Devil's Moon

by Amanda Scott

  After Robina dismissed a contrite, nearly silent Corinne for the night and shut the door behind her, Janet said from her side of the bed near the wall, “I did not like to ask whilst Aunt Rosalie was with us, or your Corinne, but did Sir David tell you?”

  The question stopped Robina’s breath in her throat, but Janet’s calm gaze reassured her enough to say as she climbed into the bed beside her, “Tell me what?”

  “I thought he had not. I asked if I might stay longer and told them that you’d like me to do so, but Wat said no.”

  “Mercy, why?”

  “We did promise our mam and Gram that we’d return tomorrow. But I saw Wat look at Sir David first in that tentative way one has when one is considering another person’s wishes or needs before answering a question.”

  “Well, if Dev dared to say no—”

  “Nay, for I asked him first, and he said he had no objection. He did give me a look, too, then… almost the same look that Wat gave him.”

  Robina chuckled. “He likely wondered if I’d put you up to it.”

  “Do you think so? In troth, he seemed most sincere. Wat also said we will likely return soon, though, and I can stay then. That is the good news.”

  “It is,” Robina agreed.

  Despite being unaccustomed to sleeping with another in her bed, she slept well and awoke the next morning determined to show the well-meaning Rosalie that she could be compliant. Accordingly, when Corinne entered cheerfully with their hot water, Robina said, “I’d like you to brush my hair this morning, Corinne.”

  The maid’s expressive eyebrows shot upward. “Aye, sure, mistress,” she said. “But if ye’re no going to do it the usual way, what will I do with it?”

  Looking at Janet, whose pale gold tresses lay in their usual smooth, silky sheet to her waist, Robina said, “What do you think she should do?”

  Cocking her head thoughtfully, Janet said, “You have long, thick, unruly hair, but I think that if she were to plait it carefully and wrap it round your head like a crown or a chaplet, it might look quite regal and gey becoming.”

  It sounded to Robina as if it would be horrid, heavy, and uncomfortable. However, having vowed to herself to accept Janet’s advice, she did.

  When Janet left to visit the garderobe, and while Corinne was still arranging Robina’s hair, Robina asked curiously, “How does a woman draw men’s notice, Corinne? I expect I should know that if they mean to plague me to seek a husband.”

  Corinne stared at her in surprise before her eyes began to twinkle. “Aye, well,” she said. “I do ken more about that than about arranging hair, mistress.”

  Dev went downstairs early to see his guests off, only to discover that Wat was still abed. He came down a short time later and said, “I decided to indulge myself and would wager that Jannie has made no appearance yet, either. The lass has no sense of time.”

  “Nevertheless, she’s welcome here whenever she likes,” Dev said, amused.

  “I know that, but you know women.” Regarding him more shrewdly, Wat added, “That is, you don’t, of course, not as well as I do. Gellis has been married for a decade or more, has she not?”

  Dev nodded. “I do remember what it was like to live with her, though.”

  “Perhaps, but Fiona adores you. Bella adores me, too. But I expect when she gets older, she’ll exert herself to wind me round her thumb, as Jannie does.”

  “Sakes, Bella does that now,” Dev said, grinning.

  “True, but it’s less worrisome when the ‘woman’ won’t see her thirteenth birthday until October. However, I was not thinking of my sisters.”

  “Molly has you wound round her thumb, too.”

  “I can hold my own with Molly and my sisters, just as you do with Robby. However, I still have to contend with Gram and my mother.”

  “Aye,” Dev said, knowing better than to comment on either one. “You do have more to contend with than I do, my lord. I acknowledge my blessings.”

  They were halfway through their meal when feminine voices from the stairs alerted them shortly before Janet and Robina entered the hall together.

  Dev stared at Robby and heard a gasp beside him from Wat.

  She wore a clean lavender-colored kirtle, but in place of the leather girdle she usually wore, she had knotted a purple-and-yellow striped ribbon round her hips with only her eating knife in its soft leather sheath attached to it.

  But her hair was what had stirred his astonishment. Somehow, she had created two much tighter plaits and coiled them into a massive crown atop her head. The effect was rather alarming, although her face, looking almost pixyish beneath the mass and undeniably beautiful, also looked a bit more feminine and less like Rab’s.

  Beside her, Janet beamed.

  Dev glanced at Wat, who likewise stared but got to his feet and moved to greet the two young women. Reminded of his manners, Dev stood, too.

  Robby avoided his gaze and smiled at Wat. She lowered her lashes then, doubtless to watch her skirts as she stepped onto the dais. When she looked back up at Wat, she fluttered her lashes rather oddly.

  Dev wondered if she had got something in her eye.

  Covertly watching Dev through her lashes as she smiled at Wat, Robina decided that he had not even noticed the new way Corinne and Janet had arranged her hair.

  She liked the new ribbon that Janet had given her to wear with the lavender kirtle. The hair was another matter. There was, she thought, too much of it to pile atop anyone’s head. Errant strands escaped. Some were long enough to tickle her neck and cheeks, so she kept brushing them off with one hand or the other. Each time she did, Janet gave her a stern look, but Robina could not abide the tickling.

  “By my troth, Robby,” Janet muttered as they took their seats, “you will get used it, but do stop flicking your hands as if you were shooing flies. Gram would swiftly condemn such behavior. She certainly did so when I did that.”

  “But your hair is smooth and tidy,” Robina protested. “This…”

  “It is most becoming and one of the current styles of fashion.”

  Robina clenched her teeth. But Tad, the lad who helped serve the high table, was approaching with their breakfast, so she held her tongue.

  The men, having finished eating, excused themselves. As they did, Wat said, “I trust you have sent your bundle down already, Jannie.”

  “Aye, I just have to wash my hands and fetch my cloak after I eat,” she said.

  “We’ll be waiting outside with the horses,” he said.

  “Men,” Janet said with a sigh. “You would think that one of them would notice how well you look this morning.”

  Robina shook her head. “Dev… that is, Sir David, did notice the other day when he thought I’d dressed like a maidservant, Jannie. But I doubt he’ll offer me compliments now that he is the warden here at Coklaw.”

  “Och, aye, I forgot about that,” Janet said. “Mam and Gram were concerned about your reputation.”

  “Aye, Dev said as much when he told me that Rosalie was coming.”

  When they’d finished eating and Janet had collected her cloak, Robina walked out to the yard with her to bid her farewell, with mixed emotions.

  She understood why Wat had insisted they keep their promise, but she would miss Janet’s company. Even so, the jar of coins called to her, and she hoped it was safe in its kist. Corinne or Ada might take a blanket or two out to exchange for others due for an airing. Surely, they would not take all four at once out, though.

  Dev and Wat stood with the horses, and Benjy was with them, too. Minutes later their guests rode through the gateway. When the gate shut again, Benjy darted into the stable, shouting that he had promised to help Jem Keith.

  Dev put a warm hand to Robina’s back, between her shoulder blades. “I’ll walk in with you,” he said. “I expect you’ll miss Janet.”

  “I will,” she agreed. “Although we live only fifteen or sixteen miles apart, we have rarely spent time together. While my father was alive, we
spent our holidays at Gledstanes with cousins in Peebles and other kinsmen.”

  “ ’Tis often the way of things,” he said, guiding her toward the steps. “We make plans to visit kinsmen who live at some distance and assume that we can see the nearer ones anytime. But time passes swiftly.”

  “True,” she said, smiling.

  He looked at her then and smiled back. She felt an impulse similar to what she had felt on Sunnyside Hill just before she had kissed him. Briefly, she wondered how she had dared, but when his smile reached his eyes, she wanted to do it again.

  Truly, she thought, it was as if he were two different men, one stern enough to send chills up her spine, the other too attractive for her own good.

  Her smile was like the sunrise—sudden, sparkling, and lighting up the world—and Dev was glad to see it. It warmed him all through, in more ways than one might expect. It was, he decided, a fortunate thing that the lady Rosalie had come to Coklaw to protect her.

  Chukk watched from shrubbery on an east-facing hillside as the Lord of Buccleuch and Rankilburn departed from Coklaw on a well-muscled bay. A young fair-haired woman in a brown cloak with its hood thrown back rode a dun-colored horse beside him. His fighting tail, two-by-two, followed them.

  He had heard that Buccleuch was there, so it was good that he was leaving. The fewer people at Coklaw, the better.

  Although the sky was clear, the ground remained muddy, and thick ground fog had risen each night, covering the hills and lower areas till morning.

  His hiding place was high enough to provide a panoramic view eastward, and had the hills around Ruber’s Law not been in his way, he might have seen all the way to Jedburgh. The river Teviot flowed to the north, and from the hillcrest, he had seen the town of Hawick two miles to the northwest. Southwest of him, his men waited in the maze of rugged hills above Liddel Water, yet well away from Hermitage.

  He had come to Coklaw alone, so he dared not let them catch him. He had wanted to see how it looked by daylight, to plant his bearings firmly in his mind.

  The castle was starkly visible, its tower keep thrusting skyward surrounded by a solid stone wall. He saw figures on the wall walk, ever watchful. He could also see the grassy rise southeast of the wall in the wide clearing that surrounded it. Doubtless, watchers also watched from nearby hills, but anyone who saw him would likely take him for a shepherd, perhaps seeking lost sheep.

  If he could watch Coklaw for a time without drawing notice, he might learn something useful or see a way to get close enough to dig. Digging quietly enough would not be easy, either. Even at a distance, he could see grass and weeds growing on the rise.

  He’d need a shovel or at least a sharp spade. Today, wanting to look like a shepherd, he’d brought only a shepherd’s crook and a dirk with him.

  Perhaps the dirk would suffice if he could get close enough, unseen.

  Until he knew more, he’d keep watch and see what he could see during a day’s time… or over the next few days, if he could stay hidden.

  His men would wait. They knew better than to abandon him.

  Chapter 12

  Robina had little time in the next few days to miss Janet or do aught save accede to Lady Rosalie’s wishes. They spent Thursday afternoon looking through clothing kists that Ada had stored away after Robina’s mother died.

  When Robina protested, Rosalie had scoffed. “Do not think I mean for you to wear any of these, dearling. They are long out of fashion. But we may find use for some of the fabrics. In troth, you may be surprised by what we find.”

  Fortunately, in Robina’s view, moths had ruined some of the fabrics, and most were sadly thin. Moreover, since Robina had inherited her father’s coloring, rather than her mother’s flaxen hair and pale complexion, Rosalie declared the soft pinks and pale blues that Lady Gledstanes had favored too insipid for Robina.

  “At least, now we can have someone turn them all into useful rags,” Rosalie said briskly Friday morning as they broke their fast. “We can also visit the shopkeepers in Hawick today with a good conscience.”

  They set out after breakfast with Rosalie’s equerry, Ned Graham, and an escort of six riders, led by Jock Cranston.

  Robina would have preferred having Sandy in charge, but when Dev said she could take Jock and three of his men, or he’d go himself, she agreed to Jock. She was certain that, with Dev and Rosalie advising her, she’d want to murder one if not both before day’s end. Jock would offer no opinions about how she should dress or wear her hair.

  Rosalie had arranged Robina’s hair herself that morning in two long plaits, looped, twisted together at Robina’s nape, and contained in some black netting of Rosalie’s. “We’ll find lighter netting more suited to your hair at the haberdasher’s, dearling,” she said when Robina grimaced. “But you must accustom yourself to dressing like a lady.”

  Robina had been tempted to take a few coins from the jar to spend but Rab had warned against it: “Rosalie would surely ask where you got them!”

  Having survived a productive day in town, she nearly lost her temper the next morning when Rosalie insisted on plucking her eyebrows.

  “I do not agree with the current fashion of shaving one’s front hair, let alone one’s eyebrows,” Rosalie said, clamping her tweezers onto one errant hair and yanking it out. “We do want a well-defined arch, though, so don’t wince like that unless you want me to pluck too much in error. Sir David said only this morning how much you remind him of your twin brother. But, I vow, he will not say so if we can tame your eyebrows. I shall dab a touch of pomatum on each when I finish, to lay them flat.”

  “Sakes, what’s wrong wi’ twins looking like twins?”

  Since Rab had seldom spoken to her in recent days, Robina jumped at the sound of his voice and nearly got the tweezers in her eye.

  “Do sit still,” Rosalie said. “I vow, you are as twitchy as Benjy. Did you see how Sir David stared at you last night? I think he has begun to see how feminine you can be.”

  “He’s got nae business staring at you at all. Tell him to stop.”

  Suppressing her annoyance, Robina said, “Good sakes, madam, why should I want him to notice me that way? Does he think me unfeminine?”

  “God bless us, you like the man!”

  Mentally retorting that she did not like Dev, Robina fought to conceal any outward display of her shock.

  Rosalie shrugged. “You may not care about such things yet, dearling,” she said. “But he is a man, and one can often judge how others will react by the way those nearest one do. You have likely drawn no such interest before now, as busy as you’ve been seeing to Benjy. But you won’t want to continue seeing to his needs after the laddie takes a wife. Only think how horrid it would be to live here at Coklaw with a much younger good-sister giving the orders, whilst you look after her squalling bairns.”

  “Have mercy, madam! That cannot happen for at least a decade.”

  “Blethers, many men marry at fifteen and can legally marry younger,” Rosalie said. “Benjy is nine, so that is just six years away. He will begin taking interest in girls sooner than that, too, horrified though he may be now by the thought. Worse, you have just turned nineteen, more than old enough to be married, Robina. By the time Benjy begins seeking a wife, if you don’t have bairns of your own with a man of your own…”

  “Mayhap even twins of your own,” Rab chortled.

  Robina’s head began to ache. She liked Rosalie and enjoyed her company, but there were times when she feared that the woman would drive her mad.

  Sunday afternoon, Robina declared as she arose from the table after their midday meal that she meant to ride into the countryside to clear her head, only to have Rosalie and Dev say in chorus that she must not.

  “Not until I can arrange a suitable escort,” Dev added. “Jock Cranston and Rosalie’s Ned heard in Hawick that the raiders have been raiding again.”

  “East of us, aye,” Robina told them, fighting to keep her temper. “But if any were near enough to st
ir trouble here, I’ve heard naught of it.”

  “Even so,” Dev said, “you must not ride out alone.”

  “Then come with me,” she said impulsively, adding a belated smile.

  Caught off guard for once, having expected her to argue more, Dev realized that Robby was truly unconcerned about raiders. Moreover, he wanted to ride with her. He waited for Rosalie to speak, but she turned away to say something to her woman, and Robby did not invite her to ride with them. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll go.”

  When they reached the stables and he found that Sandy had bridled Black Corby for her and had strapped a Borderer’s flat leather saddle to the stallion’s back, he snapped, “What the devil do you mean by this, Sandy?”

  “The laddie needs exercise, sir, and since Master Rab’s equerry died in that fracas, as I thought ye knew, none o’ the lads here can ride him,” Sandy said, surprised. “Her ladyship did send earlier to ask that I fetch him out for her.”

  Robina said, “You know I can ride him, Dev, and he needs exercise. He’s had almost none since you arrived, due to the rain and…” She bit her lower lip.

  “… and due to my presence and your knowledge that I’d object,” he said, giving her a stern look. “If he needs exercise, one of my lads or yours can see to it.”

  Sandy opened his mouth, but Robina forestalled him by asking sweetly, “Which of your lads do you like least, sir? Or have you forgotten how Rab trained his horses? Recall that the men who attacked you did not steal Corby, and that you had to lead him home.”

  Nettled, he said, “Do you think I could not ride him?”

  “In troth, I don’t know,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “You ride as well as Rab did, if not better. Have you ridden Corby?”

  “No,” he answered honestly. The truth was that he’d have liked to try the stallion’s paces, but Rab had never allowed it. Memories of things that Rab had told him about the horse began coming back to him.