The game of dames, which dates to as early as 1100 in southern France, was an early form of what the British call draughts and Americans call checkers. It derived from chess and was played on a chessboard. For more information, see Board and Table Games From Many Civilizations by R. C. Bell (New York, 1979) or Birth of the Chess Queen by Marilyn Yalom (New York, 2004).
My primary sources for Douglas history were A History of the House of Douglas, Vol. I, by the Right Hon. Sir Herbert Maxwell (London, 1902), and The Black Douglases by Michael Brown (Scotland, 1998).
Other sources include The Scotts of Buccleuch by William Fraser (Edinburgh, 1878), Steel Bonnets by George MacDonald Fraser (New York, 1972), The Border Reivers by Godfrey Watson (London, 1975), Border Raids and Reivers by Robert Borland (Dumfries, Thomas Fraser, date unknown).
As always, I’d like to thank my wonderful agents, Lucy Childs and Aaron Priest, my terrific editor Frances Jalet-Miller, Art Director Diane Luger, cover artist Claire Brown, Senior Editor and Editorial Director Amy Pierpont, Vice President and Editor in Chief Beth de Guzman, and everyone else at Hachette Book Group’s Grand Central Publishing who contributed to making this book what it is.
I’d also like to thank copyeditor Sean Devlin, a master of the craft.
If you enjoyed Border Moonlight, please look for Tamed by a Laird at your favorite bookstore in July 2009. In the meantime, Suas Alba!
Sincerely,
http://home.att.net/~amandascott
[email protected]
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Tamed by a Laird
Available in mass market July 2009
Chapter 1
Annandale, Scotland, March 1374
Seventeen-year-old Janet, Baroness Easdale of that Ilk— but Jenny Easdale to her friends and family—was trying to ignore the hamlike hand on her right thigh of the man to whom, just hours earlier, she had pledged her troth. To that end, she intently studied the five jugglers performing in the center of Annan House’s lower hall, trying to decide which of them might be her maidservant’s older brother.
Since Jenny’s betrothed was drunk and she had no information about Peg’s brother other than that he was a juggler in the company of minstrels and players entertaining the guests at her betrothal feast, her efforts bore no fruit.
Reid Douglas squeezed her thigh, making it more difficult than ever to ignore him. And, as all five jugglers wore the short cote hardies and varicolored hose favored by minstrels of every sort, she saw little to choose between them.
“Give me a kiss,” Reid muttered loudly and too close to her right ear, slurring his words. “ ’Tis my right now, lass, and I’ve had none o’ ye.”
She glanced at him, exerting herself to conceal her disdain. He was nearly four years older than she was and handsome enough, she supposed, and doubtless all men got drunk from time to time. But Jenny had not chosen Reid and wanted nothing to do with him.
However, Lord Dunwythie—her uncle by marriage— and his lady wife, Phaeline, had made it plain that Jenny’s opinion of Reid Douglas was of no importance whatsoever. Had her father still been alive, perhaps . . .
“Come now, Jenny, kiss me,” Reid said more forcefully, leaning so near that she feared he might topple over and knock her right off her back-stool. His breath stank of ale and the quantities of food he had eaten, and she shrank from the odor.
“What’s this?” he demanded, frowning. “Now ye’re too good for me, are ye? Faith, but I’ll welcome the schooling of ye after we’ve wed.”
Meeting his gaze, she put her hand atop the one on her thigh, wrapped her fingers around his middle finger, and bent it sharply upward. “Pray, sir,” she said politely as he winced and snatched his hand away, “have the goodness to wait until after the wedding to make yourself so free of my person. I like it not.”
“By my faith, ye’ll pay heavily for such behavior then,” he snarled, putting his face too close to hers again. “Just a month, Jenny lass, three Sundays for the banns, then six days more till I become Easdale of Easdale. Think well on that.”
“You are mistaken, sir,” she said. “Although others may address you then as ‘my lord,’ I shall remain Easdale of Easdale. My father explained to me long ago that when
I became Baroness Easdale in my own right, my husband would take but a pretender’s styling until he and I produce an heir to the barony. Your title will no longer be a mere styling then, but you will not become Easdale of Easdale unless I will it so. And I have seen naught in you yet to make that likely.”
“Aye, well, we’ll see about that, but a betrothed man has rights, too,” he snapped. “Ye’ll soon be finding out just what they are, too, I promise ye.”