"You should trust the law to see to those things," Janet said stubbornly. "You are no better than Hugh, sir. If men like you do not support the law-if indeed, you flout it outright-how can you expect lesser men to obey it?"
"Aye, now that's an excellent question," Buccleuch said virtuously.
"Perhaps it is," Sir Quinton agreed, "but things being what they are, philosophical discussion gains us naught. We can scarcely resolve more abstract matters when our two sides cannot even agree on a site or date for a Truce Day."
Buccleuch said testily, "We do not need to resolve the problems of Truce Day now. 'Tis of greater import to settle the business of this marriage, Quin, and that remains your concern. I have said all that I mean to say."
Janet said, "You claim that my brother can force Sir Quinton to face legal consequences for abducting me, sir. Hugh might realize that Sir Quinton and Rabbie Redcloak are one and the same; however, I promise you that before I would allow him to demand his head, I would testify that Sir Quinton rescued me not only from Redcloak but from Hugh's wrath, as well. Many would believe me, too."
"Mayhap they would, mistress," Buccleuch said, "but no one here will ask such a thing of you. Much as I deplore your brother's interfering nature and his scurrilous intent to hang Quin without a proper trial, his present wrath is justified. You defied his authority, then compounded your sins by helping his prisoner escape. He or Scrope could order you hanged for march treason on that account alone. I doubt that either would, but I'll not take the chance. The pair of you will marry, or I'll withdraw my protection, and that's my last word on the subject. You need not decide now. I'll give you till we finish eating to make up your minds to it."
Serving men arrived with their food, and they sat at a table near the fire. Janet found the meal more pleasant than she had expected. Jemmy Whiskers curled up next to her right foot, and conversation remained general. Buccleuch and Sir Quinton spoke of kinsmen and general family matters, frequently making her laugh at the tales they told about certain kinsmen. Her thoughts kept returning to the decision she was to make, though, and at last, unable to contain her curiosity, she said bluntly, "What will you do with me?"
Buccleuch regarded her with amusement. "That must depend upon what you decide to do, mistress."
"It seems to me," she said thoughtfully, "that even if I refuse to marry Sir Quinton, you are honor-bound to protect me, sir. He is your kinsman, and you are his headsman, are you not?"
"Aye, sure, 'tis true; I am." He smiled. "Will you abide by my decisions?"
"I expect I shall have little choice about that."
Sir Quinton chuckled. "She has taken your measure, Wat."
"Aye, she has. An it please you, mistress, I'd send you to Branxholme-to my wife, Margaret-till we can safely return you to Brackengill or till you marry."
Janet nodded. "I would agree to that, sir. Your wife is a Douglas, is she not?"
"Nay, 'tis my mother who is the Douglas," Buccleuch said, adding, "She has lived in seclusion at her farm in Whitlaw since my stepfather, Bothwell, fled the country. My wife is also named Margaret, but she is a Kerr." He smiled, adding, "It surprises me that you ken aught of my family's origins, mistress."
"My brother speaks of such matters," she explained. "I have a retentive memory, and families interest me, but it is difficult to keep everyone sorted out when so many people bear the same names."
"Aye, I've noted that myself," Buccleuch said. "My Margaret is a fine lass, though, and she'll enjoy your company whilst we unknot this tangle. Quin will take you to her, but first the pair of you must determine what course you mean to take."
She nodded again, and when he addressed his next remark to Sir Quinton, she returned her attention to her supper.
The two men continued to converse desultorily. She enjoyed listening, wanting to learn more about them.
Sir Quinton's deep voice seemed to reverberate in her mind whenever he spoke, and she remembered how it had stirred her when first she heard it in the dungeon. He was handsome and well connected. She could do worse in a husband.
Her brother would be furious with her no matter what she did. Despite any agreement Buccleuch might arrange, it would be long before Hugh would forgive her, if ever he did. And if the arrangement included her return to Brackengill, he would see to it that she suffered for her defiance. Nothing they made him promise would deter him; and marriage to the reiver certainly seemed preferable to that.
Marriage across the line would carry disadvantages even if Hugh and Scrope-and perhaps even Queen Elizabeth-were to permit it. The Grahams-the English ones, anyway-would view it as betrayal, and the Scottish Grahams would not be inclined to accept her as one of them. They were far more likely to cast her off, just as the English ones would. Would Scots in general accept her if she married Sir Quinton, she wondered, or would they shun her, too?
Only dimly aware of the men's voices, she realized that although she had considered the possible consequences, she had given little thought to the marriage itself. What would Sir Quinton Scott be like as a husband? The thought instantly stirred those increasingly familiar sensations inside her.
Surreptitiously, trying to make it appear that she focused her attention on her plate, she watched him through her lashes while she used her knife to spear a chunk of salted beef. He was a handsome man, to be sure. His eyes fascinated her. They looked hazel now, not really gold, but whenever he turned toward the firelight, orange lights danced in them, giving him a devilish appearance. Nevertheless, he was a handsome man. She could see a family resemblance between the two, but Buccleuch was shorter and slighter, and carried less bulk through his shoulders.
Sir Quinton's gaze shifted from Buccleuch to her, almost as if he had sensed her curiosity. Quickly she lowered her gaze.
"Mistress, will you take some wine?" he asked quietly.
"Aye, sir, thank you," she murmured.
He set a pewter goblet in front of her and filled it from a jug on the table, then turned back to his cousin.
Keeping her gaze fixed on the table, Janet continued to consider her options, but her mind seemed resistant to decision, resistant even to orderly thought. She was too much aware now of Sir Quinton's deep, musical voice.
As Buccleuch scraped his chair back and got to his feet, she realized that he was speaking to her.
Looking up guiltily, she said, "I beg your pardon, sir. I was not attending."
His whimsical smile lit his face. "I said, mistress, that perhaps I should leave the two of you to discuss what choice you will make. Shout down the stairs, Quin, when you want me. With the lass to look after, you'll not make Branxholme by sundown even if you leave within the hour, but I'll send some of my lads along to make sure the pair of you get there safely."
Sir Quinton nodded, and a moment later Janet was alone with him.
She felt more vulnerable than she had felt since leaving Brackengill. She could not think of a single thing to say to him.
The silence lengthened while he poured himself more wine. He looked at her, still holding the jug. "A bit more perhaps?"
"No, thank you, sir. If I drink any more, I shall have difficulty sitting my horse without falling off. How far is it to Branxholme?"
"About nine miles, I reckon, if we could travel in a straight line. Since we cannot, it's nearer being twelve or more. You must be well nigh exhausted, lass."
"I am tired," she admitted. Then, smiling, she said, "That is why I did not argue when Buccleuch said that I would likely slow you down."
"Mayhap we would do better to remain here overnight."
"I think that would be unwise," she said.
"Aye, perhaps," he said. "I am not one who makes a habit of considering proprieties, but I warrant your brother would never take you back if you'd spent a night at Hermitage without a proper hostess."
"No, he would not."
"If, on the other hand, you should decide to accept my offer of marriage, I would not care a damn if you stayed here overnight with us. Wat and I could sleep here, and you could have the bedchamber above. The door has a bar and bolts, so you'd be perfectly safe."
"I do not want to marry you," she said without thinking.
"Do you not? I own, I do not know how well I shall like marriage either. I've naught against you, lass, barring that sharp tongue of yours, but if I can persuade you to set a guard on it, we might scrape along together well enough."
"Her majesty would never allow it," Janet said.
He shook his head, but more as if he thought her naive than as if he agreed with her. "You do not give Buccleuch the credit he merits," he said. "Recall that he said both Jamie and Elizabeth crave peace in the Borders. It is to their political advantage to settle things, and so far their demands have met with small result because Buccleuch has seen no reason to set their preferences above his own."
Janet raised her chin. "You make it sound as if he has only to decide that there should be peace, and there will be peace. Surely, it is not so simple as that."
"Is it not? You do not know him yet. Still, I do remember your saying that Sir Hugh is impressed that Buccleuch can act as warden of two marches and keeper of Liddesdale as well. Consider that before you dismiss his capabilities."