The borderers herded the four men together as if they were sheep, totally surrounding them so there was no chance for escape. The look of sheer panic on their faces showed clearly they feared they would get their necks stretched, which was the penalty for rustling.
If they had known what was in store for them, they would have begged to be hanged. The dark eyes of the Scots sought those of their leader as every moss-trooper reached for his dirk. Lord Vengeance nodded imperceptibly, and they closed in on their prey, pulling them to the ground for what was known as a “prinking” It was an age-old Scots tradition for a detested enemy. Each borderer took his turn, stabbing with his dirk. Each wound was superficial though cruelly painful. However, by the time seventy such wounds had been inflicted upon every part of the body, the unfortunate victim had usually bled to death, screaming in agony and begging to be dispatched. The fourth and last man babbled everything Douglas wished to know before he received the merciful coup de grace. The information confirmed Ram’s suspicions: The English garrison was in Carlisle. The commanding officer Lord Dacre.
They rode back into Scotland, and Ram called a meeting of all Scots border wardens. They met at the Earl of Both-well’s impregnable Hermitage Castle. Any other than a borderer would never have found it, let alone gained entrance across the hazardous bogs. The Hermitage was a massive pile of gray, forbidding stone, its great hall so large, it took two walk-in fireplaces to heat the place. As the Homes of Wedderburn rubbed shoulders with the Hamiltons, Bruces, Kerrs, and Elliots, Bothwell filled their trenchers with roast oxen and their leather horns with October ale.
The wardens of the east marches, Lindsay and Hay, told sickening tales of the English crossing the Tweed, not merely to loot and pillage but to destroy Scottish shipping and impress their crews and to commit atrocities against women and children. They had discovered a large garrison of soldiers at Berwick. They all knew formal protests had been made by the King of Scotland to the King of England, who had paid lip-service to the treaties by promising to suppress border banditry or restore the prizes taken by pirates. But now the border lords had proof that it was not bandits or pirates but Henry Tudor’s army and navy that harried their land and their people.
Bothwell spoke. “The fuckin’ whoreson is nobbut a greedy bairn, no’ yet twenty-one, but he’s set his voracious sights on Scotland an’ willna be satisfied until it’s all-out war.”
“The first thing James should do is send that bloody traitor Howard packing back tae England,” said Patrick Hamilton.
Ram swept him with a look of contempt but kept his peace. Ram could afford to be generous—Tina was his.
Home of Wedderburn, however, quipped, “Politics makes strange bedfellows.”
Kerr, who knew naught of Patrick’s affair with the Howard girl, said, “Hamilton’s right, and while James is ridding himself of vermin like Howard, he should pack his whore of a queen back tae her brother.”
Before the meeting broke up, two things were decided. The English garrisons in Carlisle and Berwick would be raided to learn their strength and numbers, and one of them would have to inform the King in Edinburgh that the borders were already at war. They were unanimous in their choice: Douglas was the one who had James Stewart’s ear.
On the voyage home an English vessel made the mistake of firing on the Revenge Ramsay thought it a waste to sink the tall, unwieldy ship when he could easily outmaneuver and capture it. Why waste cannonballs when they could board her, claim the cargo, then sell the vessel? Some of the crew was still alive when Hotspur stood in command on the quarterdeck, and he leniently put them ashore at Silloth on condition they report that they owed their miserable hides to Lord Vengeance.
Ram was in high good humor when he sailed into the mouth of the Dee and stopped to pick up the priest from Kirkcudbright. He fancied taking his new wife to Edinburgh to show her off to the court. His mind was full of plans They could sail up to Ayr, where he could sell the six vessels he’d taken as prizes. He’d take Valentina home to Doon so she could tell her family of their marriage, then they could sail up the Clyde to Glasgow and ride to Edinburgh. It would be a honeymoon trip, far more romantic than a hard ride overland of more than a hundred miles.
He put the priest in the capable hands of his steward, then went straight to the bathhouse in the barracks, whistling his head off. The castle servants looked at him askance, keeping a wise silence. News of Tina’s departure two days since had swept Castle Douglas like banefire, and they dreaded the explosion they feared might be strong enough to blow them all to kingdom come.
Ram was starved for a glimpse of her and went upstairs to seek her out. He was disappointed to find the large, master bedchamber empty and went out upon the high parapet walk to see if he could see her below. He had become so accustomed to returning home to her, it felt like a part of himself was missing when her golden eyes and flaming hair were nowhere to be seen.
He was about to go in search of her when his eye fell upon a note upon his pillow. A cold finger touched him, for suddenly, without reading it, he knew she was not there. As he unfolded the letter, he thought she’d probably gone off for a visit to Castle Kennedy with her new sister-in-law Meggie, and a wave of disappointment swept over him When he began to read the letter, however, his feelings underwent a drastic change. He blinked in disbelief as his anger blurred the words upon the page, and he had to read it again to credit what she had written.
“Douglas, it’s over, I’ve gone. Please see that Ada and Mr. Burque have safe return to Doon.” She had signed the missive Flaming Tina Kennedy.
“The little bitch! Just like that—no explanation, no nothing.” A filthy word dropped from his lips. “It’s over,’” he quoted. “By Christ, it’s over when I say it’s over, and not before!” She had had the audacity to sign it Flaming Tina Kennedy. He’d drag her back by her flaming hair, then tan her arse till she couldn’t sit fer a week! If she set her will against his, he’d show her who was master. She would learn to obey him if he had to put her under lock and key!
The logs were neatly stacked by the fireplace, and he aimed a vicious kick at them with the toe of his boot. One hit the beautiful pink granite so sharply, a large chip flew off. Curse her! Curse her!
He flung open the chamber door, bellowing for Ada at the top of his lungs. He entered her room without knocking, and the little maid, Nell, screamed and hid herself in a wardrobe. Ram brandished the letter in Ada’s face. “Where is she? When did she leave? Ill kill her!” he ground out.
Ada’s face was pale, but her lips were firm and her voice steady as she confronted him. “My Lord Douglas, it will avail you naught to browbeat me.”
“Browbeat ye? I’ll flay ye alive!” he growled, grabbing her shoulders most ungently.
“I told her how angered you would be, but it was like waving a red flag at a bull—it only made her more determined to leave.”
“Where is she? ‘Tis obvious she didna go home tae Doon, or she wouldha taken ye with her. Has she gone to Donal?”
“I don’t know where she is,” lied Ada.
Ram’s hands tightened painfully upon her.
“Lord Douglas, if you strike me dead upon the spot, it will not restore her to you.”
Her cool reasoning penetrated his fury. He flung her from him. “How long has she been gone?” he demanded.
“Two days,” she said quietly.
“Two days?” He cursed, his gut knotting. “The goddamned Frenchman will tell me where she is. I’ll truss him on one of his bloody spits and roast him alive!”
“If she wouldn’t tell me where she was going, you don’t really believe she’d confide in her chef, do you?” she reasoned.
“Why in the name of Christ didn’t Colin mount a search when she hadn’t returned by nightfall?”
“Likely because he has more intelligence than to interfere between you and one of your women,” she dared to reply.
“One of my women? Is that what ye think Tina is?” he asked incredulously.
“I’ve dragged the bloody priest here from Kirkcudbright tae wed us!” he shouted.
“That’s why she left,” Ada explained.
The logic of it all eluded him. “I must be thick in the bloody head. I don’t get it.”
“She is Lady Valentina Kennedy Have you no notion of the enormity of the insult when you offered her only a hand-fasting rather than marriage? Added to that was the fact that Rob Kennedy had to pay you to take her A woman with her pride and spirit was bound to avenge such humiliation”
As her words hit home, he felt as if he’d received a blow to the crotch.
“This is her woman’s revenge,” Ada explained.
Ram Douglas was in turmoil. He was unused to explaining himself to a woman He knew he could extract Tina’s whereabouts from Ada, but at what cost? If he behaved brutally to her servant, it would not advance him in her eyes, nor his own.
He went back to his own chamber and slammed the door in frustration He picked up a decanter of whisky and lifted it to his mouth, taking a long pull on the fiery liquor. The burning sensation in his gut gave him perverse pleasure, and he raised the decanter again At least he was certain of one thing—she hadn’t gone running to Patrick Hamilton. He’d been at Bothwell’s Hermitage. A damned good thing too If she had hung a pair of horns on him, Hamilton would be a dead man Then he’d kill her! He’d choke the bloody life out of her!
He took another swallow, then heaved the decanter against the stone wall of the chamber Christ! He’d never, ever told a woman he loved her before Never even let his guard down in the presence of a female Bitches every last one! It was possible she had gone to Court, but somehow he doubted it There was only one place she could have gone and that was Castle Kennedy She’d gone so that he would go chasing after her. Well, he’d be in no hurry He’d get a good night’s sleep. He’d stop for her on his voyage to Ayr with the ships he was taking to sell
But he’d be damned if he’d marry her now. She was expecting him to run after her and beg her to wed him Well, she could whistle! He’d let the hand-fasting run its course before he’d humble himself again by baring his heart to her. If the little vixen liked playing vindictive games, he’d oblige her. He was very good at games.
Ram was so restless he prowled about the chamber like a caged animal. He absently ran his hand over the thick fur of the lynx pelt and fingered the finespun material of her nightgown. He lifted it to his face and absently rubbed it against his freshly shaven cheek. The fragrance that stole to him aroused him. He flung the thing from him and picked up the objects from the nighttable, carefully weighing them in his hand, then setting them down before he was tempted to pitch them across the room.
His eye fell upon a red paper flower, and he picked it up and began to crush the petals when he noticed the writing upon it: Haugh of Urr Suddenly he went ice cold. His heart froze within him. She had gone to the Gypsy. He knew a moment of madness—a blinding flash of fury that consumed him. In that instant his love turned to hate. With deliberate hands he removed his knife from its sheath, took a whetstone from the mantel, and honed its blade to a razor-sharp edge.
Heath and Valentina were fighting, something they had never done before. Their barbs flew hot and furious, deliberately wounding each other. “‘Tis sheer male arrogance! You have been wintering in England for as long as I can remember, but now that I demand you take me with you, suddenly you decide you’ll winter in Edinburgh instead.”
“Are you deaf as well as stupid?” he demanded. “England is unsafe! Why the hell have you suddenly got a maggot in your brain to go to England?”
“I never thought you, of all people, were a sniveling coward!” she taunted.
His eyes blazed. “Me a coward? ‘Tis you who are running away like a scared rabbit!”
She let go of her anger and tried another tack. “Oh Heath, don’t you see? If I’m in England, I’m safe from him. I’m even safe from the king who ordered this ridiculous blood-bond between Kennedy and Douglas.”
“What exactly do you mean, ‘safe from him’? You tell me he has never harmed you, and in fact his only crime is wanting to marry you. And he damned well ought to marry you after hand-fasting you! You’re blind, lass—can’t you see marriage to someone as strong as Douglas is the best thing that could happen to you?”
“You care nothing for me! You care only for your own damned neck.”
He looked at her with exasperated tenderness. “Don’t ever question my love, ‘tis unworthy of you, Tina.”
She flung herself in his arms and sobbed against his shoulder. “You don’t know him, Heath. Somehow he’ll find out where I am, and he’ll stalk me relentlessly until his property is restored. He thinks he owns me! You must be able to understand the anathama of that. To a Gypsy, freedom is life itself! I must be free to decide my own fate. He’ll come, he’ll come,” she insisted.
He stroked her hair to soothe her. “I’m not afraid of Black Ram Douglas.” Before dark descended he had the chance to prove his words.
Ramsay Douglas rode onto the flatland of the River Urr, where the Gypsies were camped. He did not come at a wild gallop, as his nickname Hotspur suggested; rather his speed was slow, sure, deliberate; his expression grim and implacable.
Tina was nowhere in sight, but he knew she was living with the Gypsies because Indigo was corralled with the other horses. Heath saw him come, watched him dismount and tether his horse. Heath’s long, firm strides carried him toward Douglas, away from his caravan, where Tina was safe.
The two swarthy men confronted each other like dogs with hackles raised. The savage expression on the face of Black Ram Douglas would have daunted a less courageous man. Heath spoke first. “Ye can depart in peace or depart in pieces—the choice is yours.”
The challenge was too insulting for one as blood-proud as Douglas With a snarl that bared his teeth, he palmed his knife and lunged toward his rival. Heath did not underestimate him—it wasn’t their first encounter. Heath had drawn his knife by the time Ram launched himself through the air. The initial impact sent the two men sprawling in the dirt, locked in mortal combat. One look into Ramsay’s eyes had told Heath this would be a fight to the finish.
Douglas courted death this night. They smashed and battered each other with their left fists and jabbed and tore with their knifehands. The two were well matched, both young and at their physical peak. Both could endure a great deal of punishment without impairing their ability to destroy an enemy. Douglas wore a leather jack, Heath a sleeveless leather vest. Both garments were slashed open across the heart; both men were bleeding from superficial wounds.
With powerful arms locked, they rolled about the ground, scattering sqawking chickens and barking dogs and frightened, excited children. They rolled into a cooking fire, setting their long hair ablaze, then rolled away from the embers back into the dust, which smothered the flames effectively.
The screams of the children brought Tina to the doorway of Heath’s caravan. The excited cries of, “A fight! A fight!” sent her heart into her throat. She picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could past the caravans and cooking fires to where the dark silhouettes of the combatants rolled over and over in the shadows. Fear for Heath at the hands of Douglas filled her heart until she thought it might burst. She screamed at them to stop, but it was as if neither of them could even hear her. Because of her, one was going to kill the other. She should never have come, never made Heath vulnerable to the black hatred of Douglas!
She could see how well matched the two were as each inflicted damage yet avoided receiving a fatal knife thrust. She was crying now, begging them to stop, but they would not. The men’s concentration upon each other was so intense, nothing else in the world existed for either of them. The thing that tipped the scales was Ram’s black, unadulterated hatred and jealousy for his rival. With one large boot clamped down upon Heath’s thigh, his powerful hand clamped about Heath’s throat, Ram raised his knife arm high in preparation for the death plunge.
Va
lentina, uncaring for the danger, recklessly threw herself between Heath and the knife. “Heath is my brother!” she sobbed hysterically. Ram’s knife was deflected toward his own midsection. It jammed against his belt buckle, and the blade snapped in half Ram sat back on his haunches staring down in horror at the girl he had almost impaled.
Her eyes had gone from golden to smoky amber in her distress, and he shook his head to clear his vision of the red mist of hatred that clung like cobwebs. Ram filled his lungs with air, and her words penetrated his brain “Your brother?” he repeated blankly.
“Yes, yes, Heath is my brother, you uncivilized swine!”
Ram Douglas wiped the sweat from his eyes. “You’re Rob Kennedy’s bastard?” he asked the Gypsy.
Heath nodded. “Aye, Kennedy is my father. My mother died in childbirth. She was Old Meg’s daughter.”
As they all got to their feet, Tina was the only one who hadn’t gained a measure of control over her emotions. She slapped Douglas across the face. “You are a bigger bastard than Heath will ever be! You are a savage, brutal animal!”
Ram lifted her by the waist and set her aside. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” he asked Heath.
The two dark men walked away from her toward the caravans. She stared after them, dashing the tears from her face, trying to swallow the sobs that choked her.
Inside the wagon the two tall figures took each other’s measure as they had done once before. Ram acknowledged the worth of the man who stood before him. He knew that if he himself had ever produced such a son, legitimate or no, he would have seen that he took his rightful place at his side. Heath’s Gypsy blood was responsible for his handsome looks and his courage. His self-reliance was a result of the hardships he’d suffered at an early age. Why had Rob Kennedy not provided him with a castle and settled some land upon him? Ram said simply, “If we both love Tina, we are on the same side.”