The Border Hostage by Virginia Henley Read Free Book Online Page A

Dacre sat at the head of the table with Lady Elizabeth Kennedy and her daughter, Beth, on his right. Though Raven was too far away to hear their conversation, she observed Dacre's cordial manner to Elizabeth Kennedy and watched that lady simper and bask in his attention. Raven's eyes flicked over Beth Kennedy, dismissing her as a sweet little nonentity. She would have been astounded had she known the fierce arguments the young girl had precipitated.
    Lady Kennedy and Beth had traveled from Castle Doon at the Scottish port of Ayr to Carlisle aboard a Kennedy merchant vessel. Ever since the Scottish defeat at Flodden, Elizabeth Kennedy had made no secret of the fact that she wanted an English husband for her daughter Beth. The face of Rob Kennedy, Lord of Galloway, had turned a congested purple when his wife had received the Dacres' invitation and uttered the blasphemous words“Christopher Dacre would be a perfect match for our daughter Beth.”
    “God's passion, woman, nothin' good ever came up from England!”
    Kennedy's imposing bulk and his loud, grating voice usually intimidated his wife, but that day she was foolish enough to protest indignantly, “Rob, I am English.”
    “I'm relieved ye take my point, Lizzie! The bloody English have attacked my vessels, stolen my precious wool, killed my king along wi' my youngest son and a hundred other Kennedys at Flodden, and yet my wife has the gall tae suggest a match between my wee lass an' the son of the bastard who is now Head Warden of the English Marches.”
    It was too painful for Elizabeth to speak of the loss of her son Davey. She blamed her husband for allowing such a young boy to go to war. “You know very well that Thomas Dacre was a good friend of my family in Carlisle.”
    Rob Kennedy's face turned a deeper shade of purple when he heard his usually docile wife answer him back. “Too bad ye didn't
wed
Thomas bloody Dacre, an' save me from a life of purgatory, listenin' tae yer whining an' yer tears!”
    “You have run roughshod over me for years, Rob Kennedy, and I have always been a dutiful and complacent wife to you. But when it comes to the happiness of my precious daughter, I intend to stand up to you. You are nothing but a coarse bully. Perhaps I shall stay in Carlisle permanently!”
    “Is that a threat or a bloody promise?” Rob roared. “Ye're no' the only one who can make threats, Lizzie. If Beth gets no dowry, ye'll see how fast Thomas bloody Dacre betroths his heir tae her!”
    The altercation between Thomas Dacre and his heir, Christopher, had been a little less fierce. Dacre knew his son was willful as himself and that bullying tactics would not work. “The Kennedy girl's father is rich as Croesus, and her mother is an old friend of the family.”
    “But the girl herself has the looks and personality of an oatcake. I prefer a little gilt on my gingerbread, Father,” Chris Dacre argued.
    “I'm not blind, Chris. I am well aware of Raven Carleton's beauty and her tempting pair of titties, but Beth Kennedy's dowry will provide a thick layer of honey to sweeten the plain oatcake.”
    “Not sweet enough for me to lick! Besides, Raven Carleton is English, while Beth Kennedy is Scottish.”
    “Beth Kennedy is half English,” Lord Dacre pointed out.
    “Which half?” Christopher drawled. “The top or the bottom? Father, you could have married Elizabeth Kennedy, but you didn't! You lost your heart to a raven-haired beauty and carried her off. You are the last person on earth to advise me to wed for money.”
    “Christ almighty, Christopher, try to think with your brains instead of your prick. A wealthy wife's money will allow you to have as many exotic beauties as you want in your bed.”
    “I want only one at a time, Father; I'm not greedy.” “I warrant you are, if you're anything like me.” Dacre's eyes narrowed. “Women are like horses, Christopher.” “Because we ride them?”
    “Because you have to let them know who's master, and you