Free The Border Hostage by Virginia Henley Page A

Dacre!”
    “Blood of God, I don't want my mother descending upon me like a biblical plague. Ada here is worth a thousand Elizabeths.”
    Ada winked. “That's what your father used to tell me! God's passion, Tina, you're just like him.”
    The four doubled up with laughter, for Rob Kennedy had often said to Tina, “God's passion, but ye get more like me every day.”
    “Perhaps Father was right; he always ate enough for three, and now I'm doing the same. What's for dinner, Mr. Burque?”
    “Lamb on skewers, the very thing to induce labor, chérie.”
    “I hope and pray you mean by eating them, Mr. Burque, and not by using them as probes,” Ada said with a straight face.
    Tina, laughing, held her belly. “You are so droll, Ada. If you don't cease and desist, I shall give birth by mirth.”
    “Save me some food, Mr. Burque. I intend to start branding the horses I managed to retrieve.”
    “Good. D for Douglas!” Tina saluted with her chocolate.
    “D for Douglas, or D for death to any who dare reive them ever again,” Heath vowed savagely.
    It took two days to brand all the horses. On the third day Heath packed his saddlebags for another journey. When Ram Douglas cocked a dark eyebrow at him, Heath simply replied, “Unfinished business.”
    “There's no need tae range alone like a wolf. Ye'll be safer with a dozen moss-troopers at yer back.”
    “I'm only going fishing.”
    Ram eyed the sword that Heath was wearing. It was one he had won from him in a dice game. “Fishing with a sword?”
    “Very handy for gutting and filleting. If I don't return, you can start the search for me at Bewcastle.”
    “In the dungeon or the graveyard?” Ram asked tersely.
    “If I'm not in one, odds are I'll be in the other.”
    “Dacre could have bought the horses legitimately.”
    “You and I are both too cynical to believe that,” Heath said evenly. He touched his knees to the roan gelding and cantered off.
    Heath rode the dozen miles to Mangerton at a steady pace, then he slowed the roan to a walk and examined the town, building by building, farm by farm, and concluded that poverty was widespread in the area. He scrutinized the face of every individual he encountered, then he bought a drink at the alehouse and kept his ears open for the name of Mangey. When he made casual inquiries, the people looked afraid. It took most of the day, but he finally learned that a Border clan named Armstrong, outlawed by the late king of Scotland, terrorized the area. When the Armstrongs had been put to the horn, they had become vicious marauders and turned against their own.
    Heath rode through the fields on the outskirts of Mangerton looking for signs of a camp. A spiral of smoke above the trees drew him to the edge of the forest. Beneath the oaks he spotted four mares and knew immediately they were his. Caution told him to go no closer. He crushed down curiosity about the men, because it didn't matter whether there were four or forty within the forest; once darkness fell, Heath intended to retrieve his breeding mares.
    He looked up at the sky to gauge the time, and knew it was late afternoon because the sun was already setting. He retreated about a mile until he found a stream, then he followed it into the forest, dismounted, and watered his roan. He took a bag of fodder for his mount from his saddlebags, then with his back against the bole of a tree, he sat down to eat a couple of oatcakes.
    Heath reflected on the men in the forest. Most likelythey were Armstrongs, and the evidence of their being in possession of his mares condemned them as being the scum who had been paid to murder Ramsay Douglas. He knew he lusted for their death, but struggled with his need for revenge, telling himself it was a luxury he could not indulge this night. Reclaiming his mares must take precedence over vengeance.
    The time dragged interminably for Heath, who knew he had to wait beyond darkness, until the raiders slept. The night was unusually warm, and the