Learning that his wife was riding out with her mistress, Dugald fretted, “I dinna want ye losing the bairn, Pansy lass.”
“Leave her be,” snapped Morag Geddes, who seemed always to side with her English daughter-in-law. “Pansy’s a good, strong girl, and she’d nae endanger her bairn. Didn’t she bring our wee Dugie safely home from that heathen land? Go along wi’ ye, Pansy,” she commanded, and with a wave Pansy hurried to join her mistress.
As Dugald looked after his wife, his mother remonstrated him, “Ye’re worse than an old woman, Dugald. ’Tis but two miles toGrantholm.”
Velvet was already mounted upon her black mare, Sable, when Pansy joined her to climb up on her sturdy, black and white pony whom she had named Bess “in honor of Her Majesty,” she had told her mistress. Half a dozen men-at-arms would ride with them, but only for show as these were BrocCairn lands, and there was peace in Scotland.
There was the faintest nip of early autumn in the air as they departed from the castle, their horses’ hooves thrumming over the drawbridge and onto the road. They could feel a brisk breeze, and the sun was playing a game of peekaboo with the bright, white clouds. As they passed through Broc Ailien, the villagers called their greetings to their countess who, like her husband, called back to them, using their names, knowing small bits of their lives, which she commented upon. As they loved Alex, the people of Broc Ailien loved Velvet now, too. She saw little Sibby playing before Jean Lawrie’s cottage, and was for a quick moment reminded of Yasaman. She blinked the tears from her eyes, all the while thinking that something should really be done for Alex’s daughter, who was a nice little thing despite her odious mother.
They left the village behind. It was only another mile or so toGrantholm, the manor house where Annabella and Ian lived with their two sons, James and Henry. The road wound through the woods, which were thick and green, and it was at the deepest part of the forest that they suddenly found themselves surprised and surrounded by a band of men wearing the green and blue tartan with the narrow red stripe that the BrocCairn men recognized as that of the Shaws. Instantly the six men-at-arms surrounded their countess and her tirewoman, but, badly outnumbered, they were quickly cut down.
“Go, Pansy!” shouted Velvet over the din of the short battle, and kicked Sable’s sides. Her flight, and that of Pansy’s, was quickly halted, however, by a giant bear of a man who, reaching out, yanked at both Sable’s and Bess’s bridles, successfully stopping them. Velvet lashed out at the man with her crop. “Let go of my horse!” she shouted. “I am the Countess of BrocCairn! How dare you attack me on my own lands!”
Ranald Torc burst into loud laughter. “BrocCairn’s bride is a fire-eater, Mouse! Ye dinna tell me that her ladyship had spirit, but, by God, I like that in a woman!” The battle over and the BrocCairn men dead where they had fallen trying to protect Velvet, Ranald Torc turned to speak to the countess. “I am Ranald Shaw, called Ranald Torc, madame. Ye’ve been captured fairly. Will ye yield to me and gie me yer word ye’ll nae try to excape?”
“Go to hell!” she shouted at him. “How dare you, you big ox!”
Ranald Torc laughed again. “Torc means boar, madame, nae ox.”
“Very well, Ranald the Pig, I demand an explanation of your conduct! There is no feud between the Gordons and the Shaws.”
Ranald Torc’s face darkened at the word “pig.” This was not going to be as easy as Ian had made it sound. The countess should be swooning with fright at this moment, begging for her life and her honor. Instead this auburn-haired hellion was spitting at him like a wildcat and asking for answers to difficult questions. Irritably he looked about. “Ian,” he shouted. “This is yer place, nae mine.”
It was then that Velvet noticed her brother-in-law for the first time. “Ian! What in hell is going on here?” she demanded.
Ian Grant moved his horse forward to come abreast of Velvet. He was very much in his element now and enjoying every minute of this drama. “Good morning, Velvet,” he said cheerfully. “Ye would like to know what this is all about, wouldn’t ye? Well, my dear, I am tired of being BrocCairn’s poor relation, and so I hae decided to grasp fortune by the neck, as it were. There is a very large reward on the Earl of Bothwell, who at this very minute is wi’ yer husband atHuntley.I should like to collect that reward, and since I doubt that either Alex or Lord Bothwell would like to see ye hurt, especially considering that ye carry BrocCairn’s heir, I hae decided to offer them a bargain. I will return ye to Alex in exchange for Lord Bothwell. I dinna think they will refuse me, do ye? Now all ye must do is be a good lass for the next few weeks while this delicate exchange is arranged.”
“Ian, I’d kill you if I could,” said Velvet furiously, “and you’d best not to get too near me, you damned bastard, or I will!”
“Ho! Ho!” Ranald Torc chuckled. “I believe her ladyship would indeed slit yer throat given the chance, Mouse. Ye’d best be wary.”
“Nay, cousin,” said Ian calmly. “Velvet will behave herself, for her husband is as close to committing treason as any man, and if she doesna wish to see him executed for it, she will cooperate wi’ us, won’t ye, my dear?”
“What do you mean, treason?” Velvet demanded.
“Bothwell’s been put to the horn, Velvet,” said Ian. “Here in Scotland that means he’s been outlawed, all his possessions forefeited to the crown. The king has accused him of treason.”
“A ridiculous charge, and all of Scotland knows it,” Velvet snapped back.
“Aye, but, nonetheless, James Stewart’s word is law in this land, and by aiding Bothwell the outlaw, yer precious Alex is as guilty. Now shut yer mouth, yer ladyship! We hae a long way to travel before we’ll be safe.”
“You’ll never be safe from Alex, you little bastard!” snarled Velvet. “And what of Bella?”
“I suppose she’ll miss me,” he said easily.
Velvet stared at him, outraged, and angry for poor Annabella. “I hope I’m there when Alex kills you,” she said venomously.
Ranald Torc looked directly at Velvet, but her gaze never wavered. He knew Alex Gordon, and he thought that this woman was a fit mate for BrocCairn. She was canny, bonny, and very brave, he had not a doubt. “Enough of yer battling,” he said firmly. “We must go now. There’s still the cattle to take. Ian, ye bring her ladyship to safety wi’ Alanna, and we’ll meet ye.”
Velvet could see that it was Ranald Torc who controlled this band of outlaws. “Let my tiring woman go back toDun Broc,”she pleaded. “She is five months gone with a bairn.”
“She’d raise the alarm,” said Ranald Torc. “We must go quickly, but we’ll go carefully, madame, for I hae no wish to harm either of ye or yer bairns.”
Ian leaned down and, taking Velvet’s bridle, led her off, Pansy following along. Velvet recognized the route they were traveling as the same one that had brought her to BrocCairn. She had not been out of the glen in the year since her arrival. At the crest of the hill, she saw Alanna Wythe waiting.
“Is she your whore now?” Velvet demanded of Ian.
“She was for a while,” he said easily, “but she seems to prefer my cousin, Ranald. They’re to be wed in Edinburgh, although having declared their intentions before me, they’re handfast and as good as married now.”
