Page 72 of Wild Hearts

Paris was surprised when he glimpsed Alexander ahead of him on the road to Huntly. He was not displeased. He would have been enraged had he realized it was Alexandria who rode out with them. The distance they had to cover was less than a dozen miles. Half the horses were left on the blind side of the outer walls of the castle, and the rest in a copse just beyond, each group well guarded for a quick, safe getaway. The few guards at their posts were instantly dispatched before they could call alarm. The guards on the inner gates of the castle were either drunk or asleep or both, and therefore no deterrent to the determined gate-crashers.

Alexandria wished with all her heart that she had not ventured on this madness. The reality of a surprise raid was blood and savagery and death. She was running through the castle kitchens when a Douglas man beside her spitted an assailant in the throat. The blood spurted across her sleeve, and she ducked into a dark passageway and up a short flight of steps as the contents of her stomach indelicately disgorged over the flagstones. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and was horrified as she remembered too late that it was blood-splattered. She sank down in an alcove because her rubbery legs would not support her. As soon as she felt better, she would retreat, search out her horse and head back to the ship.

Most of the inhabitants who peopled Huntly Castle were in bed asleep, so only a handful of the castle's occupants realized they had been invaded. Rogue Cockburn's quest was a Huntly or a Gordon. He opened a chamber door, with his men at his back, and encountered a couple in flagrante delicto. The woman saw him before the man, who was too far gone in the throes of passion to notice the intrusion. Her eyes went wide, and fear gripped her throat as she let out a strangled cry.

"A thousand pardons, my lady, for my untimely interruption," Paris apologized with a leer. The man sprang up from the bed on unsteady legs, having just spent his strength in a more pleasant encounter.

"I have you at a disadvantage, sir," noted Paris, his wolf's grin widening.

"Who are you? What do you want?" demanded the man on a rising note of hysteria.

"I seek a Gordon," replied Paris.

"My older brother, Lord John, is not here," blurted Will Gordon.

The Rogue's eyebrows shot up. "Strange, for this seems to be his wife, Lady Gordon, in the flesh, so to speak. "I seek a Gordon for hostage, but I fear you will not suffice. Lord John would hardly be daft enough to pay ransom for a brother who is tupping his wife." Paris drew his sword. Will Gordon stepped back. "Just slip on your trews and lead the way to where the old earl keeps his coffers," said Paris pleasantly.

"My father's tower is well guarded. You will be taken if you make an attempt there," he warned.

Paris chuckled. "We are two hundred strong. You are outnumbered and outclassed, and I warrant even Huntly would be aghast at what I could tell him of your revels in your brother's bed. Just one small coffer will seal my lips. No, better make it two," Paris decided generously.

As Rogue's men struggled beneath the weight of their ill-gotten gains, Black Douglas met up with his friend. He had a young man gagged and trussed in his possession. His eyes could not conceal their merriment. "Lord John's son, Johnny. He has two sons, but I was lucky enough to make the acquaintance of the heir."

"Let's go. We've accomplished all our goals. I'll see you back at the ship." It was an old habit for Paris to count heads. He saw Ian ride off safely, then let out a sigh as Troy passed him at a high gallop. He called out, "Any sign of Alex?"

"No, he's probably already back at the Sea Witch."

Alexandria was desperately trying to find her way back out of the castle. Suddenly, she heard footsteps running down a flight of steps toward her. She pressed herself against the wall at the sight of the dark young man with a sword in his hand.

"This way, I've cornered one of the bastards," he shouted up the stairs, and suddenly she was surrounded by men brandishing torches and weapons. They prodded her up the staircase and ushered her into a private sitting room. Adam Gordon said with disappointment, "Damn, he is only a boy." Alexandria put up her chin and refused to speak. She was terrified, but she resolved to act as if she were invincible.

Huntly, the aging, corpulent earl, shuffled into the room waving a scroll. His skin was as rough as oats. He rasped, "I know the enemy. They delivered me a treatise of demands to my chamber. The Black Douglas and that devil Cockburn."

Will Gordon came in. Impotent fury made him almost speechless.

"Did you catch the bastards?" demanded Huntly.

"There were too many of them. Took us by complete surprise. Our men are after them. They even fired the villages as they retreated."

"Too bad John was not here," snapped Huntly, looking with contempt at his younger son. "Is this all we have of them?" he rasped as he indicated Alexandria.

"He's little more than a child," said Adam by way of apology to his grandfather.

A man-at-arms, the bearer of ill tidings, announced, "Yer Grace, yon swine have taken young Johnny hostage."

Adam's mouth tightened at the plight of his brother.

Will Gordon said, "We'll get him back. We, too, have a hostage."

"Aye," said Huntly, "I'll wager under his bonnet he's a filthy redheaded Cockburn!"

Trying to forestall the inevitable, Alexandria growled, "I'm Alex Cockburn, and damned proud of it!"

"The Rogue's brother, by God. We'll not only get Johnny back, but every guinea he lifted," swore Will, feeling guilty over leading the raiders to their coffers.

Huntly lifted his hand. "Throw him in the dungeon."

As a man-at-arms reached forward to grab her, she spat at him and sneered, "Do your worst."

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