Devil's Moon

by Amanda Scott

  Wat murmured something to Dev, who gave a curt nod. When Wat turned away, Dev said tersely, “We will talk in yon chamber, Robina.”

  His expression was unreadable, but she could still sense his anger. Even so, he was not in a fury, just irked… or something other than irked.

  As Robby walked gracefully into the inner chamber, Dev reminded himself that she was still in his charge. As Wat left, he’d warned him again to curb his temper, but Robby seemed oblivious to it, which, Dev decided, was just as well.

  He had often seen her ignore or even take fire from Rab’s anger, but he would not allow such opportunities with him. Nor would he allow such flirting as he had witnessed with Wat. To be sure, Wat was amused, but Lady Meg had witnessed the encounter, and so had everyone else in the hall. Dev bolted the door.

  “Look at me, Robby,” he said then. “I have something to say to you.”

  “You did not like seeing me kiss Wat, I know,” she said, turning. “But surely, even you lack the right to command me not to kiss my own cousin, Dev. So, if you mean to scold, I think you should not.”

  He nearly told her that the kiss had not looked cousinly to him, but he did not want to fratch with her about that. Nor did he want to lose his temper.

  Meantime, she watched him as if she dared him to behave like the guardian they both knew he was.

  “I learned something about myself today,” he said at last.

  Again he waited, hoping she would encourage him to continue.

  She was silent, and he knew he either had to say what he was thinking and what he had learned or, perhaps, lose his sole opportunity. But what if…?

  Finding it hard to swallow, he gave himself a mental shake and said bluntly, “Sithee, lass, Wat promised me that if we don’t marry, he will find you a suitable husband, one who will keep you out of trouble and give you lots of bairns.”

  “That is what you learned about yourself?”

  “No, no, that is what led to my discovery.”

  “How?”

  “Because I realized I’d exert my authority to disapprove of your marriage to any man he chose, no matter how eligible he was or what your feelings about him might be.”

  A flush reddened her cheeks. The rosiness became her, but he wondered warily if he had shocked her or made her angry. His remaining confidence evaporated. He felt as he had in boyhood, facing unknown but well-deserved censure.

  “Why would you disapprove of them?” she asked then, her voice soft, gentle.

  “Because I’m a selfish man, Robby,” he said, “and apparently a jealous and dull-witted one, too. What did you think of Wat’s kiss?”

  “He is very handsome.”

  “Answer the question I asked you.”

  “He put his arms around me, he is strong, and his clothing has a spicy scent.”

  “Robina.”

  She stepped closer, eyeing him as if her gaze might pierce to his soul. “I am trying to think how his kiss compared to yours, Dev. But…” She spread her hands.

  “Come here.”

  “Why?”

  “You are begging for another skelping.”

  She cocked her head. “Am I? Why would you want to do that?”

  “Why? Robby, I’m trying to tell you that I want you, that the thought of you with any other man made me feel…” He shook his head. “I can’t describe it.”

  “Try.”

  “Damnation, I can’t. Decide! Will you or will you not marry me?”

  Robina felt as if the floor had disappeared from under her feet. Whatever she had expected—at best his admission that he had disliked seeing her kiss Wat—she had not expected his demand for an immediate reply to such a proposal. His demeanor had confused her from the moment she’d seen him watching her kiss Wat. She had sensed his anger then and on the dais. Then, after Wat left them, Dev seemed different, less devilish, perhaps uncertain, and otherwise unreadable.

  She understood her behavior, because she’d behaved much the same when Rab was angry but refused to tell her what she had done to irk him. She would tease him then until he lost his temper and shouted his thoughts and feelings to her, and to the winds.

  She had known that, with Dev, it was a dangerous game. He did not shout when he was angry; he erupted. Then, as she knew, anything might happen.

  Expecting next to hear Rab say that she’d just wanted to know she could make Dev jealous, she realized he did not need to say it. She knew it was true. She also knew that she’d wanted Dev to admit that he cared about her decision, and he had.

  “Robby, will you answer me?”

  “I think perhaps I will,” she said, meeting his gaze.

  “Will answer or will marry me?”

  “I think perhaps I’ll do both. Kiss me, Dev.”

  When he pulled her into his arms, she melted against him and lifted her face up to his. His mouth captured hers, and his strong, warm hands moved over her back and sides as if he would memorize every inch of her by touch.

  Allowing a few minutes to prove again that his kisses were far superior to Wat Scott’s, Robina put her hands against Dev’s arms and said quietly, “I don’t want to stop, because this feels wonderful, but we’re doubtless stirring more talk. Moreover, Cousin Wat may feel obliged to interrupt us if only to see if you’ve left me in one piece.”

  “Then you should rejoin the ladies,” he said, releasing her with a wry smile. “Will you tell them we’ve decided to marry, or should I announce it to everyone at supper?”

  “Nearly everyone already assumes we’re betrothed,” she reminded him. “I’ll tell my cousins that we’ve decided to go forward with the wedding on Saturday, as Cousin Rosalie suggested, unless you think we should wait longer.”

  “No, for everyone is here except my father, and he’ll arrive Friday. In troth, I’d liefer have it done and send all of our guests and Wat’s priest to perdition. That is, if Mistress Geddes can finish your dress by then.”

  She smiled. “I think Rosalie would liefer go sleepless than see it unfinished Saturday. Do you still believe that this will please your lord father?”

  “I’m certain it will,” he said.

  “Then, I should go upstairs now,” she said. “Someone may come.”

  “Before you go,” Dev said, giving her a stern look and gripping her shoulders again, “I don’t ever want to see you kissing Wat or any other man like that again. If you do…” He paused—meaningfully, he hoped.

  She grinned. “I ken fine what you’d do, but I’d best not catch you kissing anyone you should not, either, David Ormiston. I may not be able to put you over my knee, sir, but I’d do something to make you sorry.”

  “You terrify me,” he said with a smile but only half-teasing.

  Tossing him a saucy look, she ran up the stairs, and he watched until she vanished around the next turn.

  He loved watching her move. She was nearly always brisk, confident, and capable, but nonetheless graceful.

  Recalling Anne Kerr’s solemn, demure nature and simpering conversation that bored a man to slumber, he grinned. Although he had initially resented the lady Rosalie’s “misunderstanding” and subsequent insistence that a betrothal existed, his betrothal to Robby ended all trepidation about Lady Anne.

  Moreover, he was certain that Robby would never bore him.

  The rest of Wednesday passed quickly for Robina. No sooner did she announce her decision to marry Dev than Rosalie summoned Mistress Geddes from the room where she both sewed and slept to inform her that the golden silk gown must be finished at speed.

  “We’ll all help you cover the buttons, and I’ll do some of the bodice ruching if you like,” Rosalie added as further inducement.

  Janet and young Bella were both to sleep in Robina’s bedchamber, with Bella occupying a pallet on the floor. Robina gave the arrangement no thought until the three of them went up to tidy themselves for supper and she saw the pallet with a wool blanket on it that she knew had come from the kist.

  “Will one bla
nket be enough, Bella?” she asked, striving for calm.

  “Aye, sure,” Bella said, and Robina prayed that the child was right. She could think of nowhere else in that castle full of visitors and servants to hide the jar.

  From then on, though, the women, including Bella, were so busy stitching that Robina saw Dev, Wat, and Benjy only at mealtimes.

  Tradition forbade fitting a wedding dress on the bride, so the cheerful little seamstress measured a weary Robina again Thursday evening to make sure that her measurements had not altered, while the other women continued with their tasks.

  At last, Mistress Geddes said with a smile, “ ’Tis a miracle, m’lady. Not only will ye ha’ yon lovely gown for your wedding, but two fine new kirtles, as well.”

  Thanking her, Robina bade them all goodnight, went to bed, and slept until the rattle of the bed curtains and Corinne’s cheery greeting woke her.

  “The Scott ladies was all up and dressed an hour since, m’lady,” Corinne said. “We let ye sleep longer. But Herself says ye must ha’ your bath and wash your hair now if ye’d be fit to welcome Lord Ormiston today.”

  “Ormiston!” Robina exclaimed, sitting up in a blink. “Mercy, I forgot about him!”

  Friday afternoon, Dev greeted his father warily and his unexpected younger sister with delight, having no idea what had brought them to Coklaw. While Ormiston dismounted in the yard, Dev aided Fiona, who flung herself into his arms and gave him a fierce hug.

  “Is all well at home, sir?” he asked his father, still holding her.

  Watching the two of them with a smile, Ormiston said, “Aye, lad.”

  “You won’t have to wed Anne Kerr, Davy,” Fiona said, grinning. “Kerr sent word to Father that she is to marry some Elliot man.” Then, rather too casually, she added, “Since they couldn’t visit us for Beltane, we thought we’d honor Coklaw with our presence, instead. I hope you are pleased to see us and not horrified.”

  “Never horrified, Fee,” he said, hugging her again. “You are both always welcome here. ’Tis good that Kerr doesn’t expect me to offer for Anne, though,” he added looking from Fiona to Ormiston. “I’ve offered for Robina, and she has accepted me.”

  “Godamercy,” Fiona murmured, flicking a wary glance at Ormiston.

  Ormiston’s eyebrows soared upward. “Fast work for a man who had no intention of marrying,” he said evenly.

  “I do have a tale to tell, sir,” Dev said. “But we should talk more privily.”

  “Does that mean you won’t tell me?” Fiona demanded.

  “It does,” he said. “But you may ask Robby. If she wants to tell you, she will. Meantime, you must both come inside and make yourselves comfortable. We have rather a crowd here at present. Buccleuch arrived Wednesday and brought his sisters and Lady Meg. His grandaunt, the lady Rosalie Percy, has been with us for nigh a sennight.”

  Ormiston gave him a longer look. “Just when is this wedding to be, David?”

  Dev fought a sudden urge to grin, certain that his father would see little humor in the situation. “Wat’s priest will marry us tomorrow, sir.”

  “Tomorrow!” Fiona exclaimed. “Why did you not send for us sooner?”

  “Because I’d already received Father’s message that he would arrive today.”

  “ ’Twas thoughtful of you to wait for us,” Ormiston said with a frown that Dev easily interpreted. He was thus able to keep his temper when his father added, “One presumes that one need not suspect the Scotts had cause to press for such a marriage.”

  “Mercy, why would they?” Fiona asked, looking from one man to the other.

  “No one did, Fee,” Dev said. To Ormiston, he said mildly, “I won’t deny that a member of Wat’s party played a role, sir, but none to concern you. Nor am I displeased with the outcome. So let us go in now, and I’ll explain it all to you privily. I warrant you could do with refreshment, perhaps some claret to assuage the thirst of your journey.”

  “And I want to meet Lady Robina and Buccleuch’s sisters,” Fiona said.

  They went in, and as they neared the hall landing, he was relieved to see Robby coming downstairs. When their eyes met, she smiled.

  He smiled, too, pleased to see that she had arranged her gleaming hair in its usual single plait, rather than any of the fussier styles she’d attempted.

  Bobbing a curtsy when he introduced her to Ormiston, Robby said, “I am sorry I missed meeting you outside, my lord. Things here are a bit chaotic, but do come into the hall. Or”—she looked at Dev—“if you want to talk privily with his lordship, sir, perhaps Lady Fiona would like to join the other ladies.”

  “An excellent notion, my lady,” Ormiston said. “I have not seen you since shortly after your brother Benjamin was born, but I shall be delighted to welcome you to our family. David has done well for himself, I think.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Robina said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  Nodding, Ormiston said to Dev, “There is an inner chamber beyond that dais, as I recall. Shall we talk there?”

  Detecting concern in Robby’s eyes, Dev winked at her before he said, “Also an excellent notion, sir. The claret jug and goblets are there.”

  Chukk looked down on the increased activity at Coklaw with dismay. Buccleuch was back again, and a new group of horsemen with one young lady had ridden in a short while ago under a banner he did not recognize. There were so many men-at-arms that, had the tents of these new visitors and those of Buccleuch’s men not huddled so close to the north and east walls, he might have mistaken the scene for another siege.

  The gate stood wide, and men and women walked to and fro. On the east slope horses grazed near a sike flowing northeastward toward the Teviot from the castle.

  Chukk had concealed himself that day on a hill north of the castle and opposite the one they called Sunnyside. He had his crook with him and one of his men, a shaggy-haired lad with the ill-got name of Bangtail Joey. No one had challenged them.

  “Sakes, we’ll find nowt save trouble an we stay here,” Joey complained. “There be too many folks, Chukk. What can ye hope t’ gain by it?”

  “Information is what,” Chukk said. “This tower be the closest one o’ size to the line hereabouts, less than a day’s march afoot, as ye ken yourself.”

  “Aye, but we’re likely to get wet afore we get home again,” Joey muttered grumpily. “Jest look at them clouds yonder, a-growing darker as they come.”

  “The rain may keep away till tomorrow, though raining then would bring ill-fortune for the bride and groom.”

  “Ye did say ye’d heard that some’un was a-getting married.”

  “Sakes, near everyone hereabouts be talking about the Warden o’ Coklaw marrying the laird’s sister tomorrow. Word o’ that wedding will ha’ got all over the Borders by now, as quick as news flies hereabouts. Ye must pay more heed to such, Joey.”

  “What do it ha’ to do wi’ us, though? Tell me that.”

  “Sithee, yon warden may ha’ summat o’ Northumberland’s. I’m thinking, if we can return it to his lordship, he’ll reward us well.”

  “If that warden o’ yours doesna hang us first.”

  “Dinna fret. I’m sending ye back to move the lads closer. If ye’re afeard, just send some’un else t’ meet me and take yourself home.”

  “Nay, I’ll stay,” Joey assured him. “But what will ye do whilst I’m awa’?”

  “Make sure that our prize be here is what.”

  “Good fortune t’ ye then, ’cause if they dinna catch ye, yon rain surely will. Them black clouds dinna be bringing all their kith and kin for nowt.”

  “Just fetch the lads, Joey. Settle them in that cleuch west o’ where we were before. Nae one will stumble on ye there. I’m thinking the rain will keep off till morning, but dinna try to find me ’less ye fail t’ see me by Sunday midday.”

  “Aye, sure,” Joey said.

  Chukk agreed with Joey about the rain but thought it might provide a gleam of hope. If it did not come tonight, it
would come tomorrow.

  Then, if the jar he sought still lay buried beneath the sapling, he could figure out how to collect it. If the hole was empty, as he strongly suspected it was, he would simply need a new course of action.

  While he waited, he’d have plenty of time and solitude to plan for either option.

  Chapter 17

  Pouring claret into two goblets, Dev handed one to Ormiston and set the jug on the inner chamber table between them.

  “Many folks have passed through here today,” Ormiston observed as Dev sat in the chair behind the table, facing him.

  “They have, aye. News travels fast, as you know, so people have been coming since Tuesday to offer their felicitations. Since Robby decided only on Wednesday to marry me, we told our people to say ’twas nobbut a rumor before then.”

  “Tell me the whole tale now,” Ormiston said.

  Dev sipped his wine, taking the time to compose his thoughts. Then he said, “Lady Rosalie began it, sir. I’ll not accuse her of doing so willfully. But…”

  He went on to explain what had happened and saw that Ormiston, too, was skeptical of Rosalie’s “misunderstanding.”

  Since Dev had accepted his fate more willingly than he’d anticipated, he felt more amusement than empathy as he read his father’s changing expressions.

  When Dev finished his tale, Ormiston said, “I know Lady Meg, of course, and her sister Amalie, who married Westruther. But I’ve not clapped eyes on their younger sister. I did hear that she’d married across the line.”

  “Aye, to Richard Percy, a cousin of Northumberland’s and of her mother, Annabel Murray. He died in Wales several years ago. Their sons had fostered and married elsewhere, so Rosalie returned to Scotland, rather than live with either of them.”

  “Does she often play mischief-maker?”

  Dev smiled. “I’ve only just met her, sir, but Wat says she does not. I’d say she’s imperceptive, but she may just be unwilling to admit a mistake.”