Page 69 of Tempted
Chapter 21
The village of New Abbey, a dozen miles to the east, had been attacked by English borderers, but by the time Douglas and his men arrived, the freebooters had departed. They had stripped every building of anything of value, including the church. They had driven off the animals and even stolen food supplies. They had killed men, raped women, and set the thatched homes ablaze before moving on.
Another signal beacon glowed on a hill, and Ram knew the English swine were ravaging the village of Kirkbean, four miles away. His anger blazed hotter than any fire. He left half his men to aid the victims of New Abbey and headed for Kirkbean.
Ram intended to capture some of the raiders alive to learn whence they had come and on whose orders, but he found he was outnumbered three to one after leaving half his men behind. They knew they must slaughter or be slaughtered, and a fierce and bloody battle ensued.
The animals had already been driven off, and Ram knew the number of looters had been even greater. A dozen English lay dead while Douglas men had received only wounds. Ram’s thigh suffered a long sword gash that was bleeding profusely, but he was almost certain it had not gone deep enough to sever tendon or bone.
The inhabitants of Kirkbean told the border lord that three of their women had been carried off with the cattle. Ram vowed to return them, and he rode hell for leather toward the rocky coast. Again they were too late. A ship had weighed anchor, and another was fast disappearing into the darkness of Solway Firth toward the shores of England.
Because they had been so hotly pursued, they abandoned the women but not before they had slit their throats. Ramsay, Jock, and Cameron drew rein and dismounted when they came across the bodies of the women. Cameron turned away and vomited into the gorse. Ram pressed a fist to grim lips and closed his eyes. If he hadn’t given his promise to return the women, he would have buried them where they lay. It would have been kinder to let them think the women had only been stolen.
“Since when do borderers raid by ship?” Jock asked Ram.
“The whoresons have received their orders from a high authority. Dacre—or mayhap King Henry himself.” He gazed out to sea in that early hour before dawn and made a decision, then he spoke to his moss-troopers: “Tomorrow we man our own ships. Most of ye know how tae crew a vessel, and those who don’t will learn in a hell of a hurry.”
Jock, Ram’s first lieutenant, said, “I’ll round up our wounded back at Kirkbean. Get ye tae Douglas and get that leg cauterized.”
Ram shook his head. “I’ll ride tae Kirkbean first. I promised tae return the women. Are ye all right, Cameron?” he asked, wishing he’d left his young brother to stay and help the people of New Abbey.
* * *
Ada and Tina had sat talking for two hours in the luxurious master bedchamber at Castle Douglas. Ada sewed upon a shift as finespun as a dream. It was the palest sea-foam green, and she told Tina she was going to make her some very saucy garters with red hearts on them. “You don’t think his lordship will think we are mocking the Bleeding Heart of Douglas, do you?”
Tina laughed and shook her head. “It matters not—Ram Douglas has a sense of humor.” She embroidered a cream linen shirt with his initial. She had debated whether to use the R or the D and finally settled on the D because she refused to call him by his first name.
Soon Tina began to yawn, and they set aside their embroidery silks. “It seems I shall have this fine chamber to myself tonight after all,” she mused. Ada gave her a swift glance from beneath her lashes. Did she detect a note of disappointment?
Tina laid a deep purple bedgown across the foot of the bed in case Douglas returned in the middle of the night. She would cover herself as a defense against those dark, hungry eyes. She slept soundly until a couple of hours past midnight, then she awoke, and when she saw he had not returned, she became restless and dozed only fitfully. A vague feeling nagged at her.
Certainly it was not worry over his safety—it was a nameless feeling of unease. It was dawn before she heard horses and men clatter into the bailey, and she knew she could stay abed no longer. She put the bedgown over her lavender nightrail and slid her feet into her slippers.
She took the torch from its bracket in the passageway and ran down the winding staircase to await his entrance through the massive studded door. When no one entered, she became impatient. She preferred to be in the thick of things, not to stand waiting patiently in the shadows.
She went out into the bailey and began to make her way to the stables, but incredibly, she saw they were all at the forge. Ram had lost enough blood to make him lightheaded. When he dismounted, he swayed on his feet, his weight bringing a throbbing pain up the entire length of his leg. He leaned heavily oh Jock’s shoulder until he reached the forge, and Valentina arrived just in time to see two of his men-at-arms lift him onto a workbench. He caught sight of that flaming head in the torchlight and ground out harshly, “Get her out of here!”
“Hold!” she cried in alarm. “What are you doing to him?”
Cameron put a hand to her shoulder. “Cauterizing a wound he took. Go back to bed.”
“Nay, I’ll do no such ridiculous thing.”
“Please,” Cameron murmured low, “he won’t be able tae scream in front of ye when they put the hot iron tae him.”
“Stop what you do instantly! Bloody barbarians, the lot of you! You there, Jock—carry him up to our chamber.”
“The bleeding must be stopped,” Ram said harshly. “Don’t interfere in men’s affairs.”
“I will stop the bleeding by stitching the leg,” she declared firmly.
“You?” Ram asked incredulously.
“Certes, me!”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Ye willna faint at the sight of my blood?”
“Ha! Celebrate, more like. Fetch him up,” she repeated. She thought it uncivilized that the Douglas had no woman to tend his wounds. She would take perverse pleasure in having him at her needle’s mercy.
