CHAPTER FOUR – RENDEZVOUS

Arkholm, Roxburghshire

Abigail had spent the three days since Alasdair and his guests had left for Edinburgh prowling the tower like a wildcat caught in a pitfall trap. The rooms were getting smaller, as though the walls were closing in. She had conducted so many conversations in her head, with herself, with Kane, that she had started to believe some of them were real. She had told herself that this was an infatuation that would pass. A flight of fancy, a daydream brought on by loneliness and an emptiness that had crept inside her now that Clarke was grown. She was a woman in search of something she had lost, if indeed she had ever had it to begin with. Two or three times a day she argued against meeting him, listed all the reasons why it was such a bad idea. When she woke on the seventh day to a pale sky, and a warm sun beaming into her chamber, she knew she was going to go to the loch. Sinclair had gone to Edinburgh with Alasdair; there was no one to prevent her.

Abigail chose her simple green dress again and added her cloak for warmth as she would be out most of the day. Blake the groomsman had prepared the horse and as soon as breakfast was over she went out into the barmkin.

"Harper asked me to give you this, Mistress." Blake handed her a cloth which contained cold meats and a tart left over from the banquet. She had persuaded Harper to obtain the food from the kitchen without Hannah noticing and the maid had clearly been successful. Abigail wasn't sure when Kane would arrive, and she might get hungry. If he was early, then they could share the food as they had his cheese and oatcakes last sevenday.

"Thank you, Blake. I should be back this afternoon."

"Very good, Mistress. Mr Sinclair has sent word he is to return before dark."

"Then I shall return long before then. We wouldn't want to worry Sinclair, would we?"

"No, Mistress. It is best he is not worried." Blake nodded at her and Abigail looked at him. Did he know something? His dark eyes were unreadable. Abigail was struck by how alike he was to Kane, with his dark wavy hair and deep brown eyes. Much younger, though, and darker-skinned. She nodded in return as Blake opened the gate and she was once more out on the hills, free, for a few hours at least.

Kane was not at the loch when she arrived, so Abigail perched on the same rock she had sat on at their last meeting, and settled down to wait for him. The sun slowly arced across the sky and when it was due south over the shimmering River Tweed in the far distance, Abigail knew it was midday. Kane had said they would wish each other good morning, and now that time had gone. She told herself there were any number of reasons why he might be late. She would have to be patient, but that had never been her strongest suit. To make the time go more quickly she decided to explore the loch. Even though she had visited it hundreds of times over the last ten years there was always something new to discover. It was more of a lochan than a true loch, small and shaped like a fried egg that had run in the pan, all ragged edges and hidden crevices. The green stalks of bog bean and flag iris carpeted the shallows. There was a small grassy island off centre and Abigail had swum to that many times over the years. She loved lying on the island, staring up at the clouds, surrounded by the grey-blue waters. The loch was her domain, her kingdom.

She wasn't going to swim out there now, though, not with Kane expected any moment. She contented herself with searching the grassy banks for signs of herbs she could collect next summer when they bloomed again. Only the sharp call of a lapwing disturbed the silence, a loud "peewit, peewit" that so defined the wetlands and pastures in the summer. Abigail looked around for the bird, finally spotting it at the edge of the loch, searching for insects. She was surprised it had not yet flown to the coast. Maybe it was resting on its journey, feeding to sustain the rest of its trip. That thought made her realise she hadn't eaten and she was hungry. She looked up at the sky. The sun was heading inexorably westwards. She would have to leave soon otherwise she wouldn't make it back before dark, and Sinclair's return.

Abigail ate some of the cold meat and pondered why Kane had not kept their rendezvous. He had seemed so sure about meeting her again. She had been the one with doubts; she had never for a moment thought that he would not be there. She hoped nothing had happened to him; he led a dangerous life, anything was possible. Maybe he was on another raid somewhere, or his pony was injured. Maybe he simply didn't want to see her, had decided the game wasn't worth playing. As hard as that thought was to countenance, she wished it to be true, because the alternatives involved trouble, or worse. She wrapped the meat up and retraced her steps back to Juno. The horse was cropping the grass, without a care for what Abigail was feeling.

"This is all for the best anyway, my lady," she said to the horse.

She had one foot in the stirrup, biceps tensing ready to pull herself up onto the horse, when she heard rustling in the trees. She lowered herself again just as Kane came into view, his pony breathing heavily, misting the air. They stopped a short distance from her and Kane slid out of his saddle with a sideways roll and landed in a heap on the ground. He didn't move. Abby ran over to him, fear building like a fire inside her, making her forget everything she had been concerned about. He was lying on his side, his back to her, one leg tucked beneath him. She knelt on the ground next to him and rolled him onto his back, afraid of what she would see. His eyes were closed, his face covered in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. She brushed some of it out of his eyes with shaking fingers. He was breathing, though, chest rising and falling at a gallop.

"Kane?"

He groaned. She felt relief mixed with the fear. If someone's in pain, they're alive at least. Unsure what to do for the best, she began checking him for injuries, slowly running her hands down his arms, unbuttoning his jacket, easing it open. There was blood on his white shirt. A lot of it.

"Abby?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Ye're here. I thought I was too late." He tried to sit up and groaned again.

"I waited for you. Don't try to sit up yet. What has happened to you? Are you wounded? There's blood on your shirt."

"Not all of it is mine."

"Let me see." Abby helped him slip his arms out of his jacket. His shirt was stained a deep red all down his left arm and across the front. She loosened the ties. "Can you lift your arm?"

Kane managed to raise his arm to chest height and she pulled the shirt up and over his head. He had a strip of cloth tied around his chest and another one around his arm. Both were filthy and stained with blood.

"Someone has helped you?"

"Aye. Raven."

Abby was confused. "A raven?"

Kane nodded. Abby felt his forehead. He was hot but she thought that was from the exertion of riding and not a fever. Clarke had a fever when she was small and Abby remembered that the heat had poured out of her, so hot she didn't even need to touch her to feel it. It was a frightening time. Kane was nothing like that.

Abby unwrapped the cloths and inspected the wounds. His left arm had a diagonal gash from his elbow to his wrist. It wasn't deep but it had bled a lot. It was oozing again now that she had removed the dressing. His chest was covered in blood, mostly dried and she couldn't see what was coming from where.

"I'm going to clean this up. Lie still."

She took the strips of cloth and untied her pouch from her saddle. It was made from deer hide and was waterproof. She cleaned as much of the blood out of the cloths as she could and filled her pouch with water from the loch. When she returned to Kane she hung one of the cloths in the tree to dry and used the other to clean the blood from his chest.

Kane flinched as she put the cold cloth on him. He reached for her hand, held it still. "Ye don't have tae do this."

"Who else is going to do it? Your raven?" Abby ran the cloth over his chest and down to the waistband of his kilt, which hung low on his slim hips. She tried not to look at his bare skin, feel the hard muscles that flexed beneath it as she cleaned him. He was so lean she could count his ribs, feel his heart beating fast beneath them. Alasdair had a rich diet and spent most of his time sitting and this had taken its toll on his body over the years. Looking at Kane, she could see one reason why he was called the Grey Wolf; he was powerful and slender, all muscle and sinew, primed for movement, poised for the hunt.

"Are ye cleaning me, or staring at me?"

Kane's voice shook Abby out of her reverie. She realised her hand was motionless on Kane's stomach. Embarrassed, she rinsed the cloth and dipped it in the fresh water, anything so that she didn't have to look at him.

"I beg your pardon. I was. Distracted." There was nothing else she could say, no excuse she could think of, so she was silent.

Kane changed the subject. "I don't think the chest wound is too bad. The sword only grazed there."

"You were in a sword fight? Have you been," she hesitated. "Have you been out on the road again?"

"Ye could say that. Here, let me." Kane took the cloth from her and wiped the rest of the blood from himself in two quick swipes. "See." He showed her the small wound. It was deeper than a graze but had stopped bleeding. It certainly wasn't enough to cause all the blood that was on him. "The other man did not fare so well."

He sat up and Abby helped him move so that his back was against a tree for support. She rinsed the cloth and his shirt in the loch and hung them on the tree. There was still some warmth in the day to hopefully dry them.

"It would be best if you let the air into the wound. It will help it start to heal. I know of some herbs that will aid your recovery." She started to leave but Kane reached up and grabbed her hand.

"Sit with me a while, first. I have come a long way to see ye."

Abby sat on the grass opposite him, resting against a boulder.

"How were you injured?"

"A lot has happened since last we met. I have been to Newcastle."

"Newcastle?" Abby had never been south of the border as it currently stood, but she had heard of Newcastle. It was a large town and a long way from Arkholm.

"Aye. We pulled off a raid, Abby. It was so daring ye will hear all about it I am certain."

"Ballads are being composed as we speak, no doubt."

Kane laughed, and then groaned, his hands going to his ribs. "Pray, do not make me laugh. It hurts my ribs."

"I did not mean to make you laugh."

"No, but ye do." He rubbed his chest with his good hand. "We nearly got away, but there was one man. I had no choice; it was him or me."

Abby was surprised he should be concerned as to what she thought of him fighting. It was not as if she didn't know he had killed people. Two of her own guards were dead because of his men, though not by his hand.

"You were wounded during the raid in Newcastle? When did this happen?"

"Last night."

"Last night?" Abby could not keep the astonishment out of her voice. How had he got from Newcastle to Arkholm so quickly? He must have sensed her unspoken question, because he answered it.

"I rode through the night, and half the day."

"To see me?"

"Aye. I said I would."

Abby was at a loss to know what to do with this information; a whirlpool of emotions was circling through her, topmost being guilt. She had thought him unwilling to meet her, when all along he was riding like the wind, injured and bleeding, all to be here for her. It was too much to take in. Then she realised something.

"You must be hungry. I have some food." She went over to Juno and brought back the cloth with the meat and tart. She unwrapped it and gave the meat to Kane. He ate it so quickly it must barely have touched the sides.

"Ye have saved me, Abby."

"There's a tart as well." She showed it to him.

"What is it?"

"Blaeberry. They are fresh on the hillside at the moment. I picked them myself."

She handed the tart to Kane, and he broke it in two, holding one half towards her. She shook her head. "You need it more than me."

"I cannae eat all that, Abby. I'm not used to it."

Abby took the smaller half. "Thank you."

Kane munched on the tart, smiling with appreciation as he ate. "Ye like picking yer herbs, don't ye. How do ye know which ones will heal me?"

"My grandmother knew all of the plants about here. When I was a young girl she would bring me out in the hills and teach me which ones would heal and which could be eaten."

"Have ye had much chance to practice? I can't imagine too many wounded reivers come to ye for help."

Abby smiled. "I have never treated a reiver before, no, but my daughter, when she was small. She was adventurous, always getting hurt. I would do my best for her. I had to be careful, though."

"Why?"

"Healing is seen as witchcraft if women do it. Why the herbs heal is not understood, and people believe it is magic. It is, I suppose."

"We have a healer, amongst our group, a man named Jackson. He is not as pretty to look at as you."

Abby ignored his flattery. "I have a collection of plants, near the tower. I have transplanted them from other places on the hills." She leaned in towards Kane. "They are in a secret place. No one knows about it, not even my husband." She didn't know why she had lowered her voice as she told him this; it wasn't as though there was anyone else within miles of them to overhear.

"Yer husband." Kane grimaced.

"You do not like him?"

"Do thee?"

"He is my husband. It is of no consequence to you whether I like him or not."

"Come on, Abby. Ye're with me, here. Ye can tell the truth."

"I don't know you."

"No, and yet ye are here."

Abby ate another piece of the tart, using it to avoid having to speak to him for a few moments while she gathered her thoughts. She decided to change the conversation, turn it round to him.

"May I ask you something?"

"If ye wish."

"You are a nobleman, or you were, and yet your speech is more like that of the shepherds and farmers than a Laird. You must not always have spoken thus. You do not mind me asking?"

Kane smiled. "I do not mind. I have been with The Hundred a few years. I have taken on their way of speaking, I suppose. It helps me to fit in, and distance myself from my past. It feels natural to me now."

Abby's heart began to beat faster at the mention of his past. This would be the perfect time to ask him about his brother's wife, if she dared. Her mouth was suddenly dry. She stared at him, trying to work up the courage.

"What is it, Abby? What do ye really want to know?"

He knew what she wanted to ask, she could tell. He was biting the edge of his bottom lip, looking at her with a slight frown on his face. She took a deep breath.

"I have heard tales of you."

Kane nodded. "Aye, there are many."

"Yes. There is one in particular, about how you came to be cast out of your father's house."

Kane did not reply. He was not going to make this easy for her she realised.

"They say you brutalised your brother's wife." The words came out in a rush, each one falling over the previous so that she wasn't sure if she had even made sense.

"And ye want to know if I did?"

She nodded.

"I told ye I would never defile a woman. I've told ye that twice now."

"I know."

"And yet ye don't believe me."

"I want to. I want to believe you, but it must have been something terrible, Kane. You lost everything."

"Aye, I did." He took a deep breath. "The rumours are true, in one respect. I was cast out for that reason."

Abby stopped breathing for a moment as she listened. Her heart became heavy, sinking down into her stomach like a rock cast into the water.

"I did not do it. Ye must believe that."

Abby's words were like dust in her mouth. "If you did not do it, why did your father not believe you?"

"Because I confessed to it."

Abby was too stunned to speak. Her lips tried to form words but no sound came out.

Kane answered her unspoken question anyway. "I cannot tell ye why. Ye must trust me that it was for a good reason."

Abby couldn't think what possible reason could lead a man to confess to something he didn't do, an act as vile as this was, knowing that he would lose everything, maybe his life. She was more confused now than before she had asked him about it.

Kane leaned towards her, took her hand in his. "Do ye trust me, Abby?"

She looked at him, this man she knew so little about, at his dirty, sweaty hair, his old scars and new wounds. He was a thief and a killer. Bedding women was an amusement to him. All her instincts should be telling her to run as far from him as possible. There was only one answer she could give.

"I do."

Kane squeezed her hand, then sat back against the tree and closed his eyes. "I knew ye would."

Their conversation seemed to have been the final straw for an exhausted Kane and he fell asleep as soon as he had said those words. Abby left him to rest and walked around the loch, hunting for the herbs that would help to heal his wounds. She found comfrey and a few late-flowering St John's Wort plants on the far bank of the loch. While Kane slumbered on she searched his saddle bags and found a tin pot and his fire-making kit. She built a small fire, filled the pot with water and boiled it. Some of the water she poured onto the comfrey to make a poultice and the rest she left on the fire, adding the St John's Wort leaves to make a potion. She sat on a rock, staring at the fire, and thought about Kane. No matter how she tried, she couldn't think of a reason why he would confess to defiling his brother's wife when he hadn't, and the wife must have allowed him to take the blame, knowing all along it wasn't him. Why would she do that? Nothing about the whole matter made any sense, but she had to trust him, as he had said. Perhaps one day he would trust her enough to tell her the truth.

She was sitting next to him, weaving the thin, flexible branches of the willow into a cross shape, when Kane finally awoke. She was lost in her task, so the first moment she realised he was awake was when he spoke to her in a low voice still thick with sleep.

"What are ye doing?"

She looked up at him, and smiled. "Nothing. Just biding time."

"Let me see."

She handed him the cross. "My grandmother taught me how to make them. I'm not very good." She laughed.

He turned the small cross over in his hands. "It has a charm."

"I know what that means. It is terrible." She reached for it, but he held it away from her.

"I should like to keep it."

"What on earth for?"

"Perhaps it will bring me luck." He laid the cross to his right-hand side, out of her reach.

Abby looked up at the darkening sky. Time had slipped away and if she didn't leave soon she would be riding in the dark. Sinclair would be back, and he would be wondering what had happened to her.

"I have made you a potion, from the St John's Wort. It will stop your wound from becoming inflamed. Drink some while I bandage your arm." She handed him the tin pot wrapped in leaves so it would not burn him.

"Thank ye, Abby. Ye have been too kind."

"It is the least I can do, after you rode all this way."

The comfrey leaves had been steeping in the water in her pouch while he was asleep and now she squeezed the liquid out of them and pounded them against a rock using a rounded stone.

"I don't have any beeswax or oil so I can't make a salve but this will protect you and help the wound start to heal while you get back to your camp. Hold your arm out as straight as you can."

Kane did as she asked and she laid the make-shift poultice along the gash in his arm, pressing down as gently as she could on the wound. He gasped, nevertheless.

"It stings, I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It doesn't sting as much as the blade that caused it."

Abby wrapped the cloth back around the wound and tied it off to keep it tight. Next, she examined the wound in his chest, peering in closely, pressing the edges with delicate fingers to see if it would still bleed. She heard Kane take a deep breath, felt the slow exhale of air tickle the back of her neck as he breathed out again. She raised her head. She was only a few inches from his face.

"Did that hurt?"

He shook his head. "No. It was not that."

There was silence, but it was as though a whole conversation was being had, made of gossamer words that could neither be heard nor seen, and yet were heavier than all the stars in the sky. Abby couldn't breathe beneath their weight.

She had to break the spell. "I must leave. It will be dark soon. I don't think you need to bandage your chest. If it starts to bleed again, a dressing will not make any difference." She took his shirt from the tree; it had dried but was stained pink from where she could not get all the blood out. She helped him stand and put the shirt on, and then his jacket, sliding the damaged arm in gently first.

He took her hand as she was buttoning up the jacket. "Will I see ye again?"

She did not dare look into his eyes. "Yes. I expect you will."

"When?"

He was still holding her hand up against his chest, forcing her to stay close to him, barely a breath of wind between them.

"My daughter is visiting, so I will be busy. When she is gone, perhaps. On the fifth day."

"Five days from now. It will be a long wait. Thank ye for taking care of me. Ye are a wonderful medic." He kissed the back of her hand and then released her. Abby stepped back; she didn't want him to hear how loudly her heart was beating, how fast her breaths were coming.

She gathered up her things, fastened her pouch onto Juno's saddle, and then a thought came to her, a memory from the other night. She turned back.

"Kane."

"Aye?"

"My husband means to have you arrested. He has threatened your life. Because of the raid."

"Did you tell him I had ye?"

Abby lowered her eyes. "I did not tell him you didn't. I'm sorry."

"That was the right thing to do, Abby. Please, do not worry about it, or me. I am wanted throughout the Borders. 'Tis nothing new."

Abby shook her head. "You do not know him. He means what he says. He has spoken in public about it. He will not be shamed."

Kane came towards her, put his hand on her shoulder, leaned in close. "I know ye are fearful, but do not be. He does not know me. I will not be taken by the likes of him."

Abby nodded, though she was not convinced. Alasdair had a ruthless determination that she suspected even Kane's arrogant confidence would not be a match for. She put her hand atop his.

"Be careful."

He nodded. "Now go, before ye get into more trouble."

Abby mounted her horse and urged her on as fast as she could up the steep slope of the hill. The sun had started to bleed into the horizon; she would have to ride hard to make it back to the tower before dark.