Chapter One
Two weary riders lounged in the saddles of their even wearier mounts on the crest of a small mound, gazing down at the scene below. The gracious manor house sat amid manicured gardens. Lush lawns sprawled on three sides, intersected by neat paths. There was even a small maze, though it looked to be somewhat overgrown. The turquoise ripples of the English Channel glimmered beyond, sparkling under the rays of midmorning sunshine.
“That must be the place. Ashingburn Manor.” Robert McGregor stood up in his stirrups to afford himself a better view of the elegant house.
“Aye,” his companion concurred. “Still, I cannae bring myself to think this is anything but a wild goose chase.”
Robbie could not find it in himself to disagree. The chances of their quest yielding a happy outcome were slim, though he would be glad enough to be able to return to his brother in Scotland with news of the fate of the one they sought, one way or the other. “Ye’re right. The child is likely dead by now. It has been nigh on half a year since she was snatched.”
Beside him, Archibald Montgomery inclined his chin in a grim nod. “‘Twas a cruel thing that was done. If we had but known sooner…”
“My sister-by-marriage should ha’ trusted her husband. Things might ha’ gone very differently had she done so. Jamie is no’ an ogre, she should ha’ told him.”
Archie gave a snort that might be interpreted as agreement, though probably not. It was not that long since Eleanor of Ashingburn, the bride of Robbie’s older brother, James, had conspired to have Archie murdered in his bed. The intentions of the would-be assassin had been thwarted but Archie could not be blamed for harbouring a degree of resentment, in Robbie’s opinion.
Still, any ill-feeling he might have borne had not prevented him from doing the bidding of James McGregor. He had ridden the length of England at Robbie’s side in search of the baby abducted from Eleanor prior to her marriage.
Eleanor had become pregnant following a vicious encounter with one Richard Culpepper, one of King Henry’s most trusted inner circle. Naturally, the young woman’s complaint that Culpepper had forced himself upon her had not been accepted. Branded a liar and whore, she was banished from the royal household and had returned in disgrace to her home where her baby had been born. Richard Culpepper had subsequently descended upon Ashingburn Manor and snatched the baby away.
On learning of this, James had wasted no time in requesting that Robbie and Archie leave Scotland at a moment’s notice and travel south in search of the missing infant.
There had been no question, really. Even at this late stage, if there was any prospect whatsoever of restoring baby Cecily to her grieving mother, they should make every effort to do that.
They had spent the better part of a fortnight riding to the south coast of England to seek out the manor house in Dorset, which had been the last place anyone had seen baby Cecily. It was the obvious place to start their search.
“Looks prosperous enough,” Archie observed. “Clearly, the Ashingburns were no’ obliged tae do Henry’s bidding due tae any want for funds.”
“That was never suggested,” Robbie agreed. “D’ye see any sign of anyone being at home?” According to Eleanor, her parents—the Earl and Countess of Ashingburn—lived here along with their household of servants.
No wisps of smoke billowed from the chimneys, though that could be explained by the warmth of the day. Still, there would be cooking to be done in a house of this size, water to heat…
“We shall see soon enough.” Archie dug his heels into his mount’s flanks and started the steady descent. Robbie rode beside him, and the half dozen soldiers Jamie had sent as their escort brought up the rear.
They clattered across the cobbled courtyard and came to a halt before the stout wooden door.
“You wait here.” Archie slid to the ground and tossed his reins to Robbie. As captain of Jamie McGregor’s guard, Archie considered it his right to lead any assault and this day’s work appeared no different to him. He marched up and hammered on the solid oak with the side of his fist. Robbie remained mounted, along with the rest of the men.
No one came scurrying to answer the knock. Archie thumped the door again and shouted out to whoever lurked within, “Open the door or I shall do it myself, wi’ my boot. We are here tae speak wi’ the earl an’ countess an’ we’ll no’ be leavin’ till we have.”
His words had no effect, so Archie banged on the door one final time before raising his booted foot and slamming that into the darkened timber.
The door shook on its hinges. Archie beckoned to a couple of his men to join him, and the three of them prepared to kick down the door.
Suddenly, it swung open. A tall, slim woman of perhaps forty or so years peered at them, her aristocratic features betraying both alarm and anger.
“What do you want?” she demanded, her haughty tone wavering only slightly.
Given that he had been about to reduce her door to splinters, Archie’s polite bow might have been somewhat incongruous. He dipped into one anyway and gestured to his soldiers to step back. He cleared his throat. “We need tae speak wi’ the Earl o’ Ashingburn. Is he at home?”
The woman just stared, her mouth working as though she wanted to speak but did not know what to say.
“Madam?” Archie prompted, when Robbie joined him on the doorstep. “Is the earl here?”
She shook her head.
“The countess, then?” Robbie suggested.
“I… I am Lady Ashingburn.”
Archie and Robbie exchanged another glance, then Robbie made the introductions. “I am Robert McGregor, heir tae The McGregor. Of Skye,” he added, on seeing her blank look. “And this is Sir Archibald Montgomery. We are here on behalf of Sir James McGregor, Earl of Etal and husband tae your daughter.”
Something flickered in her hazel eyes. “My daughter? You have news of Eleanor?”
Again, they exchanged a look and Robbie wondered just how much they ought to share with the countess pertaining to her daughter’s current plight. It was not as though the woman could do anything to aid her daughter now, except corroborate her account of Culpepper’s actions and the threats he had uttered.
“May we come inside?” Robbie asked. “We have had a long journey an’ our horses are weary. Our men, too.”
“You have come all this way? From Northumberland?”
“From Scotland, in fact, my lady,” Archie offered. “A jug of ale would be most welcome, an’ perhaps a bite tae eat if ye could manage that.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Come in.” The countess was minded to offer them hospitality, it seemed, despite Archie’s assault on her property. She opened the battered door wider and moved aside to permit them entry. “Your men can go around to the kitchen if they want. I shall send word to the cook that they are to be given refreshment.”
“We appreciate your generosity, my lady.” Robbie glanced about the finely panelled entrance hall, the ornate tiled floor. Yes, there was wealth here, but the house felt cold as the tomb.
Their hostess led them into a hall, also panelled. The dark wood walls were adorned with several fine paintings. Unless Robbie was sorely mistaken, he spotted a portrait by Leonardo da Vinci, and a mythical scene by Botticelli among the glorious canvases. Still, he was not here to admire works of art, no matter how splendid.
The countess sat at a long, intricately carved table and gestured that they should do likewise. A servant hovered by the fireplace and hurried over at a signal from her mistress.
“Bring ale,” Lady Ashingburn ordered. “Or would you prefer cider?”
“Ale will be most welcome, madam,” Robbie assured her.
“Ale, then. The best. And food. And, please tell Mrs. Dove that we have visitors and she is to ensure that the men outside are fed also.”
The girl rushed off to do as she was bidden, and the lady turned to properly greet her unexpected guests.
“I am Lady Elisabeth Falconer, dowager Countess of Ashingburn. Please, do you have news of my daughter? Is she well?”
Dowager?
Robbie was almost certain that he had heard Eleanor mention her parents. She had not said her father was dead. Indeed, she had told them that the earl was physically threatened by Culpepper when the older man sought to defend his home and his family.
“May I ask when your husband passed away, Lady Falconer?”
She sniffed. Robbie believed he detected tears in her eyes though she controlled her grief well. “Two weeks ago. He took a fever and never recovered.”
“Our condolences on your loss, my lady.” It was clear that Eleanor was not aware of this latest turn of events. It would fall to them to break the news to her when they returned to Scotland. First, though…
“Lady Falconer, we have questions we need to ask of ye?”
She met his gaze with a determined glare. It was clear that whilst they may have momentarily shocked her by appearing unannounced on her doorstep, Lady Elisabeth was accustomed to being obeyed. “First, you should answer mine. Do you have news of Eleanor? Is she happy with her new husband? Is he… a kind man?”
Robbie hesitated, then, “Lady Eleanor was in good health when last we saw her, my lady. As for the rest… she appeared happy enough.”
Or, she had. Once. Before she was sentenced to hang.
Lady Falconer nodded. “She is a good girl. She deserves to be happy. I hope your brother treats her gently, because she has not had an easy time of it.”
“Yes,” Robbie said. “So we understand. That is why we are here. Tell me, Lady Falconer, what d’ye know of your granddaughter’s whereabouts?”
“G-granddaughter?” Lady Falconer’s features turned a pale shade of ashen.
“Aye. Cecily. D’ye know where she is, my lady?”
Lady Falconer shook her head, her slender hand clutching at her throat. “I… I do not know. No one knows.”
“Someone must know,” Archie observed, taking a mug of ale from the lass who served them. “Who d’ye think we should be askin’?”
“I really could not say. If I did know, do you not think I would be moving heaven and earth to find my only granddaughter? She… she is gone.”
Very probably.
But they had come a long way. A fortnight of gruelling riding had brought them to this place and Robbie was not giving up quite so easily. “Tell us what happened. Eleanor said that her baby was taken by a man called Culpepper…”
The countess related much the same story they had heard two weeks ago in the hall at Mortain, though she had rather more to say about the rough handling her husband had endured. The soldiers had beaten him badly. After Eleanor left, escorted by Culpepper’s hand-picked men and destined to be handed over to a stranger in a remote keep close to the Scottish border, the brutally battered elderly earl had coughed blood for a fortnight, then taken to his bed. He never rose from it and his widow was convinced he had been killed by Culpepper as surely as if the man had driven his sword into her husband’s belly, which indeed he had threatened to do.
“He is a devil, that young man,” she declared. “He is evil.”
Robbie did not disagree.
“And what of Henry Tudor? Is he not equally responsible for the misfortunes which have beset your family?” Archie wanted to know.
“It is treason to speak ill of the king,” the countess replied quickly, her guard suddenly up. “His Majesty is good and generous, though perhaps on occasions he is badly advised…”
“Generous enough tae wrench your baby granddaughter away from her home, and tae give your daughter in marriage tae a man she has never even heard of?”
Lady Falconer was silent, though there could be no doubt now that her eyes filled with tears. “I do miss my daughter,” she murmured. “Especially now that my husband is dead. The estate is to go to a cousin so I shall soon be obliged to leave Ashingburn. Will you… would you be so kind as to tell Eleanor of her father’s death?”
“Aye, we shall,” Robbie promised.
“And tell her not to grieve, but to live her own life. To be happy, as best she can.”
Robbie caught Archie’s eye once more. He did not consider it fair not to let this woman know what had happened. She was Eleanor’s mother; she had a right, surely.
Archie nodded. The unspoken question answered, Robbie cleared his throat.
“I… I regret tae have tae inform ye, Lady Falconer, that all has nae gone well for your daughter. She… she became involved in a number of … unfortunate incidents, the most serious of which was a plot to kill Sir Archibald, here.”
“A plot to…” Lady Falconer shook her head, her faith in her daughter unshakeable. “No, not my Eleanor. She would never do such a wicked thing.”
“I am afraid she did and has admitted as much.”
“But… but that is…” She gaped at them, her eyes wide. “That would be murder.”
“Yes.” Robbie could only agree.
“She… confessed?”
He inclined his head.
“Then…?” Lady Falconer could not even say the words. “W-what has happened to her?”
“She was sentenced tae hang.”
Lady Falconer let out a long, low moan. “No. Oh, sweet Jesu, no. Not my little baby. Not my dear, sweet Eleanor.”
Robbie was quick to provide the more recent details. “When my brother learned of the circumstances in which she was sent to him, and of what had happened tae Cecily, he ordered a stay of execution. When we left, he was still considerin’ her fate.”
“Then, she is still alive?”
“Aye, as far as we know.”
“I must go to her. I… I can help.” She jumped to her feet as though she meant to rush from the door and set off for Northumberland at that very moment.
Robbie, too, stood up. “Lady Falconer, wait…”
She rounded on him. “Your brother must not hurt her. She… she does not deserve to be treated so. Surely, he must see that. I shall explain. I shall make him understand…”
“Jamie does see. He—”
“He shall not harm her. I will not let him.”
“My lady…”
“Will he allow me to see her? If I go there, will he let me see her?” she demanded. “Surely, he cannot be so cruel that he would not.”
Robbie nodded. “I daresay he would permit that, aye, but—”
“Then I shall go. Now. Today.”
Robbie saw no point in seeking to dissuade the woman. “Very well. But ye should know, she is at Mortain castle, not Etal. It is in the Scottish lowlands. The journey is long…”
“Then, I shall hurry. I must see her before… before…” She bit back a sob. “I need to at least say goodbye. She… she is all I have left.”
It was Archie who spoke next. “I dinnae think Jamie will do anything before he hears from us again. He will be waitin’ for news o’ Cecily.”
“That is right,” Robbie agreed. “Ye have time enough since we will no’ be returnin’ tae Scotland until we have news, one way or the other.”
“Take the Great North Road from London,” Archie advised. “We will go back on the same route, an’ will probably catch up wi’ ye. We can travel the rest o’ the way together.”
The lady nodded and swept from the room. She could be heard calling to servants to saddle her mare and pack a trunk. Footsteps pounded in the hall as her staff rushed to do her bidding. Robbie was ready to wager that she would be on her way within the hour.
“Well, that got us no further,” Archie muttered. “What now?”
Robbie shrugged. “We ask around the county. Someone must ha’ seen Culpepper an’ his men. Maybe we can learn which direction they went in.”
Archie could come up with no better plan, so they finished their ale and went back outside to find their horses. At least the men and animals had been offered refreshment so their visit had not been entirely fruitless.
“Wait. Please, wait.”
They were already on their way to the stable block but turned when they heard the shout behind them. A young woman was running after them. Her servant’s cap flew off her head in her rush to catch them up, and her long, unruly curls fell loose about her shoulders. She reached them, panting.
“You are looking for baby Cecily?” she asked, between gulps for air.
“We are, aye. D’ye know where she is?”
The wench eyed them critically. “If you find her, what do you mean to do?”
“Her place is wi’ her mother. In Scotland.”
“You would take her north, to Lady Eleanor?”
Robbie inclined his head slowly. “That is our intention, aye. D’ye know anything o’ her whereabouts, wench?”
The woman nodded. “I think so, yes.” She tipped up her chin. “And my name is not ‘wench.’”
Robbie glowered at her. “Then who are ye, miss? An’ how is it ye ken all o’ this?”
“I am Jane. Jane Bartle. I was engaged by Lady Falconer as nurse to little Cecily. I cared for the tiny mite all of her life, right up until the day she was taken from here.”
“You were here that day? When Culpepper came?”
“I was. The soldiers burst into the nursery while Lady Eleanor was feeding her. The poxy-arsed dogs grabbed the child, actually tore her from her mother’s arms…” She bobbed a half-hearted curtsey. “Begging your pardon, sirs, for my language. But they were right nasty.”
Robbie grinned. He was starting to like this lass. “It certainly sounds so. Go on, what did ye see?”
“There was a lot of shouting. Lady Falconer was shouting, Lady Eleanor, too. Screaming and crying and begging them all to go away and leave us alone. Then the whore-sons set upon his lordship, knocked him about real proper, they did.”
Robbie noticed she did not apologise this time.
The girl rushed on with her tale. “Her ladyship was seeing to the earl, and Lady Eleanor was collapsed on the floor when they went. But I followed the men outside. There were women, too. Two of them, mangy, piss-faced crows both…”
The wench possessed a colourful turn of phrase, but Robbie could not find it in him to disagree with her assessment.
“The soldiers handed the wee one to them, and they clambered up onto a cart with her. Then they left, the soldiers riding alongside the bitches in the cart and that Culpepper bastard leading the way. He was whistling, actually whistling and his horse near enough trampled me, he came that close.”
“Did ye see what direction they went in, Jane?” Archie asked.
She nodded hard. “I followed them, for a while at least. As far as I could. They had horses and I did not, so I lost them after about three miles. It was on the lane leading to Swanage.”
“Swanage?” Robbie tried to recall if he had heard of the place.
“A town about ten miles from here,” Jane explained.
“Is it a large town?” He did not relish the prospect of searching for one small child in a place of any size.
“Yes, but that is not the point. There is a manor house at Godlington, just this side of Swanage. It is home to the Setons. They are a noble family favoured at court, or so my sister tells me.”
“Your sister?” Robbie was at a loss.
“Our Dorothy. She works as lady’s maid to Lady Seton and is always bragging about how grand they are over there.”
“I see.” He did not, not even remotely. But there was something quite captivating about this lively girl with a colourful tale to tell and an equally colourful vocabulary at her disposal.
“So, about a week after the men came and took the baby, I went to see our Dorothy. I had no work here anymore, obviously, not with the baby gone. So, I went to ask if Culpepper had been seen at Godlington, or maybe if he had passed that way.”
“And had he?”
“Yes.” She nodded again, and her waist-length ebony-hued curls bobbed most prettily as she did so. “Dorothy said Culpepper dined with the Setons that night, but she did not see a baby. Neither did the women come indoors, so she supposed they must have stayed out in the barn, with the men and the horses. They all left the next day, heading north this time, away from the coast.”
“Toward London?” Robbie’s heart sank further.
“Yes, probably. But, Dorothy told me that the Setons’ gamekeeper, a man called Varley, and his wife, had buried their baby just a couple of months before. And now, suddenly, Mrs. Varley was being seen in the village with a young one in her arms. A baby girl, by all accounts. Their cottage is to the north, Dorothy said, a mile or two from Godlington, in the woods.”
“It could be a coincidence,” Archie muttered, “but it is worth investigating. Can ye give us directions tae find this gamekeeper’s cottage?”
“It is not a coincidence,” Jane retorted. “Do you think I would leave it at that? I went to the cottage myself, knocked on the door with a tale of seeking work. Mistress Varley gave me a cup of milk and some bread but could offer me nothing more, she said. She was very pleasant about it, even let me play with her baby.”
Sweet Christ! Robbie almost grabbed the wench and hugged her to him. “Ye saw the child? Up close?”
“I did. It is Cecily.”
“Are ye sure? I mean, do all babies no’ look the same?”
She gave him a withering look of utter scorn. “They do not, sir. But in any case, I told you, I nursed Cecily from the day she was born. I knew her better than anyone, maybe even better than her own mother. She has a tiny birthmark, just here…” She crouched to point to her own ankle. “I’ll show you, when we get Cecily back.”
We?
“You have done well, Jane. Thank you.” Robbie turned, meaning to continue on to the stables. “We shall have directions from ye as tae just where this cottage is, and—”
“No, you will not. I shall show you.”
He turned. “Jane, ye cannae come wi’ us. It may be dangerous.”
“More dangerous than being here when those men came?” She tilted her chin up at him. “I shall come with you.”
“No, ye will nae,” he ground out.
“Then I shall start walking there on my own. You can follow me.” She turned on her heel and began to march in the direction of the lane.
“Fuck,” Robbie muttered. “Holy fucking hell.”
Archie clapped him between the shoulder blades. “I suggest we get after her,” he suggested. “Your young lady is not for dawdling.”
[divider]Chapter Two
Jane did not accept the offer of a ride at the first time of asking. Nor the second, nor the third.
But ten miles was a long way on foot. Jane might be stubborn—her mother had pointed out that fact on countless occasions. But she was not a fool. She obliged the handsome but arrogant Scot to ask her a fourth time if she would be so good as to join him on his warhorse before finally halting her stride and allowing him to reach down for her hand. He hauled her up into the saddle as though she weighed no more than a sackful of feathers and helped her to arrange herself with as great a degree of comfort as might be achieved.
She was unaccustomed to being on horseback and found the entire experience distinctly disconcerting at first.
It was so high.
And the saddle moved and shifted beneath her. She would surely fall to her death.
“Be still, girl,” the Scot growled in her ear. “I have ye.”
Normally, he would have earned a stinging rebuke and stern advice regarding the proper use of her given name, but Jane was too preoccupied with hanging onto the pommel and praying for divine deliverance.
After a mile or so, she began to relax. The horse moved with a steady gait, and the Scot’s arm was wrapped firmly about her middle. He did, indeed, have her and she knew he would not let her fall.
“Ye’re quite sure ye can recall the right way tae get tae this gamekeeper’s cottage?”
The other Scot raised the question when she directed them to leave the main track and head northeast across the open countryside. His appearance was the more fearsome of the pair, though Jane felt there was not a great deal to pick between them. Scots were a dour bunch, she concluded. The man raised one dark eyebrow to suggest he did not entirely trust her sense of direction.
Jane bristled but bit her tongue rather than point out to the fool that he was the stranger in these parts, not she. “I know exactly where it is,” she replied instead, peering into the forest of trees that lay ahead. “This way is not the quickest, but it will not require us to go anywhere near Godlington.”
“Fair enough.”
Clearly these Scots were not so daft as to not appreciate the wisdom of drawing no unnecessary attention their way. Jane had no need to point out that it would be for the best if the gamekeeper and his wife knew nothing of the strangers who had arrived at their cottage in the woods and had taken the child from them. The last thing they wanted, she was quite sure, was to be pursued right the way back to Scotland. Jane was not especially certain of the distance but judged it to be the better part of five hundred miles. She had no real notion of what that might mean in days or weeks, since she had never travelled more than twenty miles from the place of her birth, but was given to understand that the route leading north was an arduous enough journey at the best of times. To try to complete it at breakneck speed, with a young baby, was not to be contemplated.
The fearsome one held his right arm aloft and the half-dozen guards at their rear halted. Clearly they were accustomed to obeying his commands. He turned in the saddle.
“Best we slip unnoticed through the trees an’ we cannae do that with so many horses crashing through the undergrowth. You men will skirt around the edge o’ the woodland an’ meet us on the far side, heading north. Wait for us there and remain out of sight as best ye may. Fergus, ye can take charge, aye?”
The man named Fergus nodded and wheeled away to the right, leading the column of men on horseback across the meadow, while the two remaining warhorses ploughed on to enter the cool, dark forest.
There were no paths through the dense woodland, and little in the way of landmarks. But Jane knew that they had to cross a wide brook, and she recalled seeing the rotting carcase of a long-dead oak tree close to the water.
“This way,” she whispered when the sound of fast-flowing water reached her ears, and she blessed the recent rain that had swelled the stream.
The horses waded through, and on the far side she caught sight of the felled oak. “We are going the right way. I think perhaps a couple of hours more…”
“It will be after nightfall, then, by the time we reach the cottage.” The man whose horse she shared made this observation and she could hear the displeasure in his tone.
“That cannot be helped,” she snapped. “Are you afraid of the dark, sir?”
His companion chuckled, but the arm around her waist tightened a little, to the point of discomfort. Perhaps she should learn to guard her tongue more. After all, she needed these two. She could hardly rescue baby Cecily on her own.
“The man, this gamekeeper, may no’ give the child up easily,” the Scot explained. “If it comes tae a fight, he will have an advantage since he is on land he knows. Better for us tae take the child i’ the mornin’, then we have the whole o’ the day tae put distance between ourselves an’ this place.”
“Oh. Yes.” She had not thought of that but could see the logic clearly enough. Perhaps there was more to her companions than mere brawn. “Then, we should get as close as we can without being seen, and camp for the night.”
“Have ye ever slept under the stars, Jane?” he inquired softly.
“No, but I am sure it will be perfectly fine. The evening is warm.”
“Aye, but no’ quite so warm ye will no’ require a blanket or two. I suppose ye did bring a blanket, Jane?”
“I…” She had never given a moment’s thought to any form of provisions. There had been no time. Jane had been passing an upstairs window at Ashingburn Manor and had spotted the strangers approaching. She had feared it could be Culpepper and his cronies returning to wreak more havoc, so she had crept downstairs, but been puzzled by the strange way of talking she heard as the men crossed the hall with Lady Falconer. These visitors looked ferocious enough but even so, they did not appear dangerous, exactly. And Lady Falconer did not appear to fear them. So, Jane had waited for the serving girl to emerge from the room and had cornered her on her way to the kitchens. It did not take long to get the information she needed regarding the reason these men were here.
Jane had no time to waste. She made up her mind quickly what was to be done and ran back upstairs for her cloak. Despite her hurry, she had almost missed them. They were already crossing the courtyard by the time she tumbled out of Ashingburn Manor, using the front entrance, which was strictly forbidden for servants. She had run after them, yelling to them like a fishwife.
So, no, she had no blanket, no food, no flask of ale to swig at when the sun became too hot.
Worse, she had nothing for Cecily, either.
“I thought not.” Can this man read my very thoughts? “Ye shall have tae share one of ours, then.”
“I—”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go straight to the devil, but she thought better of it. The night might well become chilly. And, whilst his companion might look rather more ferocious than she cared for, the one who now pressed his body close to hers was undeniably easy on the eye. It would be no real hardship to share his blanket.
She had been so intent upon waylaying the men before they left Ashingburn that she had scant attention to spare to reflect upon their physical appearance. Despite this, she would have to be blind not to note the rich golden tones of her companion’s shoulder-length hair and the firm set of his jaw. That he possessed uncommon strength was obvious enough in the effortless way he had yanked her into the saddle in front of him, and in the solid bunching of muscle each time he flexed his arms around her waist. His thighs pressed rather agreeably against her bottom, shifting slightly as he controlled the powerful mount with near enough imperceptible grace. It was obvious he spent much time in the saddle.
She could not study his features just now as she had her back to him, but she was quite convinced his eyes were a rather striking shade of blue. No, not blue. She pondered for a moment before she arrived at the description she was searching for. Lavender. Yes, that was it. His eyes were the exact hue of lavender.
She had never seen the like before.
And if she was not mistaken, his square jaw spoke of authority and arrogance, but also passion. And humour. He had grinned at her somewhat unladylike descriptions of the men who came to seize baby Cecily and his smile had lit his entire face. His striking eyes glittered with amusement despite his determination to learn what he could of the child’s disappearance. There was something about his features, especially when he smiled, that she struggled to name. He was handsome, that she would happily admit. And, she supposed, attractive in a rugged, Scottish sort of a way. But it was more, somehow. She searched her vocabulary for a word to suit.
And she came up with two.
Sensual. And intimate.
Jane gave herself a mental shake. She had a clear purpose here, and a vital task to perform. She needed these men to aid her, and, shared blankets notwithstanding, her interest went no further than that.
“Thank you,” she conceded. “I will accept your offer of a blanket.” She cleared her throat. “We need to keep over to the left now and follow the stream.”
[divider]
A couple of hours passed with little more conversation between the three of them. Jane was glad of the silence as she found it necessary to concentrate on the route, especially as the afternoon wore on and the light faded. It was with considerable relief that she breathed in and caught the unmistakable tang of wood smoke in her nostrils.
“There. Do you smell that?” She twisted to look at the man behind her. “Smoke. The cottage must be just ahead.”
“Aye,” he agreed, reining the stallion to a halt. “We will leave the horses here since we dinnae want their hooves tae be heard. We can check the cottage on foot, then, once we are certain this is the right place, we will return here and settle down for the night.” He leapt down from the saddle, then reached up to offer his assistance.
Jane launched herself into his arms without giving it another thought. He caught her easily and set her on her feet, which were oddly unsteady. It was the effect of riding so far, no doubt.
“Ye shall stay here, wi’ the horses,” the blond-haired Scot began, “whilst Archie an’ I—”
“I am coming with you,” she argued.
“‘Tis too dangerous,” he replied. “We need ye tae—”
“I will be safe, with you.” Of this, she was quite certain. “And, you will need me, will you not, to confirm that it is the right cottage? Unless you intend to march up to the door and knock.”
The other, fearsome one, laughed. “The wench has a point, Robbie.”
Robbie?
“She may have a point, but she also has a sharp tongue and precious little idea of when to hold it,” he grumbled.
The other one shrugged and looped the reins of his horse around a tree branch. “Aye, well, dinna waste time on decidin’. There’s little enough light left as it is.”
“I have decided.” The one she now knew was called Robbie scowled at Jane. “Ye can stay here, as I said.” He tied his own horse to a tree and reached up to the saddle to grab a blanket from a leather bag slung from the side. “Here, make yourself comfortable an’ remain silent. We shall be back soon.”
It never so much as crossed her mind that she should do as he said. The men had barely taken half a dozen paces into the gathering darkness before Jane was on their trail. Guided in the main by the smell of the wood fire, she crept after them, finally reaching a small clearing that had been carved out of the forest. A small gamekeeper’s cottage sat in the centre, just one room, as she recalled, but with pens outside for livestock. There had been chickens and… geese!
Oh, Lord, what a cackling they would set up if the two men blundered among them. Jane broke into a trot and caught up with them.
“Wait, you need to—”
The closest one—Robbie—swung around and stared at her in disbelief. “What the fuck?”
“There are geese,” she whispered. “Do not disturb them.”
“Disturb the geese…?” he repeated incredulously.
“Yes. I mean, no. They’ll make a din fit to wake the dead and everyone for miles around will know we are here.”
“What part of ‘stay wi’ the horses’ was in any way unclear?” he ground out through gritted teeth.
She arched an eyebrow. “I do not take orders from you, sir. And anyway, as I said, you need me.”
He would have said more. Much more, she suspected, uneasy suddenly. But his words were forestalled by his companion’s hand on his arm. “Ye can deal wi’ her later, Robbie. Right now, we have a more pressing concern. Lass, is this the place ye came tae before? Is this where ye saw Cecily?”
Jane nodded, quite sure of it. And she wondered what he might mean by ‘deal with her later.’
The dark-haired Scot—Archie, she thought Robbie had said—seemed satisfied with that. “Aye, well, in that case we can all go back tae the horses an’ settle down for the night. We’ll come back here at first light an’ see what’s tae be done.”
[divider]
Jane hurried along beside the man called Robbie. She had no choice in the matter really since he took her hand and towed her beside him whether she wanted to keep pace with him or not. She considered protesting but decided against it. He seemed… vexed. Best not to annoy him further, probably.
Once back with the horses Archie busied himself in digging supplies of fruit, bread, and cheese from the saddlebags, then he sat down on his haunches and began to eat.
Jane’s stomach growled. Surely these men did not mean to consume their supplies and not share with her. She opened her mouth to voice exactly that view but shut it again when she saw that Robbie had removed his cloak and was rolling up his sleeves. His expression was distinctly stern. She backed away, suddenly afraid.
“Aye, ye may well discover some sense now, lass. Not that it’ll get ye anywhere. ‘I dinna take orders from ye,’ indeed. That is what ye said, is it no’?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Fair enough. We shall have tae set that little misunderstandin’ straight, then. Come here, lass.”
She frowned at him as he seated himself upon a tree stump. “What do you mean? What misunderstanding?”
“As long as ye are wi’ the pair of us, ye will take orders from me or from Archie, here. Ye will do as ye’re told, without argument. Ye did no’ seem tae realise that before, but I mean tae make sure there is no further doubt on the matter. So, the next time ye’re told tae stay wi’ the horses, ye will damned well do that an’ not go traipsin’ off through the fucking forest.”
She gulped. His expression was uncompromising and fierce. She did not care for it. Not one bit. Belatedly, she tried to placate the angry Scot. “I… I see. I did not realise you meant it so… literally. And, I did remember about the geese, so—”
“D’ye think the pair of us so dull-witted than we cannae spot a goose, even in the dark?”
“Well, no, but I simply thought—”
“Ye have done quite enough thinkin’ for one evenin. Now, I want my share of the food afore my companion guzzles the lot. I daresay ye do too. So, get over here and lie across my lap. Given our brief acquaintance I’ll no’ require ye tae raise your skirts on this occasion, though I shall no’ be so lenient should it become needful tae correct ye again.”
“Raise my…?” Jane gaped, open-mouthed.
“Be quick. A spanking never improves wi’ keepin’.”
“You… you mean to spank me?” She could barely force out the words. The very idea was… was… unthinkable.
“I do, aye. An’ it’s likely goin’ tae hurt so ye’d best put this in your mouth tae stifle the noise. We dinna want to rouse yonder cottage, do we?” He handed her a piece of cloth, rolled into a ball.
“You think to gag me as well?” She glared at the rag.
He nodded. “It seems best, aye.” He paused, then, “Wench, if I have tae come over there an’ get ye, I shall think again about liftin’ your skirts.”
“But, you have no right…”
“Do we have tae go through all o’ that again? I already explained, as long as ye travel wi’ Archie an’ me, ye shall obey us. If ye disobey, there will be consequences. This…” he gestured to his lap, “this is consequences.”
“Who do you think you are?” she blurted. “You have no right to…” She recognised the foolhardiness of such a remark when his features darkened but by then the damage was done.
“Ah, yes, you are quite right. I should have introduced myself properly afore now. I am Robert McGregor, heir to The McGregor, Laird of Skye and the Outer Hebrides.” He gestured toward his companion with his thumb. “An’ that there is Sir Archibald Montgomery. His family an’ mine are close friends, an’ Archie here is captain of my brother’s guards.”
“Your brother…?”
“Aye. My brother is the Earl of Etal and Lord of Mortain. He is now the husband of Lady Eleanor of Ashingburn, whose baby we are seekin’ tae restore to her.”
“Oh. I see.” She had assumed he was merely a man who had been paid to perform a task, not that he had some personal interest in this affair.
“I am glad that ye do. So, will ye submit tae the spankin’ ye have earned, or do I have tae make ye?”
She swung her gaze from one implacable face to the other and realised she had little choice. He meant what he said, she was sure of it. This Robert McGregor intended to spank her and there was not a thing she could do about it.
“You will leave my skirt down, sir?” she demanded, her chin tilted at a rebellious angle.
“Ye’re tryin’ my patience, lass,” came his answering growl. “Here, put the gag in your mouth.”
For want of a better plan, she did as she was told. She was surprised to find the cloth was actually clean, and did not taste foul, though she found the sensation in her mouth utterly horrible.
“Good. Now, ye can just lay yourself across my thighs.”
She moved to stand beside him, then lowered herself cautiously to her knees.
“Here.” He offered his hand, and she took it, then allowed him to tug her across his lap. “Ye need no’ worry about falling as I shall no’ let ye. Now, bite down on that rag an’ try tae be as quiet as possible.”
She could only manage a muffled snort, which she backed up with a half-hearted nod.
Sweet Jesus and all the saints, how did this happen?
Such reverent musings were expelled from her head along with the breath from her body when the first stroke landed. Her skirts offered no protection whatsoever—how had she ever imagined they would? His palm must be the size of a cauldron and every bit as heavy.
The next spank was even more excruciating. She squirmed and wriggled and tried to reach back to protect her poor, assaulted buttocks, but he simply grasped her flailing wrists in his free hand and held them in the small of her back. He arranged one of his long legs around hers to hold her still, and she found herself pinned tight.
Spank after spank rained down upon her bottom, each heavier, hotter, more fiery than the last. The rag became mangled in her mouth as she gnawed at it, trying to stifle her screams but not always succeeding very well.
He paused. “Ye’re makin’ too much din, lass. Quiet down or I shall stuff an even bigger gag in an’ tie another cloth across your mouth. I’m sure ye will nae take kindly tae that.”
He was right. She resolved to grit her teeth and just bloody bear it.
The Scot resumed the spanking, though she fancied he was slowing down the slaps now. She could manage to draw in a breath between each one, and if the pain was no less, at least it was not getting worse. Or maybe she was just becoming accustomed to it.
He stopped. Or, she thought he had. Her bottom was on fire, surely, so how could she actually tell?
“Have ye learned your lesson, lass?”
What?
“Jane? Have ye learned the wisdom of obedience and humility or d’ye need tae go another round or two?”
What? No. No!
She struggled to scramble off his lap but his arm was around her middle and she was held firm.
“Oh, no, ye dinna. Ye can get up when ye apologise for your wilfulness and disobedience, an’ promise tae do better in the future.”
Really? He could burn in hell…
“Very well, I am quite prepared tae continue.” He dropped a further three or four hard slaps onto her already scorched rump, then paused again. “An apology, an’ your promise tae do as ye’re told in the future. That is all I need from ye.”
By now, she would have said anything to make this stop. She tried but could only manage a string of garbled nonsense.
“Ye may spit out the gag an’ try again, lass.”
She did so, then drew a deep breath. The words stuck in her craw, though she had no option but to utter them.
“I am sorry.”
“Aye, good.” He still held her in position, her bottom poised for further punishment. “Go on.”
Was the clod-headed bully never satisfied?
It would seem not. He sighed and raised his hand as though to start all over again.
“I will do as you tell me in future,” she blurted, anxious to forestall any resumption in the spanking.
“Excellent.” He lowered his hand to rest it on her smarting rear. “I am pleased ye have seen the wisdom in that. Now, are ye still hungry?”
She shook her head. In an unaccustomed fog of humiliation and self-pity, all she wanted to do now was slink away on her own and cry.
The huge Scot loosened his hold and helped her to her feet. Her knees were weak, her bottom burned. Every muscle hurt because she had been tensing so hard under the onslaught. Even her jaw ached from where she had bitten down on the gag.
He eyed her as she backed away from him. Her tears were already starting to flow.
“Jane, I—”
She shook her head and turned her back, then fled to where the horses were tethered, There, she put her face in her hands and gave way to the tears that had threatened throughout her ordeal. She felt small, silly, worthless. She had allowed herself to be punished like a child because she had no choice. She had been helpless, vulnerable. She hated this feeling. How they must be laughing at her, these two handsome Scots, how they must have enjoyed her humiliation.
She flinched when a blanket was dropped across her shoulders and started to resist when a pair of strong arms encircled her.
“L-leave me alone,” she sobbed.
“No, lass. I cannae do that.” He turned her to face him and simply held her against his solid bulk.
Despite everything, despite her anguish and embarrassment, despite the throbbing that threatened to set her skirts alight, she leaned in and accepted the comfort. She curled her fingers in his tunic and clung to him.
Robbie said no more until her tears were spent, then he used two fingers to tip her face up to meet his gaze. “Are ye all right now, lass?” he asked, his expression one of compassion and concern.
She sniffled. “Yes,” came the feeble whisper, so unlike her usual strident tone.
“Aye, I can see it. There’s food left.”
Suddenly, she was ravenous. “Thank you.”
He draped his arm around her shoulders and led her back to where his companion—Archie, she recalled—still sat. The man grinned at her and offered her an apple. “There’s some mead in the jug, if ye fancy a wee swig.”
She took the food and accepted the jug of mead, took a bite of one and a long drink from the other.
“Here, we have bread and cheese too, as well as a few berries.” Robbie sat down on the ground and dug into a leather satchel, then gestured to Jane to join him.
She eyed the soft grass warily. She doubted that she could manage to sit ever again.
Robbie merely smiled and tugged her back down onto his lap, but the right way up this time. “Make yourself as comfortable as ye may, lass.” He drew the blanket back around her shoulders, handed her a piece of cheese and took some for himself. “‘Tis going tae be a long night, an’ we need tae be up and away at first light.”
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