“Every last one of ‘em in this room,” revealed Davie, “as well as Sandy Gordon last week.”
Duncan’s boot jabbed into Davie’s shin before he was effectively silenced, and Rob Kennedy looked as if he were about to have a seizure. “Ye turned down the Earl o’ Huntly’s heir?”
Lady Elizabeth and her younger daughter, Beth, chose this moment to arrive in the dining hall. Tina’s mother cast an apprehensive glance over the gathering and faltered. She wondered if she could stomach the Kennedys en masse. Rob outwardly ignored their arrival, but it made him put a curb on his outburst. “Attend me after dinner. God’s passion, but daughters can be a curse tae a man.”
Andrew Kennedy, feeling protective toward Valentina, asked her to sit with him. On her other side Donal warned, “Father’s right hot wi’ ye. It’ll pay tae use him softly.”
She gave them both a grateful smile. “I’ll handle Father,” she whispered with bravado, but it ruined her pleasure in the chocolate truffles that Mr. Burque had made especially for her, and the cursed tooth began its nagging ache again.
At the far end of the hall two women in their thirties dined at a table for the more important servants of Doon. The castle steward eyed the two nursemaids with relish. It was well known that the two women barely tolerated each other, and he could see that at any minute entertaining hostilities were about to break out between the foes.
Kirsty, a Scotswoman whose charge was Beth Kennedy, the younger, sweeter daughter, could not wipe the satisfied smirk from her face as she helped herself to the mutton pie She adjusted the severe neckline of her gown trimmed with vair and whispered almost gleefully, “Trouble! Trouble is Valentina Kennedy’s middle name.”
Ada, the Englishwoman Lady Kennedy had brought with her when she was but a girl, held on to her temper. Tina was her charge, but they were also friends and close confidantes. Ada was still an attractive woman who wore her hair in an upsweep to show off her long neck and dangling earbobs. “I warrant the poor animal which owned that mangy fur you’re wearing didn’t complain at losing it.”
“Och!” Kirsty cried, compressing her lips until they disappeared. “Ye’ve an insolent tongue. ‘Tis plain tae see where Flaming Tina gets it.”
“I freely admit I’ve taught her to stand up for herself. If you make a doormat of yourself, people will wipe their muddy boots on you in this world,” Ada said dryly.
Some of the smugness crept back into Kirsty’s face. “My lord is incensed this time. I have my doubts she’ll stand up tae him long.”
“Rob Kennedy will ride roughshod over any who will let him, but he admires guts, even in a woman. That’s something you’d know nothing about.”
“If she were my charge, I’d soon whip some obedience intae her,” declared the Scotswoman. The steward laughed in her face. God’s passion, it would take a strong man in jackboots to whip obedience into Flaming Tina Kennedy.
Ada said, “She’s sixteen, almost seventeen—a woman grown. She’s too old to take orders from a nursemaid.”
“Beth takes orders from me,” Kirsty stated firmly. Ada wasn’t about to start pulling young Beth to pieces but said, “They are different as chalk and cheese. Valentina is all comely, shapely fascination and beauty.”
“And well she knows it,” Kirsty accused, her eyes traveling down the tables to the men surrounding the tempting redhead “She has a reputation for bein’ a honeypot, an’ no wonder, when ye’ve been in charge of her morals.”
Ada was a widow who could not deny she enjoyed the company of men. “Jealousy ill becomes you, woman.”
“In my experience men prefer a bit more innocence. They dinna like it when some o’ the bloom has been rubbed off,” Kirsty said maliciously.
“In your experience? There’s a figment of the imagination.” Ada had had enough and decided to silence her adversary. “Do you know what happens to spinsters on their fortieth birthday? Their holes make up!”
Kirsty gasped, turned beet red, and fled from the table. The steward was still choking on a mouthful of ale. Ada’s satisfaction diminished somewhat when the page tugged at her sleeve. “Laird Kennedy wants tae see ye.”
A pale Lady Kennedy followed her husband into the first-floor room he used for conducting his business. Valentina followed her in, and Ada brought up the rear, whispering, “One more day and he would have been gone.”
Tina had a habit of shrugging one shapely shoulder, and Ada sighed with resignation. Sparks were bound to fly when two such volatile personalities came together.
Mother and daughter seated themselves while Ada stood guard behind Tina’s chair. At one time Rob Kennedy had been a handsome man with a flaming torch of hair. Now it was sparse and gray. His florid face showed sagging jowls, and his paunch thrust forward as a testimonial to Mr. Burque’s talent. He was still an imposing man, however, with his broad back and shrewd eyes. He stood with his backside to the fire and asked in a deceptively quiet voice, “Do I detect a conspiracy here?” His eye fell upon his hapless wife. “Just how many proposals have ye been keepin’ from me?”
Elizabeth grew even paler. “Rob, I know nothing of this,” she said softly.
“Know nothing … know nothing? God ha’ mercy woman, do ye go through life wi’ blinkers on? Ye know nothing—ye never do!” His voice had risen, and it had a grating quality that pierced the eardrum painfully.
“Please don’t browbeat Mother,” Tina said reasonably.
“I’ve no intention of browbeatin’ yer mother—‘tis ye I’ll browbeat!” He locked eyes with her and demanded, “What earthly use are daughters tae a mon?” Silence. “I’ll elucidate. Lasses, in especial ravishin’ beauties like yersel, are valuable tae forge marriages between powerful clans tae preserve peace, tae extend power, and tae increase wealth.” He turned on his wife again. “I shouldna listened tae ye. I shouldha sent her tae court—she woulda had a husband an’ a bairn in her belly by now.”
With great daring Elizabeth said, “The last Kennedy who went to court didn’t manage to catch a husband.”
“She did even better—mistress tae the two most powerful men in Scotland, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, an’ now the king hissel, if yer talkin’ about ma wee cousin, Janet Kennedy.”
“Don’t you dare say that name in this house,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Janet Kennedy? She’s a bit o’ a whore, but let me remind ye, woman, the Kennedys were Kings o’ Carrick. We ha’ the finest blood in Scotland!” he shouted.
“I was speaking of Douglas,” Elizabeth said quietly.
Rob Kennedy cleared his throat. “Aye, well, I didna mean tae stir painful memories, Lizzy. Foul fall all the bloody Black Douglases.”
Elizabeth had her handkerchief to her eyes. “May I leave? I’m feeling unwell,” she pleaded.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak until she had departed, then his invective burst forth like a dam upon the remaining pair. “Now see what ye’ve done! I should flay ye fer upsettin’ yer mother!”
Tina was on her feet. “You did that when you brought up the profligate black-hearted Douglases.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Och, the woman’s too sensitive. It all happened over fifteen year past an’ best forgot. She acts as if Damaris was her sister rather than mine.”
“Damaris was her best friend, her only friend in Scotland. The Douglas Clan poisoned her—mother will never forget!”
“That’s no’ the issue here.” As he caught sight of his daughter’s vivid beauty, he wondered how on earth he’d produced such an exquisite child. The fireshine played across her heart-shaped face and turned her hair to molten copper. She drew men like bees to a honeypot and it had been a puzzle to him why none had offered for her. His heart softened. “Lassie, I want a Campbell or a Gordon for ye.”
“Father, I don’t want to marry. Why can’t you teach me to sail one of the ships so I could take the wool to Flanders?”
His face hardened again, and his accusing eyes came to rest on Ada. “
Wheesht, woman, ‘tis ye who’s put these daft ideas in her haid! Why could ye no’ make her gentle an’ biddable?”
“My Lord Kennedy, Scotland is a harsh land filled with harsher men. I swore I wouldn’t make the mistake of making Tina soft like her mother and Beth. Besides, she’s too much like you to be gentle. As for biddable, it will take a very strong mate to make her that.”
“Aye—even then I ha’ ma doots. Tina, lass, listen tae yer old dad. Choose while the choice is still yers. Yer nigh seventeen. If ye dinna wed soon, Archibald Kennedy, Earl of Cassillis, will choose fer ye. ‘Tis his duty as laird o’ the clan. Or the king might force ye tae wed tae his advantage. Be sensible—choose an earl’s son and someday ye’ll be a countess. Off wi’ ye now, vixen! I’ll ha’ a word in private wi’ Ada.” After she left, he grated, “God’s passion, women can be willful!”
“You’d have no respect for one who wasn’t, Rob Kennedy.”
“Aye, well, the other gets round me wi’ her tears,” he said, referring to his wife. “I suppose it’ll cost me a visit tae England tae placate her.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Yer a fine figure of a woman, Ada—‘tis a long time since we had a good grapple. Do ye think ye might be in need of company the nicht?”
Ada tossed her head so that her earrings swung provocatively. “I might,” she admitted.
* * *
When Ada entered Tina’s chamber, she found her before the polished silver mirror with her mouth open and her neck contorted at an odd angle.
“Let me have a look,” Ada said, picking up a candelabrum.
Obediently Tina opened her mouth wide and pointed to the back. After a moment Ada said with relief, “It’s a wisdom tooth having a spurt of growth because it’s spring. Thank heaven you didn’t let Butcher Bothwick pull it. A woman should keep her back teeth at all costs. It keeps your face young looking. Once your back teeth are gone, your cheeks fall in to age you terribly.”
“Thank you, Ada. If I leave it alone, it should be gone soon?”
“If I were you, I’d be off to bed, and perhaps it will be gone by morning.” Ada wanted what was best for Tina, but at the same time she had her own interests in mind. “Tomorrow is May Day.”
“Beltane!” Tina said, hugging her arms in anticipation of the Celtic holy day. In daylight the villagers would dance around the maypole, but at night they would have revels and dance about Beltane fires—aye, and do more than dance!
Tina yawned and lifted a pretty shoulder. She shook out her bedgown and said, “Good night, Ada. I think I’ll take your advice.”
The minute Ada was through the door, Tina shoved the bedgown back beneath her pillow. “Not bloody likely,” she murmured happily. Tonight was the night that the Gypsies returned to the Valley of Galloway.
Chapter 2
Degenerate Douglas! Unworthy Lord He!
Hush thee, hush, my little pet ye,
The Black Douglas will not get thee.
Thirty miles away at Douglas, the Black Ram lay stretched on the floor of the hall, casting dice with his brothers and some of his moss-troopers. The Boozer, his fierce wolfhound, sprawled at his feet before the fire. The flames turned Ram’s swarthy face into planes of light and shadow.
Ramsay Douglas had saber-sharp cheekbones and pewter-colored eyes with heavy black brows arched above them, giving him the Devil’s own look, and he’d the Devil’s own temper when roused. Tonight, however, he seemed in a mellow enough mood as he lazily cast the dice.
The noise level in the hall was high but that was usual. The borderers were such a rough and rowdy bunch of lusty rogues, it always sounded like a brawl or a rape. A bagpipe skirled from somewhere on the walls, and Cameron, the youngest Douglas, was singing a bawdy song: “‘Hooray, hooray, the first of May, outdoor fuckin’ starts today.’” The words then became even more grossly indecent, and two of his cousins joined in the chorus.
The Boozer stood up and stretched, thinking the company sufficiently drunk, it wouldn’t be noticed if he helped himself to the leftovers littering the tables.
The massive wolfhound stood with great paws on the table, crunching a mutton bone with its razor-sharp teeth. A servitor tried to wave the beast from the board, but the Boozer laid his ears flat and growled deep in his throat. The servant backed off with a filthy epithet, and the dog tipped over a goblet, then lapped up its contents before they had a chance to drip to the floor.
Gavin, every bit as dark as Ramsay, but handsomer and less dangerous looking, eyed his brother with speculation. “Would ye care tae raise the stakes to make this more interesting?”
“Why not?” Ram drawled.
With great audacity Gavin said, “Would ye put up Jenna?”
Ian and Drummond, captains of Douglas vessels, exchanged swift, apprehensive glances. The Black Douglas wasn’t a man to share anything, let alone a woman who warmed his bed.
Ram Douglas lifted an amused brow. “Against what?” he asked.
Gavin’s eyes glittered. “Against my falcon.” He knew Ram admired his beautiful raptor. Ram shrugged. “Why not?”
Gavin knew Ram had more confidence in his own ability than any man breathing, and he knew there was little chance of his outcasting his brother at dice. But it never hurt to try.
Gavin blinked as his brother Ram rolled a pitiful three, and he felt a rush of hot blood at his own good fortune. Then common sense took over, and he accused, “Ye lost on purpose, man.”
Ram hauled himself to his feet and stretched. “No such thing—ye won fair and square. I wish ye joy of her. Well, I’m off.”
Gavin Douglas looked puzzled. “I thought ye were tae bring the horses down from the mountains tomorrow.”
“I leave at dawn,” Ram said, “and there’s still eight hours till dawn.” He winked at Gavin and picked up his leather jack.
Ram’s brother stared after him, then said to Cameron, “He just lost Jenna tae me—I suspect it was done deliberately. Why the hell would he do that?”
Cameron’s black brows smoothed from their puzzled furrow as he remembered something. “The Gypsies! This is the night the Gypsies return to Galloway Valley”
Tina changed into a warm green velvet riding habit and slipped from the castle toward the stable. She looked up at the tiny sliver of the new moon in the dark sky and shivered as she thought it would be a good night for a raid. As she opened the stable door and slipped inside, her nostrils quivered with the pungent odor of horseflesh, hay, and manure that rose up in a miasma in the dim interior. Before she had taken three steps, however, she came face-to-face with a dozen Kennedy men saddling their mounts. The girl and the men looked at each other with dismay, knowing they had been discovered in a clandestine activity. “Oh, you’re going on a raid!” Tina gasped. All her instincts had told her they’d been planning a raid, but she had assumed they would wait until their father had sailed.
“Ye daft loon, of course we’re no’,” denied Donal. “Where the hell are ye sneakin’ off tae?”
She ignored the question. “I know you are riding out to raid. None of you are wearing the telltale Kennedy tartan, and the moon is just right!”
Donal mounted, and Duncan and the rest of the clan members followed suit. “Tina, yer imagination takes flights o’ fancy We’re just riding tae Glasgow. Get back tae the castle, lass, before ye get yersel in more trouble”
“Duncan, make Donal let me come with you! I’ll do exactly as I’m told. I want to help.”
“Ye’ve never done as yer told in yer life,” cut in Donal.
“I’m a Kennedy too!” she flared. “I want to come—I want to help!”
Duncan bent low and said confidentially, “Tina, we’re off tae a whorehouse in Glasgow. How can ye help? Hold up the lassies’ skirts fer us, mayhap?”
She flushed at their crudeness, and they filed past her out into the dark night.
Valentina was relieved that the Kennedys were heading north to Glasgow. It was close to thirty miles, and the pace Donal and Duncan set would be
punishing. She was riding east so there was no chance they would run into each other again.
Where the Gypsies made camp was about eight miles off along the banks of the River Ayr. Tina had no fear of riding in the dark save for concern that her beautiful mare might step into a badger hole, so she chose to canter over the rolling fells rather than gallop.
The hills were dotted with sheep and newborn lambs that had been freed from their winter pens to spend their first spring night outdoors this last day of April 1512. She could hear the river in spate at the moment, rushing headlong over rock and boulder, and not far off she heard the bark of a fox. It was the sort of night that was filled with promise and magic. The kind of night that made her glad to be alive with the wind in her hair and good horseflesh between her knees.
Tina embraced the night. Tomorrow with its threat of husband and marriage was a million miles away, but when it arrived she would meet it head on and on her own terms.
She saw their campfires first, and then the silhouettes of their caravans, long before she reached the valley’s floor to mingle with the raffish band of dusky nomads.
A black stallion stood beneath the trees on the edge of the camp. His rider bent low to aid a young Gypsy girl mount behind him. Her red skirt fell back to reveal bare legs that she used seductively to grip the iron-hard thighs of the man in front of her. A deep thrill ran through Zara as her body came in contact with his. There was nothing about him that was not dark and hard. The line of his jaw was stubborn, and the set of his head was arrogantly proud atop the wide, powerful shoulders. He was clad in black from head to foot. His jack and thigh-high riding boots were made of supple black leather. Zara shivered, knowing the Black Ram was ruthless and dangerous. Of all the men she had ever known—and men were her business—he was the only one she couldn’t rule in bed.
Suddenly he leaned forward, resting his arm on his saddle pommel, and watched intently as a young woman with flaming hair streaming about her shoulders rode into the camp. She rode astride, which was almost unheard of for a woman. She flung herself from her horse and ran laughing into the outstretched arms of a tall young Gypsy male: “Heath! Oh Heath, how I’ve missed you!”