by Amanda Scott
“Aye, I remember,” Benjy said, looking up at Wat and extending his hand for him to shake. “You’re the Lord o’ Buccleuch and Rankilburn, sir. I saw you arrive, but I wasna sure what to do wi’ so many visitors, so I thought I’d best keep out o’ the way.”
Resting a hand on the boy’s nearer shoulder, Dev said, “You acted wisely, laddie. Mayhap you will also prefer to eat your supper in the lower hall.”
Benjy looked up at him with wide eyes. “Are ye vexed wi’ me, then?”
“No, no, I just thought you might liefer sup with some of the younger lads.”
“I’m the laird, and Buccleuch and them others be my guests, aye?”
“That is true,” Dev said, ignoring Wat’s smile. “However, if you will recall—”
“—that ye stand in me place till I’m grown, aye. But ye did say ye’d teach me how to go on, so I should sup wi’ me guests and learn whilst they’re here, aye?”
Wat bit his lower lip. His eyes danced with merriment.
Continuing to ignore him, Dev met the boy’s solemn gaze and said, “You are right, Benjy. His lordship will sit at my right hand, and you may sit at his.”
“Good,” Benjy said, nodding. “Will we go in now?”
“Shortly,” Dev said. “You might want to go up to your chamber first to brush your hair and wash your face.”
As they watched him run off, Wat chuckled and said, “That one may prove to be more of a handful than Robby.”
“I doubt it,” Dev said. “He is much less likely to defy me or to challenge every word I say.”
“Does she do that?”
Aware that he had spoken as bluntly and impulsively as he had learned he could safely do over his years of friendship with Wat, Dev called himself to order but said honestly, “She has not yet defied me, exactly. But she has declared that she means to choose her own path, and she frequently challenges me.”
“That does not surprise me, but you make me feel blessed,” Wat said. “My sisters rarely challenge me. In fact, only one person at the Hall states her own mind with regularity and the supreme confidence that she can do so with impunity.”
“Lady Meg,” Dev said with an appreciative smile.
“Aye, Gram always says what she thinks, although to give her her due, she is usually right when she disputes my opinions. Even so, she has accustomed herself to the fact that I’ve stepped into my father’s shoes and mean to fill them.”
“Always?”
“Mostly,” Wat said, grinning. “She does tend to support nobles who dislike his grace’s notion of instituting a rule of law throughout the land,” he added as his grin faded. “Not that she thinks they’re right, but she does say that after Jamie Stewart’s long captivity in England, he should have waited to get on friendlier terms with his nobles before deciding to impose English notions of law on all of Scotland.”
Dev raised his eyebrows. “What do you think about that?”
“We Scotts have always supported the rightful King, and I support Jamie,” Wat said quietly. “I don’t mean to alter that position, and Gram knows it. We do agree that all Scots should be able to cross a nobleman’s land when they must without fearing that their ignorance of his private laws might see them hanged.”
“I believe that, too,” Dev said. “I also agree with Lady Meg and my father that his grace ought not to impose new notions on us without due discussion. If he dismisses his supporters’ concerns, he may one day find himself with no supporters.”
They continued to talk while they walked inside. As they crossed the hall toward the dais, still chatting, movement on the dais drew Dev’s notice.
Corinne stood at the ladies’ end of the high table, alone.
“Who’s the pretty, dark-haired wench?” Wat asked him.
“Robina’s personal maidservant, Corinne,” Dev said. “Robby doesn’t change for supper, and Corinne has been sitting with us at meals, but…”
Corinne smiled uneasily as the two men stepped onto the dais.
“Is aught amiss?” Dev asked as he moved to his customary place.
“Nay, sir,” Corinne said, relaxing and smiling in her usual cheerful way as she looked from him to Wat and back again. “Her ladyship were still in the solar wi’ her cousins, and I didna like to interrupt them to ask if I should eat in the kitchen or here wi’ her. So I thought I’d wait here and ask her.”
Dev started to tell her that Robina would not need her but said instead, “I suspect that she may not need you, Corinne. But you should ask her.”
Corinne’s eyes twinkled, and her smile grew mischievous. “Just what I thought m’self, sir,” she said.
Beside him, Wat made an odd sound in his throat, but Dev ignored it.
Entering the great hall to see Corinne flirting with Dev and Wat Scott, Robina hesitated in the archway, causing Lady Rosalie and Janet nearly to bump into her. Hastily begging their pardon, she strode forward, intending to tell Corinne what she thought of such behavior. Really, the woman was soaring above herself!
Over the noise of people in the lower hall taking their places at the trestle tables, she heard from just over her right shoulder, “Wheesht now! You’re jealous again. You must know that as well as I do.”
“I am not!” she retorted indignantly, turning her head toward the voice.
“What’s that you say, Robina?” Lady Rosalie asked. “In troth, my ears must be failing me, for I could not detach your words from the other chatter here.”
But Dev was smiling at Corinne. And Corinne’s cheeky smile was one that no maidservant should bestow on the master of the castle.
Robina gritted her teeth.
“Robina?”
Startled, she turned to Lady Rosalie and said ruefully, “Forgive me, cousin. I was thinking aloud. Prithee, blame not your ears but my bad manners. Janet, when we reach the table, Cousin Rosalie will sit next to me and you will sit by her. But I’ve not asked yet how long you can stay. Must you leave when his lordship does?”
“Wat means to leave in the morning. I wish I could stay longer, though.”
Robina grinned. “I’d love it if you could. Coklaw and Rankilburn are near enough that I think we should see each other much more often than we do.”
“ ’Tis a good notion, that,” Rosalie said, evidently overhearing their exchange easily enough. “You can help me furbish Robina up, Jannie. You have excellent taste yourself, and I expect you know the haberdasher in Hawick.”
“Aye, sure,” Janet said. “The mercer, too. Do you need furbishing, Robina?”
“Evidently,” Robina said dryly, casting another look at Dev and Corinne.
Wat nudged Dev and murmured, “Your primary charge is shooting arrows at you with her eyes, my lad. Have you done aught to deserve them?”
Following Wat’s gaze, Dev saw the three ladies approaching the dais but saw naught in Robby’s demeanor to justify such a description.
Then she looked right at him. Her eyes flashed angrily.
Glancing at Corinne, he noted with relief that she had not heard Wat’s comment. Her attention had riveted itself to the approaching women.
With a wary glance at Dev, she moved hastily past him to meet them.
“Well, my lad?” Wat said. “What did you do?”
“Nowt of which I’m aware,” Dev said. “She does have a temper, though.”
“That much I do know,” Wat said dryly. “Nevertheless, I’ve staked my gelt on you,” he added as he turned with a smile to speak to his grandaunt.
Behind Wat and Rosalie, and Lady Janet, who stood now beside Rosalie, Dev saw Robina talking to Corinne. Corinne’s face was scarlet. She shook her head.
Rosalie moved past Wat then to greet Dev.
Smiling, he said, “I thank you for coming, madam. I hope they have made you comfortable.”
“Potter will have everything in hand, sir,” she said. Gesturing toward the plump, gray-haired woman stepping onto the dais in a blue gown and houppelande, she added, “There she is now. I trust you won’t
mind if she sups with us. I like to keep her nearby.”
“Then it will be as you wish,” Dev said, noting that Benjy had run into the hall and was heading at speed for the dais. “As you will see if you look yonder, you are also to be blessed with our young laird’s presence. He reminded me that I’d promised to show him how a laird must behave. Quite a task, you’ll admit, for one who is not, himself, a laird.”
“You are now,” she reminded him.
“In essence, aye,” he agreed, shifting his gaze to Janet, whose air of easy dignity as she greeted him reminded him of Wat’s lovely wife, Molly.
With luminous blue eyes and hair the pale yellow of bedding straw, Janet would soon be drawing a host of suitors if she was not doing so already.
As Lady Rosalie moved to stand behind the back-stool next to the one at his left, he said, “Pray, take your place beside me, madam.”
“That is kind of you, sir, but—” Catching his direct gaze, she said, “Thank you, sir,” and stepped to the nearer seat. Then, however, and firmly, she said to Janet, “Leave the one by me for Robina, dearling.”
“Aye, sure, Aunt Rosalie. That way, we can each talk with her more easily.”
Shifting his attention to Robina, now just a step away, Dev saw her eyes flash sparks again. But she made no comment. Moving silently and with her customary grace and regal posture, she took her place between Rosalie and Janet.
“Stirring coals, Davy?” Wat murmured.
“Your grandaunt’s age and rank entitle her to that seat,” Dev retorted.
Wat leaned closer to whisper, “If you value your hide, don’t ever refer to her grandauntness or her age within her hearing. You missed a verbal lashing just now only because she had turned to speak to Robina.”
Grimacing, but knowing he should have spoken more quietly, Dev shifted his stern gaze to the lower hall. When an expectant hush fell, he said the grace-before-meat, nodded to the waiting servants, and took his seat.
Dutifully, he talked with Rosalie until a lackey brought the meat platter and held it so Dev could serve her and himself. When the lad moved on to the other ladies, Dev turned back to Wat and saw that he was chatting with Benjy.
“Me brother Rab said you’re a good master, m’lord,” Benjy said. “I mean to be a good one, too. May I ask you another question?”
“Aye, sure,” Wat said. “I remember how hard it was to take my father’s place so unexpectedly. So if I can ever help, you need only send for me, and I’ll come. If I’m away, my people will know that such a request must be fulfilled at once.”
“Aye, well, we have Dev for now, so ’tis likely I willna need to trouble you. But if aught happens to him…” The boy paused.
Wat touched Dev’s foot with his own but did not look his way, so Dev knew he meant only to be sure he’d be aware of the exchange.
Taking care not to draw Benjy’s attention, Dev continued to listen.
“Benjy,” Wat said gently, “do you expect something to happen to Dev?”
“Well, me da’s gone, your da’s gone, me mam’s gone, and now our Rab’s gone,” the boy said. “So I think it likely that Dev will go, too. Do not you, sir?”
“We all go sometime, Benjy,” Wat said. “That is how God wills it. But sickness took your mam, and your dad’s injuries in battle years ago likely hastened his death. My father had lived a good, successful life, but Dev is young and strong. Moreover, he’s here at Coklaw, rather than out fighting other warriors, as he was when those ruffians killed Rab. I think Dev will be here for some time yet. Even so, if you need me, you send someone to fetch me. Do you understand?”
“Aye, sir, and I thank you.”
Dev returned his attention briefly to the ladies’ side, only to have his gaze collide sharply with Robina’s narrowed eyes. Between them, Lady Rosalie attacked the food on her trencher with single-focused fervor.
He wondered then if Robby’s irritation stemmed solely from his having seated Rosalie next to him, or from something else as well.
Rosalie certainly knew that her rank entitled her to the seat. She was also a guest, while Robina—mistress of the household and acting hostess or not—was merely the sister of the current laird and his predecessor. Had Rab or their father been alive, either might have asked her to sit by him. But, in all likelihood, both would have acted as Dev had and put the widowed baroness in the seat of honor.
However, Dev did not mean to let Robina go on eyeing him like a sullen bairn. He held her gaze with a steely one of his until Janet spoke to her and Robby turned to reply.
Dev returned his attention to his supper. He would speak to her later.
“That shade of pink suits you, Robby,” Janet said. “I know Aunt Rosalie dislikes that kirtle, but one of your new dresses must be that color.”
Having been wondering if Dev was as angry with her as he’d looked—and, if he was, whether she’d be able to explain her own anger to him—Robina felt nonetheless a touch of warm amusement, and relief, at Janet’s comment.
Looking her in the eye, she said, “You are being tactful, Cousin Janet. You should know, though, that we recently turned out every kist and cupboard in this keep, and I have but four kirtles in various colors and conditions left.”
“Only four kirtles! No gowns?”
“Four kirtles—brown, pink, lavender, and green. However, Dev has condemned the old green one to the ragbag. I kept it for cleaning and mucking about, so I expect that henceforth, I shall have to ruin one of the others to please him.”
“So he does require pleasing,” Janet said with a smile.
Robina shrugged. “Men always want deft handling, do they not?”
“Aye, they do,” Janet said with a low, soft chuckle that reminded Robina of the sound a contented hen might make.
It made Robina smile. “Don’t you have to treat his lordship deftly?”
“Especially when he is being ‘his lordship’ instead of plain Wat,” Janet said.
“Even so, he is not Devil Ormiston,” Robina said.
“Nay, for ‘Devil’ suggests a fiery temper. Wat is… that is, his temper, is icy. His voice chills one to the bone, and he speaks in such a measured way that he makes one quake like a jelly. Worse, he continues speaking in that manner until one writhes inside and wants to promise anything to make him stop.”
“Mercy,” Robina said, glancing to her right. She saw only the back of Dev’s head, because he was talking with Wat.
Benjy stood, clearly ready to depart, and she nearly made a motion to stop him. But he looked at Dev, cocked his head as if to say something, then sat down without speaking.
Deciding that Dev had reacted as she had to his getting up before his guests had finished eating, she turned back to Janet and said, “Does Wat often get angry?”
“Not with me,” Janet said. “He has scolded me only twice in my life that I recall, but I’ve taken good care ever since to avoid stirring more than a chilly look. He is, by nature, a charming and kindly man, Robby. Usually, he reserves his wrath for those of his men or others who grievously offend him or one of his family.”
“I think I prefer Dev’s temperament, even so,” Robina said. “He ignites into a fury, and he may wreak vengeance on whoever lit the flame. But that flame burns quickly and then is gone as if it had never been.”
Memory of her sore backside having reminded her for nearly a day afterward of what Dev had done to her the night they lifted the Turnbulls’ beasts brought a warm flush to her cheeks. But if Janet noticed, she said naught of it.
They continued to chat in a friendly way until Lady Rosalie said, “I think we should remove to the solar, do not you, Robina? I brought some lengths of fabric with me that I’d like you to see.”
Resigned to the fact that she was to be “furbished,” Robina smiled and said, “Aye, cousin, I do think we should excuse ourselves.”
Rosalie spoke quietly to Dev and rose. Dev and Wat stood, too, and Robina saw Wat make a gesture to Benjy, who leaped to his feet. When sh
e moved to follow Rosalie, however, Dev stepped in front of her.
“Wait for me in that wee chamber across the landing,” he murmured with a wry smile that, combined with his tone, struck her as being implacable rather than friendly. “I must have a word with Wat, and then I want to talk to you.”
A chill slithered up her spine, but she straightened it and said with forced calm, “I hope it will not take long, sir. I must not abandon our guests.”
In reply, he stepped silently aside to let her pass.
Aware that Janet, right behind her, had heard him, and feeling fire in her cheeks, Robina swept past him and followed Rosalie toward the landing.
Smiling at Janet, Dev said, “I shall bid you goodnight, my lady. I expect I shan’t see you again until morning, but I hope you are enjoying your stay.”
“I am, thank you, sir. I only wish I might stay longer. Robina did say that she’d like that, too, but perhaps you will not permit it, or my lord brother may not.”
“I’ve no objection, so let us ask him,” Dev said, wondering if Robby had urged Janet to make the request. Whether she had or not, the lassie was welcome, so he turned to Wat and said, “Your sister and Robby have agreed that Janet should stay a few more days unless you object to that. Do you?”
Wat hesitated, gave Dev a long look, and shifted his gaze to Janet. “If you recall, Jannie, we did promise Mam and Gram that you’d return on the morrow. Moreover, I believe, you brought clothing for only one night.”
“I brought two kirtles, one gown, slippers, and boots, sir, as well as two clean shifts and my cloak. I would fare well here, I promise you.”
“Nevertheless, you won’t want to break your promise to Mam or Gram, or to disappoint Bella.” When her face fell, Wat waited a beat, as if, Dev thought, he expected more debate.
However, Janet remained silent, so Wat said, “I expect we’ll return in a sennight or so. Then, perhaps you may stay longer.”
Hugging Wat, she said with a smile, “That will be wonderful, sir. Tomorrow you’ll wish you’d let me stay, though. You could depart much earlier without me.”
He chuckled. “That is undeniably true. Enjoy yourself, lovey.”
