The Border Trilogy (16 page)

Filled with exhilaration by the success of her plan, she set a wicked pace, bouncing and jolting nearly all the way to the castle. The poor horse was blowing hard when she drove up the last hill and into the yard, his condition causing her to give brief thanks for the fact that Geordie Elliot was nowhere in sight. Flinging her reins to a skinny, red-headed, wide-eyed groom, she ordered him to have someone carry her parcels inside, then hurried up the spiral stairway to her sitting room, pausing only long enough to send a gillie to fetch Susan Kennedy. After all, she decided, her triumph ought to be shared, and who better to share it than Susan? Had she not suffered, too? For Douglas to have left the poor young woman to face his wife alone was but another example of his heedless arrogance.

When Susan presented herself some few moments later, Mary Kate was hugging herself with delight. “Oh, Susan, you’ll never guess what I’ve gone and done!”

Susan looked rested and responded with a smile. “What then, mistress? Ye do look right pleased.”

“I am.” Mary Kate’s eyes sparkled. “I have paid him back for the both of us. I left him to walk all the way home from Tornary village.”

Susan gasped. “Ye’ve done what, mistress?”

“There, I knew I’d surprise you.” She executed a skipping dance step. “’Tis the perfect punishment, for he left me to walk home once, and the distance was nearly as far.”

“Ye came away home wi’oot the master?” Susan’s mouth fell open with shock when she finally took in the full meaning of her mistress’s words.

“Aye, I did.” Mary Kate hugged herself again with glee. “I will teach him to have a care for my wrath. We had the cart, and I just drove off and left him standing like a market cross in the roadway. Oh, the look on his face! I do wish you had seen him.”

“But, m’lady—mistress, please listen—he will be fit to spit fire! Oh, mistress, ’tis small wonder he didn’t catch ye up on the road.” The maid shook her head, muttering, “He’ll be ripe for murder, he will.”

“But how should he have caught me, afoot as he was?” Mary Kate demanded, ignoring Susan’s final comment for the simple reason that she had not heard it.

“Och, mistress, there be horses aplenty in the village, and he be the master. He could ha’ taken any one o’ them.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Mary Kate admitted slowly. “I wonder why he didn’t catch me, then.”

Face to face with Susan’s alarm, she began to recognize the enormity of what she had done. Once the idea for revenge had come to her, she had acted with her usual impulsiveness and without considering all the possible ramifications. She had known Douglas would be angry, but she had thought he would see humor and a certain ironic justice in what she had done. Now she wasn’t at all sure of that. At least, she reassured herself, she hadn’t lied to him. She had left a parcel in the shop, purposely, of course, but she had left it. And, although he had warned her against lying, he had never said anything about leaving him stranded. No sooner had that thought crossed her mind, however, than it was followed by the uncomfortable memory of what he
had
said about airing her grievances in public. She tried to convince herself that the village roadway hadn’t been all that public, but…

“You think he will be really angry, don’t you, Susan?” Triumph had evaporated. Her voice was small.

“Aye, mistress.”

“What will he do?” She didn’t wait for the answer she saw forming itself on Susan’s lips. “Never mind. ’Tis enough that I have put him in a rage. He may decide not to let me go to Edinburgh for his sister’s wedding next month, or he may punish me more severely.” She swallowed hard. “He may even b-beat me.”

Douglas had threatened her often enough, she remembered belatedly. Her face paled when she recalled not only his comments to Duncan about her petticoats but also the suggestive flick of his riding whip against his leg, the day he left her to walk home, when he had warned her not to put him to the trouble of fetching her.

Susan was nodding slowly. “Aye, he may be angry enough,” she agreed. “But perhaps he will not.”

“He will. Oh, I know he will!” Mary Kate tried to stifle rising panic in order to think clearly, but memory intruded, memory of the casual threat Douglas had made before leaving for Edinburgh when he had warned her against attempting to countermand his orders. His tone at the time had been light, but it occurred to her now that she had not doubted his sincerity. “He will if I am here. I must get away. Quickly, Susan, run to the stables, or send a gillie—you will be too slow. Order them to saddle Sesi at once, and you’d better say I want a groom for just a very short ride, or Elliot won’t allow it. Quickly, now, haste!”

Susan looked doubtful but dared not question her mistress. She hurried out, and Mary Kate swiftly changed to riding dress. When Susan reappeared moments later, her mistress had already begun to pack a change of clothes into a straw basket, stuffing the articles in any which way in her haste. The maid helped fasten the lid, and Mary Kate snatched up the basket. Then, hurrying to the door, she spoke over her shoulder.

“He’ll look for you, Susan. I shouted your name at him.”

Susan shook her head with a wry smile. “Nay, mistress, he’ll think only of you once the lads below tell him that ye’ve gone. He’d not harm me, any gate, out o’ fear o’ doing an injury tae the bairn.”

“Oh, I wish I were pregnant!” Mary Kate exclaimed with deep feeling. But she knew Susan was right. He’d not bother with a maidservant once he discovered his wife had fled the castle. He would be hot on her trail. She had no time to lose. Spurred on by the thought, she flew down the stairs to the yard, where she was relieved to see the thin, red-headed young groom leading Sesi and a bronze gelding from the stables. Geordie Elliot was still nowhere to be seen. The groom took the basket from her, regarding it curiously as he strapped it securely to his saddle.

“Where be we headed, mistress?”

The query caught her by surprise. Where would she go? The most she could hope for was to find a haven until her husband’s initial fury had burned itself out. The highlands beckoned, but she knew she couldn’t reach Speyside House before Douglas caught her. Besides, Duncan had warned her not to run to him. Darkness would fall soon. She wouldn’t heed that, but…She remembered Critchfield Manor, her aunt and uncle’s house south of Edinburgh on the Jedburgh Road.

Mary Kate knew, for Douglas himself had told her, that she could ride directly east from Tornary to Jedburgh by following the road along the Teviot. Surely, from Jedburgh, it would be simple enough to ride north until she found the track leading to her uncle’s house, and since Douglas would expect her to go directly north toward the highlands, she might thus elude him. But she could reveal none of these thoughts to the waiting groom.

Thinking quickly, she said in a vague tone, “Wild-flowers, we’ll ride just a short distance to gather wild-flowers. What is your name, lad?”

“Gideon, mistress,” he said as he helped her to mount.

“Well, Gideon, see if your horse is fast enough to catch me.” With that, she dug her spurs into Sesi’s flank and was away before the startled groom had gathered his wits to follow. Keeping the mare at a dangerous headlong gallop down the hill, Mary Kate did not slow until she had passed through the entry gates. Then she checked the mare only to look back and see that Gideon had followed, for she had no wish to make her journey without escort or change of clothing.

He was there, the basket banging against the gelding’s flank as he urged his mount to the same fast pace in an effort to overtake her. She did not allow him to do so, however, until she had covered the two miles to the ford where the river road crossed from the north bank to the south. Noting then that the road did not continue right along the riverbank but led down into a grassy dale and then up a long hill, she realized with a sinking feeling that it would be some time before they would be out of sight of the crossing.

“Mistress, wait!” Gideon shouted. When, impatiently, she slowed Sesi to a walk and let him draw alongside, he said breathlessly, “This be more than a short distance, m’lady. Do the master know where we be a-going?”

Mary Kate resorted to a display of temper. “Of course he knows, hodpoll. Come on, we must make speed.”

Greatly daring, he protested again. “We’ll no get far at this wicked pace, mistress.”

In answer, Mary Kate spurred Sesi on again, forcing him to follow. She knew her sharp response had probably done nothing to alleviate any fear Gideon might have had of Douglas’s wrath, but she knew, too, that the lad would not desert her. Although he must suspect by now that she was running away, there was no way by which he could compel her to return to the castle, and whatever happened, it would go far worse for him later if he were to abandon her now on the open road.

They had traveled a mile from the river crossing and were approaching the crest of the hill at a brisk trot when Mary Kate looked back over her shoulder and uttered a cry of dismay. Even at the distance yet between them, she had no difficulty recognizing either the huge chestnut stallion in full career behind her or his lashing, spurring rider.

At her cry, Gideon had also glanced back, and now he shot her a look of troubled reproach, but she forced herself to ignore him and leaned into the mare’s silver mane, urging her to a gallop. When next she looked back, she noted that the hapless groom had reined in at the side of the road and that Valiant, put to his most fiery pace, had already passed him and was steadily closing the distance. Appalled, she spurred desperately and used her whip, but Sesi was tired. It was no use. First the thunder of hoofbeats behind her became almost deafening. Then, just as she glimpsed the foam-flecked head of the stallion beside her, a large, leather-gloved hand shot out to seize the mare’s bridle and the two horses were wrenched to a plunging halt.

Determined that he should mistake her fear for dignity, Mary Kate sat stiffly, looking straight ahead as she willed her trembling to cease and waited for Douglas to speak. When he said nothing, she dared a glance at his face, but what she saw was not encouraging, for his mouth was a hard slit and his eyes were ablaze with fury.

He spoke not one word, did not even look at her, but turned both horses and, his grip still tight on Sesi’s bridle, guided her back down the road toward the waiting groom and the fast-approaching escort.

Pausing in front of the wretched Gideon, Douglas said crisply, “Go to Elliot directly upon our return, lad. He will wish to speak with you.” Gideon nodded, his thin face pale, his eyes downcast.

Once Douglas had led Sesi past the other men, all of whom kept their expressions carefully blank and their eyes fixed upon the road ahead, he released the mare’s bridle.

Squaring her shoulders, Mary Kate gathered her courage to speak. “Please, Adam…” She had to pause to clear her throat, for it felt as though she had swallowed all the dust of the road. “Please do not punish Gideon. None of this was his fault.”

“I know whose fault it was,” he answered curtly, still without looking at her. “Elliot may flay him with his tongue, but
Gideon
will not be flogged.”

The emphasis in his statement sent icy fingers of fear racing up and down her spine, causing her muscles to contract sharply in anticipation of his intent. She squirmed uncomfortably on her saddle, and since she still found it hard to swallow, let alone to speak, the rest of the ride was accomplished in silence.

When they reached the stable yard, Douglas dismounted and lifted her from the mare’s back. Her knees were weak enough to make her grateful when he retained his powerful grip on her arm; however, she had time to do no more than to note the gaping stares of the men in the yard before he propelled her relentlessly through the postern door, up the winding stair, along the gallery, and through the anteroom to her bedchamber. Flicking the latch, he kicked the door open and, thrusting her inside, slammed it shut again behind him.

“Now,” he snapped, releasing her at last, “if there is an explanation for this idiocy, madam, I should like very much to hear it.”

Her own temper roused by such rough treatment, she rounded on him. “How dare you! How dare you humiliate me in front of those men! And how dare you flaunt your…your…” She faltered, confused, because she couldn’t think what to call Susan, whom she liked. “Your Susan Kennedys,” she finished lamely.

“What affair of yours is Susan Kennedy?” he demanded.

“Oh, if that isn’t just like you or any other man,” she retorted scornfully. “Trying to make me wear the guilt for a sin you committed.”

She would have gone on, but he interrupted, saying icily, “That will do, Mary Kate. We are discussing your conduct, not mine, and things that occurred before our marriage do not concern you in the least. I am still waiting for an explanation, if there is one, for your witless escapade today.” Thumbs hooked in his wide belt, lips compressed, eyes narrowed, he glared down at her, clearly not willing to wait long.

She opened her mouth once or twice, but no words would come. Her flash of temper was over, leaving only fear of what he meant to do to her in its wake. His capabilities were still unknown to her, and while he towered above her, filling her mind with his size and his fury, thoughts tumbled over one another in her head without organization or logic—senseless, useless thoughts.

Douglas was impatient. “Have you naught to say in your own defense?”

She clenched her hands against her skirt, struggling for composure, for something sensible, even cutting, to say to him, holding back tears of frustration with a mighty effort.

“Well, madam?”

“I was so angry,” she said at last, “and then so…so—” She broke off, not wishing to admit her fear to him. But when he still said nothing, she muttered, “I suppose I was a little frightened.” When his only response was to frown more heavily, she added in a rush, “In truth, sir, I panicked, though I know I was foolish to do so.” She stepped back. “Please, Adam—”

“God’s blood,” he swore. “‘Please, Adam,’ will avail you naught. Did I not warn you? Did I not forbid you to indulge that highland temper of yours before the public eye? Did I not?”