Devil's Moon

by Amanda Scott

  “I do not,” Dev said, revolted by the image she’d created of Rab and of her so absurdly imagined self. “As if you could idolize me! And, if you think Rab bowed and scraped to my every word and gesture, you’ve forgotten that he was as stubborn, reckless, outspoken, and care-naught about things as you are… his own safety being one of them!”

  Hearing his increasingly angry words and overwhelmed by a sudden, clear image of Rab on Black Corby charging in front of the lancer, then falling at Auld Nick’s hooves—aware that tears had welled in his eyes, Dev turned sharply away from her toward the tree, furiously fighting to compose himself.

  Stunned by his sudden anger and uncharacteristic tears, and feeling guilty for speaking so rashly, but fighting her emotions, too, Robina drew a breath before she stepped close to Dev and gently touched his arm.

  “I should never have said that,” she murmured.

  “Oh, Robby.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe. “You can always say what you think to me. It’s what I love best about you and always have. I’m just so sorry that Rab died and that I—”

  “Dev, don’t!” she cried, pushing unsuccessfully against his chest with both hands, trying to free herself from his embrace. “Don’t say you’re sorry that you lived instead. I could not bear that. By my troth, sir, if you are going to carry that burden and see him whenever you look at me—” She broke off, pressing her face and hands against his chest, unable to speak or to breathe properly.

  He did not let go of her.

  She felt his chest heave with a huge sigh or a sob. Then his right hand gently cupped the back of her head. Its thumb stroked the smooth hair near the centered part that separated the plaits still looped round her ears.

  Silence filled the woods around them for a long minute.

  Then, quietly, he said, “I was going to say I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent his death. We were both warriors, Robby. We knew from the outset that one or both of us might die in battle. I won’t deny that I’ve wondered why Rab died instead of me or never wished that he’d been the one to live. I did wish that, desperately, when I brought him home and saw how devastated you all were. But I knew that wish was futile. God did not grant us the power to change the past. We can only try to make amends when we’re at fault.”

  “Well, you cannot make amends by marrying me.”

  “Nor have I imagined that I could or that I must. What I will tell you is that I miss Rab almost as much as you do, and I mean to keep my promise to him. If you and I do not marry, I’ll do all I can to find you a good husband.”

  “You will want to approve the man I choose, I expect.”

  “Would not Rab expect that of me?”

  “Aye, he would, but I do not,” she said firmly. “Nor do I want to talk more about that now. I like you, too, Dev, most of the time. I think Rab approves… that is, that he would approve of our marrying. Likely my father would, too, if he were alive. Rosalie already does, so likely Lady Meg will, and Wat. But this is all too abrupt, too soon, and it demands too much of me.”

  “I know,” he said. “I feel it, too. Especially since my father will also approve.”

  “Because of the Ormiston estate, aye. But that won’t—”

  “Don’t say it,” he warned. “I’ve told you how I feel about that. Mayhap one day, if we marry and if it pleases Benjy, we can build a cottage on that estate, but only as a place to stay whilst we visit him and his family. That land is his and will remain so. I’m the last person who should covet it, and so I shall tell my father if he raises the issue, as he may.”

  “It is part of your family history, too,” she said softly.

  “And that is all it is, Robby. I want to make my own family history, and I’m willing… nay, I’d be honored… to do that with you if that is your choice. But you must decide, lass. I know that, given time, you will know what you want, one way or the other. I will honor that decision, whatever it is.”

  She pressed a hand to his chest again, and this time he eased his embrace. When he did, she stood on tiptoe, put both hands to his cheeks and pulled his face closer to kiss him.

  Her lips no sooner touched his than, with a moan, he pulled her close again and kissed her more possessively, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. However, when she darted her tongue to meet his and pressed her body closer, he released her.

  “Don’t tempt me further, lass,” he said. “I have too little control over myself, and I don’t want anything to happen that might make you feel obliged to marry me. If you come to me, it must be of your own free will.”

  “Blame Corinne for that kiss then,” she said. “I like the way you kiss, and I wanted more of it. She said she wanted to learn how a man should kiss. I know now that I want someone like you, who makes me feel it deep inside when he kisses me.”

  He smiled. “So it’s Corinne’s fault, is it?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ll do all I can to persuade Rosalie to let you think in peace and not urge you to marry me. But we must go in now, Robby. I can see the men on the wall from here. I doubt they can tell what we’re doing, but I’d liefer they not start imagining things they might repeat. All we’d need is someone suggesting to my father, Archie, or even Wat that I’ve abused my power here.”

  Robina barely heard him. She remembered instead that he’d said she could always say what she thought to him because it was what he loved best about her. Did that mean he loved other things about her, too?

  From shrubbery twenty yards from the castle clearing, his view of the rise still obscured, Chukk watched the man and woman go in.

  It had grown darker. The guards would soon be lighting torches.

  Moreover, he was taking chances that would see him hanged if they caught him. But he could think of no other way to gain his treasure.

  His sole hope was to mark the right spot, creep in under cover of the ground fog, and successfully find the right spot. Then he’d have to dig. To accomplish all that would, he suspected, require a miracle of God.

  He saw that one of the two men he’d seen on the wall walk had vanished. The other paced for a time and then went round to the east wall.

  Deducing that there were only two men on the wall now, and perhaps just the one, Chukk crept closer, stopping only when a watcher returned, and then creeping forward again when the man turned his back.

  In this manner, he came to a place where, through the shrubbery, he could see the top of the rise and the small sapling planted there, as near as it could be to the spot beneath which his treasure awaited.

  “Da said it were nobbut a foot or two beneath the surface,” he murmured.

  Chukk did not consider himself a man of intellect, but he knew that a man planting a sapling might easily dig deeper than a foot or two. Most would dig a good-sized hole.

  Suspecting that someone had recently found Shetland Jamie’s jar, he felt an urge he’d not felt since childhood to cry, kick his feet, and pound the treacherous ground.

  Since he could not safely do that, the urge passed, and he eyed the sapling more judiciously. Anyone might have planted it, even the wee laddie he’d seen outside the wall.

  The hole might not be so deep, after all.

  Dev spent much of Monday riding Coklaw’s lands from Hummelknowes near Slitrig Water to the Ormiston estate east and southeast of the castle. He rode with Sandy, Jock, and Shag’s Hobby, because two outlying cottars had reported rumors of English raiders and of strangers wandering near their cottages.

  The strangers had asked questions and commented that Northumberland was rightful lord of Teviotdale, because Henry IV of England had awarded the Douglas estates to his grandfather. The raiders, men said, were likely thinking of laying siege again to Coklaw.

  Dev was certain the rumors were untrue, because whatever the current seven-year-old English King’s grandfather had done, the King’s warring regents insisted that they wanted peace with Scotland. Even so, he knew better than to ignore such rumors, ever.

&nbs
p; After a day spent learning nothing that increased his concern, Dev returned late to Coklaw, spoke with Jem Keith and others who were still up, learned that nothing new had occurred, and retired to bed.

  Tuesday morning, when he descended later than usual to break his fast, he learned that Mistress Geddes, a Hawick seamstress, had arrived and begged speech with the laird.

  “What the devil does she want?” Dev demanded.

  “Mistress Geddes says she’s coom tae finish the lady Robina’s wedding dress,” the lad replied. “We heard summat yestereve about a wedding, sir, but no that her ladyship be the one a-getting married. Be that true?”

  Chapter 15

  Having already discussed the week’s meals with Ada Greenlaw that morning, Robina was sitting with Lady Rosalie in the solar, sorting through Benjy’s mending, while Rosalie embroidered a pillow cover.

  “I vow,” Robina said, “most of Benjy’s clothing is more fit than mine is for the ragbag. Ash Nixon said he found some of these things in odd places, too.”

  “I expect most boys are like that,” Rosalie said cheerfully. “Just wait until you and Dev have your own, dearling.”

  Robina ignored the second sentence as she had ignored all such hints for the past twenty-four hours and said, “Benjy needs some new clothing, too.”

  “I warrant Mistress Geddes will be pleased to make him some shirts and braies,” Rosalie said. “She can make him some woolen breeks, too.”

  A footstep on the landing outside the door was the only warning before Dev opened it and stepped into the room. Had he blown in on a wintry blast, the temperature in the room could not, Robina thought, have dropped more swiftly.

  She froze in her place but relaxed when his furious gaze swept past her to Rosalie. “Perhaps, madam,” he said icily, “you will be good enough to explain to me what your seamstress is doing here today, talking of gold-silk wedding gowns.”

  Setting her work aside, Rosalie said matter-of-factly, “I sent my equerry to fetch her yesterday, sir. Robina cannot marry without a proper gown, and you have seen her kirtles. Not one is fit to wear in company, let alone on such an occasion as a wedding. Moreover, tradition decrees that a bride is entitled to a new gown for her wedding.”

  “I asked you to keep your belief in such a wedding to yourself,” Dev said. The tension in his voice told Robina that he had exerted himself not to shout.

  Looking at her mending to avoid his gaze, she nearly smiled when Rosalie said with surprise, “What would you have had me do, sir? One cannot summon up a wedding dress by magic. Cutting and stitching takes time. I did beg Mistress Geddes to sew swiftly and to do the silk gown first, but one cannot expect her to work a miracle.”

  “I expected only that you would keep your word,” Dev said grimly.

  “But I did,” Rosalie protested. “I said naught of bridals to her or anyone else. I strictly told Ned to ask only that she come here to finish the silk dress because her ladyship would need it sooner than expected for a special occasion.”

  “And what special occasion did you expect Mistress Geddes might imagine taking place hereabouts without her foreknowledge?” Dev asked.

  Rosalie shrugged. “There must be many such.”

  “Blethers,” Dev retorted rudely.

  The door opened with a bang, and Benjy rushed in, clearly excited but skidding to a halt when he saw Dev.

  “Beany, is it true?” the boy demanded when Dev remained silent. “Are ye going to marry our Dev?”

  To Robina, every sound in the room seemed to fade away, as if the room and its furnishings held a collective breath, awaiting her answer.

  Rosalie and Dev turned toward her with similar, expectant looks on their faces. Benjy’s mouth was still agape, his eyes wide and sparkling.

  She let her gaze pause a moment on Benjy before shifting it back to Dev. His wrath had cooled. His expression was calm. She sensed only his strength of purpose.

  The look in his eyes softened then, warming her.

  She said quietly to Benjy, “Dev is willing, laddie, and others are saying that I will marry him. ’Tis a gey important decision, though. One must make it wisely and not let other people’s wishes or hopes interfere. After all, when a lady marries, she does so forever. She wants to be sure she’s marrying the right man.”

  “Aye, well, if it matters to ye, I think we’d do fine wi’ Dev,” Benjy said.

  “Your opinion does matter,” Robina assured him with a smile. “I must think more before I decide, but I promise I won’t think too long.”

  “Did ye want to talk more about it, then?” Benjy asked solemnly. “Mayhap we could help ye make up your mind.”

  Flicking a glance at Dev to see him biting his lower lip, his eyes agleam with delight, Robina said gently, “Thank you, love. But I must decide this for myself.”

  “Aye, then, I’ll just go tell the lads to cease their nattering about it till ye do.” Nodding with a lordly air to Dev and Lady Rosalie, Benjy left.

  When he had gone, Rosalie stood gracefully and said to Dev, “I will silence Mistress Geddes, sir. I doubt the news has gone any further.”

  With as regal an air as Benjy’s, and more contentment than remorse, she sailed out, leaving Robina alone with Dev, who shut the door and faced her.

  Dev eyed Robby warily. She had handled Rosalie’s interference better than he had, and meantime, he’d realized something about himself.

  He had hitherto believed he preferred gentle, complaisant women to defiant, outspoken ones. His first clue that he might be mistaken was his reaction to his father’s belief that Anne Kerr might suit him as a wife. Never had there breathed a more complaisant, obedient woman than Anne… or a more tedious one.

  Robby had never been submissive or meek. From their first meeting, she had spoken her mind to him and to Rab without thought of consequence. She would argue with Rab, often fiercely, when they disagreed. Having tried to intervene in one such quarrel between the twins—and only one—Dev had learned quickly that she was willing to fight just as fiercely with anyone when she believed she was right.

  Had he been disgusted or scandalized by such behavior?

  In truth, as he looked back, he knew that she had surprised and intrigued him. He had also learned that when Rab spoke to her in a certain stern tone of voice, she would heed him. And if Rab informed her, brutally or otherwise, that she had been cruel or rude to someone, she had quickly and most charmingly apologized.

  The reverse was also true. She’d exerted more control over Rab than anyone else that Dev knew with the possible exception of their father and, sometimes, himself.

  Realizing that she eyed him now with much the same wariness that he felt, he said, “What are you thinking?”

  “Many things,” she said. “Thoughts tumble through my mind, one after the other, and get themselves all mixed up.”

  Leaning against the door, he crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “Fish one out then and tell me about it.”

  “Aye, well, do you think that Douglas, like Ormiston, hopes we’ll marry?”

  “Douglas has nowt to do with this,” he said firmly, straightening and taking a step toward her. “If you’re asking what I’d have done if he had suggested it, I’d have considered it as dutifully as any other such suggestion. He is my liege lord.

  “However,” he went on, “if you want my thoughts, the plain truth is that I’ve wanted to possess you since I first saw you… not to marry you, mind, just to possess. So, ’tis likely I’d have agreed willingly if he’d ordered me to marry you.”

  “Faith, Dev, one person cannot possess another,” she said. “Only a spirit can do that, and I am already possessed by Rab’s spirit and have been since his death.”

  “Have you?” he murmured, stepping closer and drawing her into his arms. “Earlier, you said you wanted more kisses. See what Rab’s spirit thinks of this one.”

  To his delight, she promptly tilted her face up. Their eyes met, and Dev felt something he’d never felt before.
He could not have described the sensation to himself or to anyone else. It came and it went in the blink of an eye.

  It was as if something had touched or lightly caressed some sensitive spot so deep inside him that he could not tell what or where it was. He came out of the moment with a sense of shock, as if all his hair stood on end.

  Her lips touched his, and he knew where he was and what he wanted. Moving one hand to cradle the back of her head and the other to span the small of her back, he kissed her lightly and then not so lightly. And this time, when the tip of her tongue touched his lips, his own tongue welcomed it inside.

  When she pressed her body harder against his, his responded urgently.

  Stroking down her back to her hips, he kissed her more possessively, urging her passion to match his and delighting when she embraced him more tightly. She closed her eyes, and he could see her desire in her face and sense it in her body.

  When she withdrew her tongue from his mouth and gently licked his lips, a memory stirred. He broke off their kiss long enough to draw a breath, let it out, and wait for her to open her eyes and look at him. Then he said, “See here, you aren’t just testing me or planning to kiss other men this way, are you?”

  With the most sensual smile he had seen from her, she murmured, “Would you be jealous if I did?”

  “I told you, I don’t get jealous. But such behavior can be dangerous for a woman. Men tend to take such… um… forthrightness as more of an… an offer than the woman might intend. From most other women, you’d draw strong censure.”

  “Would I?” Her tone was lazy, and he had a strong urge to shake her and assure her in no uncertain terms that she must never do such things carelessly or with such abandon. Controlling that urge with some effort, he said with what he thought, under the circumstances, was admirable calm, “Just behave yourself, Robby.”

  “Is this the Warden of Coklaw speaking now?” When he frowned, she grinned mischievously. “I’ll behave, Dev. What else can I do? After all, unless I were to flirt with Sandy or your Jem Keith, whom would I kiss? Also, Rosalie has assured us that no one else knows about our supposed betrothal.”