Blythe Gifford - Captive of the Border Lord

She faced her brothers calmly. ‘Will I? Then let the vipers choke.’

Stubborn wench. Her brothers might not trust him, but at least they were sensible enough to know it was unthinkable to put a woman, even this one, in such a position. ‘So we agree this is not for her to do.’

Rob turned back to him and he saw a shift behind the man’s eyes. ‘I’ve not decided.’

Damn. A misstep. Would Rob allow this, simply because Carwell opposed it?

‘Well, I have,’ Bessie said. ‘It’s the only solution.’

Her brothers exchanged glances. Rob looked back at her, to make one final plea. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I am sure that it is my duty,’ she said. ‘So step aside and stop wasting your breath.’ She looked over her shoulder at Carwell. ‘All of you.’

He inhaled, ready to argue against this madness. ‘It’s mine to waste.’

Suddenly, he faced three siblings and one wife, each with that ‘stubborn as a Brunson’ set of the jaw.

John shook his head. ‘She’s right, you know.’

Rob sighed. ‘Aye.’

They won’t be able to stop me , she had said. How had she known?

Both brothers turned to him now. ‘If anything happens to her,’ Rob said, ‘anything at all, it’s you who’ll be answering for it.’

‘She’ll be hostage to King James for your behaviour,’ he replied, smothering his anger. ‘If you violate the peace, do you expect me to defy the King for you?’

They traded sceptical glances. No, they knew better than that. They still blamed him for what had gone wrong on Truce Day.

No more than he blamed himself.

‘But her life,’ John said, glowering. ‘You must promise to protect her life with your own.’

He looked at Bessie. Her chin was high, her lips were set and he wanted nothing more than to refuse. The last time he had made such a promise, he had failed. But this …

No. He must not fail this time. ‘I’ll protect her life with mine.’ Her liberty? Well, that he could not promise.

‘And her reputation?’ John added.

Bessie’s eyes widened. ‘I need no such—’

‘Aye.’ He’d see she got there and back untouched. ‘That, too.’

‘If anything happens—’

‘I’ve given you my word,’ he retorted, cutting off Rob’s threat.

If anything happened to her, his conscience would punish him far worse than the Brunsons ever could. ‘We leave at dawn,’ he said to Bessie.

She nodded, her damnable calm like a thistle scratching his skin. This woman was as steadfast and unmovable as a rock. And nearly as unresponsive.

‘Be ready.’ He turned and walked away.

As Bessie took each familiar step down the tower’s spiral staircase the next morning, she trailed her fingers over stone walls her chubby fingers had reached for when she was a babe in her mother’s arms.

The stairs rushed to the ground all too quickly.

One step at a time, her father would say, when a task seemed too much

Now, each step was a farewell. Each stone and plank and candle deserved its own goodbye.

Cate greeted her with a hug when she reached the ground floor. Side by side, they walked to the door.

‘There’s flour enough to last the winter,’ she began, ticking off the things Cate must know when she was gone, ‘if you don’t make too many pies. Rob doesn’t like carrots, so when you make the stew, scoop his portion without them. The Tait girl can help you brew the ale. She’s good at it, but she’s lazy, so you need to watch her, and—’

The door opened; the courtyard yawned before her, crowded with men already mounted on their horses. Her wooden chest, pitifully small, was already strapped on wooden runners to be dragged behind a horse.

No time. There was no time left.

Cate rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘It will be all right.’

She did not speak of the ale.

Lifting her eyes, Bessie looked toward the hills, hung with fog. It was raiding season. Anything could happen while she was away. A thousand terrors crowded her thoughts.

She lifted her chin and shut her mind against them. Rob and John were waiting. They must not doubt her. She must leave them with minds at rest.

Her first farewell was for Johnnie.

Never afraid to show affection, he wrapped her in a hug. ‘Stay safe. The King is not a bad man, but he is younger than he is wise.’

She nodded. ‘He won’t keep me there long, will he?’

Johnnie ruffled her hair, as he had done when they were children. ‘A woman as pretty as you? He’ll have a hard time letting you out of his sight.’ His lips smiled. His eyes did not.

She shook her head. ‘Then don’t worry yourself. I’ll be home by Yuletide.’

Then, his back shielding them from Rob’s eyes, Johnnie pressed a silver coin into her hand. ‘In case you need it for … something.’

Her eyes widened.

‘That’s the King’s face on it,’ he said.

She ran her thumb over the crowned profile. ‘He has a strong nose.’

‘And a stronger will.’

She slipped the coin into the pouch at her waist and turned to Rob.

Never at ease with sentiment, he raised his arms from his side, not knowing what next to do with them.

She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest, but only for a moment. And when she reached to touch his cheek, he jerked away.

Ah, that was Rob. Just like his father. Never able to be soft, not even with her.

‘Don’t worry.’ She squeezed his hand and blinked, refusing to let the tears fall.

Instead of meeting her eyes, Rob glowered at Carwell. ‘Bring her safely back or you’ll wish you had. If anything happens to her, I’ll find you. No matter where you are.’

‘It won’t.’ But when he answered, Carwell looked not at Rob, but turned his gaze as if the vow were made to her.

She shook her head, not wanting the man’s promise. Never again would she trust him to be responsible for anything that mattered. ‘I will mind myself.’

She knew who she was, what she was doing and why. And if she had to put up with the arrogant, untrustworthy Carwell in order to do it, then she would.

They mounted and rode out of the gate, turning east toward the sun. And she heard, drifting on the wind behind her, Rob and Johnnie, singing her on her way, the words of the song that defined the Brunsons.

Silent as moonrise, sure as the stars …

She had grown up knowing her place. Silent servant. Steady support. The calm, quiet, sturdy centre of the household. Now, she was leaving everything she knew and loved, but only so she could save it.

She glanced at Carwell out of the corner of her eye, surprised to see him watching her.

She looked away.

Aye, there might be one other reason she was going to court. Not for clothes or dancing, but so that when she returned, she could bring this man’s head on a platter.

The notes of the song grew faint and she turned to look at her home one last time.

Behind her, she saw nothing but fog.

Bessie had thought to draw him out as they travelled, but the day was cold and the wind raw and they rode too far and fast for idle talk. She had ridden the length and breadth of Brunson land, but when day’s end came, early, she was surrounded by unfamiliar hills.

‘This is the edge of Brunson land,’ he said, as they dismounted to make the night’s camp. ‘Robson lands start with that next ridge.’

She squinted in the gathering dusk. The next ridge looked no different than the one they had just left. ‘Is that part of the March also under your rule?’

‘Rule? The Warden rules nothing.’

‘Yet you insisted you were responsible for this side of the border.’

‘Responsible, yes, but the King barely rules here, as the Brunsons have made clear. I only try to keep louts like your brothers from killing each other.’ His smile was unexpected. ‘And me.’