Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] Read online

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2008 by Lynne Scott-Drennan

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Forever

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  The Forever name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: September 2008

  ISBN: 978-0-446-54275-3

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  A preview of "Border Moonlight"

  PRAISE FOR AMANDA SCOTT’S SCOTTISH ADVENTURES

  BORDER WEDDING

  “4½ Stars! TOP PICK! Not only do her characters leap off the pages, the historical events do too. This is more than entertainment and romance; this is historical romance as it was meant to be.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “4½ Hearts! A very enjoyable read that is rich in history . . . Ms. Scott’s next book will be another must-read.”

  —NightOwlRomance.com

  “5 Stars! Amanda Scott has possibly written the best historical in ages! . . . There was not a part of this story that was not enjoyable . . . the best book to come along in a long time.”

  —FallenAngelReviews.com

  “A journey you won’t want to miss! Scott’s gift is her ability to create people you want to know. No matter the conflict or the story line, you’re always drawn to the people. Border Wedding, the first novel in a new trilogy, is no exception. Another winner!”

  —FreshFiction.com

  “Wonderful . . . full of adventure and history . . . Scott is obviously well-versed on life in the fourteenth century, and she brings her knowledge to the page . . . an excellent story for both the romance reader and the history buff. I’m anxious to read others by Scott in the future.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Don’t miss this beautiful historic tale.”

  —BookCoveReviews.com

  “A fun, light read . . . Scott’s vivid attention to details makes you feel as if you are indeed visiting Scotland each and every time you pick up her delightful book.”

  —ArmchairInterviews.com

  “A winner . . . Few authors do medieval romances as consistently excellent as Amanda Scott’s . . . brings to life the late fourteenth century.”

  —HarrietKlausner.wwwi.com

  “Well-written narrative and dialogue . . . exciting plot . . . Border Wedding proves great stories of Scotland don’t only arise out of the Highlands.”

  —RomRevToday.com

  KING OF STORMS

  “4 Stars! An exhilarating novel . . . with a lively love story . . . Scott brings the memorable characters from her previous novels together in an exciting adventure romance.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “Passionate and breathtaking . . . Amanda Scott’s King of Storms keeps the tension moving as she continues her powerful saga of the Macleod sisters.”

  —NovelTalk.com

  “A terrific tale starring two interesting lead characters who fight, fuss, and fall in love . . . Rich in history and romance, fans will enjoy the search for the Templar treasure and the Stone of Scone.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “An engaging tale with well-written characters, and a wonderful plot that will keep readers turning pages . . . Fans of historical romances will be delighted with King of Storms.”

  —TheRomanceReadersConnection.com

  “Enjoyable . . . moves at a fast pace . . . It was difficult to put the book down.”

  —BookLoons.com

  “Intrigue and danger . . . Readers will enjoy the adventures and sweet romance.”

  —RomRevToday.com

  “Enchanting . . . a thrilling adventure . . . a must read . . . King of Storms is a page-turner. A sensual, action-packed romance sure to satisfy every heart. Combine this with a battle of wits, a test of strength, faith, and honor, and you have one great read.”

  —FreshFiction.com

  KNIGHT’S TREASURE

  “An enjoyable book for a quiet evening at home. If you are a fan of historical romance with a touch of suspense, you don’t want to miss this book.”

  —LoveRomanceAndMore.com

  “Filled with tension, deceptions, and newly awakened passions. Scott gets better and better.”

  —NovelTalk.com

  LADY’S CHOICE

  “Terrific . . . with an exhilarating climax. Scott is at the top of her game with this deep historical tale.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Enjoyable . . . The premise of Scott’s adventure romance is strong.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “A page-turner . . . her characters are a joy to read. Lady’s Choice is sure to delight medieval historical fans.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “Plenty of suspense and action and a delightful developing love story . . . Another excellent story from Scott.”

  —RomanceReviewsMag.com

  PRINCE OF DANGER

  “Phenomenal.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “RITA Award-winning Scott has a flair for colorful, convincing characterization.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Exhilarating . . . fabulous . . . action-packed . . . Fans of fast-paced historical tales . . . will want to read Amanda Scott’s latest.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Amanda Scott is a phenomenal writer . . . I am not sure if perfection can be improved upon, but that is exactly what she has done in her latest offering.”

  —RomanceReaderAtHeart.com

  LORD OF THE ISLES

  “Ms. Scott’s diverse, marvelous, unforgettable characters in this intricate plot provide hours of pure pleasure.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Scott pits her strong characters against one another and fate. She delves into their motivations, bringing insight into them and the thrilling era in which they live.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “Amanda Scott writes great tales.”

  —RomanceReviewsMag.com

  “Ms. Scott’s storytelling is amazing . . . a captivating tale of intrigue . . . This is a definite keeper.”

  —CoffeeTimeRomance.com

  A HIGHLAND PRINCESS

  “Fast-moving, exciting, and soaring to heights of excellence, this one is a winner.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Delightful historical starring two fabulously intelligent lead characters . . . Grips the audience from the onset and never [lets] go.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “Perfect for readers who enjoy romances
with a rich sense of history.”

  —Booklist

  “A fabulous medieval Scottish romance.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “A marvelously rendered portrait of medieval Scotland, terrific characters, and a dynamic story.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  OTHER BOOKS BY AMANDA SCOTT

  Border Wedding

  King Of Storms

  Knight’S Treasure

  Lady’S Choice

  Prince Of Danger

  Lord Of The Isles

  Highland Princess

  The Secret Clan: Reiver’S Bride

  The Secret Clan: Highland Bride

  The Secret Clan: Hidden Heiress

  The Secret Clan: Abducted Heiress

  Border Fire

  Border Storm

  Border Bride

  Highland Fling

  Highland Secrets

  Highland Treasure

  Highland Spirits

  The Bawdy Bride

  Dangerous Illusions

  Dangerous Angels

  Dangerous Games

  Dangerous Lady

  The Rose At Twilight

  To Julie and Pat for all you have given to each other. And to Tanner, just for being Tanner.

  Author’s Note

  For readers who appreciate some basic information straightaway, I include the following definitions and pronunciation guide:

  Buccleuch = Buck LOO (or, as my resident phonics purist insists, Buh-CLOO)

  Hawick = HOYK

  “Himself,” where it appears capitalized in this book, refers to Buccleuch. (Note: It could also refer to Douglas if spoken by his adherents. In general, when such a reference is made, the speaker is referring to the chief of his clan or kindred.)

  Scone Abbey = Scoon Abbey

  Sir John Edmonstone of that Ilk = Sir John Edmonstone of Edmonstone

  The Douglas = the Earl of Douglas

  Prologue

  Dunfermline Abbey, Scotland, 1389

  He had been watching her most of the day.

  In such a vast, merry crowd as the one gathered along the snow-covered shore of Loch Fitty, north of Dunfermline Abbey and its nearby royal palace, it was easy for him to watch the lass without drawing attention to himself.

  At a rough guess, nearly a thousand people had come to enjoy the festivities preceding a Yuletide wedding in the abbey of the Earl of Douglas’s eldest son to Margaret Stewart, daughter of the heir to Scotland’s throne.

  The lass he watched wore a long, hooded cloak of sable-trimmed, claret-colored velvet over a violet-and-black-striped silk skirt and bodice. He noted that a few dark tendrils had escaped the colorful beaded netting that confined her hair. And when she snatched up her skirts to leap out of the way of a snowball, he saw sable-trimmed winter boots that covered her legs to her knees.

  She had drawn his gaze from the first moment he saw her. But had anyone asked why, he’d have had trouble explaining. He might have said that her figure, rosy cheeks, and wide grin reminded him of his mother. But surely, no man felt drawn to a woman because of a slight, doubtless wholly imagined, maternal resemblance. In his view, a man simply responded to an attraction. He did not try to explain it.

  Although the lass’s figure was rounder and more buxom than fashion decreed, he thought she looked as if she’d be a cozy armful, the kind of woman with whom a man could find comfort. She was clearly merry and fun-loving, and although many might condemn her present lack of dignity, he did not.

  Winter-crisp air or rouge had turned her full lips as red as her cheeks. Her dark eyes sparkled as she laughed, then ducked another snowball that someone had hurled and scooped up one of her own to fling back.

  Seeing hers fly straight to its target, he frowned when he recognized a young courtier who had been shamelessly flirting with her an hour earlier.

  As experienced as he was himself in the art of dalliance, he had easily read her behavior then as well-practiced but meaningless flirtation. She did not care a rap for the lad but was enjoying herself nonetheless.

  The young man’s behavior seemed less playful, mayhap even predatory.

  Despite that, the watcher was pleased to see her delight.

  When she had arrived midmorning with the princess Isabel Stewart’s party, a wariness in the lass’s demeanor had done more to draw his attention than the simple elegance of her dress. In his twenty-five years, he had trained many dogs and horses, and had stalked deer. He’d spent much time in the woods, too, where he liked to sit quietly for no better reason than to see what he might see.

  Such experience had stirred him to think the unruly crowd intimidated her, as a pack of wolves might intimidate a young doe that wandered naïvely into its midst.

  He decided that was why he had kept an eye on her and had even begun to feel this odd sense of protectiveness toward her.

  Most eyes focused on Princess Isabel, the young, beautiful, but still grieving widow of James, second Earl of Douglas, killed sixteen months before, during the victorious Battle of Otterburn. No one knew all the facts of his death, but the princess suspected murder and never hesitated to say so.

  Others dismissed her suspicions as the imaginings of a mind distraught with grief, and the Douglases had hastily remarried her to one of their wealthier vassals. But she refused to live with her new husband, and the watcher doubted that the man wielded any influence over her. The princess had a mind of her own.

  He’d never met her, but he had met her younger sister, Gelis, whose husband, Sir William Douglas, Laird of Nithsdale, was a longtime friend. Will was organizing an expedition to Prussia, to join a crusade, and since the Borders had been at peace for over a year, the watcher had decided to go with him, to search for new adventures.

  Shifting his gaze from Isabel to scan the rest of her large party, he saw two Douglas knights he knew and his cousin, Sir Walter Scott, who had recently become Laird of Buccleuch.

  The watcher’s gaze shifted back to the fascinating lass, whose merriment had changed to wariness again. She looked as if she watched for someone in particular.

  When another lady walked up behind her and touched her arm she started, then smiled with relief.

  From the strong resemblance between the two, he guessed they were sisters. Then Buccleuch joined them and slipped a possessive arm around the other woman. Such an intimate gesture told the watcher she must be his lady wife.

  The watcher moved away then, because Buccleuch would recognize him and might motion him over to introduce him. Much as he would have liked the introduction, he did not want to draw attention to himself just yet.

  Even so, he could not resist returning a half hour later to watch her again.

  Buccleuch had moved on with his lady, and the lass stood near a roaring fire, chatting with another of Isabel’s ladies. Not far from them, children toasted bannocks and mutton collops at the flames.

  Then, abruptly, a well-dressed man strode up to the two, caught the lass by an arm, and swung her to face him.

  The watcher moved nearer, frowning.

  The lass tried to pull away, but the man held her and put his face close to hers. Clearly berating her, he gave her arm a shake to punctuate his words.

  The watcher stepped nearer, hesitant, thinking the man must be a kinsman of hers, one who had right and reason to speak so sharply to her.

  But she resisted as if he were ordering her to do something against her will. She was growing angry, perhaps frightened.

  The man shook a finger at her.

  When she stepped back, he followed, emphasizing his words with his pointing finger, thumping her chest with it as he might an obstinate lad’s.

  The watcher’s focus narrowed until he saw only the offensive finger.

  A few long strides carried him within reach.

  Grabbing the lout by an arm, just as the lout had grabbed her, he swung him and slammed a blow to his jaw powerful enough to send him to the ground and keep him quiet for a few minutes
, at least.

  Seeing the lass clap both hands to her mouth, looking half astonished and half frightened, he swept off his plumed cap, bowed with a smile, and said lightly, “I trust that churl will trouble you no further, my lady. You should keep clear of such men.”

  She avoided his gaze as she murmured unsteadily, “Should I?’

  “Aye, and with respect, I’d suggest that you rejoin the princess now and keep near her lest he try to accost you again.”

  She looked at him then, revealing a pair of long-lashed, melting hazel-green eyes as she said in a surprisingly low, delightfully musical voice, “You should not have struck him, sir. But I own, it was wonderful to see him bested for once.”

  “He looks somewhat familiar, my lady. I’m curious as to his name.”

  Dryly, she said, “He is Simon Murray, sir, my elder brother.”

  “Is he, indeed? I trust you’ll forgive me then if I don’t linger till he wakens.”

  Her lips twitched with amusement, but she nodded.

  As he turned away, he saw the princess approaching.

  “Who was that?” he heard her ask the lass.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But he laid Simon out with one blow, so I do wonder who he can be.”

  Sir Garth Napier smiled as he strode off.

  It was always good to leave a woman wondering.

  Chapter 1

  Scone Abbey, 14 August 1390

  Scotland’s long-awaited Coronation Day had come at last, and a vast crowd had gathered to see what they could see. Although it might be hours yet before the ceremony ended and the newly crowned High King of Scots emerged from the abbey kirk, the teeming mass already overflowed the abbey grounds.

  Scone Abbey sat on a terrace above the flat vale of the river Tay a few miles north of St. John’s town of Perth. Monastic buildings lay east and west of the kirk, while to its north stood a higher mound of grassy land, known as Moot Hill.

  Minutes before, John Stewart, Earl of Carrick and heir to Scotland’s throne, had made his awkward way to the kirk from Abbots’ House, a three-story gray-stone building that stood between the kirk and the eastern monastic buildings. While Carrick prepared for the ceremony, those privileged to witness it would take their places.

  The kirk being modestly appointed and small for its ilk, only royal family members, their attendants, and higher-ranking nobility could go inside. Even so, the crowd was enormous. Nearly everyone who was anyone had come, as well as many hundreds of lesser estate or none at all.