The Tweedie Passion Read Online Free PDF

propriety.
    'I think he cut me badly,' Robert was rubbing at himself.
    'You will have the luck next time,' I wondered if I should offer to check his wounds, decided that I had better not look at that part of him and offered him my arm for support instead.
    'He ran too fast for me to catch him,' Robert said. He limped at my side. I saw his father and my mother talking as the men of Lethan dismounted and discussed the late encounter with rough laughter and much exaggeration. To hear them talk you would think they had won a major battle rather than merely chase a bunch of young callants away from the door.
    'Come on, Robert,' I knew that Mother and Archie of Whitecleuch were discussing Robert's recent participation in the action. I wished he had acquitted himself better although I knew he had at least tried. He had proved himself to be no coward, even although he had been bested in single combat. I took Robert to one of the chambers upstairs and eased him onto the bed. He lay there, face down and giving the occasional piteous groan. I thought his wound must be causing him considerable pain and wondered what was best to do. I was loath to leave him yet unsure if I could help by remaining.
    'Well then!' Mother bustled in, all decision and authority. 'How is he?'
    'Not well,' I said, part aggrieved that Mother should interfere and part relieved she was there for if anybody knew what to do, Mother would. 'Robert's wounded,' I said, looking at her hopefully.
    'I saw,' Mother did not waste time. 'Lie still and let's have a look at you,' she said and without hesitation dragged Robert's breeches down past his knees.
    'Mother!' I was not sure whether to be shocked, surprised or something else as I had a sudden look at Robert's haunches all delightfully bare for my inspection. I looked, expecting to see a huge open wound gushing out blood. Instead there was a faint weal, slightly red and with the skin only broken in one place.
    'Oh tcha!' Mother tutted. 'Oh your poor wee soul.' She stepped back, shaking her head. 'I am surprised you are able to walk at all after enduring that.' She surprised me with an expansive wink. 'Do you think he will survive?'
    'Is it that bad?' Robert spoke over his shoulder, trying to squint backward to view the injured part of him.
    'Oh bad!' Mother shook her head again. Suddenly tutting again, she looked at me. 'I've seen worse in an infant! Now get up and get along with you.' She turned away in disgust. 'And you, Jeannie, can see now why Robert Ferguson is not right for you. A woman needs a man, not a greeting little boy.' For one horrible moment I thought that mother was about to slap him as he lay there, but she resisted the obvious temptation and instead hustled me outside the door. 'I do wish you would find a man,' she said.
    Tempted to sneak back and watch poor Robert hauling up his breeches, I knew that Mother would not approve and instead walked into what we fondly called the Great Hall, from where a jubilant noise was emanating.
    In case you have never been in the great hall of a border tower, pray allow me to describe it for you. As I have already explained, Cardrona Tower was no larger than many others in the Borders, a solid, four storey, whinstone built lump of masonry that would withstand the wind and weather for many centuries unless the English or some reiving band took crowbars or cannon to it. With walls some five feet thick, the interior was necessarily cramped, making the great hall a little less than great although it did extend the full width and length of the building.
    With a vaulted ceiling above and straw covering the slabbed floor below, logs crackling in the fireplace and tapestries on the walls, the room was packed with men and women, children and dogs, all laughing at their victory over the raiders and lauding their own parts in the proceedings. A piper enlivened the proceedings with his Border pipes until Mother sent him on his way with a cuff to the back of his head.
    'It is