marry Mistress Carmichael, they would doubtless dismiss her
assertions and clap her up securely for the duration of the ceremony. Then, even if he should step forward afterward to reclaim
what was his, Eustace would already have his heiress bride. If one believed Lady Anne’s description of her cousin, as he did,
Mistress Carmichael would not defy her mother’s wishes by taking a firm stand and refusing to marry.
Kit had meant it when he said that he would seek Anne out, and he meant to do so soon, because he looked forward to crossing
verbal swords with her again. Her cousin, by comparison, sounded like a lass who would blush, bridle, and agree with whatever
a man said, as so many innocent young women did. Commendable behavior, he supposed, but he suspected that such submissiveness
would grow tiresome before long. In fact, the meek Fiona sounded like a dead bore.
Lady Anne, on the other hand, was a woman so cool that one longed to warm her up, so calm that one longed to agitate her.
He had wondered if she ever lost her temper, and it had afforded him a certain satisfaction to learn that she did, although
admittedly, the behavior that had provoked her was outrageous. Still, her shocked look after she slapped him assured him that
the temperamental outburst was a rarity.
His body relaxed at last, and riding grew easier. He continued to think pleasantly about Lady Anne until it suddenly occurred
to him that if he freed Fiona from his uncle, an unfortunate but natural outcome would result unless he could persuade them
that her betrothal to Eustace had abrogated the one to him or that his supposed death had rendered it moot.
By the time he rejoined Willie, Sammy, and the others, he had decided that no matter what he might learn about Eustace from
the reivers, he would attend the wedding. Few if any guests were likely to recognize him, and certainly, Eustace himself would
not, for in the past six years, the Kit Chisholm that he had seen so infrequently had changed from a stripling to a man, adding
height, girth, and muscle. His face had lost the soft curves of youth, and the past year and a half had added harshness to
his features and a hard, sinewy strength to his body.
Lady Anne might recognize him, of course. Despite the dim, flickering torches in the yard, he knew she had studied his features
carefully, as he had studied hers, and he did not want her to spoil his surprise at the wedding by blurting out the fact of
his presence. She would be concerned with her cousin and would have little time to peer about at the guests, but even so,
he would take care to avoid her until he decided exactly what, if anything, he meant to do.
If he let the wedding run its course, which he was still strongly inclined to do if only to eliminate what was presently only
a minor problem, he could walk away unseen and without fear that Lady Anne might confront him and take him to task.
That thought, however. brought another smile. Perhaps he would let her catch a glimpse of him,
after
the ceremony.
Chapter 6
F or several moments after Sir Christopher had ridden out of the yard and through the gateway, Anne stood where she was, still
stunned by his kiss and her reaction to it, and trying both to understand what demon had possessed her to make her slap him
and to make sense of his parting words to her.
To think of him as a man knighted, undoubtedly for bravery, by the King was hard. To think of him as plain Kit Chisholm, Border
reiver, was far easier. Not only did his behavior suit her notion of a reiver but also she knew that many bands of reivers
on both sides of the line included men of even the highest stations.
Armadale had not approved of such unseemly behavior amongst his peers, but some of the greatest and most powerful names in
the Borders—Scott of Buccleuch and Scott of Hardin, along with the heads of the Maxwell, Johnston, and Armstrong tribes—all
were known frequently to lead
assertions and clap her up securely for the duration of the ceremony. Then, even if he should step forward afterward to reclaim
what was his, Eustace would already have his heiress bride. If one believed Lady Anne’s description of her cousin, as he did,
Mistress Carmichael would not defy her mother’s wishes by taking a firm stand and refusing to marry.
Kit had meant it when he said that he would seek Anne out, and he meant to do so soon, because he looked forward to crossing
verbal swords with her again. Her cousin, by comparison, sounded like a lass who would blush, bridle, and agree with whatever
a man said, as so many innocent young women did. Commendable behavior, he supposed, but he suspected that such submissiveness
would grow tiresome before long. In fact, the meek Fiona sounded like a dead bore.
Lady Anne, on the other hand, was a woman so cool that one longed to warm her up, so calm that one longed to agitate her.
He had wondered if she ever lost her temper, and it had afforded him a certain satisfaction to learn that she did, although
admittedly, the behavior that had provoked her was outrageous. Still, her shocked look after she slapped him assured him that
the temperamental outburst was a rarity.
His body relaxed at last, and riding grew easier. He continued to think pleasantly about Lady Anne until it suddenly occurred
to him that if he freed Fiona from his uncle, an unfortunate but natural outcome would result unless he could persuade them
that her betrothal to Eustace had abrogated the one to him or that his supposed death had rendered it moot.
By the time he rejoined Willie, Sammy, and the others, he had decided that no matter what he might learn about Eustace from
the reivers, he would attend the wedding. Few if any guests were likely to recognize him, and certainly, Eustace himself would
not, for in the past six years, the Kit Chisholm that he had seen so infrequently had changed from a stripling to a man, adding
height, girth, and muscle. His face had lost the soft curves of youth, and the past year and a half had added harshness to
his features and a hard, sinewy strength to his body.
Lady Anne might recognize him, of course. Despite the dim, flickering torches in the yard, he knew she had studied his features
carefully, as he had studied hers, and he did not want her to spoil his surprise at the wedding by blurting out the fact of
his presence. She would be concerned with her cousin and would have little time to peer about at the guests, but even so,
he would take care to avoid her until he decided exactly what, if anything, he meant to do.
If he let the wedding run its course, which he was still strongly inclined to do if only to eliminate what was presently only
a minor problem, he could walk away unseen and without fear that Lady Anne might confront him and take him to task.
That thought, however. brought another smile. Perhaps he would let her catch a glimpse of him,
after
the ceremony.
Chapter 6
F or several moments after Sir Christopher had ridden out of the yard and through the gateway, Anne stood where she was, still
stunned by his kiss and her reaction to it, and trying both to understand what demon had possessed her to make her slap him
and to make sense of his parting words to her.
To think of him as a man knighted, undoubtedly for bravery, by the King was hard. To think of him as plain Kit Chisholm, Border
reiver, was far easier. Not only did his behavior suit her notion of a reiver but also she knew that many bands of reivers
on both sides of the line included men of even the highest stations.
Armadale had not approved of such unseemly behavior amongst his peers, but some of the greatest and most powerful names in
the Borders—Scott of Buccleuch and Scott of Hardin, along with the heads of the Maxwell, Johnston, and Armstrong tribes—all
were known frequently to lead
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