Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] Read Free Page A

Percy cousins in England, taking his education and learning swordsmanship and other such skills with them, now served a Scottish knight somewhere near Edinburgh. Meg did not miss Simon, for whom she had little liking, but she did miss merry Tom. Neither young man had yet taken a wife.
    In due time—which was to say when Sir Iagan had seen both of his sons well established—he would doubtless marry his three daughters to men of property. He had received no offers for them yet, but he frequently assured them that, his power and connections being what they were, he would eventually do so.
    That some witless wag had once labeled them three of the homeliest females in Christendom had done naught to aid their prospects. But Meg knew that when it came to marriage, beauty was not everything. Sir Iagan was a man of wealth.
    He was also a man of influence. As such, she knew he believed he had no need to dower his daughters heavily. She just hoped he would provide them with enough to entice more than one potential husband. The few men she did know believed that, at eighteen, she was already long in the tooth.
    Lady Murray, having told the gillie who attended her what she’d like to eat, said to her husband with her soft English lilt, “I trust you slept well, my lord.”
    “Indeed, my lady,” he replied with a polite nod. “I slept gey fine, though I confess I did not reach my bed until after midnight.”
    Rosalie said with concern, “Could you not sleep before then, Father?”
    “I had important duties to attend, lassie.”
    Meg said, “Duties in the middle of the night, sir?”
    Turning to his wife, he said, “Madam, your daughters display unwarranted curiosity about their father’s business. Surely, ye’ve explained to them that well-bred young women do not pry into the affairs of others.”
    “I shall explain it to them again, sir, but I own, I am as curious as they are. The only duty that might keep you so late when we have no visitors would be reivers. However, I heard none of the din that usually accompanies a raid.”
    He smirked, saying, “That, madam, is because my men and I were waiting for them. Having suspected the scoundrels meant to raid my herd, I’d buried two score men in the nearby heather. We captured their leader and six of his rabble. I’ll wager ye canna guess who that leader is.”
    “Who, Father?” Amalie asked.
    Sir Iagan frowned at her. “I was not speaking to you.”
    “No, sir, but how else can we know? Is he in the dungeon?”
    Pride in his victory overcame his annoyance, for his chest swelled as he said, “I have all seven of the thieving devils locked up. And, by heaven, I mean to introduce them to my hanging tree as soon as I’ve broken my fast.”
    He may have thought the subject of the leader’s identity thus closed, but Meg knew their mother was as curious as she was and looked expectantly at her.
    Deftly, Lady Murray used the point of her knife to spear a slice of meat from a platter and transfer it to her trencher. As she tore the meat apart delicately with two fingers, she said, “Do you mean to make me guess the leader’s name, sir?”
    “Ye’d never do it, for it will astonish ye to learn that he is of gentle birth. I recognized him at once. So would ye have done, had ye seen him.”
    She frowned. “I doubt I could know any man who steals cattle for a living.”
    “Still, I must suppose ye’ve seen him, for he’s young Wat Scott, Buccleuch’s eldest son. Even if ye canna recall his face, ye’ll ken his family.”
    “The Laird of Buccleuch? But he is a man of considerable wealth!”
    “Aye, so we’ll see if his young Wattie dares to identify himself. Not that I care if he does or not. We caught them all red-handed, and I mean to hang every one of them. Fetch me more ale, lad,” he called to a passing gillie.
    Lady Murray returned her attention to her food for some moments before she said musingly, “Does young Scott have a wife, sir?”
    “None that I ken.