Chapter 17

Hugh and Jenny discovered the new arrivals when they entered the upper hall for supper. Reid looked uncertain, Phaeline angry, and Dunwythie rueful.

Shaking hands with Dunwythie, Hugh said, "You surprise us, sir. You should have told me you were coming. We might have traveled together."

"Och, lad, by my troth, I didna ken we were coming. Then, too, we make a large party by ourselves for a galley. I did hope to attend the celebration at Threave, m'self. But sithee, I'd meant to ride there, and young Reid here was still making up his mind whether to come with me. Then our Jenny ran away, and when you returned with her at last, the news of your marriage unsettled us all. By my troth," he added, lowering his voice, "I fear it nearly caused my lady to lose her bairn."

"How dreadful," Hugh said. Wondering why Jenny, beside him, did not respond, too, he glanced at her as he added, "It surprises me even more then that Phaeline has come with you, sir. Surely, she ought to be at home, resting in bed."

"She frets too much so," Dunwythie said.

"But such a journey—"

"Nay, she likes sailing and kens fine that she can also take a boat from here to Threave," he said. "She would upset herself more were she to stay home."

Hugh glanced at Phaeline, talking with Joanna Douglas and looking perfectly stout. Finding Dunwythie's explanation implausible, he wondered what had really prompted his sister to undertake the journey. She had displayed little interest in Threave or Archie Douglas, although he was as much her kinsman as Hugh's.

He noted, too, that Reid stayed close to her, as did Mairi and Fiona. Neither had yet greeted Jenny, making him certain that Phaeline had forbidden them to.

Hugh had nothing he wanted to say to any of them. But evidently, Phaeline desired to speak with him, for she approached him alone just as Archie entered and began wending his way to the high table. He took his time, pausing to shake hands and talk with some of his guests.

"I see you arrived safely, Hugh," Phaeline said, watching as Jenny slipped away to greet Mairi and Fiona. "Because of your odd burst of temper the other day, I must assure myself that your sense of rectitude and hope for an annulment have prevailed. Pray, tell me that you've had the good sense not to couple yet with Janet."

"She is my wife, Phaeline. I declared as much before we left Annan House."

"Then you have taken her. That will make things more tedious, I expect, but I believe we can still get your marriage annulled. I must say, I am grieved that you would so unashamedly try to rob your own brother of his intended wife."

"Go back to your husband, Phaeline, before I tell you what I think of what you and Reid—aye, and Dunwythie, too—tried to do to Jenny. If you truly mean to seek an annulment, I would also recommend that you consider well what others will think of such a foolish action against the head of your own family."

"Pish-tush," she said. "The fact is that Reid and Janet are betrothed, my dear Hugh. And a prior betrothal, as you said yourself, is grounds to annul any marriage. Moreover, my lord tells me the Bishop of Glasgow will take the mass on Sunday. Doubtless, he will take a dim view of any priest acting in a minstrel play. He has the power to grant your annulment, and we mean to ask him to do so."

Since the Bishop of Glasgow was the very man who had approved the special license for which Hugh had supposedly applied, he was afraid Phaeline might be right. He realized, too, in that moment, that he would fight buckle and thong to keep Jenny as his own. Reid clearly wanted only her wealth, her title, and sufficient power to force her to do his bidding. Hugh wanted Jenny for herself.

To be sure, they would fratch some, because he wanted her as his wife and she was determined to remain and act as a baroness in her own right.

But she would learn, he thought.

And, doubtless, so would he.

Having moved to stand with Mairi and Fiona while Phaeline talked with Hugh, Jenny kept an eye on him as she exchanged greetings with her cousins.

"Is it not astonishing?" Fiona demanded. "Who would have thought they'd bring me to Galloway? One wonders particularly why Uncle Reid wanted to come," she added with a mischievous look at Jenny.

"Hush, Fee," Mairi said quietly. "Your voice is too loud."

"What if people do hear me? I did wonder, that's all."

Jenny wondered, too, but seeing Hugh gesture to her as Phaeline left him, she excused herself, saying, "We are to sit at the high table, so I must go. I'll talk more with you later this evening or when we all ride to Threave tomorrow."

"Oh, we are not riding," Fiona said. "Phaeline said we are to go in a boat."

Jenny nodded, smiling, but her attention had already fixed on Hugh.

He was annoyed. His expression looked as placid as usual, but she knew he was angry and wondered how she could tell.

When she reached him, he smiled and offered his arm. Curious though she was, she resisted asking him at once about his conversation with Phaeline.

Resting a hand lightly on his forearm, she went with him to the dais and saw with relief that he relaxed as he greeted Archie Douglas.

Tall, lanky, and broad-shouldered with dark, eaglelike features, Archie grinned back at Hugh and clapped him on the shoulder. Then he took Jenny's hand as she curtsied to him, and said, "We are pleased to greet you, Lady Easdale, and to extend our felicitations on your marriage."

"Thank you, my lord," she said, then curtsied again as he presented his lady wife, Joanna.

Indicating that Jenny was to sit beside Joanna, Archie moved to his place with Hugh beside him, and Jenny knew she would hear none of their conversation.

The hall was too noisy. Musicians in the gallery played music she could barely hear, and Archie had provided no other entertainment. Service was swift, too, making it clear to her that he did not intend his guests to linger over their supper.

Joanna leaned nearer to Jenny and said, "My ladies and I, and some others, will depart early in the morning, my dear. Do you come with us in the boats?"

"Sir Hugh said we would borrow horses and ride to Threave, madam," Jenny said. "But, pray, do call me Jenny."

"Most ladies prefer the boats, Jenny. Are you sure that you want to ride such a distance? To be sure, the boats will take longer, rowing against the current as they do. But 'tis a pleasant journey, and we will stop on the way to eat our midday meal."

"Doubtless the riders will stop, too, madam," Jenny said smiling. "If it will not offend you, I should prefer to ride with my lord husband."

"I do not take offense so easily, and of course you would prefer it, as newly married as you are. I am still stunned at our Hugh's taking another wife! Sithee, we were certain he would hold by his word and never remarry. But what extraordinary dimples you have, my dear. I vow, they must be an inch deep, both of them!"

They chatted amiably as they ate, and Jenny was careful to talk with the lady on her left, too. But it was not long before Archie said to Joanna, "We will leave now, my love. Hugh wants a private word with me, and doubtless others will, too."

Obediently, Joanna stood, and everyone else did likewise. Many would stay after their host and hostess left the hall, but Jenny would not be one. As Joanna turned to leave, Jenny stepped aside for her and thus nearer to Douglas.

"Pray, my lord," she said quietly, "I do not know if Sir Hugh mentioned that I would also like to speak with you…"

Archie looked surprised but said politely, "Nay, my lady, he did not. Nor do I think it suitable for a woman to take part in men's conversation." Motioning for the lady who had sat at Jenny's left hand to follow Joanna, he turned to Hugh. "What say you, lad? Did you expect your lady to take part in our talk?"

"I did not," Hugh said, giving Jenny a stern look.

She ignored it, saying to Archie, "With respect, my lord, what Sir Hugh is about to discuss with you is a matter that I brought to his attention. I heard things said, and experienced other things, that he did not. Nor, I fear, does he view the matter as seriously as I do. I would ask, therefore, that you hear me as well."

Archie looked at Hugh and back at Jenny.

Hugh said firmly, "Madam, I will tell him all we know. There is no need—"

To her surprise, and clearly to Hugh's, Archie cut him off with a chuckle and said, "Bless us, lass, I think you'll lead our Hugh a dance. But I like you. So you may come with us now and keep an eye on him if you want to be sure he tells the whole tale. I own that betwixt the two of you, you have piqued my curiosity."

Jenny took care not to let Hugh catch her eye as they followed their host to a private chamber.

Archie shut the door himself and gestured toward two back-stools near a large table. As they sat, he took the chair behind the table and nodded to Hugh.

"Let's hear it, lad."

Hugh began to explain Jenny's concern that certain incidents and associations might suggest mischief-makers plotting to disturb the royal celebration at Threave. He no sooner mentioned the minstrels, however, than Archie stopped him.

"Hold there, lad. I may, from experience, imagine how you came to get yourself mixed up with such a tribe. But I cannot imagine how your lady could do so. Begin at the beginning now, and don't be leaving things out." With a roguish look at Jenny, he said, "I begin to see why you were fretting, lass."

Heat flooded her cheeks, and although she managed to smile, she could feel Hugh's increasing displeasure. She had known he'd have to include the minstrels in his explanation, but it had not occurred to her until that moment that the most likely reason he had wanted to talk to Archie without her was that he had meant to omit mentioning her altogether. Now, though, she was sure he had meant to do just that.

She knew, too, although he had not said a word to her or done aught else to reveal it, that he was angry with her—even more so than she had guessed before.

Nevertheless, obedient to Archie's command, he described the betrothal feast, its aftermath, the attack on the knacker, and their suspicion that someone might have exploited his first-head privilege to smuggle jewels out of Annan House.

"I should perhaps describe the Joculator," Hugh said just as Jenny was about to mention that someone had returned the Annan House jewels.

"The Joculator?" Archie said.

"Their leader," Hugh explained. They all call him so. As I recall, a joculator is proficient in most if not all of the minstrel arts. He has many talents, including juggling, acting the fool, deftness in training animals—and legerdemain."

"Sleight of hand?" Archie said. "A good way to steal jewels, I should think."

"Aye, and I must say, although I like these minstrels exceedingly, sir, and believe they are as honest as any, I did wonder about that."

"It is not just about the jewels, though," Jenny said, deciding it was not the time to mention that the theft at Annan House might have been a prank. "For one thing," she went on, "the sheriff's men searched the camp at Dumfries and found no sign of them. But something is amiss. People talking together break off when they see one watching, and twice I have heard mention of Threave Castle spoken in such a way as to sound ominous. One of those times was at Lochmaben Castle."

"Lass," Hugh said sternly, "you heard that voice in a dream."

"Aye, sure," she admitted, this time avoiding Archie's gaze and Hugh's. But she added nonetheless firmly, "I am sure now, however, that not all of it was a dream, sir." Meeting Archie's gaze then, she said, "I continued to hear at least one voice after I had wakened, my lord. It was the same voice that had said, ‘So, I'm just to take ye along to Threave, am I?' The one arguing with that one had said, ‘We pay well for what we want,' and something about a chance to get inside the castle."

"I own, I don't much like the sound of that," Archie said.

Jenny waited for Hugh to protest, but although he opened his mouth as if he would, he shut it again and was silent.

"Is that the sum of it?" Archie asked him.

"Aye, it is," Hugh said evenly. "It is not much, I'm afraid."

"Even so," Archie said, "it does sound as if something is in the wind, and I cannot have upset at Threave when the purpose of this tournament is to show off the new seat of Douglas power and honor his grace's third year on the throne. Any trouble could undermine the peace we have now in Galloway, and in the Borders."

"Only if they succeed, my lord," Jenny said. "Mayhap we can learn—"

"We have done our part by warning his lordship," Hugh interjected then. "He is entirely capable of handling it now without our help."

"Now, now, lad," Archie said. "When has a man ever had too many eyes and ears? I'm thinking that since your lady has shown us that she can use her wits, she may be the very one to identify them. I would have her at hand."

Hugh nodded. "Then it must be as you will, my lord."

"Aye, sure, but take that dour look off your face. Doubtless, you're thinking of your crops. But your people have managed without you before, and they will now."

"They will, indeed, sir," Hugh said, standing.

Archie shook hands with him again. " 'Tis good to have you here, Hugh, and I felicitate you on your choice of a lady. You've done well, lad. We'll not wait for the boats in the morning but will ride out after we break our fast."

"Aye, sir, thank you."

Archie grinned at Jenny. "If you need a champion later, my lady, you may call on me. I warrant I can still show even our Hugh here a trick or two."

"You are kind, my lord," Jenny said. "But I fight my own battles."

"Come along then," Hugh said, grasping her arm. "We'll see how you do."

The last thing Jenny saw as Hugh whisked her out the door was Archie's grin.

Hugh said not a word until they reached their bedchamber. But then, finding Lucas putting out their night things, he ordered the man out without explanation and barely waited for the door to shut behind him before he said, "We have to get some things straight between us, madam wife."

"Aye, sir, I think we do," she said, stepping a little away from him.

"First of all, when I said I would be your husband in every way, I was including the part of the wedding service that binds you to obey me."

"I know."

"Well, you have a mighty poor way of showing that you know it. It would serve you right if I ordered you to stay here whilst I go on to Threave with Archie."

"Aye, doubtless it would."

"If you think to get round me by agreeing with everything I say, you will miss your mark," he said curtly.

"At least Archie Douglas knew to call me Lady Easdale."

"Because Tam Inglis, his captain of the guard, made sure you wouldn't be correcting Archie," he said savagely. "Look here, lass. Although you equal me in rank, if you try to tell me your father would have expected you to behave as if your husband does not exist, whoever he might have been, I say you are—"

"He would not expect that," Jenny interjected.

"Don't interrupt!" Hugh snapped. "Our duties as husband and wife demand that I protect you and you obey me. You will remain Easdale of Easdale, but you are nonetheless my wife, and I will expect you to behave like it, not like some contrary vixen who takes her own road regardless of what I say. Even where Easdale is concerned, your father would expect your husband—especially one with my experience—to advise and guide you. In some instances, you may even have to accept the fact that I can legally enforce your obedience to my will."

"Aye, sir," she said meekly.

Catching her by the shoulders, he gave her a shake. "Do not think to cozen me with this show of submissiveness, Jenny, for I don't believe a word of it. How you dared to twist that dream of yours into such a tale for him about sneaking spies into Threave and paying well for what was wanted—"

"The words just came out like that, but those things were in my dream, sir."

"You are willful and stubborn, and you think you can look after yourself, but you can't! And if anything should happen to you—" He stopped, realizing he was losing control of himself, albeit not necessarily of his temper.

She put a gentle hand on his cheek. "Take me to bed, Hugo. I know you worry, and I know why you do. But nothing bad will happen to me whilst I'm here with you tonight, and I promise, I'll be as obedient as you please."

"Ah, Jenny, 'tis an irresistible offer, but we will renew this discussion later. Don't think we will not."

She smiled, and he shook his head at her, but he took her to bed and held her to her promise. However, when she slept, he remained wakeful, thinking of how he felt about her and wondering what he would do if he lost her, as he had lost Ella.

No matter what else he tried to think about then, his thoughts kept flying back to the horrible image of riding home to learn that Ella was dead. At last, he got up and put on breeks, shirt, jack, and boots to walk about and refresh his knowledge of Castle Mains, hoping its memories would banish the one that haunted him.

In the hall, some of the male guests still remained, dicing or playing other games. Not in the mood for camaraderie or to talk with Reid, who was one of them, he continued through the hall as if he had a goal in mind, and out into the courtyard.

It was cold there under a clear sky and a high, brilliant, still nearly full moon. But the chill was more than his jack alone could offset, so he took himself back inside and began to climb the stairway to his chambers.

He reached the landing, then knew no more until he wakened, crumpled on the hard stone steps with an aching head and Lucas bending over him, speaking his name in urgent tones.

"Thank t' Fates, ye're no dead yet," the man said as Hugh opened his eyes. "I thought this time ye'd done it. What did she clout ye with, any road?"

"She! You're as daft as Tam Inglis says you are if you think—"

"Och, I didna think nowt of the sort," Lucas said, stepping adroitly out of reach. "I just wanted to see did ye keep all your senses, laird. Your sweet wee lady couldna reach high enough to fetch ye such a clout."

"Could she not? I am sure you wrong her," Hugh said. "But she would not, nor had she reason."

"Then she didna lock ye out, either?"

"Nay, she did not. She was sleeping soundly when I left, but I could not get to sleep. I kept thinking about… about things I should no longer think about."

"Aye, sure," Lucas said wisely. "We'll just be gettin' ye to bed then. I did fear ye'd slozzled a mite over t' limit, ye ken, but I couldna smell whisky nor wine on your breath. Then I felt yon great lump on your head, so—"

"Lucas, stow your gab," Hugh said. "Help me to my feet."

"Aye, sir, and then I'll help ye to your bed."

"Nay, you will not."

"Hush now, ye'll wake your lady."

Hugh gave up and let Lucas have his way.

Jenny heard them shuffle into the room but, hearing no voices, felt quickly for Hugh in the bed. Just as she realized he was not there, she heard Lucas mutter, "Dinna try to 'elp yourself, laird. I'll get them clothes off ye and fetch ye a cold cloth for that lump on your head."

"Lump!" She sat up, clutching covers to her breast. "Light a candle, Lucas. I'm awake. What happened?"

"Nowt," Hugh said. "Go back to sleep, lass."

"Don't be daft," she snapped. "There are still embers on the hearth, Lucas. Light something. I want to see him."

"Unless you have more clothes on than you had when I left, you'd best be covered to the neck, lady wife," Hugh said. "We still have things to settle between us, so now is not the time to vex me further."

"Aye, sir, I'm covered. What happened? And don't say ‘nowt' again unless you want to find out how much temper your lady wife has. If you've a lump on your head, ‘nowt' was clearly a lie, so don't make me get up to shake the truth out of you."

Lucas had moved from Hugh to kneel by the hearth, and he stood with a lighted candle in time for Jenny to see Hugh's quick grin turn to a wince.

"Good sakes, the pair of you ought to be flayed," she said, starting to put a leg out when she saw that Lucas was also smiling.

"Nay," Hugh snapped. "We'll tell you what happened, but stay where you are. I'll be with you in a trice if Lucas can find a dish to set that damned candle in."

"Aye, sure, blame me," Lucas said. "Behear the man! Nae doots, I saved 'is life, but t' fact that he 'as displeased your ladyship be on my head."

"Saved his life!"

"Lucas, if you don't want to feel my fist on your jaw, you'll cease your gabbing," Hugh said. "You're giving me a headache."

" 'Tis me that's givin' 'im an 'eadache, aye, as if nae one clouted 'im."

"Someone struck you?"

"Aye, but that's all," Hugh said. "I'm not dead, so hush, the pair of you."

"Happen, savin' 'is life again puts us even, but I've lost count," Lucas said thoughtfully. "Some devil's limb clouted 'im, but I'd seen t' laird a-strollin' through t' hall and up t' stairs. Thinkin' he'd 'ad more than he ought to drink and might need 'elp with his disrobin', I followed 'im. By, when I heard 'im fall—"

"We don't need to hear what you thought then," Hugh interjected. "Cease your gab now, and get these clothes off me. Then you may take yourself to bed."

"Nah then, I'm a-doin' it," Lucas said, hastening to help Hugh undress.

As he was leaving, Hugh said quietly. "I do thank you, Lucas."

" 'Tis nae more than ye'd do for me, laird, and have done, as ye might say. Dinna let him take that cold cloth off his head till the ache eases, me lady."

"Good night, Lucas," Hugh said firmly.

The door shut, and Jenny smiled. "He loves you, you know. Who do you think hit you?"

"That loving scoundrel who just left suggested it might have been you."

She laughed then. "Earlier, perhaps, but not after… Why did you leave?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I was afraid I'd wake you."

"I think you're not telling me the whole truth," she said.

"Nay, but I'm not lying, so don't smack me. I can't take another hit tonight."

"Too many tormenting thoughts?"

"Aye, a few."

"I know how they go," she said. "Most begin with ‘what if?' or ‘if only.' "

"Aye." He reached for her and drew her close. "Sleep, lassie. Tomorrow will be a long day."

"How does your head feel now?"

"Don't ask."

She did not ask again, but she could not help wondering who had anything to gain by attacking Hugh. The only person she could imagine who might think he had was Reid, and she doubted that Reid had the courage to act on the thought.

That left a castle full of mostly unknown persons with, as far as she knew, not one member of the minstrel company among them.

Hugh woke to gray light through the tall, narrow window. As it faced west, he could not tell if the grayness was dawn twilight or sunlight obscured by clouds.

His head ached, but the ache was dull. Lucas had assured him the night before that his assailant had not broken it, and the dullness of the pain reinforced that fact. But it was going to be a long day.

Jenny slept soundly beside him on her stomach as she had the past three mornings. At least, this bed was large enough, so she had not kicked or kneed him.

Waking her at last but with the same difficulty he had had every morning, he recalled how quickly she had wakened the night before and wondered if she had had some sixth sense that there was trouble. If that were the case, perhaps the reason she slept so soundly otherwise was that he was with her. The thought was a comfortable one for him, but he smiled as he imagined what she would think about it.

Despite his headache, he'd have welcomed a brief interlude with her. But since Archie wanted to be away early, he did not suggest it. In any event, the long, narrow-eyed look Jenny gave him as she climbed out of bed suggested that she would have been too concerned about his aching head to enjoy it.

He noted the same appraising look many times during the morning. He saw it as they broke their fast and in the courtyard as they mounted their horses. He saw it so often as they rode alongside the river Dee that when their large party stopped to eat the dinner packed for them at Castle Mains, he took her firmly aside.

"See here, lass," he said. "I am not made of glass. My head aches and I'm tired because I did not sleep well. But I won't fall off my horse or die in the saddle before we reach Threave. My temper is a mite uncertain, though, so let be."

"Aye, sure," she said, dimpling. "I must be acting like a mother cat with one kit, but I did not realize I was vexing you. Sakes, but it would vex me, too!"

He nodded, satisfied that she would keep her word. It occurred to him then that she often agreed with him. Although he had learned that he could make her angry, she was ever quick to agree with his rebukes. Then experience reminded him that she was nonetheless capable of doing exactly as she pleased afterward.

Recalling that his sister Phaeline had often accused him of doing the same thing—listening, agreeing, and then doing whatever he had decided to do—he found himself for once agreeing with Phaeline. It was a damned annoying habit!

As they rode, he watched the other riders, wondering which, if any of them, had struck him. He had no memory of the event other than that he had been walking up the spiral stairway… until Lucas had spoken his name.

Hugh was no stranger to violence. No knight of the Scottish realm was a stranger to violence, death, or destruction. He had cultivated an inbred sense of self-preservation that had served him well in battle and tournament, and had seen him safely through his extensive travels and a few very dangerous adventures.

Yet he had sensed no danger beforehand, had heard no sound of warning or marked anyone who seemed to take particular note of his presence. Such details, he decided, strongly indicated someone with experience to match his own.

That eliminated Reid as a suspect, although Hugh had never seriously considered him. Doubtless, Jenny suspected Reid though, and perhaps Lucas did.

Reid and Dunwythie had both chosen to ride to Threave, leaving the Dunwythie ladies to travel by boat with Joanna Douglas.

Noting that Reid seemed friendly with several other men, none of whom Hugh recognized, he was conscious of another stirring of guilt. Since Ella's death, thanks to his grief or a disinclination to associate closely with the rest of his family, he had ignored his duty to the lad. To be sure, he had also been busy with Thornhill and lingering obligations to Archie. But those were just excuses.

He was still considering the wide demands of duty when they topped a rise and the massive, square, battlemented splendor of Threave loomed into view.

Inside a high, nearly finished curtain wall with watch-towers at all four angles, and rising magnificently above a surrounding flat, watery landscape, the immense symbol of Douglas power dominated an islet formed and protected by the river. All around it, colorful pavilions and tents of visitors decorated the driest patches of ground much as wildflowers might adorn other fields.

Threave's forbidding majesty silenced the party as its members drew rein.

If Archie intended to awe the residents of Galloway and all forthcoming visitors, Hugh thought he would succeed beyond his dreams.