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the dead of night on their surefooted, deep-chested Border ponies. They had big saddles with pistols thrust into saddle holsters, and the mail-clad riders were equipped with very short spurs that would not prick their horses too deep. The raiders were enough to strike terror in the hearts of any foe unlucky enough to cross their path as they wreaked vengeance by burning and pillaging each of the Gordon holdings. It took a full eighteen months before he had covered every last one.
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 2
     
    At last the Cockburns were free to enjoy life again, without the constant threat of having to look over their shoulders for an enemy. Life settled back into its peaceful, normal routines. The Borders were dotted with spring lambs, then the sheep's winter coats were sheared and baled and stacked aboard a Cockburn vessel. At the end of May, Paris smuggled the wool across to Holland and returned with his hold filled with forbidden French brandy. The summer lay ahead with time for socializing and fun. The Borders would be peaceful now until the full autumn moon would see them out on their raids again.
    Damascus came into the huge family room, her cheeks flushed, partly from the exertion of rushing headlong up the castle staircase and partly from the exciting news she had to impart. "That was a messenger from Jean McDonald. They are giving a ball in Edinburgh, and we are all invited." She adored huge parties, secure in the knowledge she would be the prettiest girl present.
    "Oh, how lovely! Are they having it at their town house in Edinburgh?" asked Venetia, tucking in a curl of her upswept hair; then, without waiting for an answer, she demanded of Paris, "Why can't we have a town house in Edinburgh?
    Shannon remarked sweetly, "Because that would make life too simple and easy for us. It would eliminate that health-giving ride of nearly thirty miles. It would allow us to entertain our friends without their having to come to the ends of civilization to see us." She stood with hands on hips in a way that seemed to emphasize her voluptuous breasts.
    "That invitation doesn't include me, I hope," said Alexandria, patiently daubing some white concoction on her freckles. The last year and a half hadn't changed her much, except perhaps she had grown a couple of inches taller.
    "Uncle Magnus keeps a town house, why can't we?" demanded Venetia.
    "For Christ's sake, Venetia, you're like a dog worrying a bone. Let be!" said Paris shortly.
    "But why can't we?" she insisted.
    Exasperated, Paris explained, "You have put your finger on the reason. Magnus goes to the expense of keeping a town house all year round. You are free to use it whenever you have invitations into Edinburgh. How many times in a whole summer does that add up to? Three? Four?"
    "Magnus only keeps it for the convenience of his whore," Shannon remarked in her blunt way.
    Paris turned on her. "He has lived with Margaret Sinclair fifteen years; when will you stop referring to her as a whore?"
    "When he puts a wedding ring on her finger," stated Venetia.
    "She could have rings on every finger and every toe, and she'd still be a whore," stated Shannon flatly.
    Alexandria said to her twin brother in a low voice, "I'll bet Paris uses Magnus's town house for whoring."
    Paris said in a voice that was quietly dangerous, "Repeat that, Alexandria."
    "I said that I absolutely refuse to go to the McDonald's tatty old ball!" she asserted stubbornly.
    The brothers and sisters exchanged unbelieving glances as they burst into uproarious laughter. Paris wiped a tear from his eye.. "By God, Alexandria, you are the best liar of the bunch."
    "An achievement worthy of a Cockburn." Alexander bowed in homage to his twin.
    As Paris looked about the room, he realized that Damascus, Shannon. and Venetia were anticipating the ball because they were ready for husbands. Alexandria, at fifteen, wasn't quite interested yet. He shook his head in disbelief. They'd grown into women while he'd been preoccupied