Betrayed (19 page)

She was at once unsure on how to proceed and dipped her eyes. “I—I wanted to…”

“Hmmm?” Lean fingers grazed her cheek, then tipped her chin. The tender passion broiling his dark gaze washed through her.

She knew what she had to do.

“Don’t leave.” She reached up, cupping both sides of his square jaw in her palms, rising to her tip-toes, leaning in. “Not without a proper goodbye kiss.”

Her lips touched his, tentatively, then more urgently as he kissed her back. Their tongues met, testing, stroking, then twining as one. His hand pressed at the small of her back, bringing her up close, and she melted willingly into his lithe, potent masculinity. Desire fed her blood and warmed to her inner core. Her arms wrapped behind his neck, savouring the sensations that had to last her a lifetime.

He pulled away too quickly.

She wasn’t ready to let go.

His lopsided grin undid her heart as he untangled her fingers from behind his neck and held her hands to his chest. “This isna something that can be rushed, sweeting. Wait fer me.”

Then, bussing a kiss to her forehead, he released her hands and left.

An emptiness opened up inside her, then quickly filled with dread.

Good Lord, what was the matter with her? She’d wanted that kiss to take away with her. She’d not even considered that he might have carried her back up the stairs here and now to finish what she’d started.

Or had she? Had she thought to put the decision, of whether to stay or go, into his hands?

Since when had there been any decision to make?

Whatever she might or might not have been thinking was sheer madness. One brief moment of passion would not be worth the eternity of hate it would bring.

Krayne was leaving, and not a moment too soon.

Amber gnawed on her lower lip as young Peter brought two saddled mares into the bailey. The first time she’d tried to leave, Mary had tumbled from her horse while mounting and twisted her ankle. Close to two weeks wasted, and Amber was determined that naught would go amiss today.

Brayan had packed a hamper of smoked fish, half a wheel of white cheese, two loaves of warm bread and an assortment of meat pies and fruit tartlets. Amber hadn’t said anything about the second hamper she’d filled with apples and plums. Wamphray’s cook had already made a few dry comments about the two of them rolling back from their picnic.

“Mary,” she called out, “come or we’ll be late.”

“Late fer what?” asked Brayan, walking up beside Mary.

Amber frowned at him, allowing Peter to help her mount instead of answering. Mary and Brayan had been standing apart for a good while, quietly conferring in a manner that did not bode well. Mary would not deliberately give their plans away, but she did not have the nature to hold on to secrets.

“The child is always in a hurry,” Mary told him, putting Amber’s fears to rest.

Still, she watched with growing agitation as Brayan linked his fingers as a hoist for Mary to step into. When he hefted her up, Mary gave an exaggerated yelp.

Brayan winced in sympathy. “Yer ankle is no completely healed. Mayhap ye should postpone this picnic a wee bit longer,” he suggested.

Mary glanced hopefully at Amber.

Amber shook her head. She’d seen Mary walking about the castle perfectly fine these last few days. Whatever that yelp was about, it was not physical pain. “My store is absolutely depleted. If I don’t gather more herbs today, I’ll not have the potions to heal the castle’s ailments.”

Brayan grunted in understanding. For the past two weeks, the lass had been a blessing, curing everything from a sore throat to a badly lanced wound. Peter and Brayan waved them off cheerfully and the gatekeeper cranked the portcullis for them to pass through.

“You realise they’ll send a search party,” Mary told her as they trotted down the path to Wamphray Water.

Amber leant forward to stroke the placid mare, more in need of the calming than the horse. Duncan had set sail with Krayne, but Alexander had remained behind to challenge her plans. “We’re not expected back until nightfall. By then, we could be just about anywhere within a day’s ride. Wamphray and Johnstone together do not have the men to search the whole of Annandale and Eiskedale.”

“Eiskedale?”

Amber glanced at her. After Krayne had mentioned that he was setting sail from Annan, she’d decided that was the best way home to England. She’d not tempt fate, however, by setting on a direct route. “You swear you didn’t tell a soul?”

“I should have,” Mary muttered.

“We’re going eastward across Applegarth to join the valley of Dryfe Water. Alexander will not dare lead his men over Jardin land.”

“I’d rather we didn’t either.”

“Are you going to be this pessimistic the entire way?”

“And if I am?” Mary queried with a glitter in her eye that could not be misinterpreted.

For the first time, Amber wondered if she was being selfish. Mary had railed against Scotland for so long, she’d assumed ’twas the woman’s timid fear of adventure and not a reluctance to return home to England that made her quarrelsome about this trip.

“If you’d rather stay,” Amber said, “I swear that Krayne will not mistreat you once he finds me gone.”

Mary hung her head.

Fighting down the surge of anxiety at riding on alone, Amber added, “I only ask that you ride a little way with me and stay out until sundown. Say nothing to Alexander. He will not be harsh with you. And—and when Krayne eventually returns, you may tell him where I’ve gone. I intend to write him as soon as I reach England anyway.”

“What you must think of me, to imagine I’d let you go alone.” Mary’s head came up. “Running is a mistake that will cost you dear, child. Your husband cares for you. Anyone can see that at a glance.”

“That will change if I stay.”

“He is not a fickle man.”

“No,” Amber agreed sadly. “Krayne wears his honour with pride. Any man, or woman, who treats that with less than the utmost respect will suffer greatly.”

Understanding dulled Mary’s gaze. “Och, child, what have you done?”

How often had she asked herself that very thing? “I did what I had to do, Mary. No more and no less.”

As soon as they were out of sight of Wamphray’s gate tower, Amber led them up the river bank and around the foot of Blaze Hill. To their left, the craggy mound rose sharply, casting a cool shadow for their ride. The sun rose too quickly, belying the progress Amber had hoped to make their first day.

“We must push on,” she told Mary after they’d dismounted to eat a mutton pie and sip some ale. Recalling the woodland that started midway up Blaeberry Hill, she decided it would offer them the best protection from the night. Crossing the undulating fells and dales instead of riding alongside the River Annan was proving more time consuming than she’d counted on. “We must reach Auchenroddan Forest before sundown.”

The sun was a faint orange spectre dimming the clear sky when they urged their tired horses up the hill and through the closely packed trees of Auchenroddan. Both the women were stiff and sore from being saddle-bound the entire day and much too tired to worry about building a fire for warmth. That the flames might have given up their hiding place did not even feature, so it was as well that exhaustion folded them against each other in a curled sleep as soon as they’d partaken of a supper of bread, cheese and more meat pies.

Alexander spread his men in a wide arc that encompassed the River Annan for five miles either side. He did not alert Adam, but he spared not a second thought at trespassing on Jardin land in his search. When Brayan had first sought him out on his return from field practice, they’d supposed the women lost. A good chat later had soon convinced Alexander otherwise. There were many clues, starting with Amber’s insistence on refusing an escort and ending with her despair when the picnic had initially been postponed. Not to mention
that one’s
particular tendency to flee. Everything he’d heard reeked of a plot, and he cursed the vixen for running on his watch.

Krayne would have his head if the lass were not returned unharmed.

What had taken the women a full day, took Wamphray’s men less than three hours, and only that long because they were thorough. Auchenroddan was included in their search, but the moon slid behind a cloud when Gavin and Andrew entered the woods and the densely packed canopies denied them even that meagre light afforded by the stars.

“’Twould take a stalwart lass ta dither hereabouts,” Andrew muttered, narrowing eyes to pierce the darkness. Once again, they’d forgone supper to run after the Jardin wench and his stomach rumbled fiercely. His nostrils itched as he fairly smelt the pot of rabbit stew his Ellen would have broiling at the open fire in their cosy hut. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and grumbled aloud as he thought that he could be warming himself between his little wife’s tight bums right now.

An owl ruffled feathers high above his head, making its displeasure known at being disturbed. The men glanced at each other grimly. The forest teemed with sounds of the night, some real and others fantasised.

Gavin heard the far-off howl of a lone wolf and wondered where its pack was. A gusty wind whispered ghostly groans through the pines and rippled the sodden debris beneath.

“Aye,” Gavin agreed, the harsh dressing down from the laird still fresh in his mind. He’d been put on night guard for three weeks straight, with no leave to visit Lochmaben and his favourite tavern that served ample-busted wenches along with its ale and cider. His laird’s siren bride was trouble, and he couldn’t shift the feeling that Wamphray might be better off without her. “Lockerbie has two inns with beds aplenty, I’m thinkin’ English-raised lasses ken naught o’ sleepin’ wi’ nature.”

Of one mind, the men progressed through the length of the forest with only the most cursory perusal either side them as they rode. The sooner they reached Annan, the sooner they could turn back for home and hearth.

Three days later, Amber and Mary trotted two weary mares down the well-trodden road and through the town gates of Annan. The women themselves were in a state far worse. Frequent downpours had drenched them, starting at their cloaks and soaking all the way through to chill their bones. Their boots were muddied and worn thin at the soles from trudging up scraggly paths too steep and rocky to ride. Mary’s weak ankle had swollen again to plague Amber’s conscience, and she did not need the reminder that her plans had gone so widely askew.

Hunger and a desperate need to seek direction had taken them into numerous dwellings until they’d finally found their way back to the River Annan. She could not fault the hospitality they’d received, but they’d left an unwanted trail. Amber could only pray that the hunting party had given up and turned back to await Krayne’s wrath at Wamphray. “At least we’re here,” said Amber brightly as they passed a row of timbered frontages that sported goods from freshly baked pies to vividly stained lengths of wool and finely woven linens.

“I feared we’d never see civilisation again,” Mary mumbled as she halted by a crossroad, her face the same mask of disgruntlement she’d worn for the duration.

“Your faith in me is surely lacking.” Amber breathed deeply of the tangy air and tasted salt on her tongue. Aye, they were here. The expanse of blue water they’d spied earlier was no longer visible, but she knew it was there, just beyond the built-up streets.

Lumbering carts, some pulled and some pushed by hunched men with constitutions of oxen, others hitched to horses, shared the road with pedestrians and riders in all manner of attire. Richly garbed men in magnificently embroidered tabards astride equally magnificent destriers rode alongside farmers on their workhorses and wearing scuffed linen trousers and open shirts. Yet others wore supple leather britches and steel-plated jacks with boots that came to their knees. A wagon of ladies chattering as brightly as their highly decorated gowns ambled along, scattering a row of riders and eliciting appreciative hoots and whistles.

“Faith?” Mary snorted, crossing her bosom with dirt-streaked fingers. “I’ll give you faith when you secure us a nice warm room and send word to Wamphray of our whereabouts.”

Amber grinned and kicked her mare into a trot as a gap formed in the traffic. She chose the busiest road, hoping it led to the docks. “We’ve no coin for an inn and I wouldn’t spare the time and risk besides.”

“My poor horse can barely put one foot before the other,” came Mary’s constant grumble at her side. “How you intend to barter two horses that are dead on their feet, and look even worse, for the price of passage is beyond me, child. ’Tis better we turn back now, before your husband returns and finds you missing.”

“Krayne will kill me for the trouble I’ve put his men to alone,” Amber snapped. Her resolve to keep the pain in her heart firmly closeted could not withstand Mary continually unlatching the door. She had to keep her spirits high and Mary motivated. This was neither the time nor the place to indulge a breaking heart.

“He will not kill you.”

“No, he will not,” Amber agreed. “Once he eventually tracks me down, his temper will have cooled and he will understand this is for the best.”

She was counting on it. When he learned that their marriage was unconsummated and, by that fact, unnecessary to begin with, Krayne would no longer be bound by any honour, duty or responsibility. He’d welcome the annulment with open arms. Still, Amber was wise enough to ensure she was in another country when he first heard the details, for his relief at being a free man would only come after his rage had run the gauntlet from stunned shock to murderous fury. Of that, she was convinced.

“He will not let you go that easily,” predicted Mary.

Which was the least of their worries right now, Amber saw as they followed the road that led to the seafront. Instead of a busy port teeming with merry sailors and banked by sturdy ships that could take them as far as Portsmouth, if not further, they were thrust into the midst of makeshift stalls set up by farmers and fishmongers.

Amber dismounted, handed her reins to Mary and approached a nearby stall that was not overly crowded. The sandy-haired lad other side the two barrels was surprisingly eager to answer any of her questions.

Wrinkling a freckled nose to the reflection of sunlight off water, he pointed at the lone, rather sad-looking vessel berthed at the end of a flimsy wooden walkway that extended some distance into the Solway. And he pointed somewhat proudly. “That be the dock, right there.”

“But where…” Amber set her disappointed gaze back on the lad. “Where are all the
ships?
”

“Beatlesticks,” he exclaimed through giggles. “We be but a market town. ’Tis sailing boats ta carry from the farms that we be seeing hereabouts.”

“Impossible.”

His grin turned sheepish.

Amber decided to stop wasting time and put him straight. “That dock would never cater to the entire Johnstone fleet.”

“’Twouldn’t,” he agreed wholeheartedly.

Her fingers balled in frustration. “The Laird of Wamphray set sail from here the week before last, did he not?”

“That he did.” The lad was grinning happily again. “The Grey Wolf boarded the
Joanna
here, fer Captain Jack Steegle keeps a townhouse jus’ yonder ’twixt Mad Nellie the brewster an’ the baker’s shop.”

“And Captain Jack Steegle would be…?” Amber queried, fast losing patience.

“Why, he be captain o’ the
Joanna,
o’ course,” the lad told her.

“Kra—the laird mentioned he had five ships filled with wool.”

“Aye, an’ they’d be awaitin’ his command at Kirkcudbright, I ken, fer ’tis the closest port.”

Amber thanked the lad for all his help with a wan smile. As she turned, her eye caught that sorry-looking excuse for a seafaring vessel. Her chin set high in determination, she hurried past the busy stalls to collect Mary and their horses.