Part 43 (1/2)

”Are you a virgin?”

She couldn't stop blubbering long enough to answer, but Ridley didn't care. He touched her shoulder, leading her to the tent flap.

”Go home to your father, Alice.”

The girl's face was stricken as she stumbled from the tent. As soon as Gilford saw them he rushed forward, his face creased with misery. He took the girl's arm, turning her back toward Ridley. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her trembling lips turned down in an extremely unappealing manner.

”She does not please you? Tell me why and I'll do better next time.”

”Pay her and remove her from my sight-and pray do not promise women magical cures to coerce them into compromising themselves.”

He returned to the tent and paced the floor. d.a.m.n it all if he wasn't dead inside. The la.s.s was beautiful, young, fresh, and yet she'd stirred him not a bit. It was Mona. She'd bewitched him... ruined every other woman for him. He kicked the brazier over, scattering charred wood and embers across the carpet. He quickly stepped on them before it ruined the expensive weave. It was her-his stepmother-who made him do these things. She drove him to it.

He dreamed of her still. Before, they'd been dreams of lying with her, sinking himself into her soft white flesh while she moaned and writhed beneath him, the black silk of her hair twined about his wrists. But now... it was that Maxwell knight she'd run away with. He rutted on her and Ridley was helpless to do aught but watch. He would kill them all-every last Maxwell-for trying to thwart him.

But first Alexander Maxwell. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the missive off his table, reading the infantile request again. Fayth for the deed to Gealach. As if that piece of baggage was worth it. Carlisle was becoming something of a hindrance, wanting to at least discuss the possibility.

Ridley still hadn't decided how he would respond to Alexander's letter, but soon enough he would answer it with a sword in the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's throat.

He turned at the scratching on the tent flap. Gilford entered. Ridley was prepared to give him a tongue-las.h.i.+ng and perhaps even line his back, but Gilford was followed by another man bearing a familiar crest on his tunic.

”I come from His Grace, the Duke of Norfolk. The king has ordered troops a.s.sembled at York and your presence is required.” The messenger stepped forward, unrolling a parchment bearing the king's seal. Ridley's eyes skimmed it, unseeing. The man rolled it up and stepped back.

It was as if he were dreaming. He'd planned and worked, made alliances with sc.u.m not fit to lick his boots, was to marry a fat Scotswoman, all in preparation for this day. This event.

Ridley stared at the messenger in disbelief, the blood quickening in his veins. It begins. The Clachan Fala was not yet in hand, but that mattered not at all, as it soon would be. Ridley had no doubt of it. There was still time. Negotiations would begin in York. They would drag on for weeks. Yes, he still had time to finish this business. He must have the Blood Stone before the invasion-it would keep him from harm and bring him glory on the battlefield. With it the king would refuse him nothing.

”Tell His Grace I will be along as soon as I collect my men who search for my lost sister and send word to my brother.”

The messenger left. Ridley went to his writing desk. Wesley had been overlong on his latest task. Ridley quickly wrote his brother, detailing the situation and ordering him to wed Lady Anne by proxy and then return posthaste with his bride so he could bed the pig and be done with it. He then wrote another to Laird Johnstone. The Maxwells had many enemies, both English and Scottish, but besides the Grahams, their most vicious foe was their Scottish neighbors, the Johnstones. The Maxwells had been locked in deadly feud with them nearly as long as they'd been feuding with the Grahams. Because of this, Ridley had cultivated extremely useful friends.h.i.+ps with several Johnstone clans.

When his letters were off, he left his tent and ordered camp to be broken down. He was being dressed in his raiding attire when Carlisle burst into his tent.

”What's this business of attacking Gealach?”

”I am required in York and so the games must end.”

”No deal without the woman.”

Ridley whirled around, grabbing the old man by the front of his doublet. ”I have the matter in hand. She will be yours, as I've promised. Question me no more.” He released Carlisle with a push.

The man stumbled back, his face purple with indignation.

Ridley turned away from him. ”I have a man inside Gealach, working to free Fayth. Fash not.”

Carlisle grunted, momentarily mollified. ”Red Alex has more than enough men to defend Gealach.”

”I have the situation in hand.”

Carlisle's temper flared again, but he left, the strange fevered light still in his eyes. Ridley felt an unusual pang of unease for his sister, but pushed it away. It was no more than she deserved. She'd come uncomfortably close to ruining some of his plans. It was fitting punishment.