for when his people learn of it, they will demand your life in return for his. What will you do if King James of Scotland demands your arrest?”
“I’ll tell Jamie what I tell you,” he snarled. “I caught the man red-handed and it is my right to hang him!”
“But Hugh—”
“No more!” he roared. “Go to your room!”
Taking an involuntary step backward, she said nonetheless firmly, “I will find a way to stop you, Hugh. I may be sorry for it, but—”
Her words ended in a cry when he slapped her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She managed to remain upright only by the merest good fortune. Pressing a cool hand against her flaming cheek, she straightened. Aware of their audience, augmented now with faces peeping through doorways, she looked him in the eye and said, “Do you seek to silence me with violence, sir? I think our people will not support you in this instance. Indeed, I believe that once it becomes widely known that you mean to hang your Scottish reiver on Wednesday—”
“I no longer mean to hang him on Wednesday,” he said evenly.
His grim demeanor made her breath catch in her throat, but she managed to reply just as evenly, “I hope that means that I have made you see reason, sir.”
“Rabbie Redcloak will hang at sunrise tomorrow,” he declared. Looking at the man near the doorway, he said, “Do you hear me, Ned? I want a gallows built for that scoundrel, and I want it built before I return from Bewcastle. See to it!”
“Hugh, please.”
Menacingly, he put his face close to hers again and growled, “If you do not go to your room, you will feel my hand on your backside next, lass.”
Unable to believe that she had failed so miserably, Janet hesitated, but when he straightened and reached for her, her courage vanished and she fled.
Chapter 4
“Herself would watch you all the day
Her maids watch all the night….”
F IGHTING TEARS OF HELPLESS fury, Janet went straight to her bedchamber, only to meet the kitchen maid, Sheila, on the landing outside her door. Pulling herself together as she had done many times in the past under similar circumstances, Janet said quietly, “What is it?”
“Beg pardon, Mistress Janet, but Matty would know where ye will eat your supper when it’s time, bein’ Sir Hugh has said he means to sup at Bewcastle.”
“Godamercy, I’ve only just eaten my dinner.” Realizing that the maid was attempting to assure her that, despite Hugh’s orders, they would somehow provide her with her supper, she smiled ruefully and said, “Someone can bring some warm bread and milk to me here, Sheila. I doubt that I shall want anything more.”
The girl nodded, her eyes still fixed on Janet’s face. Her sympathetic expression made it clear that she wanted to say more.
Janet returned the look directly, and the maid’s gaze dropped.
“I’ll tell Matty,” she said, bobbing a curtsy.
Janet knew that Sheila was concerned about her and had wanted to say as much but that the maid knew it was not her place to do so. Although grateful for the kindness, Janet was even more grateful that Sheila had held her tongue, because overt sympathy would only have made her feel worse than she already did. She was glad, too, that the exchange had helped her recover her composure. Her stomach still felt as if it contained a pair of wrestling shrews, and her eyes still burned from tears she had neither shed nor quite managed to suppress, but she was quickly regaining her customary composure.
Entering her bedchamber and shutting the door, she looked at the cold, well-swept hearth and debated whether to light a fire, knowing that she would soon have to send someone to fetch more wood if she did. Generally, a servant would not light a fire in this room until after supper, giving it just enough time to lose its chill before Janet prepared to retire. The stone chamber was chilly—nay, ice cold—now, but she had no wish to see anyone else until she could be certain that she
“I’ll tell Jamie what I tell you,” he snarled. “I caught the man red-handed and it is my right to hang him!”
“But Hugh—”
“No more!” he roared. “Go to your room!”
Taking an involuntary step backward, she said nonetheless firmly, “I will find a way to stop you, Hugh. I may be sorry for it, but—”
Her words ended in a cry when he slapped her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She managed to remain upright only by the merest good fortune. Pressing a cool hand against her flaming cheek, she straightened. Aware of their audience, augmented now with faces peeping through doorways, she looked him in the eye and said, “Do you seek to silence me with violence, sir? I think our people will not support you in this instance. Indeed, I believe that once it becomes widely known that you mean to hang your Scottish reiver on Wednesday—”
“I no longer mean to hang him on Wednesday,” he said evenly.
His grim demeanor made her breath catch in her throat, but she managed to reply just as evenly, “I hope that means that I have made you see reason, sir.”
“Rabbie Redcloak will hang at sunrise tomorrow,” he declared. Looking at the man near the doorway, he said, “Do you hear me, Ned? I want a gallows built for that scoundrel, and I want it built before I return from Bewcastle. See to it!”
“Hugh, please.”
Menacingly, he put his face close to hers again and growled, “If you do not go to your room, you will feel my hand on your backside next, lass.”
Unable to believe that she had failed so miserably, Janet hesitated, but when he straightened and reached for her, her courage vanished and she fled.
Chapter 4
“Herself would watch you all the day
Her maids watch all the night….”
F IGHTING TEARS OF HELPLESS fury, Janet went straight to her bedchamber, only to meet the kitchen maid, Sheila, on the landing outside her door. Pulling herself together as she had done many times in the past under similar circumstances, Janet said quietly, “What is it?”
“Beg pardon, Mistress Janet, but Matty would know where ye will eat your supper when it’s time, bein’ Sir Hugh has said he means to sup at Bewcastle.”
“Godamercy, I’ve only just eaten my dinner.” Realizing that the maid was attempting to assure her that, despite Hugh’s orders, they would somehow provide her with her supper, she smiled ruefully and said, “Someone can bring some warm bread and milk to me here, Sheila. I doubt that I shall want anything more.”
The girl nodded, her eyes still fixed on Janet’s face. Her sympathetic expression made it clear that she wanted to say more.
Janet returned the look directly, and the maid’s gaze dropped.
“I’ll tell Matty,” she said, bobbing a curtsy.
Janet knew that Sheila was concerned about her and had wanted to say as much but that the maid knew it was not her place to do so. Although grateful for the kindness, Janet was even more grateful that Sheila had held her tongue, because overt sympathy would only have made her feel worse than she already did. She was glad, too, that the exchange had helped her recover her composure. Her stomach still felt as if it contained a pair of wrestling shrews, and her eyes still burned from tears she had neither shed nor quite managed to suppress, but she was quickly regaining her customary composure.
Entering her bedchamber and shutting the door, she looked at the cold, well-swept hearth and debated whether to light a fire, knowing that she would soon have to send someone to fetch more wood if she did. Generally, a servant would not light a fire in this room until after supper, giving it just enough time to lose its chill before Janet prepared to retire. The stone chamber was chilly—nay, ice cold—now, but she had no wish to see anyone else until she could be certain that she
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