Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] by Border Wedding Page B

Hall.

Chapter 6
    “To him men in arms are the same thing as thistles . . . At Durham and Carlisle his prowess I saw . . .”
    A lthough they had come twenty miles since leaving Elishaw at two o’clock, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, because days were growing longer. So Meg had a clear view of the three stone towers that formed three sides of the broad courtyard at Scott’s Hall. Ten-foot walls connected the towers, but each tower had its own entry. A strong, iron-barred gate had opened to admit them.
    Meg rode beside Amalie behind Sir Walter. Having been unnaturally aware of his lithe, muscular body just ahead of them throughout the journey, Meg easily noted now that something about the bustling activity in the yard had surprised, perhaps even dismayed him.
    “What is it, sir?” she asked.
    “Jamie Douglas is here,” he said without looking at her.
    Briefly confused until she realized that only one Douglas would presently concern him, she said, “The
Earl
of Douglas?” When he nodded, still studying the courtyard scene, she followed his gaze as she added, “Does he come here often?”
    “He has come many times before,” he said. “But of late, he’s been staying nearby at Hermitage, so he usually sends for us to meet him there.”
    She knew of Hermitage Castle, of course, for it was the greatest of the great Border strongholds and Elishaw was but seven or eight miles from it. Moreover, they had cut through the hills just north of it on their way to the Hall.
    She glanced at Amalie, who had drawn rein beside her. But her sister’s restless gaze was moving speculatively over men in the courtyard. Meg hoped she did not mean to begin a flirtation with any of the Douglas’s men-at-arms or Buccleuch’s.
    The responsibility for Amalie seemed suddenly heavy, but Meg told herself she would feel better after a good night’s rest.
    She was tired, for they had stopped only once, when Amalie had insisted on answering a call of nature. Sir Walter’s men had been respectful, though, and Meg felt safe with them. Young Sym Elliot had ridden beside them for a time, his curiosity about them overflowing. When he announced that he was to serve Meg until she did not want him anymore, then dared to ask her why she had married Sir Walter, he had earned himself a sharp rebuke from his master.
    The lad had retired then to ride beside a large man who was apparently his brother, and Meg had been sorry. She had enjoyed his careless chatter.
    “Will you let me help you down, my lady?”
    Startled, she realized Sir Walter had dismounted while she was watching the bustle around them. He stood by her mount now, ready to assist her.
    “Thank you, sir,” she said, turning so she could rest her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her down. His grip was firm at her waist, and he lifted her as easily as if she weighed no more than her bed pillow.
    As he set her on her feet, his hands suddenly gripped harder, then relaxed as quickly. Following his gaze, she saw two men striding across the yard toward them. She had never seen either one of them before, but she had no difficulty deducing who they were and swiftly curtsied.
    Beside her, Amalie did the same, and Meg realized that her sister had either dismounted by herself or had accepted help from one of the other men.
    Then a voice eerily like Sir Walter’s spoke curtly, saying, “What in the devil’s name have you been doing, Wat?”
    Meg had lowered her gaze as she made her curtsy, but she peeked up under her lashes at the speaker looming over her and saw an older version of her husband.
    “My lords, may I present my wife, the lady Margaret Murray of Elishaw?” Sir Walter said as if the introduction were an ordinary one. “This is the Earl of Douglas, my lady,” he added, gesturing toward the dark and frowning young man with Buccleuch. “And this is my lord father.”
    James Douglas was not what Meg had expected. Although she knew that men of power were not always men of