The Border Trilogy (18 page)

By midafternoon he still had made no attempt to speak with her. There was little activity in the yard below her window, nothing at all, in fact, to interfere with her reflections, and Mary Kate found her thoughts turning in an unexpected direction. Had she not promised faithfully in a highland kirk, before God and Parson MacDole, to submit to her husband and obey his commands. She had. But she had not kept her promises. Instead she had been a thoughtless, disobedient wife. Even a highland husband, one bred to respect a woman’s opinions if not always her feelings, would have been sorely vexed by such behavior.

Before long, her anger gave way to contrition, her self-pity to self-reproach. She told herself that although she had been right to wish to teach Douglas to respect her and to treat her as his helpmate, she had carried the lesson too far. It was she who had been unfair, insensitive. She had fallen victim not to a brutal, uncaring husband, but to her own willfulness. She could not, in all fairness, blame the man for having lost his temper.

Suddenly it occurred to her that he might have left the castle. Perhaps he had even returned to Edinburgh, for he would not wish to take her to Strachan Court now, which was perhaps just as well in view of the fact that Lady Strachan would have little affection for the abandoned female who had made her son the laughingstock of all Scotland. No doubt, Douglas would also forbid her to attend Margaret’s wedding.

Finally, sinking into the depths of self-condemnation, she told herself he had been right to punish her and should, in fact, have been more severe. As for what had followed, had she not taunted him, demanding to be punished as a woman and not as a child? Moreover, what gentleman, celibate for three weeks’ time, would not wish to assuage his lust upon returning to his wife? Under such circumstances, she decided, his behavior had been perfectly natural.

With thoughts like these to encourage her, it was not long before she decided that it was she and not Douglas who must apologize. Therefore, when the maidservant came to see if she meant to take supper in her rooms, Mary Kate, with a burgeoning sense of her own nobility, asked her to inform Douglas that his lady would be grateful for a word with him. She then scurried about, tidying her rooms, and she was smoothing her hair before the Venetian glass in her bedchamber when the door opened ten minutes later. Disappointingly, it was only the maid.

Mary Kate managed a smile. “Did you relay my message to your master, Grisel?”

“Aye, mistress.” The girl hesitated, eyeing her warily as though wondering which way her volatile temper would jump.

“Well?”

Grisel looked at the floor. “Forgive me, mistress, but master did say he’s no minded tae coom tae ye the noo.”

Mary Kate let the hairbrush fall to the floor and looked away, hating the pity she saw in the maid’s eyes. So he would not see her, and he was more than likely still mad as a buck besides. In her present mood, the news was not unexpected, but it was a blow nonetheless. Did…did he say…She took a deep breath, collecting herself. To make a gift of her feelings to a servant would never do. “Did Sir Adam happen to mention when it will be convenient for him to see me?”

Grisel had clearly expected an outburst of temper, and she looked uncertain, giving Mary Kate to suspect that she was aware of much of what had transpired in that room the previous evening. Deciding the maid was frightened at finding herself in the thick of the storm, she did not press her for an answer, waiting patiently until Grisel swallowed carefully and said in a low, reluctant voice, “Master bids ye bide a wee here in your ain rooms till your guid health be full restored tae ye, mistress.”

“I see. Thank you, Grisel.” Her spirits lower than ever, Mary Kate watched the maid’s hasty departure, then picked up her hairbrush and replaced it carefully on her dressing table. Dejectedly she wandered back into the sitting room. The storms of emotion had passed, leaving her drained and wilted, but she told herself that it would not do to sit moping until he chose to visit her. Her good health, indeed. No doubt he had put about some tale of illness, hoping to confound the servants. She wondered how long he meant to keep her locked up in her rooms. Not that she was really locked in, of course. She jumped up on the thought and ran to the door. It opened with its customary ease. She peeped out into the gallery. There was no one there.

Expelling a sigh of relief, she returned to her chair. So he expected her to maintain his pretense that she was ill, did he? Well, it might surprise him, but she would. Compared to what she had heard about other border husbands, Douglas had treated her mildly, and she no longer had any desire to punish him. She would await his pleasure.

Having arrived at this depressing conclusion, she hefted her workbasket onto the low table by her chair. At least she could occupy her time constructively. She opened the basket, intending to straighten its contents, but she had barely begun the task when she chanced to lay her hand upon the tapestry bellpull she had been working at Speyside House. That morning seemed to be long past now, but she smiled and lifted the bellpull carefully from the basket. What could be more appropriate? She laid it aside and was engaged in sorting wools when Grisel returned.

“Please, mistress, d’ye be taking your supper in here? Ye didna say afore, ye ken.”

“Most likely I shall, Grisel, but not until six o’clock and only something light. I’ve done little today to produce much of an appetite.”

However, several hours later, when she arose to light some working candles to compensate for the fading daylight, she realized that she was very hungry. She was also bored with the needlework and with her solitude. So it was with a sense of relieved anticipation that, hearing the click of the latch as the sitting-room door opened, she looked up, expecting it to be Grisel with her supper.

Douglas stood upon the threshold.

“Adam!” The bellpull slipped to the floor unnoticed when Mary Kate scrambled to her feet.

“Aye, ’tis Adam himself.” He grinned. “Have you done with your sulks then, lassie?”

“Oh!” Her eyes blazed involuntarily at the unexpected impudence, but at a quizzical lift of one of his eyebrows, she subsided.

The rapid change of expression made him grin more broadly yet. “So Patrick Ferguson is not the only man blessed with powerful eyebrows,” he said mockingly.

“Adam, you are—”

“Insufferable. Aye, you’ve told me. Is that why you sent for me earlier? To tell me so again?”

“You would not come when I sent for you.” The eyebrow went up again and she regretted the petulance in her voice. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I wanted to apologize.”

“I thought so,” he said, but there was none of the triumph she had expected to hear in his voice. He spoke gently. “I want no apology, lassie. That episode is finished and done, and if there is an apology to be made, it is I who should make it. Not for the skelping—you deserved that—but for what followed after. Though at first I was angry enough to make you wish you had never been born, you looked so small standing there that I was more gentle than I’d meant to be. Then you taunted me, and I lost my temper and punished you with something that ought never to be a punishment. Can you forgive me?”

“Oh, Adam, you are right.” She looked up at him through a sudden mist. “There should be no apologies.”

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Needing no further invitation, she flung herself into his arms. Nestled there, she was aware of a mixture of deep relief and contentment, as well as another feeling, one that caused her every nerve to tingle and gave her a foolish desire to grin. Not wishing to consider this last emotion closely, she focused on the relief, wondering with dismay if she was coming to be like any simpering lowland female, just living and breathing for her man’s approval. The notion stiffened her, and she disengaged herself with dignity, smoothing her skirts as she avoided his eye.

He tilted his head to one side, regarding her with amusement. “What now, lassie?”

“Nothing, sir, ’tis only that I am confused. You were so angry before, and now—”

“I don’t stay angry, lass. Once I have my say, ’tis all over and done. Besides, I have missed your company, and I am famished. Shall we go down to supper?”

Later they sat companionably in a cozy parlor, he with his feet propped up before the crackling fire and she with a branch of candles on the table beside her, working determinedly on the tapestry bellpull. Douglas had teased her about it over supper, and she meant to finish with the thing for good. No mention had been made of Susan, and though Mary Kate wondered why she had not seen her, she hesitated to ask for fear that Douglas would misinterpret her curiosity. Instead she cast periodic, covert glances at him while she stitched. His eyes were closed and he seemed very relaxed. In fact, if one did not know better…

“Adam?”

“Aye?” he murmured.

“Are you asleep, sir?”

His feet dropped to the floor as he lazily stretched himself in his chair. “Nay, lass, I’m awake, but ’tis mighty warm in here. Do you really want to fuss with that thing, or will you have a game of chess with me?”

The needlework was set aside with a sigh. “I confess, I would much prefer to play chess. This thing will never be done.”

Getting up to fetch the board, he spoke over his shoulder. “There can be no great hurry. I don’t know what you will do with the thing when you finish.”

“I can hang it on a wall. Why do you not install bells here like my father has at Speyside House?”

He shrugged. “Easy enough to shout. Besides, the house servants don’t gather in the kitchens here. They’re hither and yon all day, and the place is so big that it wouldn’t be practical.” Drawing up a highly polished parquetry table between them, he shook the chess pieces out of their velvet bag, then sat down and began to set out the black pieces on his own side of the inlaid board. Why don’t you send that thing to Duncan for a New Year’s gift?”

“That is a splendid idea, sir.” She gathered the white pieces and laid them out, then moved her king’s pawn.

Before responding to her opening, Douglas said quietly, “Suppose you tell me what’s been preying upon your mind.”

“My mind?”

“Aye. You have been sitting there staring at me since we came into this room. What is it?”

“I have not been staring.”

“Well, as near as makes no difference. Now, out with it, lassie, lest you vex me again.”

“Oh, very well.” But she eyed him warily. “I was wondering whether to ask you what had become of Susan Kennedy.”

“Easy enough to answer. I sent her home.” He moved his king’s pawn to meet hers.

“But what of her father? Not only does he terrify her but she fears he will force her to answer to the kirk for her sins.”

“Steady, lass, I’ve not cast her off, and Kennedy knows that bairn she carries is mine. He’ll not dare to touch her or to condemn her. For her to stay there indefinitely would not be safe, but Elspeth is ailing, and Susan’s sister, Ellen, is away, so I sent Susan to tend her.”

“Is Elspeth very ill? Ought we to do anything?”

“She’ll do. I’ve a strong notion Kennedy’s been knocking her about again. The man’s a brute.”

“In fact,” Mary Kate retorted, eyes narrowing, “you do not approve of men who beat their wives.”

His eyes twinkled appreciatively. “The cases are different, lassie. Elspeth has a blackened eye, and her face is cut. I also suspect she has a cracked rib or two.”

“Oh.” She thought that over for a moment while she brought out her queen’s knight. “I suppose that is different.” Her tone was doubtful, and he chuckled.

“Still feeling abused, sweetheart?” When she blushed, lowering her lashes and shaking her head, Douglas’s expression grew serious again. “In truth, there is a great difference. A healthy smack or two on the backside does no harm and can do much good, but a man who would use his fists on a helpless woman is naught but a bully. I’ve no use for Kennedy or his ilk.” He moved his queen across the board.

Mary Kate was silent, contemplating her next move. She made it and pushed a lock of hair out of her face, regarding him thoughtfully. “Adam, were you speaking the truth when you said that had I waited here for you, you would only have shaken me?”

A rueful gleam crept into his eyes. “I said that?” He removed his queen from potential danger.

“Aye.” She cocked her head, waiting.

“Something tells me that you are determined to make me feel a brute, lassie, but it won’t serve because you were warned. You deserved punishment and would have deserved it even had you not run away.” He shot her a direct look from under his. heavy brows. “’Tis over and done now. Whether I would have punished you had the circumstances been different is naught but a moot point. Are you going to move that pawn?”

“Aye.” She moved it, then added flatly and without looking at him, “You would have.”

He grinned. “’Tis likely.”

Satisfied that she had not been wrong about him, she concentrated on the game. During the next hour they played in companionable silence broken only when one placed the other in check. Mary Kate had just begun to wonder if Douglas might be getting hungry again when the door flew open and Susan Kennedy burst into the room.

“Master, you must come at once! They’ve took Ellen!” She was panting, nearly spent, but her words were clear.

Douglas shoved the game table away and leapt to his feet. Two quick strides brought him to her side. “Steady, lass. Tell me the whole. Where is your father?”

“Home, sir, blaming me mother like usual. But she didna know about Ellen till now.”

“What about Ellen?”

“She run off. Said she’d had all she could stomach o’ me father and was for getting out. Ian Baird over tae the village wants tae wed wi’ her, but me father said only gin he could pay, so they was running away tae Kelso tae be wed. ’Twas a raiding party, Ian said. He won free only ’cause the brigands thought they’d killed him. But they’ve took Ellen.”

“Scots or English?” Douglas demanded.

“Ian thought Scot.” Calmer now, Susan glanced doubtfully at Mary Kate, who smiled reassuringly before turning to Douglas.