Devil's Moon

by Amanda Scott

  “I expect you could teach him to mind you if you exerted the patience to do it,” Robina said thoughtfully. “However, if you expect to beat him into submission…”

  “I don’t,” Dev retorted. “Rab evidently taught him to accept you, though.”

  “Do you want to test me, to see if I can manage him?” she asked with a soft but teasing smile.

  Sandy looked down at the ground, doubtless hiding his own smile, but Dev knew when he’d lost.

  “Stow your mockery, lass,” he said. “He’s no horse for a lady, but I know you can ride him. I’ve seen what Corby can do when he loses his temper, though. That was the first thought I had when I saw that you meant to ride him.”

  “He never loses his temper with me, but I’ll forgive you for your lack of confidence in us,” she said. “Prithee, Sandy, give me a leg up.”

  Freezing Sandy in place with a look, Dev said, “Let me, Robby.” Making a stirrup with his hands, he hoisted her up, watching as she arranged her skirts and settled herself astride. In the process, she revealed that although she was barefoot, she wore the damnable breeks again, under her skirts.

  “What the…?”

  Grinning, she said, “I do possess some modesty, and riding astride is more comfortable with them. One can never get one’s skirts underneath one just right.”

  Stifling a chuckle, he easily imagined that skirts, although useful for padding, could create problems for a rider.

  The stallion stood as if rooted until she patted its neck. It acknowledged the pat with a toss of its glossy head, a snuffling snort, and a prancing shuffle or two.

  “Corby is eager to go,” Robby said. “You do still mean to come with us?”

  “I do,” Dev said, seeing with relief that Jock was leading Auld Nick out. The two stallions were well acquainted and well mannered unless bad manners were commanded or the order of the day, such as in battle.

  “I thought we might ride up Sunnyside Hill,” Robina said. “It will be good exercise for them, and we can see how Rab’s grave has fared since our last visit. Then, if we ride down the other side, we can let the horses out on the flatter road home.”

  He agreed and let her lead. For a time, he scanned the surrounding country as they rode. But the woods grew thicker, and birds and other forest creatures began to chatter to each other, so he relaxed and let himself enjoy the day.

  He also admired Robina’s light hands and natural posture, as well as Corby’s quick response to her slightest gesture or command. She was, he decided, much safer on Corby than she would be walking alone in the woods. Aware that he’d be unwise to say so, he watched silently and admired.

  As they passed through a clearing that gave a view to the west, he felt a strange prickling that he recognized as the sense of someone watching him. Looking westward, he saw only the range of hills that separated them from Slitrig Water.

  Robina looked, too, making him wonder if she sensed the same thing.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  “Naught,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I’ve been breathing in the fresh air and enjoying what one might call the peaceful clamor of the woods. The path from here on is wide enough for two horses, though.”

  Accepting the tacit invitation, it occurred to him that he ought to have had one of the lads ride behind them. Rosalie would likely say something about that, although she had not objected when Robby invited him.

  He’d been grateful to the older woman for letting him handle the situation, but he was sure she would disapprove of the two of them riding alone together.

  As he urged Nick up beside Corby, Robby smiled at him, and her smile warmed him as it always did.

  “Art glad you came?” she asked.

  “Aye,” he said. “How far out do your watchers stay?”

  “They are not just ours, sir. Watchers are everywhere hereabouts, so word spreads quickly when English raiding parties creep northward.”

  “So you knew raiders were coming when your own stock was lifted?”

  She grimaced. “Those were Scots, I’m sure, not English—a small party, too.”

  “Were the cows and sheep you lifted your own, then?”

  “I don’t know. We just took what we needed.”

  “From the same people who took yours.”

  She was silent, and when he glanced her way, he saw that she was nibbling her lower lip, staring straight ahead.

  At last, she turned and looked at him. Wetting her lips, she said, “You know how it is, Dev. One takes what one needs. I think the Turnbulls took ours, but one cannot be sure unless one catches them at it. No one saw them that night, but the tracks led to Langside. We needed a good cow, and wool to trade, so…” She shrugged.

  He winced, certain she could not know the risk she had run. Scottish Borderers did take from their neighbors as often as they took from the English, but anyone who caught a raider could lawfully hang him, or her.

  “Don’t say what you’re thinking,” she said. “The day has been pleasant so far, and the graveyard lies just ahead.”

  He kept quiet, but his thoughts were busy. Somehow he had to teach her to have more concern for her own safety.

  Watching Dev, Robina was grateful for his restraint. They reached the graveyard soon afterward and dismounted to look at the grave. She sensed Rab’s presence strongly as they stood there, but he kept silent, too.

  “What is it, Robby? Art sad again?”

  Startled, she said, “Not sad, just pensive.”

  “I think you have been pensive since I arrived, or longer,” he said. “Keeping secrets, or thinking about Rab?”

  Uncertain how to reply, since the truth was unacceptable, she realized that silence was just as bad. Dev would surely suspect that she was keeping something from him.

  She would have liked to tell him about the jar of coins, but Rab’s warning was sensible. And, in truth, whether Dev was currently master of Coklaw or not, the money belonged to Benjy, not to Dev.

  The thought was disheartening, and she wished Rab would recall that he had trusted Dev. Confiding in him should be not only safe but sensible.

  Rab, however, remained as silent as his grave.

  “We should head back down,” she said with a sigh.

  “Keeping secrets then,” Dev said grimly. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Oh, Dev, no, don’t think that,” she said, putting a hand to his arm, shocked that he had so nearly guessed her thoughts. “I know I’ve been a bit difficult, but—” Breaking off when he grinned, she said bluntly, “Do you think that was funny?”

  He shook his head and bit his lower lip.

  “Damnation, David Ormiston, do you dare to laugh at me now?”

  “Nay, nay, I’m striving mightily not to laugh or to say what I’m thinking.”

  “Just what were you thinking?”

  “That when you refuse to tell me what you are thinking and then say that I’m mistaken to suspect a lack of trust, you make me want to kiss you one minute and put you over my knee the next. But, by heaven, if you swear at me again, I’ll—”

  “I won’t swear,” she said hastily. “But neither will I tell you all I think. Some things are still private, sir, one’s thoughts especially so. But if you want to kiss me again,” she added, feeling suddenly and strangely shy but determined, “you may.”

  “May I?” He raised his eyebrows. “I will admit that I enjoyed your kiss when we were here before. But others would say that I’d taken advantage of you.”

  “They would be wrong,” Robina said. “I kissed you first. I wanted to know how it would feel, and now I want to know if it feels the same way whenever one kisses a man. I do trust you with my virtue, Dev.”

  “Do you, Robby? You should not be so trusting. Sithee, I’m not certain I can trust myself. You’re a mighty tempting wench. But there are rules.”

  “Bother the rules,” she said. “Do you not want to kiss me?”

  “Aye, sure, I do,” he responded, pull
ing her roughly into his arms.

  Uncertain now, but curious, she looked up and tried to gauge his mood. But he allowed her no time for that before his lips claimed hers, hot and demanding.

  As he held her close, she heard him moan quietly in his throat.

  Dev heard his moan, too, and realized that she had bewitched him. He wanted her in every way—other than marriage, of course, he reminded himself brutally. He suspected, though, that her invitation had just been an attempt to avoid answering his question about the secrets she was keeping from him.

  The pliskie lass needed a lesson, and he needed release for his own emotions or whatever it was that inflamed his body, if only to show her the dangers of tormenting men… one man, at least.

  Thrusting his tongue into her mouth and finding it hot inside and yet softly yielding, he pressed his lower body tightly against hers, letting her feel his desire.

  She was too short, but a flat-topped boulder sat nearby. Without warning or sign, he lifted her to stand on it and did so without releasing her mouth.

  For once in her life, she did not fight him but wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as he held her.

  Raising a hand to her nape, he felt the thickly coiled plaits and wished he could pull them loose, unplait them, and let her unruly hair fly free.

  Her tongue danced against his, as if she knew just what to do, thus stirring him to wonder if she had done such things before, and with whom. Was that why she had begun to dress differently and to do such odd things to her hair?

  He stroked the plaits with his fingertips, and caressed the soft nape beside and beneath them while he raped her mouth with his tongue. She tasted minty, so he knew she had rubbed mint leaves against her teeth when she’d cleaned them.

  His body yearned for hers, but he dared not even muss her hair, since neither of them could redo it, and anyone seeing her afterward would guess what they had done. Instead, he forced his hand down between her shoulder blades, encouraging her soft breasts to press against his chest.

  Seconds later, without thought for consequence, he slid a seeking hand to her side and up to cup the nearest breast.

  Hearing her gasp and deducing that no man had done that to her before, he brushed her nipple with his thumb and rubbed it a little, drawing a stronger gasp.

  To his delight, she pressed closer, as if she would rub both breasts against him. His cock strained for release from its confinement.

  The two sensations, together, brought Dev abruptly to his senses.

  His inner devil had nearly overcome him, and it was a wrench to thwart it. But he knew that if he did not stop at once, he would not stop at all, so he gripped her firmly by her upper arms and stood her back a little atop the boulder.

  Her eyes were glowing with desire and something else… curiosity perhaps. If that was so, his awakening conscience suggested, mayhap it had been only feminine curiosity that stirred her to invite another kiss.

  Pushing that thought away, he eyed her warily, wondering what she would say.

  “Why did you stop?” Robina demanded.

  “Because this is neither the time nor the place for such activities. Nor is it wise for the Warden of Coklaw to kiss and fondle the lassie he has sworn to protect.”

  “But I invited it,” she said. “And I enjoyed it. You did, too, I think.”

  “Our enjoyment is irrelevant,” he said. “It was wrong of me, and you are not always wise. Moreover, I suspect that your invitation may have been merely another attempt to avoid answering my question.”

  “Was it? I own, I’ve forgotten the question. Did you ever truly ask me one?”

  “The subject was secrets,” he said, giving her a stern look. “I sense strongly that you are keeping things from me, Robby. You react oddly to things I say, and to things that others say. At times, you seem to ignore us all, as if you don’t hear us speak.”

  “If I do that, I apologize,” she said sincerely, suspecting he referred to instances when Rab had spoken to her. She could not recall if he’d ever spoken to her while she was with Dev, but she did recall more than once that she’d wished he would and he had not.

  “I don’t want an apology,” Dev said. “I want an answer. What secrets are you keeping from me?”

  “Not one,” she said evenly. It was not a lie, exactly. She was keeping at least three secrets that she could think of offhand: the jar of silver coins, Rab’s warnings and advice to her, and her ambivalence about Benjy having a manservant. She had not been able to think of anyone who might suit such a post.

  “I won’t press you,” Dev said in a tone that made her avoid his gaze. “But whatever it is, you’d be wise to tell me before I find it out for myself.”

  Her relief that he would drop the subject only added to the guilt he’d made her feel. Even so, she could not just blurt out that she’d found a jarful of silver coins. Nor could she bring herself to tell him about Rab.

  They rode silently until they reached the grassy flat, when Dev suggested they let the horses run. Robina immediately urged Corby forward, and he was soon in full gallop.

  She wished that the wind in her face would blow away her guilt before she had to face Dev again, or that she could think of something to tell him that would not make him suspect that she’d lost her mind.

  Dev watched admiringly as Robby pulled away from him on Corby. Most Border women rode well, but she was exceptional. She rode as well as any man he had ever watched and better than many of them. Her hands were light, her seat on the horse made her look as if she were an extension of it, and her hands and knees were so deft that she seemed to be communicating with the stallion mentally.

  He indulged his enjoyment, watching her until she glanced back over a shoulder and grinned, clearly challenging him, and urged Corby to a faster pace.

  “Well, Nick, shall we show them?” he asked. Nick’s ears twitched, which was answer enough. They followed the track around the hill to the north side, and when the tower came in sight, he urged Auld Nick to his fastest pace.

  The two stallions were almost neck and neck when they neared the castle clearing and she slowed Corby. Dev reined Nick in, too.

  Robby met his gaze with rosy cheeks and pure delight. “I haven’t done that for far too long,” she said, grinning again.

  “Not since Easter night, at all events,” he retorted.

  She grimaced. “Are you going to throw that up to me forever?”

  “No,” he said, smiling warmly. “I said what came into my head, with no ill intent.”

  “Then, as a reward, I’ll tell you one thing that has been on my mind, which is whether Benjy is old enough to have a servant of his own. That’s not a secret, because we did mention it briefly the day we finished planting Rab’s tree. You agreed with Ada and Corinne then that it was a good notion, but I still have mixed feelings about it.”

  Dev nearly told her that he’d already discussed it with Benjy and had begun arranging for such a lad, because the boy’s need had struck him from the outset. But the good angel that perched on his shoulder from time to time to warn him against such direct statements nudged him before he spoke.

  He said tactfully, “I do think Benjy is old enough.”

  “Aye, perhaps, but I know of no one who might serve him who would not need as much training as Benjy does.”

  “I saw someone the other night, whilst Benjy played hoodman-blind with some of the older lads in the yard. One lad seemed to keep an eye on him as much for the boy’s safety as for sake of the game. I thought then that my squire might train him as an aide, so Coll has taken him in hand. But…”

  “But that is an excellent idea, sir. Coll takes good care of you. Who is it?”

  “A chap called Ash Nixon.”

  “Aye, Ash is a sweet-tempered lad. He must be twelve or thirteen, too, a good age to look after Benjy without seeming to be his minder.”

  As they approached the gate, already opening to admit them, Dev glanced at her. She looked pleased with herse
lf, smiling a secret little smile.

  His temper stirred. So she thought she had outwitted him, did she? He’d just see about that.

  Chapter 13

  Despite the way Dev had set her so abruptly back on her heels at the graveyard, Robina thought that, for once, she had managed him deftly. Or perhaps Rosalie was right and he did think she looked too much like Rab and was unfeminine. However, she decided with an inner sigh, Dev ought to be satisfied now that she had revealed the secret he’d suspected her of keeping. That would benefit Benjy, too.

  Dev let her dwell in that happy state until they returned and went inside. Assuming that he’d go into the hall or the inner chamber, and meaning to go to her bedchamber, Robina gave him her sunniest smile.

  “Thank you for a pleasant afternoon, sir,” she said. “I hope you enjoyed it, too.”

  “I did,” he replied evenly, but the flintlike look had returned to his eyes.

  “I… I mean to order a bath,” she said. “I must wash my hair, too. It takes a long time to dry and longer for Corinne to arrange it to Cousin Rosalie’s liking.”

  “That is one thing I’d like to discuss,” he said in a more affable tone.

  “Prithee, not now, and not in that wee room again.”

  “I agree that that room is too small,” he said. “Also, someone might interrupt us there. We’ll talk in the inner chamber.”

  His tone remained affable, but the look in his eyes daunted her. Much as she’d have liked to defy him, she knew she’d be wiser to submit. She had held her own with him before. She could do so again.

  The trestle tables were already up in the lower hall. The dais was empty, but someone had begun laying the high table for supper. Dev stepped ahead of her to open the inner-chamber door, followed her inside, and shut it.

  Taking matters into her own hands, Robina turned to him and said, “Did I understand you correctly, sir? You want to discuss my hair?”

  “Among other things,” he said.

  “You said that, aye. But I must tell you that I’ve received so much unwanted advice about my hair and my clothes, and my behavior, that I’m likely to fly out at the next person to criticize me, even you.”