Border Fire(70)

"Here, too, Quinton? Will we have peace at Broadhaugh?"

He looked thoughtfully at her, and in that moment she knew that if the English Queen held the power of life and death in the crook of her little finger, Quinton held the power of happiness or misery in the twitch of an eyebrow. Her heart pounded, for she knew that his answer mattered more to her than she had thought it could.

He said, "Is it true that everything that mattered to you was at stake in Carlisle?"

"Aye, sir," she said quietly. "I knew that my going would make you angry, but I could not sit meekly at home and wait for others to decide your fate. Are you still angry with me for taking part in the raid?"

"Lassie, how could I stay angry with you for saving my life? If our Jamie had ten thousand men possessing courage like yours, he could shake the firmest throne in Europe. You should know," he added gently, "that already, whenever my men or Buccleuch's speak of the Carlisle raid, they speak of you as ‘Janet the Bold.' Doubtless, they will soon be singing ballads about your exploits."

"Does that mean," she said bluntly, "that you will pay greater heed to my opinions in future, sir, and not simply issue commands to me?"

"Do you truly want peace, Jenny?"

"Aye," she said, sighing, "I do."

He pushed a hand through his hair, a boyish gesture of rueful irritation. "I'll tell you true, lassie, you can make me as angry as I've ever known myself to get, and although the anger I felt when I realized what you had done has passed, I do not know that we will ever live in true peace. We're going to have children eventually, and I cannot imagine us agreeing on everything even without them. Once we have them, it will be impossible. We're both of us too hardheaded and stubborn, and we both seem to fire up too quick. We're going to fratch, Jenny lass, and when we do, the rafters will quake. But I think we've both learned some things."

"Aye," she said, "but have we learned enough?"

"We'll see, but I'll tell you this, lass. I love you as I never believed I could love anyone, and I know now that you love me. We have learned a bit about the art of compromise, and we can learn more. I'm willing if you are."

She was quiet for a moment. He had offered no apology, but neither had he demanded one. Compromise did have its points.

"I'm willing," she said. "Oh, Quinton, I'm more than willing. I do love you so. Who would have thought that an Englishwoman and a Scotsman could care so passionately for each other?"

"Passion is but one way for strong feelings to reveal themselves, sweetheart, and passion can stem as easily from love as from anger. England and Scotland will learn other ways, too, I'll warrant. When Jamie holds the thrones of both countries, there will no longer be any Border, after all."

"There will always be a Border," Janet insisted.

"Nay, lass, not when they blend us all into one country, but I don't want to talk any more about politics tonight, national or personal. Come here to me."

"Are you giving me arbitrary orders again, sir?"

"I am, and you will obey them, madam, or pay the penalty."

"What penalty?"

"You will see if you do not obey me." His eyes twinkled.

She lifted her chin. "I think, sir, that you must learn to put your orders more diplomatically. You should soothe me, and pay me pretty compliments."

"I've no patience for soothing. I've a glib tongue when I require it-"

"Aye, and nearly talked yourself into a hangman's noose with it before we'd ever met," she reminded him. "What if I had not been at hand to save you?"

"My Bairns would have found me in time."   





 

"As I recall, they were all still at home when we reached Broadhaugh."

He nodded thoughtfully. "That's a fact, right enough."

She grinned, then shrieked when he caught her arm and pulled her into an embrace. The shriek turned to muted chuckles when he kissed her, but she quickly responded to his passion. His lips felt hot against hers, and his hands moved over her body possessively, seeking ties and laces. In moments, her skirt and petticoats fell to the floor in clouds of lace and cotton. Her bodice soon joined them, then her stays. His mouth held hers prisoner until she stood in nothing but her smock. Then he straightened, but his hands moved teasingly over her breasts, making her gasp at the sensations that surged through her body.

"Bedtime, sweetheart," he murmured, scooping her into his arms only to kneel a moment later and lay her gently on the furry hearth rug.

"What if someone comes in?"

"My people know better than to interrupt their lord when he is engaged in important business." Rising, he cast off his doublet, stripped his netherstocks and boots from his legs, then stood a moment in his shirt, gazing down at her. "You are the bonniest lass in the Borders, sweetheart, on either side of the line."

"Aye," she said, smiling lazily up at him, "and you are the luckiest man, sir, to have Janet the Bold for your wife."

Chuckling, he removed his shirt and lay down on the rug beside her. "Show me how bold you are, sweetheart," he said. "I would have you serve me."

"More orders, sir? I would prefer that you serve me."

He raised his eyebrows. "I see that another compromise is in order."

"Compromise? But how can one compromise on such an issue?"

"I'll show you, lass."

And, to her delight, he did.



Dear Reader,

I do hope you enjoyed Border Fire. The inspiration for the story came partially from reading a host of Border ballads and partially from the author's interest in her own family's genealogy. The general plot is based on The Ballad of Kinmont Willie. The version used is cited in Scottish & Border Battles & Ballads by Michael Brander (Charles N. Potter, Inc., New York, 1975) and also in many other sources. Quotes used for chapter headings come from Kinmont Willie and also, generally when referring to the heroine, from Hardyknute or The Battle of Larges (same source). There is an exception, of course, in that the quote for the first chapter appears in various forms in numerous Border ballads. Apparently, the Liddesdale men ought to have stayed at home on more than one occasion.

Since Kinmont Willie was a real person, and definitely was not the stuff of which heroes are made, I took certain liberties, the greatest of which was letting the heroine do much that, in reality, Buccleuch or others did.

The general details of the raid are as historically accurate as I could make them (if one omits the presence of the prisoner's wife). The information came not only from the ballad, which is more dramatic than accurate in spots, but also from the following: Border Raids & Reivers by Robert Borland, The Steel Bonnets by George MacDonald Fraser, Upper Teviotdale & the Scotts of Buccleuch by Mrs. J. Rutherford Oliver (1887), and The Border Reivers by Godfrey Watson. I heartily recommend them all to anyone interested in learning more about the Border reivers.

Generally, I avoid long bouts of historical description, but in the case of Hermitage Castle, I wrote more than usual. I did so for the benefit of readers who, like me, fell in love with the Earls of Bothwell in Jan Westcott's wonderful books, Border Lord and The Hepburn. Realizing that they might like to know how a castle that figured so powerfully in Bothwell history had fallen into Scott hands gave me the little excuse I needed to include a good deal of its history.

I suspect some of you might also like to know that young Wattie did achieve his majority before inheriting his father's position. He was 24 when Buccleuch died in 1611. Wattie was, in fact, the first of the Scott heirs to do that since 1470. He was also said to be the first of his line to the during a time of peace in the Borders.

Lastly, lest you think that some of the distances traveled by the Borderers seem too great, either when raiding or just going to the horse races, let me assure you that they are not. According to all sources, men and women of the Borders were intrepid riders and the Border ponies they rode were sturdy, sure-footed, and fast. They are known to have traveled amazing distances on many such occasions.

If you enjoyed Border Fire, I hope you will watch for Border Storm, coming in January, 2001.

Sincerely,





About the Author


A fourth-generation Californian of Scottish descent, Amanda Scott is the author of more than fifty romantic novels, many of which appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Her Scottish heritage and love of history (she received undergraduate and graduate degrees in history at Mills College and California State University, San Jose, respectively) inspired her to write historical fiction. Credited by Library Journal with starting the Scottish romance subgenre, Scott has also won acclaim for her sparkling Regency romances. She is the recipient of the Romance Writers of America's RITA Award (for Lord Abberley's Nemesis, 1986) and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in central California with her husband.   





 





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One

Shrill was the bugle's note,

Dreadful the warrior shout …

The Scottish Borders, August 1596

A DRIZZLING, EARLY MORNING rain had cast a dark, gray gloom over Liddesdale when, without warning, shortly before sunrise, the English army struck.

No beacon flamed. No voice cried out. The enemy had crept up during the night with-for the English-uncustomary stealth.