02 Border Fire by Amanda Scott

Author:Amanda Scott [Scott, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780739409657
Published: 2013-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“‘Go saddle for me the brown,’ says Janet,

‘Go saddle for me the black…’”

FURIOUS AND FRIGHTENED, JANET went to the master’s hall. An hour later she still sat staring into the fire there, listening to it crackle while her fear warred with her anger. She remembered her threat to young Andrew—long ago now—to skelp him if he dared wave a weapon again before he reached adulthood, and wished she could make the same threat to Quinton and make him believe her as Andrew had.

Just the thought of confronting her large husband and threatening to raise a hand to him brought a reluctant smile. The threat would be as useless with him as it would be with Hugh. She did not think that Quinton would knock her against the nearest wall or drag her by her hair to her bedchamber and lock her in—both of which remedies Hugh had employed in the past. But neither would Sir Quinton Scott, Laird of Broadhaugh, stand for being ordered about or scolded by his wife.

The fire crackled again, and sparks shot into the air. As she watched, her agile imagination began presenting her with pictures of the Bairns riding into England to avenge the murder of Jock o’ Tev, whoever he was—or Ally the Bastard, for that matter. Had she been at Brackengill, she would have known everyone involved. Thinking about home, she understood Sir Quinton’s fury.

He would be leading them now, his cloak flying behind him as he rode. The memory of his heavy frown and his anger when he had walked away made her sad, because she did not want to fight with him. They were bound together for life, and to face a future filled with such strife was unthinkable. Somehow they had to reach a reckoning that they both could live with. First, however, both of them had to survive the night ahead.

More pictures filled her mind. To reach Kielbeck, Sir Quinton and his men would most likely cross the Liddel south of Hermitage and the Border somewhere in the Larriston Fells, where she knew that armed guards made their rounds in plump patrols of as many as forty riders. Several of the men—and Sir Quinton himself—had assured her that he knew the Cheviot Hills and the fells between them and Bewcastle Waste better than any other man alive. Still, she knew that he had nearly met his end on those fells before, and she could not believe that he and the others could ever again slip through that heavily guarded area with impunity. What if this turned out to be yet another of Hugh’s traps to catch Rabbie Redcloak?

Getting up, she paced back and forth, her full skirts swaying in her agitation. Her thoughts tumbled like the turbulent waters of the Teviot through her mind. One moment she felt as if she were drowning in fear that Sir Quinton would be taken, the next she seethed at his refusal to discuss his decisions or intentions with her.

Jemmy Whiskers, curled by the fire, opened his eyes and laid back his ears in disapproval of her unpredictable movements.

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