Page 75 of Wild Hearts

Shannon took great delight in uttering her next words. "Ah; yes, when my brother Paris took a hand in the affair, matters were soon speeded up."

"Paris?" echoed Margaret suspiciously.

"Yes, he made Tabrizia the new Lady Cockburn."

Margaret could not conceal the pure hatred that emanated from her and washed over the two young women. The emotion that gripped her was so strong, it pinched her nostrils together and set her body aquiver. The black hair gave her a sallow look, and suddenly she looked vastly older than her thirty years.

Damascus could not resist the coup de grace: "By the way, Shannon is now the Countess of Douglas."

Margaret laughed. "I don't believe you. If you are newly wed, why isn't the Black Douglas at your side?" she scorned.

"He's gone with Paris to route the bloody Gordons," said Damascus. Shannon shot her sister a look of warning, but it was too late; the secret of the raid was out. It didn't make much difference, anyway, since the men might be back tomorrow. The exchanged look had convinced Margaret they were telling the truth. She drew herself up to her full height. "Do make yourselves at home. I shan't be staying long." She walked slowly and sedately up to her bedchamber. Already a brilliant idea had come to her. A clever woman always had her revenge ready. Margaret seldom received a piece of news or information that could not be used or turned to her advantage. Only that morning she had glimpsed Lord John Gordon arrive in Edinburgh, fresh from the King's Court in London. An anonymous note to the man would be too late to warn him of the raid but in time to let him know that Cockburn's new bride was all alone at Cockburnspath Castle.

Tabrizia lay in the big curtained bed with the curtain at the foot drawn back to let in the cheer and warmth from the fireplace. Sleep eluded her, no matter how she begged it to fly with her to oblivion. By her calculations they should have returned today. She touched Paris's pillow, finding it strange that she could not sleep without his possessive eyes laying claim to her body; or without that harsh voice constantly mocking her. Now she dreaded his return, for even if everything had gone well, there was still his anger to be faced over Alexandria. His anger could send shivers of fear along her spine. She sighed and turned over in the bed, and the next thing she knew, it was morning. The nausea threatened again, but Tabrizia tried not to think of what it might mean. Just the remote possibility of a child would make her delirious with happiness, but she could not bring herself to even hint at such a possibility to Paris, not with things the way they were between them at the moment.

Lord John Gordon rode with a single escort toward Cockburnspath. He came warily, not entirely trusting the information he had received in the anonymous note. However, as he approached the courtyard without challenge, his confidence soared, and he began to believe that this was going to be his lucky day.

He strode into the castle without hesitation, turning the heads of servants who were curious but not wary of the stranger. He made his way up to the solarium and, finding it empty, was encouraged to seek farther afield.

Tabrizia was just emerging from her chamber when he caught sight of her; and his eyes lit with recognition of the beauty who had said she would die before she would let a Gordon defend her honor. The instant she saw him, she fled back into the bedchamber and tried to put the bar down across the door, but the man's weight was too great, and suddenly he was in the room with her.

"I am not alone here," she bravely bluffed.

John Gordon laughed openly. "Lies will avail you nothing, madam. I am taking you hostage."

Her mind flew to the copies of the mortgages she held on Gordon properties, and she went to the cabinet. "I have something that will make you bargain, milord."

He saw the ivory casket and grabbed it from her. "I'll have the jewels as well as you, madam. Thank you for revealing their whereabouts." He walked to the table and scribbled a short note for Cockburn: "I have your wife. John Gordon."

He drew his knife and waved her toward the door. "Come quietly."

John Gordon took her up before him on his horse, and they rode up the coast road. Not five miles away stood the old castle of Dunbar. Part of it lay in ruin, but other parts were still habitable. One of the towers stood intact. He posted his man on guard at the entrance and took Tabrizia up into the tower.

There was little furniture in the tower room, only an old table and a stool on which years of dust and neglect had gathered. There was a cold, bare flagstone floor, so the first priority was a fire. When the room was warm John Gordon sat upon the stool and faced his captive. He was so handsome in a florid way, she could hardly believe anyone with such pleasing looks could be evil.

She stood before him and raised her eyes to his, willing herself to look like an angel of innocence. "Milord, why do you do this?"

"The Cockburn raids Huntly, and you ask why?" he replied silkily.

Tabrizia stared at him wide-eyed, incredulous. "Nay, milord, you are mistaken. Our ships suffered some damage returning from England. They repaired them yesterday and merely took them for a run up the coast to Tantallon. Look from the window; perhaps you can see their sails."

He glanced from the aperture and said, "Tantallon's towers can be seen from here, but not ships. Do not lie to me, I told you it would avail you nothing. I had a letter informing me of Cockburn's intended raid."

She laughed gently. "Perhaps it was from an enemy wishing to make you a laughingstock, milord. My husband was ordered by the King to sign a peace bond with your clan. He would not dare to mount a raid."

She saw a glimmer of doubt in his eyes, which he quickly crushed down. She spoke again. "If you cannot see the ships at Tantallon, you will surely see them later in the afternoon as they sail past here on their return to Cockburnspath." She saw the doubt return to his eyes, but she hadn't convinced him, not by a long way.

"I'll wait," he told her pleasantly, "and if you are lying, it will merely be added to the score of what you will be made to pay." John Gordon took food and wine from his saddlebags and set it on the table, then he drew the stool to the table and began to eat. He offered her nothing. Of course, she would have scorned an offer of food or drink from him, but he deprived her of refusing. There was nowhere for her to sit, so she removed her cloak, laid it on the flagstones and sat down upon the floor. His eyes never left her. She was very beautiful with that unusual shade of hair tumbling around her shoulders, and the deep pink mouth provoked many erotic thoughts. He knew what he was going to do with her, and he savored the feelings of desire that were building inside him.

He was waiting for her to offer herself, in exchange for her release. She had a great deal of pride, and he could tell he would have to exercise patience, but sooner or later she would bargain and then beg. How ironic that he and Cockburn had the same taste in women; first Anne, and now this beauty!

Her eyes fell to his hands as he touched the food. They were thick hands with short, blunt fingers; and the backs were covered with dark hairs. She shuddered involuntarily, and a growl escaped his lips between swallows of wine. He could see her imagination was evoking her fears. He knew how to double those fears. He again went to his saddlebags and produced a length of rope. She was up and across the room as swiftly as a small bird in flight, but there was nowhere for her to go. The distance between them closed, and in no time he had her arms bound behind her. He led her back to her cloak and pressed her down upon it. Then he knelt before her and took her breasts into his hands. They were full and firm to his touch, and he let them rest upon his cupped palms as if judging their size and weight.

She spoke up quickly. "Milord, I would bargain with you."

His eyes kindled at the thought of what she would offer. Her heart beat thickly. She knew men were driven by their lust, but in her experience, the only temptation greater than lust for a woman was lust for money. She had only one chance, one throw of the dice, and if it failed, she was totally at his mercy. She added quietly, "Open the casket,. milord."

Reluctantly, he removed his hands from her breasts and retrieved the ivory box from his saddlebags. He had no key, so he broke the lock and forced it open.

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