Page 13 of Tempted
“They went on a raid last night,” Tina whispered.
“That should put him in a benign mood. ‘Tis a borderer’s favorite pastime.”
“I thought that was wenching,” she whispered.
He shook his head very gingerly and said, “No, no, chérie, that is Frenchmen.”
She stole a fresh pastry from the table and said, “I’ll find out why he’s in a filthy temper.”
The Kennedys were merchants and Doon was no garrison, but they did have some men-at-arms. They sat morosely at the trestle tables in the hall. Usually their din was deafening, so Tina did not need to ask if something had gone amiss. “Well, this is a riotous company. Where’s Donal?” she asked, suddenly apprehensive.
The pot-boy’s hands shook as he filled Duncan’s tankard, and as a result the ale sloshed over the rim. “Cursed lackey!” Then Duncan told her shortly, “Donal’s away tae Kirkcudbright.”
“Let me guess—Andrew went home to Carrick, and Callum to Newark.” Tina grinned. “You divided the spoils and departed in six different directions. Duncan, that was brilliant strategy. Why are you fierce as a bear with a burr up his bum?”
Duncan looked at her bleakly. “Davie,” he muttered.
“Davie?” she repeated, puzzled. “You think he’ll rat on you out of spite for not taking him along?”
“We did take the little piss-ass.”
Her throat tightened. “Where is he?”
Duncan flared, “Why are ye forever stickin’ yer nose intae men’s affairs?”
“He’s been wounded,” she cried, running toward the stairs.
“Tina!” Duncan’s voice sounded anguished. “He didna ride back wi’ us—he’s missin’.” “Missing?” she echoed.
“Must ye repeat everythin’ like a bloody demented parrot?”
“Ride out and look for him!” she ordered. “God’s passion, I’ll go!”
“We’ve been out lookin’—as close as we dare go. I think they captured him.”
She was angry now. “Go and demand his return— threaten to pull their bloody castle down stone by stone! Who has him? Who did you raid?”
Duncan’s mouth hardened, as if he couldn’t get the name past his teeth. Finally he rasped, “Douglas.”
“The Black Ram?” she whispered, and the color drained out of her face, leaving her lips bloodless and trembling. Her gaze encompassed all the Kennedy men, and none could look her in the eye. She was both appalled and afraid. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Challenged the Douglas might?” she whispered huskily. “God’s death, why did you risk all? Our Kennedy motto is Consider the end. How could you be so brainless—so reckless?”
“The Hamiltons will take the fall fer this raid.” Patrick Hamilton’s devil-may-care face flashed before her eyes, and she groaned and sat down hopelessly upon a bench. “But they’ve got David,” she pointed out.
“He’s no’ a redhead like the rest o’ us. If he folds his tongue behind his teeth, they’ll never guess he’s a Kennedy.”
“He’s only a boy!” she cried. “You know what blackhearted bastards the Douglases are. They’ll torture him. My God, Duncan, you must do something—anything!”
“We’ll wait fer Donal. We’ll lie low today. Davie won’t open his mouth for fear Kennedy blood will stain the swords of Douglas. If we’re no’ careful, this raid may reap us more grief than spoils.”
Valentina avoided her sister Beth for fear of alarming her. Every half hour she climbed to the parapets of Doon to anxiously scan the horizon for a sign of Davie or any other. Fear had a tight grip upon her as she paced back and forth. She knew a need to scream, yet her throat felt closed as if she couldn’t scream if she tried. She had a very vivid imagination that was so graphic, it made her shudder at what they might do to Davie or to every Kennedy breathing if they set their black hearts to it.
The Kennedys had had no dealings with the Douglases in her lifetime because of the tragedy that had torn the two clans apart when she was first born. When her mother had come up from England to marry Lord Kennedy, his young sister Damaris had become her best friend. At the wedding Alexander Douglas had seen Damaris for the first time and he wanted her. A whirlwind courtship resulted in a quick marriage, the Kennedys thinking the heir to the title and fortune of Douglas a brilliant match. How wrong they had been!
While Damaris had still been a bride, her husband had poisoned her in a jealous rage. Tina shuddered, desperately hoping the hatred between the two clans would not flare up to destroy them. Perhaps David already lay dead. A sob escaped her as she said a fervent prayer to Saint Jude. If Davie was alive, escape was his only hope.
The bruise-colored clouds gathered above her head and cast an ominous pall over the whole countryside. She felt caged like a prisoner, completely attuned to Davie’s condition. She knew if she didn’t do something, she would go mad. She needed to be active to release the fear, worry, and dread that clutched her heart like a mail-clad fist.
She ran down to her chamber and rummaged about her wardrobe until her hand closed upon a lavender wool gown. Valentina was superstitious and believed any shade of purple was a lucky color for her. She concealed her knife inside one riding boot, then pulled on the other and her velvet cloak and went cautiously down to the stables.
