“Nae as much as I love ye!” she whispered back.
They slept, exhausted, for the next several hours, but, aware of their need for haste, he awoke just before first light to arise, wash, and dress. Only when he was fully clothed did he awaken his naked wife, who lay sprawled upon her belly amid the tangled sheets, her limbs askew, her sable plait undone and spread across her upper torso. Even clothed he found he was tempted to climb back into the bed and take her again. Instead he shook her gently. “Wake up, sweetheart. We’ve got miles to go before we reach Duin.”
Annabella protested sleepily. Then with a little groan she opened her eyes and rolled over onto her back. “Come back to bed, my lord,” she entreated him. “The light is nae even tinting the skies yet.”
“We’re leaving at first light,” he told her. “Get up now, Annabella. Are ye nae anxious to get home? We have several days’ riding ahead of us before we do.”
With another small groan she pulled herself up, swung her legs over the bed, and stood. Her eyes were closed again, but she smiled when he said he would leave her to her toilette.
Annabella heard him close the bedchamber door. She quickly washed herself and pulled on her garments. Then, sitting back upon the bed, she brushed her hair out with the brush she pulled from her saddlebag. Her hair felt sticky with salt from her two sea voyages, and she could feel the dust of the summer roads in her scalp. She brushed and brushed until her head and long tresses felt a little better. Then she quickly braided the long, dark hair into a thick plait, securing it with a small scrap of red ribbon. She left it hanging. Riding with her husband, she no longer had a need to conceal her identity.
He was waiting for her in the dayroom. To her surprise the supper dishes were gone from the sideboard, and in their stead upon the little table was a hot meal of oat stirabout in a bread trencher, a bowl of hard-boiled eggs, some cheese, and bread. She sat down and began to quickly eat as she saw Angus was already half-finished.
“We can take what we don’t eat of the bread, cheese, and eggs wi’ us for our ride,” Annabella told her husband. “That way we won’t hae to stop but briefly at midday, and can ride until sunset.”
He grunted his approval of her plan.
When they had finished they went into the taproom and paid the landlord, who looked slightly confused as he attempted to identify Annabella’s gender, for he had been certain it had been a young man traveling with the earl. But suddenly the young man had breasts that swelled generously beneath his or her shirt, and a long braid that hung down her—for he suddenly realized it was a female—back. He didn’t approve of bold women, but, taking the earl’s coin, he wished them a pleasant journey.
The two horses they had stabled several weeks ago were fresh and waiting for them. They mounted and turned onto the streets of Leith, making for the road that would take them southwest into the borders, and eventually to Duin. The first day was gray. The next two it rained, and they were forced to shelter in the open at night. Finally, on the fourth morning, the weather recalled it was September. The sun shone down on them as they rode onward.
The main road remained relatively safe, with its busy daytime traffic, but once they turned off of it they became warier. Now and again they saw parties of horsemen in the distance, galloping over the moors. There were several times they heard the thunder of horses’ hooves before they even saw anyone. If there was a place of shelter they wisely sought it until the riders had gone by. But one afternoon a large party of men showing the red plaid of the Hamiltons caught them unawares, surrounding them upon the road.
“Do ye stand for the Queen’s Men or the King’s Men?” the leader asked bluntly.
“I stand for Scotland,” Angus Ferguson answered them quietly.
“The queen’s Scotland or the king’s Scotland?” the leader persisted.
“I stand for Scotland,” the earl repeated. “There is but one.”
The leader of the Hamilton faction looked puzzled, but then the man next to him laughed. “Ye hae to be the Ferguson of Duin,” he said, “for only he would dare to keep himself from this fray.”
“I am Angus Ferguson,” the earl admitted.
“Why will ye nae declare for queen or king?” the Hamilton leader asked him now that he realized the man before him was no enemy.
“The Fergusons of Duin hae always kept themselves from siding wi’ any faction,” the man who had recognized Angus said. “They truly do stand for Scotland.”
“The queen must be restored,” the Hamilton leader said.
“Scotland must hae peace,” Angus told him. “If ye want to fight, then fight wi’ the English, not yer own fellow Scots. It does our country nae good when we quarrel wi’ one another, but it makes England and the rest of Europe very happy.”
“Ye must choose!” the Hamilton leader insisted.
“I will take sides with nae one. I stand for Scotland,” the earl repeated once again.
“Leave him be,” the other man said. “His wife’s mother is a Hamilton.” He turned to Angus. “Did ye nae wed Anne Hamilton’s daughter?”
“I did,” the earl replied. Then, reaching out, he drew Annabella’s mount forward. “Here is my countess, who rides wi’ me on family business. I have learned she is the bonniest woman alive, and I’ll fight any man who says otherwise.”
“Annabella Baird, I am yer cousin Jock Hamilton,” the man who had defended Angus said. “Yer mother’s family will be pleased to know how highly yer husband values ye. How do ye stand? For queen or for king?”
“I stand for Scotland,” Annabella told him with a small smile.
The Hamiltons within her hearing chuckled at her reply, and even their leader grinned. “Travel on in safety,” he told the earl and his wife as he moved his horse aside.
“We thank ye,” Angus Ferguson said as he and Annabella rode by. They were just two days from Duin.
