by Amanda Scott
“Enough, my lord,” Dev said more curtly than he had intended. “Unless you order me to explain and give me good cause, I shall say no more about it.”
Wat raised his eyebrows, but his eyes gleamed now with humor. “Almost do you tempt me, Dev. I begin to suspect that you care more about our Robby than I knew.”
“She is Rab’s twin, and I promised him I’d look after her… and Benjy.”
He nearly added, “That’s all,” but the two words stuck in his throat.
Wat awarded him another long look but said only, “As I recall, you can give me a good game of chess.”
Surprised by the non sequitur and wondering if Wat was still talking about Robina, Dev cocked his head in silent query.
“The board is on that shelf behind you,” Wat said. “We can play here, or we can adjourn with the ale jug to the inner chamber and play in peace. We should have time for several games whilst this rain continues. But I warn you, my lad, I mean to leave as soon as it eases enough to keep us from drowning. It will not do to let Archie think too long.”
Dev got up to fetch the board and the chessmen. “It won’t help our cause if we arrive at the Black Tower looking like men dragged out of a loch, either,” he said as he set the board between them and handed the box of pieces to Wat.
“We’ll have plenty of time to clean up before he grants us an audience,” Wat replied amiably. “Archie likes to keep people waiting, especially men he views as competitors. It makes him feel more powerful.”
They enjoyed several chess matches and more than was good for them of Wat’s potent whisky before they retired Friday night. The rain continued to drench the countryside through Saturday night and into Sunday, and by Sunday morning, Wat had had a surfeit of inactivity.
“We’re leaving in an hour,” he said as he and Dev broke their fast soon after dawn.
The women had not stirred, but men in the lower hall had been up for some time. Several still sat at trestle tables, eating or quietly talking.
As a last effort, Dev said, “It’s Sunday. Archie may not agree to see us today.”
“He’ll attend Kirk in Hawick this morning, because the townspeople like to see him,” Wat said. “Besides, time is passing, and it is a splendid day to travel.”
Knowing they would be soaked long before they reached Hawick, Dev stifled a groan. He knew better than to argue, though, so they set out an hour later.
He was confident that Wat’s skills in any parley would win the day. His feelings about Archie’s likely decision to send him to Coklaw, however, remained mixed.
No sooner did that thought flick through his mind than an image appeared there of an elderly, stern-minded, even brutal Douglas knight ordering Robby around. That image made him growl loudly enough to earn a mocking grin from Wat.
“Do you think growling at this lovely, soft mist will diminish it?”
Giving himself a mental shake, Dev grimaced and said, “You’d be well served, my lord, if this mist of yours were to summon up a kelpie or two to drag you underwater.”
“You may hope, but I think you fear something other than rain or kelpies, my lad. I never thought I’d see the day that mere thought of a small female could make you quake in your—but nay, those are my boots you’re quaking in, and that will not do.”
Dev shook his head, seeing naught to gain by explaining that he’d reacted to his mental image of an angry Douglas knight harming her.
If anyone was going to teach Robby to behave…
Benjy had begun sneezing and coughing before dawn Friday morning, so Robina ordered him to stay in bed and kept him there until Saturday afternoon, when he rebelled. Then, ferreting out a Tables board and dice, she bundled him up by the solar wall above the hall fire, drew a table close, and taught him the basic moves for the simple French form of the game that Corinne had learned from her mother and taught to Robina and Rab.
Benjy soon revealed a natural gift for the game’s strategy.
During their fourth game, when Robina rolled a double four while his pieces blocked her fourth line, and he rolled a six to win, he crowed, “I thought I’d be years learning to beat you. ’Twas easy, though!”
“The luck of this game depends on the dice, laddie,” she said, as delighted as he was that he’d won. “Set your pieces again, and we’ll see how much you’ve learned.”
They played until the midday meal and again Sunday morning. That afternoon, he decided on his own to nap. Assuring herself that he had simply exerted himself too much the day before, Robina nevertheless sat with him for a time and realized only after he fell asleep that the heavy rain had eased to a drizzle.
The respite pleased her, and its timing would allow her to get out into the fresh air, if only long enough to retrieve the crockery jar she’d found.
The Douglas had welcomed Dev and Wat’s late-morning arrival cheerfully. “I hope ye’ve come to tell me that ye’ll provide men for Hermitage, sir,” he said to Wat.
“I can provide a score if you need them, my lord,” Wat replied.
Dev kept quiet and let Wat work his magic with Archie, hoping to learn more about the art of persuasion. Although he paid close heed, he learned only that Wat was persistent and could digest insults, pressure, and other such tactics without losing sight of his goal.
At midday, Archie said he would decide whilst he ate his dinner and that they should take theirs with their men in the hall until he summoned them.
An hour later, after a meeting so brief that they’d remained standing, Dev said to Wat as they and their men rode away from Hawick, “I heeded all that you said to Archie. But I still don’t know how you persuaded him. I was sure he’d say no.”
“It helps to know your adversary, and I know him well,” Wat said. “Like most bad leaders, Archie thinks first of his interest and only then of his men’s or his clan’s needs.”
“Even so, he often goes contrary to what anyone else suggests. Is that why you brought my father into it, to explain that it was his idea?”
“Partly,” Wat said. “But recall that Archie needs my lads at Hermitage, a fact of which I reminded him when I said I’d send the captain of my fighting tail with them. When Archie said you could lead them instead, that’s when I told him that your father had suggested you as the proper person to take charge of Coklaw. I spoke rather doubtfully…”
“So he might think you opposed that notion, yourself,” Dev said when Wat paused. “I see. I thought you were just echoing my own doubtful view of the matter.”
“Blethers,” Wat said flatly as they approached the Slitrig Water ford and drew rein. “Archie did not hesitate to command you to take charge as warden. Moreover, you are the best choice, Dev. We know that Robina will refuse to move, and Archie knows he cannot order her to go. He also knows that, by assisting him with his decision, I have accepted a stake in the outcome. So, don’t let me down, my lad, or I’ll cut out your liver.”
“So encouraging,” Dev said with a grimace. “I’m glad the rain has eased, because I’ll be spending my nights either with the men in the lower hall or, more likely, out in the stable until the lady Rosalie can come to us. You need not fear for Robina’s virtue, I promise you, even if her dragons, the Greenlaws, should disappear.”
“I’ll see that Rosalie arrives soon,” Wat promised. “In a day or two if the rain stops. That gives you time to warn Robby that she’s coming. In troth, though, I think I have more confidence in you than you do. Just be yourself, Devil, and don’t count the cost.”
They parted then, and Wat turned westward with his men toward Branxholm.
Dev didn’t lack confidence. He knew he could run Coklaw. He just hoped he could find a way to live peacefully with Robby… before she murdered him in his sleep.
Fetching Rab’s oilskin, her warm cloak, and a sturdy cloth sack, Robina put on her stoutest boots, donned her cloak and the oilskin, and went out into the yard. Although the drizzle continued, she could trust the oilskin to keep most of her dry.
Fearing she had little time before Benjy awoke and looked for her, she found Ratch and asked him to fetch her a shovel, a small pail, and a spade.
“Sakes, mistress, what d’ye want wi’ such t’day?”
“We are planting a tree for Master Rab on that rise southeast of here, and I want to see how much damage the rain has done to our hole. Benjy would finish the job today, but I want him well before he comes outside again, so I’d like to tell him that all is well. In troth, though, I fear the rain will have filled our hole up again. If it has, I must dig out what I can and protect it better, lest we get more rain.”
“Sakes, mistress, show me what ye need, and I’ll send a pair o’ lads to do it.”
“I cannot allow that, Ratch,” Robina said. “Sithee, the graveyard is too distant for Benjy to visit by himself, so we decided to plant a tree nearby to make Rab seem nearer, but we want to plant it ourselves. Just fetch me the tools. I shan’t be long.”
He nodded and, in minutes, she was listening to him shut the gate behind her.
As she had expected, rainwater filled the hole and had washed dirt and debris from her pile in with it. The damage was not as bad as she had feared it might be, though.
Kneeling on part of Rab’s oilskin and arranging the rest to keep the drizzle off her, she used the pail to scoop as much rainwater and soupy muck out of the hole as she could. Then, she spaded out the heavier mud until she reached her layer of pebbles.
The rain-washed air smelled crisp and bracing, so she took her time and was glad to be outside after days of confinement. In the end, she used her fingers to free the jar. When at last she wriggled a hand under its bottom end, its weight surprised her. The mud was reluctant to release it, but at last, with a sucking sound, it let go.
Only then did she see that the jar’s cap was tightly wired in place.
“Beany, don’t let anyone else see that until you discover what’s in it.”
“I know,” she murmured. “I just wonder how I’ll get that lid off.”
“Don’t use your dirk, and be careful. That wire looked rusty.”
The drizzle allowed her to wash off most of the muck, but nothing about the jar suggested what its contents might be. Slipping it into the cloth bag and carrying it under her oilskin to the nearby shrubbery, she set it under some overhanging hawthorn, where no one on the wall could see it. Then she dragged dead branches from the thicket to the hole, piling them there and hoping they’d keep dirt from filling it again before the rain stopped.
She was trying to decide if she’d done enough when her eye caught movement to the west. Turning sharply, she saw riders approaching, eight or more.
One of the leaders carried a banner. It was rain-soaked and wrapped round its pole, but she suspected that Dev was returning.
“Is it not just like the man, to return when I least want him,” she muttered as she dropped the few branches she still carried, bent down, and scooped up the jar in its sack. Tucking it inside her cloak, under her left arm, she gripped the oilskin closed with her right hand. Then she strode to the gate, shouting as she went for someone to open it.
When Ratch obeyed the shout, she said as she passed him, “Prithee, have someone fetch those tools for me. Riders are coming, and I must not greet them as I am.”
“I believe ye,” Ratch said, his eyes atwinkle. “Ye look like ye rolled in the mud.”
Smiling but saying no more, she hurried inside, hoping that if it was Dev, he would not dare to confront her in her bedchamber again. Not until she had hidden the jar.
Chapter 6
Despite the hilly terrain, Dev had set a fast pace, so he and his men had reached the first hilltop providing a distant view of Coklaw and its surrounding vale less than an hour after leaving the Black Tower. Dev’s oilskins kept him relatively dry, and his usual energy had long since overcome the lethargy that the rain had caused at Scott’s Hall.
Despite lingering concerns for Robina, he was eager to reach the castle. He had commanded men many times in the field, but he had never taken charge of a stronghold, let alone one that had played a strategic role in Border history.
It would be a challenge, but he welcomed new challenges.
Benjy would be another one. The boy had idolized Rab and was unlikely to look fondly on any man attempting to take his place. They had also lost their father not long ago, and although James Gledstanes had spent much of his time away from Coklaw, even more after his lady wife’s death, Benjy doubtless still felt his loss keenly, too.
And John Greenlaw. What, Dev wondered as they followed a track down through the forest, would Greenlaw think of Dev’s assuming his most important duties at Coklaw? Greenlaw was getting on in years but was not much older than Ormiston was, and the man was an excellent steward.
Emerging from the woods to see the tower again, much nearer, he spied an oilskin-draped figure sitting or kneeling on a slight rise southeast of it. As he watched, the figure rose to its feet, looked toward the castle, and then turned away from it. Hurrying to the dense hawthorn thicket that ringed the clearing, the figure bent again and dragged branches from the shrubbery into a low pile.
Although the stiff oilskin covered the person from tip to toe and revealed nowt of its shape, its movements suggested a female. She was alone, outside the wall, so Dev’s first thought was that it could not be Robina.
His second thought was a more cynical one, that he was foolish to assume any such thing. It could well be Robina, because the men of the household had already shown that they wielded no authority over her.
The figure gathered its tangle of branches and dragged them toward the place that Dev had first caught sight of her.
Watching her move, he became more confident that it was Robby. But what the devil did she think she was doing?
He urged his pony to a faster pace.
Coll, bearing Dev’s banner beside him, shot him a look of surprise, but Dev ignored him. She was looking right at him now. The oilskin revealed little, but he was as certain as if she stood two feet away that it was Robina.
Either she had recognized him or the sight of oncoming riders had disturbed her, because she strode back to the shrubbery and bent to scrabble under a bush. Then, she gave him only her back view as she hurried toward the opening gate and inside.
Nearly running up the main stairs, Robina passed the hall archway only to hear Ada Greenlaw’s voice: “M’lady, ye’re no taking them oilskins upstairs, are ye? Ye’ll drip all over everything.”
“I’ll leave the oilskin here on the landing, Ada. Riders are coming, and I’m filthy, so I must hie myself upstairs and get out of my wet clothes.”
“I wonder who it be,” Ada said, bustling toward her, but Robina did not wait. Clutching the jar beneath her cloak and praying that Ada would not demand the cloak as well, she hurried up the stairs.
“Corinne be helping Daisy in the scullery,” Ada shouted up the stairs after her. “I’ll send her to ye directly.”
“Thank you,” Robina shouted back, grateful to know that Corinne was not ahead of her on the stairs or in her bedchamber.
“I warned you that he’d return sooner than you expected.”
“Is it Dev?” she muttered. “Can you be sure?”
“Now, that would be telling. You’ll see soon enough.”
Nearly consigning her brother to a place much warmer than the castle, she recalled, flushing hotly, that, considering his present state, the curse might be unwise.
At that thought, she heard his soft laughter.
“Certes, but you’re a one, lass.”
Wishing again that he were alive but reaching her bedchamber in apparent safety, she hurried inside and shut the door behind her.
Looking for a place to conceal the jar until she had enough time and privacy to examine it closely, she saw only her clothing kists and the washstand. Then she recalled that, while they were sorting and cleaning, they had put four extra blankets in the large kist in the near corner by the head of her bed.
>
Flinging off her cloak, she knelt by the kist, unfastened its leather hasp, raised the lid, and slipped the jar under the folded blankets. She had barely fastened the lid shut again when the door opened and Corinne entered.
“What be ye doing, mistress?” she asked, entering and scooping Robina’s cloak off the floor. “Mistress Greenlaw said ye wanted to change your dress.”
“I want my lavender kirtle,” Robina said. “But I’ve been mucking about in the hole for Benjy’s tree, so what I need first is soap and water.”
“Ye’ll no find any kirtle in that kist. We put them blankets in that one. Your kirtles be in the one by the washstand. But if ye want hot water—”
“If the ewer is full, I’ll use that,” Robina said. “Riders are coming. I think that perhaps Sir David is returning.”
“So soon? The man left less than a sennight ago.”
“He said he’d return when he could,” Robina said. “I did not expect him this soon, but I cannot think who else it could be.”
Corinne’s eyes widened. “It could be raiders!”
“In daylight without warning? I doubt it. They carry a banner, but it was soaked and drooping.”
“Aye, then, but ye’re in much the same state,” Corinne declared, shaking her head. “Ye’ve mud all over your boots and your skirt. And this cloak be a sight, too.”
“Don’t scold; just help me,” Robina said, dragging the wet kirtle off. “If it is Sir David, he’ll want to see me, and I don’t want him to condemn my appearance.”
“Wash your face then, whilst I fetch out a clean shift and your lavender kirtle,” Corinne said. Hesitating, she added with a frown, “Ye dinna think he’s come to take Jem Keith and that Jock Cranston away, do ye? I’d no mind seeing Jock go, but…”
“Corinne, Jem Keith serves Sir David, not us.” But it was likely, she thought, that Dev had come to collect his men. As she hastily washed, she told herself firmly that she would be glad to see him depart as soon as he had collected them.
That thought stirred her twin’s chuckles again. “You must like Dev, Beany. You think about him too often for one who dislikes him.”
