he thinks me a fool,” he said, stripping off his jack and shirt and reaching for the lacing of his breeks.

He did not wait, nor did he take time to pleasure her first but took her swiftly and powerfully. Even so, her body was ready for his and took fire the minute he touched her. She responded with enthusiasm, learning quickly how to stimulate him more, and urge him on. She also learned how she could tease him to make him even wilder for her until she lost control of herself and of him.

When they lay back again, sated, he drew her close so that her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder. He was still breathing heavily, but after a few quiet moments, just as she began to fear he might have fallen asleep as he had before, he said, “Archie told me to get on you gey fierce for what you did today, sweetheart. I warrant I followed his instructions.”

She chuckled. “I can vow that you did.”

He was silent for a time, making her wonder if he would say more about the incident but not wanting to spoil their contentment by encouraging him. His breathing had quieted but he was definitely not asleep.

“What did you learn from Kit?” he asked.

“Enough to tell me that her mother was indeed Catherine’s wet-nurse,” Sibylla said. “Catherine’s mother died soon after her birth, and Kit’s mother, Lucy Aiken, had had Kit just a month before. She raised the girls together.”

“Why wouldn’t Kit tell us about her before?”

“She said that she and Dand had sworn a solemn oath to tell no one they even knew Catherine. Kit said her mam was terrified of being caught.”

“Aye, she must be still. Fife would certainly charge her with abducting Catherine, and even young Kit is wise enough to fear her mother might hang.”

Sibylla had not thought of that. “They
won’t
hang her, will they?”

“Douglas promised to protect her,” Simon said. “He’ll see that she comes to no harm. What else did you learn?”

“As best I could make out from the bits Kit could tell me, after Catherine’s father died and Fife assumed her guardianship, Lucy Aiken and the girls continued to live at Huntly with everything much as before. But when Fife arranged Catherine’s betrothal to Thomas and decided the Colvilles should take charge of her, they told Lucy that Catherine would no longer need her.”

“So Lucy ran off with her,” he said.

“Aye, Kit said her mam and Catherine were both gey upset. Sakes, but Lucy was the only mother Catherine had ever known and the girls were closer than most sisters. I warrant Kit was gey upset, too.”

“How did they get to Oxnam Tower?”

“That happened before they learned the Colvilles would take Catherine. Kit said only that they’d had to leave Huntly, so I warrant Fife ordered the move.”

“Aye, it makes sense if she was to go to Colville.” “When they ran away, they went to Dand’s family, kinsmen of Lucy’s on this side of the Tweed. But when the Colvilles got too close, Lucy took Catherine and fled back across the Tweed to other kinsmen, leaving Kit. Kit remembers her mentioning Melrose but does not know if Dand’s family knows where Lucy went.”

“Aye, well, the Douglas will find her. We’ve Aikens on our land, come to that, so the name alone will help. Folks will tell Archie much that they would not have told the Colvilles. We’ll find them, sweetheart.”

“I’d like to keep Kit here until we do,” Sibylla said. “Aye, sure,” he murmured. “I’ve a strong feeling that the place will seem a bit empty, anyway, until we have bairns of our own. I expect your father and my mother to make a match of it and keep Rosalie and Alice with them at Akermoor.”

“Do you mind if that happens?”

“Nay,” he said. “Your father finally admitted that the dispute was his fault, because he was already married to your mother when he met mine. It seems hard to imagine my mother stirring such passion in any man, but he swears he had only to see her to lose his wits over her.”

“She was married then, too,” Sibylla said. “She told me your father caught them together and knocked my father down.”

“Did she?” He chuckled. “Sir Malcolm did not tell me that. He said only that he and my father had had a falling out, that it was all his own fault, and that she had been furious with
him
for making her the focus of such attention. I’d not be surprised if she played that part so convincingly that she persuaded herself it was true.”

“Until they met again, at all events,” Sibylla said. “If they do marry, I expect she will much enjoy setting the household at Akermoor to rights, for all that Father believes it runs smoothly now.”

“Aye, she will,” he said. “I have great respect for her, but I do look forward to making decisions about Elishaw without always wondering what she will say.”

A small silence ensued.

At last, Sibylla said, “Do you fear that I may be too much like her?”

His arm tightened around her and then he raised himself on his elbow and leaned over her. “Nay, sweetheart, I don’t fear you. At first, I did think you might be like her. But I can talk with you, and even when we disagree, we soon seem to find common ground. The fact is that when I am with you, I like myself and I want to know what you think and hear what you will say.”

“I often find myself wondering what you will think or say about things, too,” she said. “But we can make each other fiercely angry, too.”

“Aye, you’re gey lucky you had an army to protect you today, but after the way I infuriated you in Edinburgh . . .”

“I’m content now,” she said. “I’m not sure why I was so angry then, come to that. It all just seemed to boil over and spill out when you took the blanket off me and I saw where we were. It felt as if I were watching it happen, listening to some other woman snarl at you.”

“Aye, well, mayhap we both lost our wits, sweetheart.” He bent then and kissed her on the lips, gently.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve called me sweetheart tonight,” she said.

“Do you count such things?”

“Nay, but you had never done so before. You said only that I’d make you a suitable wife, just as your mother had said to me.”

“I can see that you mean to plague me with that. You should remember instead that I also told you I wanted
you
for my wife more than I’d ever wanted anything else. Do you know why I was so angry today?”

“Aye, sure, because I rode like a harridan into the midst of the Douglas army. I didn’t know what else to do. I feared they’d kill you for conspiring with the Percys.”

“And I thought you would kill yourself. If you had, sweetheart, I’d have wanted to die, too. Sithee, you have become precious to me. I never knew I could care so much, could love someone so much. But I have only to see you—”

“Kiss me, Simon. You talk too much, and I want you to make me feel as only you can make me feel.”

“I vow, my heart, I can make you feel much more.” “Braggart. Prove it.”

He did.

Epilogue

Selkirk, October 1391

I
, Annabel, take thee, Malcolm, to my wedded husband . . .”

“That’s me grandame!” the three-year-old heir to Buccleuch and Rankilburn, who stood beside Sibylla, said clearly into the pause.