Chapter 8

Where the devil are they then? Tell me that," Reid Douglas demanded of his sister and brother-in-law as they broke their fast that Monday morning. "Just thinking of all those folks in the kirk yester-morn, staring at me as the priest cried the banns… All of them were wondering where she was! I tell you, I won't stand for such antics after we're wed."

"No more should you," Phaeline said soothingly. "But you will be her husband then, Reid dearling. She will have to submit to your authority."

"You said she'd do as she was told now," he reminded her.

Fiona, sitting near the end of the table, said musingly, "Jenny is accustomed to running her estates and doing as she pleases. So one does wonder why anyone should think she would submit to Reid's authority when he has never run anything."

"That will do, Fiona," her mother said. "If you cannot remember to wait until someone addresses you before speaking, you will have to leave the table."

"I apologize, madam, but one cannot help wondering about such things."

Reid said, "I think you wonder just to see if you can stir mischief, my lass, so take care that you don't find yourself well slapped for such comments."

"I'll thank you to remember that she is my daughter, not yours," Phaeline said. "Although he does have cause to be irked with you, Fiona. You will oblige me by remaining silent until you are excused."

"Yes, madam," Fiona said.

"So much for her silence," Reid said grimly.

Mairi said, "I don't mind admitting that I'm growing more anxious about Jenny. She has been gone for two days and three nights, yet she cannot have got far on foot as she was. Should not Sir Hugh have found her by now?"

With an air of relief at this return to the primary topic, Dunwythie said, "First Hugh had to discover which way she went. Although Sadie suspected that Jenny went with the minstrels and Peg's continued absence gives credence to that opinion, Hugh had to be sure. We know only that they intended to go to Dumfries and to Threave. In troth, they may have gone anywhere from here."

"Well, I for one do not mean to sit here awaiting their pleasure," Reid said, getting to his feet. "I warrant I can find them easily enough. What that wench wants is beating, and I am sure that as her betrothed husband, I have—"

"Sit down, Reid," Dunwythie said.

"Damnation, sir, she is mine! That you sent Hugh after her is bad enough. But now, when nearly three whole days have passed—"

"I said sit down, sir," Dunwythie snapped. "I can think of only one reason for Jenny to run from her betrothal feast—that you did something to upset her."

"I? I did nowt, and well do you know it! I left the table before she did!"

"He was pawing at her throughout the feast, my lord," Fiona said with a grimace. "Poor Jenny kept twitching to keep away from him. Indeed, one time—"

"Fiona, I warned you," Phaeline said angrily. "Leave the table at once, and without another word!"

"One moment," Dunwythie said as Fiona got up. "What did you see, lass?"

"I think she pinched him, sir. At all events, he snatched his hand from under the table and looked as if he wanted to murder her. Mairi and I both saw it."

"Sakes," Reid said, rolling his eyes. "A man has every right to touch his betrothed. And I'd say she has a duty to allow it. In any event, I shall certainly go after her. She deserves—"

"We will not discuss here what she deserves, sir," Dunwythie said. "Nor will you leave this house unless you want to incur my strongest displeasure. You asked for my reasons, so I will tell you that you are too hot-tempered. I cannot trust you to avoid scandal. By my troth, I cannot trust you not to create one."

"If there is to be scandal, my lord, it will be of Jenny's making."

"We will not discuss blame here, either," Dunwythie said. "I have said all I mean to say. But as you seem unwilling to hear my words, I shall send an order to the stables that you are not to take out any horse until Jenny returns."

"You cannot do that!"

Dunwythie met Reid's angry gaze with his own cool, steady one.

"Oh, very well, of course you can," Reid snapped. "But you cannot mean what you say, sir. Sakes, what would the stable lads think?"

Silence.

"My lord, please," Phaeline said. "You are upsetting me, and I fear—"

"I am sorry for your upset, my lady. Mayhap you would do better to go upstairs and rest, because I do not mean to let this… your brother… raise a riot and rumpus that could spread who kens how far? He will give me his word that he will not leave Annan House, or I will send that order to the stables."

She looked at Reid. "Please, laddie?"

"Oh, very well," he said, sitting down again. "You have my word."

Fiona, still standing at her place, said sweetly to him, "How wise of you. But one cannot help wondering if, having given your word, you will keep it."

"Fiona!"

"Aye, madam, I'm going," Fiona said, demurely making her curtsy.

"Where be ye a-going, lass?"

Jenny turned to find wee Gilly behind her. "Faith, how do you walk so quietly, and with bells on your cap?" she asked him. "Things crackle under my feet with every step I take."

The little man chuckled. "When ye look as I do, it be safer to walk softly lest ye wake a tiger sleeping under a bush. Sithee, Gawkus isna the only man who has hung me by me coat from a tree branch after I've angered him."

"I didn't know that anyone had done such a thing to you. How dreadful!"

"Aye, 'tis aggravating, to be sure. But ye shouldna be out and about on your ownsome, Mistress Jenny."

"Just Jenny, sir. I'm nobbut plain Jenny."

"Aye, well, dinna be calling me ‘sir,' then. Ye'll have all them others a-doing it and making mock o' me when they do. I be Gilly to me friends. But still ye should turn back, Jenny, or find some o' the other lasses to walk wi' ye."

She sighed. "Cath was with me, but she went back. 'Tis such a fine day, I thought I'd walk until I could see the town and mayhap go in and have a look at it."

"Nay, then, ye mustna do that," he said. "Sure, and I've me doots that ye'd do such a thing at home, either, wherever your home may be."

"I expect you are right," she admitted. "I've not spent time near any town or roamed such streets alone. And Dumfries is large."

"Not as large as Edinburgh or Glasgow, though Dumfries be a royal burgh, too," he said. "Still, 'tis a fair-sized place, withal. We could find Gawkus and ask him does he want to go into town with us."

"Are you not sufficient protection for me? I warrant you can handle a dirk as deftly as Gawkus does."

His eyes twinkled. "I can, and all, but walking alone wi' me would only add to your woes. 'Twould doubtless bring trouble down on both of us."

A thought occurred to her. "Could you teach me to throw a dirk, Gilly?"

"If your eye be as fine as your voice, I can," he said.

"How can we find out if it is?"

He looked around, then pointed and said with a grin, "See that tree yonder?"

As she nodded, a dagger flew from his other hand, striking the trunk of the tree about five feet above the ground.

"I'll fetch it," she said.

"Nae need," he said, flipping a second one so that he held it by the blade with its hilt toward her. "Take hold o' that and get a feel of it. Dinna cut yourself."

Having watched the Joculator juggle six daggers at once, she had thought they must be light. But the one Gilly handed her had weight to it.

As she hefted it, another appeared in the little man's hand.

"Faith, how many do you carry?"

He laid a finger beside his nose, saying, "Nay, now, that would be telling. Now, hold the dirk on your finger with the blade toward ye, so, till it balances. That's it. Now, hold it there wi' your finger and thumb, step forward so, and fix your eyes on yon dirk stuck in the tree. Dinna take your eyes from it as ye bring your hand back and then forward, so. Look right down your arm to your thumb and the end o' the dirk's handle, then to the tree. Aye, that's it," he said approvingly.

"It feels awkward," she said.

"Aye, it will for a time. Now, do that all again and let fly, so." He threw his, and it stuck beside the first one.

Hers missed the tree.

Disappointed, she said, "Clearly, I lack the eye."

Gilly chuckled. "Nay, then, ye were off by only a foot. The first time I flung one, it stopped flying halfway to the tree. Ye'll do, but ye shifted your gaze to watch the dagger as ye let it fly. Dinna take your eyes off your target."

Three throws later, her dagger hit the tree a few feet below his with a thunk that thrilled her to the bone. "I did it!" she cried.

"Aye, ye did, but ye'll need much more practice afore ye'll hit it every time. And, mind now, ye canna practice in camp, nor yet anywhere too nearby, lest ye unintentionally put an end to some unfortunate soul."

"Intentionally is all right?"

He chuckled again. "Throw again, mistress."

She looked at him.

"Throw it again, Jenny."

With a smile, she did, and it hit the tree again… barely… catching in the bark on one side, evidently without adequate force to dislodge the bark altogether.

"Good enough," he said, unbuckling the sheath he wore strapped to one thigh. "Fix this belt round your waist," he said. "It should be loose enough so the sheath can slip betwixt folds o' your skirt. Other lasses do as much wi' their eating knives, so it should cause nae great stir. But dinna try to defend yourself with it, because any man wi' the slightest training will be able to take it from ye."

"Then you must next teach me how to keep one from doing that," Jenny said. "I would know how to protect myself."

"I'm thinking we should be getting back," he said. "Ye've much more yet to learn, but I dinna want yon great Hugo looking to skin me for flirting with ye. The man looks as if he'd ken one end of a blade from another better nor most."

Aware that Hugh might well come in search of her if he did not see her with the others when he thought he should, she agreed. But when she realized they'd soon reach the campsite, she said, "I must leave you here, Gilly, for the usual personal reason. But thank you for teaching me. I want to learn all I can of such things."

"Hoots, lass, mayhap ye'll become a fool like us. I warrant ye could add much to our performance by singing whilst ye fling your knives. I ha' nae doots ye'd soon outdo both Gawkus and me."

"Aye, sure," she said, laughing.

He grinned back and hurried away.

Hugh frowned at the long, stout stick of wood he held and then scanned the common area of the encampment again. Still no Jenny. Where the devil was she?

"D'ye mean to hold that stick all day, man, or will ye be turning it into a proper torch for us?"

He smiled ruefully at Gawkus and thought the man looked as if he had been put together from sticks himself. His long thin arms were akimbo, his long-oval head tilted to one side, and his mop of red curls was as wild as Peg's, albeit not as long.

"I'll have this one finished in a twink," Hugh said, noting that others who helped them were also watching him. "Do you really mean to juggle torches?"

"Aye, sure," Gawkus said. "We dinna fling them about inside great halls, because their owners tend to object, but we nearly always do it when we're outside at night, as we will be in Dumfries market square."

"The torches always impress folks," the Joculator said, joining them.

"Gawkus is not the only one who juggles them, then. You do, too?"

"Most of us do any number of things," he said with a smile. "I just do everything that everyone else does, plus a few trifling things of mine own."

"Your skill with the daggers is most impressive," Hugh said.

"Ah, so ye saw that, did ye? I thought ye'd come into Lochmaben afterward, but I expect I miss a number o' things whilst I'm juggling the dirks. It does require at least a prick's worth o' concentration even when one has done it for years."

"I'm sure it does," Hugh said, castigating himself for the slip. He had spoken without thinking, remembering the man's skillful performance at Annan House.

"So where do your wits keep a-wandering, lad?" Gawkus asked. "Not that one has to ask," he added. "She's a bonnie one, I'll grant ye."

Hugh smiled, glad that Gawkus had changed the subject but wishing he had chosen another. Mildly, he said, "We sing well together. Doubtless that is why you suspect me of thinking about her more than perhaps I should."

"Aye, sure, and ye were just looking around for another suitable torch stick, I expect. Sakes, lad, she seems to treat ye kindly enough."

"She does, indeed," the Joculator added. "I've nae doubt ye'll bring her round your thumb yet, if ye exert a wee bit o' patience."

"I wish that were so," Hugh muttered. Then he said frankly, "In troth, it did occur to me that I'd not seen her for some time. And she does tend to wander about without thought o' the dangers one may find in the woods."

"She went off with me wife, Cath," one of the others said.

Hugh recognized the man Cuddy, who played a flute and the pipes. Eyeing him, he wondered what had possessed Jenny to dream about a scrawny middle-aged man with crooked teeth. But he also noted that Cuddy's accent was more akin to the English Borders than the Scottish ones. The accents were much alike though, and Hugh doubted that Jenny's ear was as well tuned to the differences as his was.

As Hugh pondered what the discovery might mean, if anything, the Joculator said. "Aye, Jenny and Cath went off together over an hour ago, but Cath came back shortly afterward. Doubtless, our Jenny went on to the hilltop for a look at the view and lost track of the time."

"I think I'll just take a walk myself then," Hugh said. "I've made at least a dozen torches. With all these others helping, we should have enough for the first performance at least."

"As that first performance is tonight, I hope ye're right," the Joculator said. "We expect a sizable crowd."

"And, with luck, it will rain gelt," Gawkus added with a grin.

Saying he would return long before then, Hugh strode off, wondering if the sheriff would grace that night's performance, too. The thought did not worry him. The sheriff had not recognized the purple-caped troubadour as the Laird of Thornhill, so doubtless he would accept him henceforward as a troubadour.

The encampment was well behind him before he saw Jenny, standing with her back to him, peering into the woods. There seemed to be a small clearing there, with the sun beaming mote-ridden rays down into it.

Whatever she saw fascinated her, because she did not hear his approach.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, meaning to startle her, to remind her how dangerous inattention could be in such a place.

She turned quickly, clearly angry. "You scared them away! Two fawns!"

"Look here," he began, "you have no business—"

"Don't try again to tell me my business. I—"

Grabbing her by the upper arms, he gave her a shake that broke off her reply, making her eyes widen and her lips part in shock.

They looked invitingly soft and rosy.

He had intended to tell her just what he thought of her behavior. Instead, without another thought, he pulled her close and kissed her hard.

No one had ever kissed Jenny in such a way in all her life. Her first reaction was stunned disbelief that Hugh had taken such a liberty. But as he pulled her closer, her body began to respond of its own accord to sensations racing through it.

He kissed her hungrily, letting go of her left arm to put his right one around her as his other hand moved to cup the back of her head. Her breasts pressed against him, and the warmth of his body radiated through hers.

A warning flitted through her mind that she ought to feel trapped. Instead, she felt a sense of comfort that she had not felt since before her father's death.

When the pressure of his lips eased against hers, her own moved as if something deep inside her wanted him to go on kissing her. Curiosity, she told herself as her body pressed harder against his. That's all it was.

Then his tongue touched her lips and tried to slip between them. She put a tentative hand to his chest, uncertain whether she wanted him to continue or not.

That light touch was enough.

With a low moan, he straightened and looked at her ruefully.

The woods felt chilly again.

"As you see, the woods can be dangerous to a woman alone," he said. "Especially when she pays more heed to a pair of fawns than to her own safety."

Striving for calm, she said, "I should slap you for taking such a liberty."

"I'd advise against that, although I'll admit I should not have done it. What were you doing here?"

"I was watching a pair of fawns," she said.

"Don't try me too far, lass. You've been away more than an hour."

"Mercy, do you keep such a close watch over me?"

"I should," he replied. "I'm sure Dunwythie would expect me to, but I was helping make torches for the performance tonight. Cuddy saw you go, but 'twas the Joculator who knew how much time had passed. He must have been watching you."

Catching movement in the trees behind him, she shifted to see who was coming, but saw only a flash of red-and-black stripes.

"I think he is still watching me," she said. "Or us."

"The devil he is!" He turned. "I don't see anyone."

"I saw red-and-black stripes. He has a robe—"

"Aye, and he was wearing it," he said. "Mayhap I shall have to tell him the truth about you. But I dislike taking anyone here into our confidence, especially if there might any substance to these feelings of yours."

That he might confide in the Joculator reminded her of the fib she had told the man. That produced a stab of guilt and made her say hastily, "It may be better if I talk to him. I can tell him I saw him watching us and explain that singing love songs with me stirred you to think I might…" She looked down, uncertain just what she could say, then added impulsively, "I can just tell him it won't happen again."

"Aye, that might be best," he said. "And it won't, lass. I'll see to that."

She nodded, hoping the twinge of disappointment that stirred then did not reveal itself in her expression.

"So, what were you doing out here for so long?" he asked, stern again.

"I was learning to throw a dirk," she said with a smile, patting the sheathed blade nestled on her hip between two folds of her skirt.

Clapping a strong hand atop of hers, he said curtly, "Give it to me."

Stiffening, angry again, she said with ice in her voice, "Take your hand away, or by heaven I will do you an injury."

Already annoyed with himself for giving way to a foolish impulse and kissing her, Hugh realized he had taken a second misstep. But he had acted from pure instinct when she reached for the weapon.

Certain that she had only meant to show him where she kept the dagger she had supposedly learned to throw, he relaxed his grip but did not let go of her hand.

Gently, he said, "Just as it is unwise to hit someone larger and stronger who might well hit back, lass, it is unwise to issue threats you cannot carry out. Nay, you won't catch me that way," he added, turning slightly when she brought up a knee, so it struck his hard thigh rather than the target she had surely hoped to strike.

"Let go of me," she said, her tone still icy.

"I want to see that knife. You may give it to me properly, or I will take it from you. I can promise you won't like it if I have to do that."

"I could shout for the Joculator."

"Aye, you could," he agreed, holding her gaze.

With a sigh, she said, "Very well, but you may not keep it. It was a gift."

"From whom?" he demanded, hearing an unexpected note of jealousy in his tone and nearly wincing at the sound. Bad enough that he had betrayed Ella's sweet memory by kissing Jenny. What he felt now was surely naught but the childish feeling many men felt at learning that someone for whom they bore responsibility had been doing something unbeknownst to them with another man.

Jenny said calmly, "Wee Gilly gave it to me."

Mentally giving himself a shake, Hugh took his hand from hers and said, "I'm told that both he and Gawkus are highly skilled with knives, albeit not as skilled as the Joculator. Show me what Gilly taught you."

She took the knife carefully from its sheath and found its fulcrum. Then, taking a moment to seek her target, she said, "That tree with the boll on its trunk."

Bringing her arm back, she let fly… and missed the tree.

Looking chagrined, she bit her lower lip but started toward the tree.

Hugh stopped her. "I'll fetch it," he said. "Your aim was off and you need to step back a pace or it will strike hilt-first, but you throw better than I had expected."

"I hit my target several times when Gilly was with me," she said.

Without comment, he strode to the dagger, wiped the blade on his buckskins, and returned to her, hefting the weapon as he did. "You were holding the blade too tightly," he said. "And you shifted your gaze to the knife as you let go."

"Gilly warned me to keep my eyes on my target, but I do tend to forget."

"Watch," he said. Throwing, he buried the blade in the center of the boll.

"I'll get it," she said. "It is only fair. You fetched mine."

He did not reply, but he watched with amusement as she tried first just to pull the blade free, then to wriggle it free. He had buried it deep.

When she used both hands and put a foot against the tree trunk, he nearly laughed, but she managed at last to free the blade.

"Throw again," he said when she returned.

She threw six more times and hit the tree three times.

"Why do you want to learn such a skill?" he asked her.

She glanced at him with a startled look in her eyes, much as her fawns might have looked earlier at the sound of his voice.

Then she said, "I… I just like to learn things." She looked away.

Catching her chin between a forefinger and thumb, he made her look at him again. "Don't try to lie to me. You haven't the knack. Now, what made you think such a skill might serve you?"

"I don't know why you think you have any right to ask me such things."

"We have picked that bone clean. Answer me."

Having little choice, since he still held her chin, Jenny said, "I don't know that I thought of such a skill serving me, exactly, but…" She still did not want to tell him about the men who had accosted her and Peg at Lochmaben, so she said, "I just thought I might feel safer if I kept a dirk by me, and learned how to use it."

"A false feeling at best," he said grimly. "But you are equivocating if not lying to me again. If you want to keep that thing, you'd best tell me the truth."

Instead, she wondered if perhaps the Joculator had known she was lying when she told him that Hugo the troubadour fancied himself in love with her.

"I can be a patient man," he said. "But this is not one of those moments."

Damping dry lips with the tip of her tongue, she said, "I saw Gawkus throw one of his knives and pin a man's sleeve to the wall. I thought such a skill might prove useful one day, that's all."

"Just when and where did Gawkus perform this feat?"

"It wasn't a performance…" She caught herself, then gave it up. "Two men followed Peg and me upstairs to the garderobe at Lochmaben. They wanted us to go with them to another chamber. I said we had to sing, but they insisted that at least one of us had to comply. Gawkus and Gilly intervened, so it came to naught."

"I see." His tone was grim. "Was one of the men who accosted you the man-at-arms in your dream?"

Warily, she nodded. Standing as near him as she was, only too aware of his height and his strength, she feared the dirk would not aid her in defending herself against any man. Indeed, Gilly had said it would not, and she doubted that she could ever throw it at one. Not that it mattered, since Hugh would likely take it now.

He was still frowning.

She drew a breath, bracing herself for what he would say.

"Very well," he said at last. "You may keep the damned thing. But whilst you remain in this company, I want you to promise you will practice with it each day. I want to know when you do, and if Gilly cannot go with you, I will. It won't hurt for word to spread through the camp that you have some skill with the thing."

"I'll practice," she said, trying to hide her surprise.

"Aye, but attend to me now," he said, catching her chin again to make her look at him. "If anyone does accost you again, use your voice, not your dagger. You would do better to unfasten that belt with the sheath and clout the scoundrel with it. Better yet, fling that knife as far from you as you can. Do not give anyone else a chance to take it from you. Do you understand me?"

"Aye," she said, feeling those little shivers dance up her spine again.

"We'll go back now," he said and offered an arm.

Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she reflected that although he took liberties with his presumed authority and otherwise, his presence was nonetheless comforting.

"Have you seen the Joculator following you before?" he asked.

"Nay," she said. "He may not have been following us at all. Cath says he always sets his tent at a distance from the rest, so I warrant the man just likes his privacy. Shall we sing the same songs tonight as last night?"

Discussing songs, they strolled amiably back to the encampment. There they found others preparing their midday meal and Jenny hurried to assist them.

She looked back as she joined the women, and watched with mixed feelings as Hugh strode away. One minute she had wanted to slap the man and the next she had invited more kisses. What manner of behavior was that for a betrothed lady?