April Moon

by Merline Lovelace

  “Do what you can.” Simon glanced toward the sky. “Those smugglers have something planned, and I mean to know what it is.”

  “Aye, then. We’ll come back to the lookout point near the Kelpie’s Cave. Do ye know it?”

  “I do,” Simon said, and turned the stallion’s head to ride after Jenny, while Bryson and the dragoons headed northeast.

  The girl proved easier to catch this time, for her cart was proceeding at a more sedate pace. When Simon pulled up alongside once again, she glanced at him in surprise, then scowled.

  “Have you nothing better to do, Sir Simon?”

  “Miss Colvin, Glendarroch is to the north. You’re heading south,” he said pleasantly.

  “It’s none of your concern where I’m going.”

  “If you’re angry about the search, I don’t blame you. But Bryson was twitching to see what you keep under your skirts.”

  “Then I suppose I should thank you for doing the gentlemanly thing,” she snapped, looking ahead as she drove the cart.

  “You’re welcome. Now tell me where you’re going and why.”

  “I’m going about my own business and you can go about yours.”

  “I am going about mine,” he pointed out.

  “Surely you have real brigands to catch. You needna prance after me all night.”

  “Ah, Miss Colvin. Even more full of charm than I remember.” He reached out and took Sweetheart’s bridle again, slowing the cart and horse. While Jenny stared at him, he dismounted, tied his horse’s lead to the back of the cart, and climbed inside to sit on the bench beside her. He took the reins from her hands.

  “What is it you want?” she asked irritably.

  “To escort you safely home. There are naughty men about in the night.”

  “And you’re one of them. Hey, stop that—I willna go home,” she protested, as he snapped the reins to turn the bay’s head north for the hills that edged the Solway plains.

  “I might be persuaded to escort you wherever you’re going, if you’ll tell me your business.”

  “I doubt it.” She folded her arms.

  “Trust me,” he said, leaning a shoulder toward her.

  She flashed him a fuming glance in silence.

  “Aye, well. You have a right to be perturbed with me.”

  “I do. The way you left was…villainous.” She lifted her chin and looked away.

  Simon glanced at her. In the moon’s pale glow, he saw deep hurt glimmer in her eyes, and he felt the blow of it in his own heart. Perhaps it was only what he deserved, but he could see that his intention of making amends would be a long road.

  He watched her almost hungrily in the blue-gray light. God, how he had missed her, he thought. She took his breath with her simple yet uncommon beauty. Delicately balanced features, eyes of a keen and lovely blue, the gleaming sweep of dark brown hair spilling over her shoulder in a single loose braid matched the memories he had kept close. She had changed only a little, leaner in the face, her form lush perfection. His quick search of her body earlier had proven that—and had nearly undone him.

  Being with her nearly undermined the restraint and reserve he strived to keep about himself. For years, he had loved her and dreamed of her, and now he saw that her beauty and spirit had blossomed. The earnestness and honest intelligence he loved in her, the verve and strength he had always admired were still there. Her pride and temper still sparked, too.

  In the past, he had also known her compassion and gentleness, and he had the knack of making her laugh when she was overly serious. But he would be hard pressed to coax a smile or a kind word from her tonight, he knew.

  All he wanted, suddenly, was to see her smile again. Aware of the hurt he had dealt her, and knowing she was heartbroken and distressed over her father’s situation, he sighed.

  “Jenny,” he said. “I did not mean for it to happen quite as it did. I had my reasons, but I can’t explain now, out here, with rascals about in the night.”

  “I dinna want your explanation. I want—” She tossed her hands as if she had not yet decided.

  “I think you want to be angry with me.”

  “Aye, for now. And then I want to forget you.”

  “I have not forgotten you.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Why did you come back, Simon?”

  “To gauge the whisky and count the copper coils in the hills, of course,” he said lightly. “To patrol the hills and cliffs at night, and stop rogues and smugglers from making tracks through the laws of king and Crown.” And to find the friends and the winsome lass I lost, he added to himself.

  “You used to make tracks through the king’s laws yourself, and gladly.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve reformed.”

  “So have I,” she said. “I’m no longer a foolish wee lass eager to believe in bold, bonny Simon Lockhart.”

  “I cannot blame you for that.”

  “Then we agree on something.” She looked away, her gaze scanning the hills, black silhouettes against the purpling sky, with the luminous moon shining above a veil of clouds.

  “Will you be collecting the copper coils wherever you can find them, to disable the stills?” she asked.

  “Aye, some,” he said. “I will have rangers to assist me.”

  “I expect you’ll offer to pay five pounds per coil, so that the locals will turn them in. Bryson and the other excise officer have done that here.”

  “Aye, the revenue board wants that. Though I suspect that every man with a worn-out coil turns his own in, collects the fee, buys a new coil with the money and moves his still for good measure.” He lifted a brow.

  “I have no idea,” she said, while Simon chuckled.

  “Jane Colvin,” he said, using her christened name with mock sternness, “be honest, now. How many coils has Jock turned in?”

  “Several every year from his own stills, which you will never find, for we willna cooperate with a gauger who is a traitor to us,” she said. “Is that honest enough for you?”

  “Painfully,” he replied.

  “Why did you leave without a word, without warning?”

  “I thought you did not want to know why.”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “I’ll tell you, but…not yet.” I left because I loved you that much, Jenny Colvin, and wanted to protect you, he thought to himself. And because I wanted to make a better life than smuggling for both of us. But now he must make his way carefully into her heart again. Love had sent him away, and so had pride. Though the love had sustained him, he battled the pride still.

  “Will you be there?” she asked softly.

  “Be where?” He glanced at her.

  “When my father—when they—the gallows are ready for tomorrow morning.”

  “I will be there,” he said. “I owe Jock that much. And you.”

  She lowered her head in silence.

  “I’m sorry, Jenny,” he said softly. Sorry for Jock and sorry for all my secrets.

  “’Tis wrong to hang a good man, even if he does a bit of free trading now and then. And he’s no horse thief.”

  “Jock told me the same. The sheriff says differently. What the devil—” He pulled up on the reins, slowing the cart as he looked ahead.

  A group of men rode toward them, ten or twelve in all, leading horses. Wondering if they were part of the group he had seen earlier, Simon put a hand beneath his coat to touch the polished wood-and-steel grip of his pistol.

  “Those are my kinsmen,” Jenny said.

  “Ah, Jock Colvin’s own. The Royal—what is it they call themselves?”

  “The Royal Defiance Bladder Band,” she said. “They were angry with the king’s laws at the time they made that up.”

  “And fou,” he drawled.

  “Very fou,” she agreed, and when he chuckled, she did, too. The sound warmed his heart. “They’re rather fond of Glendarroch whisky,” she went on. “After all, ’tis the best in Solway, and perhaps all Scotland.”

&nbs
p; “All four hundred ninety-nine gallons of it,” he drawled.

  “Tax-free,” she agreed blithely. Simon rolled his eyes.

  The man in the lead waved. “Jenny Colvin!”

  “Uncle Felix!” she called. Simon halted the cart as the men came nearer.

  “Jenny, what’s this? Ye shouldna be about in the moonlight. And what are ye doing wi’ my niece, sir?” Felix growled. He stepped forward, a large man with a craggy face and a dark beard.

  Simon nodded. “Felix Colvin, greetings to you.”

  “Lockhart! You’re back!” Felix grinned. “Alive, and returned to us! A miracle!” He turned to his kinsmen, cousins all, Simon knew, recognizing many of them. “Lockhart o’ Lockhart has come back at last!” Two or three smiled and greeted him, while the others frowned, unwelcoming and suspicious.

  “Hey, lads,” Simon said, though the cool reception of some of his former comrades bothered him more than he cared to show. Well, he told himself, it was part of the price he must pay to come back to Glendarroch and the Solway shores again.

  “Lass, take the cart home,” Felix said. “Simon, ye’ll come wi’ us, and tell us where ye’ve been, and join us this evening—”

  “Hush, Felix,” Jenny warned.

  “—we’re off for a wee bit o’ sport, as it were,” Felix continued.

  “A ship coming along the coast?” Simon asked.

  “Hush it, Felix!” Jenny said, more loudly.

  “Aye, a lugger from the Isle o’ Man, keen to trade French goods for fine Scottish whisky—and we plan to—”

  “He’s an excise man!” Jenny blurted.

  “Nahhh,” Felix said. “Simon? Nah.”

  “Actually, I am,” Simon agreed. “Chief Customs and excise officer, newly appointed to my commission.”

  “What?” Felix set his hand warily on a hidden dirk.

  “He’s not looking to arrest you,” Jenny said. “But do not be quick to share secrets with him.”

  “Aye,” Felix said grimly.

  Simon frowned. “If there’s a ship expected this evening, I’d like to know about it.”

  “Ship?” Felix asked. “Who said aught about a ship?”

  “Then what fine sport are you lads up to?” Simon asked.

  “We’re off to visit wi’ Jock,” Felix said. “’Tis all.”

  “Bringing him a hot toddy and a word of comfort, are you?”

  “Sure,” Felix agreed. He glowered at Simon. “I want to know how ye became a gauger, when we tutored ye in the free trade. And I want to know what happened that night ye disappeared wi’ Jock’s cargo. That was a blow to all of us.” He glanced at Jenny.

  “Circumstances,” Simon said. “One day I’ll explain.”

  “I might want to hear it,” Felix said, “or not. ’Twill depend on what sort o’ gauger ye prove to be. Jenny—take the cart back to Glendarroch and stay there. Simon, if that’s yer horse tied there, I recommend ye ride out. Sir,” he added, resting a hand on his dirk.

  “I’ll see Miss Colvin back to Glendarroch,” Simon answered.

  “I can see myself home,” Jenny said.

  “There’s rogues about,” Felix said. “Ye’ll go with Simon.”

  “But Felix,” she murmured, “I have something else to do.”

  Felix nodded, and a spark of awareness seemed to pass between uncle and niece. Simon was unsurprised that neither of them offered to enlighten the preventive officer.

  Simon lifted the reins of the cart, about to bid Felix farewell, when a lanky youth ran toward them, having dismounted while they spoke. Simon recognized him as Felix’s youngest lad and Jenny’s cousin, nearly grown to manhood. He approached the wagon, nodded shyly to Simon, and looked up at Jenny.

  “Nicky, what is it?” she asked.

  “Jenny, I wanted to tell you—” Nicky leaned toward her. “Walter and I saw the Beauty tonight! We came back and told Da, and he said none of us were to go near the cliffs tonight.”

  “The Beauty!” Jenny looked at her uncle. “What did you see?”

  “It was pale as the moon, running along the cliffs near the beach, just as high tide was coming in,” Nicky said. “I’ve never seen such a sight. A bonny horse, perfectly white—it near glowed with fairy magic. It reared up its forelegs, then galloped away and disappeared. Walter ran,” Nicky added. “But I stayed to watch. It galloped behind some rocks, and I saw it no more.”

  “Nicky, that’s amazing,” Jenny said. “Are you sure?”

  “Och, aye. A fine sight, but a bad omen.”

  “The Beauty?” Simon asked. “That old legend?”

  Jenny turned to him. “Do you remember the tale of the Beauty? A kelpie sort of creature, a white horse that sometimes appears out of the sea on the night of a full moon.”

  “Aye, generally before some catastrophe strikes. But it’s not seen often, as I recall.”

  “Not often,” Felix agreed. “But it appears now and again along our part of the Solway coast, and has for centuries. I’ve never seen it myself. ’Tis a poor omen indeed.” He glanced toward the full moon, nesting briefly in some high dark clouds. “Some poor soul will meet his fate this night. And it’s ill timing, too, what with the—well.” He stopped and glanced at Simon.

  “I saw a large group of men traveling earlier this evening, north of here,” Simon said. “About thirty men and twice as many horses, many of them sturdy pack animals with panniers on their backs. Free traders, certainly, to walk out so boldly at night. Were you lads with them?”

  “Them? Och, nay.” Felix shook his head. “That’ll be Cap’n MacSorley’s band. We worked beside them years back, when you were still wi’ us, Simon Lockhart—Sir Simon.”

  “So I recall,” Simon murmured. Angus MacSorley was of an age with Jock and Felix, and Simon had been part of many smuggling raids involving the three smugglers and their men.

  “MacSorley and his lot are more pirates than free traders these days. Jock and me have naught to do wi’ that band now.” Felix fixed Simon with a dark stare. “Do ye wonder if MacSorley had a hand in Jock’s plight? I’d say ’tis so.”

  “Have you proof?” Simon asked.

  “Not a whit, but I feel it in my bones. If ye’re the new preventive man here, then ye should follow that lot. They’ll keep ye and yer rangers busy enough.”

  “Too busy to follow you?”

  Felix grinned. “Could be. But I’m as sincere as my mother’s heart about this. Ye follow the Cap’n, and ye’ll find a man who hates Jock Colvin and wants the whisky trade to himself.”

  Simon nodded, considering. He glanced at Jenny. “If there’s anything to this, I intend to find out,” he said.

  “Please,” she said, her plaintive tone surprising him.

  “Ye’ll find them heading for the coast this night, I’d guess,” Felix said. “Should ye and yer rangers and dragoons stop them before they make their trades tonight—some of us would appreciate it.”

  “Trading under a full moon?” Simon asked.

  “Sometimes, though we dinna prefer it,” Felix answered. “If ’twere us, we’d hope ye’d look the other way. But them…well.”

  Simon handed Jenny the reins. “Go back to Glendarroch, Miss Colvin. I’ll see you there later. Nicky lad,” he said, addressing the young man. “See that your cousin gets home.” He climbed out of the cart, while Nicky clambered inside.

  Untying his horse’s lead, Simon leaped into the saddle and turned the black stallion to head for the cliffs and the coast. But something made him glance over his shoulder.

  Wide-eyed and lovely in the pale moonlight, Jenny watched him. She looked fragile somehow, vulnerable. He felt troubled, realizing that he was leaving her again without a word.

  He leaned down. “I’ll be back. I promise,” he told her. While she watched him in silence, he rode off.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ONCE SHE HAD PULLED the cart into a clearing edged by gorse and hawthorn trees, Jenny unbuckled Sweetheart’s harness. She tethered the mare to
a thorn branch not far from a narrow, fast-running burn that cut through the moor. Taking the lantern from the iron hook on the cart, she turned the wick down to a glow and lowered the punched-tin shutter.

  Having no intention of going home, she had asked Nicky to join his father’s group again, which the boy was glad to do. Then she had reminded her uncle that Jock had given her a task that night. Aware of this, Felix had agreed, waving her on her way after promising to meet her by the cliffs later to assist her.

  Glancing around, she saw no one else as she ran across an open expanse of turf. The moonlight was cool and eerie, and the sea surged loudly in and out of the estuary. Water foamed over the beach and the dark rocks that littered the sand, and gulls flocked overhead, crying out as Jenny neared the cliff edge.

  All her life, she had avoided these particular cliffs and caves. Legend claimed that the honeycomb of caves extended for miles beneath the moorland, and that they were haunted by otherworldly creatures. She remembered stories from childhood of the beautiful but terrifying sea kelpies that took the form of horses, as well as tales of mischievous fairies and even the ghost of a lost piper.

  Logic told Jenny that the caves were dangerous enough without supernatural help by virtue of the free traders who used them as smuggling caves. While Jock Colvin and his band did not stash their cargo in these caves—the fast-rising tides were too unpredictable—over the years many others had braved the tales and tides to leave smuggled goods in the Kelpie’s Cave.

  Remembering Nicky’s report of seeing the Beauty, the legendary white horse of the Solway shores, Jenny felt anxious for a moment. But she dismissed it as fancy—even she had seen, now and again, the illusion of white horses in the high, foamy waves that sometimes rushed to shore.

  The caves in these cliffs were her goal, and she would go forward despite trepidation. She had promised her father to look here for what had been taken from him.

  Fifty casks of Glendarroch’s finest whisky had been stolen out of Jock’s own storage caves farther along the coast. The casks would be worth a fortune in the south, where Glendarroch whisky was in high demand. Suspecting MacSorley had taken them, Jock had entrusted his daughter to discover the truth.