Devil's Moon

by Amanda Scott

Certain that Robby had understood him, Dev watched Jock escort their prisoner into the chamber before he said to Sandy, “Tell the lads on the wall to keep their eyes sharp but to do nowt to make anyone watching us suspicious.”

  “Sakes, sir, how could anyone watch? We ha’ men out everywhere.”

  “We’ll take no chances, even so,” Dev said. “We’ll behave as if there are enemy eyes everywhere. I’m not in any mood for more surprises.”

  Dismissing Sandy, he entered the chamber and told Jock to stay nearby but to make sure no one disturbed them. “You must not try to hear what we say, either, Jock,” he added, more for their visitor’s benefit than because Jock needed telling.

  “Aye, sir, I’ll see to it,” Jock replied. “Just shout when ye’ve decided what we’re to do wi’ this ruffian.”

  “Sakes, I’ll tell ye that,” their guest announced, squaring his skinny shoulders. “Ye’ll leave me be is what ye’ll do, unless ye’re tired o’ your lairdie.”

  Waving Jock away, Dev leaned against the heavy table and said softly, “You’d be wise to deliver your message before you irk me enough to make it unnecessary. You do know what they call me, do you not?”

  Satisfied to see the cocky look vanish and the man’s face pale, Dev kept silent, knowing that few people could let anyone’s silence continue for long.

  At last, the chap said, “We dinna want to harm the laddie, but we ha’ our orders and we darena disobey them.”

  “Your orders come from Northumberland?”

  “That be what I’m told, sir.”

  Dev nodded, saying, “I’ll do whatever I must to bring that boy home safely. Tell me what I must do.”

  “Ye’re to come alone tomorrow just afore midday to fetch him. Also, as comp… compen—”

  “Compensation?” Dev supplied dryly.

  “Aye, that’s it. Ye’re to bring a certain article what ye must ha’ found recently. I dinna ken what it be, but ye’ll ken that yourself or someone else here will ken what our captain means.”

  “I know what he wants,” Dev said.

  “Aye? Well, it be gey important. ’Less ye bring it, that lad willna survive the day.”

  “Where are we to meet?”

  “It’ll just be ye meeting me captain and the wee lairdie. Afore I tell ye where, I must ha’ your word as a Borderer that ye’ll do as ye’re bid and willna reveal the meeting place to anyone. Me captain likewise promises he’ll come alone wi’ only the bairn.”

  Forcing himself to reply calmly, and belatedly wishing that he’d not sent Robby upstairs, Dev said, “You have my word as a Borderer that I’ll do as you say and will tell no one what you have told me.”

  “Ye’re also to make sure that nae one follows ye, sir. Can ye do that, too?”

  Praying that he spoke the truth, Dev said firmly, “I can, aye.”

  Upstairs, her eyes at the squint and her ears aprick, so she could see all they did and hear every word, Robina breathed, “Blethers!”

  Then, in utter dismay, she watched as the messenger whispered in Dev’s ear.

  Chapter 22

  Benjy was miserable and wished he had not so easily eluded Ash’s keen eye the day before. But he had, so his misery was his own fault. He knew that Beany would say so and that Dev would likely do more than that.

  Rab would skelp him, if Rab were still alive. If only he were!

  Rab had not said one word to him. Yet Beany told Dev that Rab had warned her of danger more than once, so why—?

  “Art hungry, laddie?” the growly man asked, looming over him.

  Benjy shrugged. He was hungry but did not want to eat their food. The four men guarding him were rough and mean-looking. But, in the graveyard, their growly leader had crept up behind him so softly that he’d had no warning until the man spoke.

  By then, it was too late. The man had said they were just going for a short ride. But they’d ridden for hours before stopping by the thin rivulet in this unfamiliar forest. They’d been here for a while, too.

  The sun was going down, and they’d not even built a fire to keep warm.

  “Do I call ye ‘Coklaw,’ or do they call ye summat else?” the growly man asked.

  Benjy knew his proper title was Laird of Gledstanes and Coklaw. But strangers had called Rab “Gledstanes.” His friends had called him Rab even after their father died, so Benjy was not sure what to say. Still, good manners required an answer.

  “Me name’s Benjy,” he said. “I want to go home.”

  “I ken that fine, Benjy. I want to go home m’self. I ha’ wanted that since I were a bairn younger than what ye be.”

  Habitually polite, despite his anger and unhappiness with the situation, Benjy said, “Ha’ ye been away from home as long as that?”

  “I ha’ almost nae memory o’ the place,” the man said. “But that doesna lessen the yearning,” he added with a sigh.

  “Then why d’ye no go home?”

  “ ’Tis too far away, across fearsome seas.”

  “Where?”

  The man glanced at their companions. “You lot, get on wi’ yer work. I’ll look after the bairn. Caleb, send Joey to me when he returns.”

  The men left, muttering to each other, and the growly one handed Benjy two small oatcakes, which the boy took without hesitation.

  The man said, “I dinna talk much about me homeland. Most o’ that lot doesna believe the place exists.”

  “What be it called then?” Benjy asked. He bit into an oatcake and chewed.

  “Scots and English call it Shetland. We called it Hjaltland.”

  To Benjy’s ear, the two words sounded similar but not quite the same.

  “The ancients called it the Isles o’ Cats,” the man added.

  “Are there many cats there?”

  “Nae more than most places. Me mam had one, though. I ken that fine, ’cause she were sad at leavin’ it behind. But had she brought it wi’ her, the wee beast would ha’ drooned when our ship sank.”

  “Then why did you not drown, too?”

  “D’ye wish I had?”

  Uncertain how to answer that honestly, Benjy kept silent.

  Chukk eyed the boy speculatively and realized when Benjy bit his lower lip that the lad feared him.

  “I didna mean it that way,” Benjy said softly. “I was curious only because you said the cat would have drowned.”

  Grimacing, Chukk realized that the night ahead might be long. He dared not leave the lad with the others; yet he had to know if Bangtail Joey had succeeded. At least, Joey would not tell Devil Ormiston where the laddie was. Joey didn’t know.

  Chukk had twelve men at the encampment and had sent six others on ahead, so, counting Joey, they’d be a score in all. He had heard much about Ormiston, but even Northumberland admitted that, devil or not, he was a man who kept his word if he gave it. Joey would demand his word of honor before revealing their meeting place.

  Not being trustworthy himself and believing that most men were not, Chukk was taking precautions to ensure that Devil Ormiston did keep his word.

  The young laird was a surprise, though, having remained unnaturally calm from the outset. Although he had insisted that he would not go with them, he’d kept silent when Chukk forced him to go. Nor had the boy complained as they’d ridden south. In truth, Benjy reminded Chukk of himself at the same age, unhappy and homesick but doing as he was told, knowing that resistance was useless.

  Chukk liked the wee lairdie and hoped he would not have to kill him.

  Despite every attempt, using every wile she knew to persuade Dev, Robina failed to learn where he was to meet the villains who had taken Benjy.

  “If I broke my word to the messenger now,” Dev said as they left the hall after supper, “how could you believe that I’d not break my word to you?”

  “This is a matter of life or death,” she reminded him.

  “However, your participation is not,” he pointed out, maddeningly.

  “I have a right to know, Dev. Good sak
es! They are villainous Percys, who do not keep their word. You’ll likely ride into a trap.”

  “Would you risk Benjy’s life just to protect me, Robby?”

  To her shock, a voice inside her shrieked “yes!” Her lips parted but she could not speak. Tears sprang to her eyes at the fact that she could even entertain such a horrible thought for a second. She could not bear to lose either of them.

  “I can’t…” Stifling an unexpected sob, she blurted, “I can’t lose anyone else!”

  He stopped on the landing, opened his arms, and held her close. She felt his breath on her hair and smelled the scent of the soap he used and the woodland scents from his jack. Its soft leather felt like a caress against her cheek. Her treacherous world steadied.

  “You must send for Wat and your father now,” she murmured.

  Giving her another brief hug, he set her back on her heels to say, “I cannot send for more men, sweetheart. ’Tis too dangerous. If those villains suspect I’ve sent for reinforcements, they’ll likely kill Benjy and slip across the line.”

  “He’ll need Wat, Beany! Persuade him!”

  Gritting her teeth, she muttered. “You cannot go alone to meet them, Dev.”

  “Jock will go as far as—” He broke off, drew a breath, and Robina silently cursed the demon who had reminded him of his damnable promise. “I’ll take Jock part way with me,” he went on. “He’s as skilled a man as I know for looking as if he has every right to be where he is, doing what he’s doing. He’ll conceal himself, keep me in sight, and be able to report what happens.”

  She knew that Dev was more skilled at tactics and strategy than most men, so he had to know how little aid one man, even Jock Cranston, could lend him at such a distance. The villains, having watched Coklaw unseen and abducted Benjy without a soul stopping them or reporting their presence, clearly had equally well-trained men to watch for trouble.

  “'Just a few shepherds,” she muttered, remembering.

  Dev’s eyebrows flew upward. “What?”

  “What if every shepherd who was supposed to be hunting lost sheep was a villain instead?” she asked him. “Were there not several reports of such?”

  “There were. But, if you think we should have questioned each one as if he were a villainous Percy, just imagine the reaction hereabouts had they all been innocent.”

  “They could have been Turnbulls rather than Percys,” she said. “Having lost two cows and four sheep in return for lifting our beasts, they may be seeking revenge.”

  “Sweetheart, right now, who the villains are matters less than the fact that they have Benjy,” Dev said. “However, as you must have heard, they want to trade him for an item about which the Turnbulls ken nowt.”

  “Will you give them the jar?”

  “I gave my word. And its contents likely do belong to the Percys.”

  “Aye, perhaps,” she said quietly, knowing that she’d lost any argument she might make when he’d given the messenger his word. “Promise me that you’ll wear your shirt of mail under your jack and do all that you can to bring yourself and Benjy back safely.”

  “I’ll do all of that, sweetheart. You know I will.”

  “I do,” she said with a sigh, “but I’m so tired I cannot think. If you won’t let me help, I think I’ll go to bed. You’ll wake me if aught else happens.”

  “Aye, but I’ll go up with you,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry about me or about Benjy. Worrying alters nowt, lass. ’Tis wiser to wait and see what happens.”

  She agreed not to worry, and when he wanted to couple before she slept, she accepted him willingly and exerted herself to show him how much he had taught her. After all, she thought desolately, it might be the last chance they had.

  Even so, she’d had to exert herself not to snort in derision when Dev said not to worry. The only people who never worried were naïve innocents who still believed that nothing bad would happen to them.

  Those who knew better worried because they knew better.

  However, agreeing with him and encouraging his lovemaking, which she enjoyed as much as he did, meant they would waste no more time in debate. And time was vital, because Rab had said that Dev would need help.

  She had realized as much herself when Dev reminded her that the villains wanted the jarful of silver. The only one likely to know its whereabouts now was the thief who had stolen and buried it or someone who had aided him. It had to have been one of Northumberland’s own men just to get inside his tent.

  However, once they had the money, would they really release Benjy?

  Midday tomorrow would come quickly, and she had a number of things to do.

  Dev was glad to see that Robby still slept when he woke at dawn to Coll’s light touch. He had feared he might waken her when he’d come to bed in the middle of the night, but if they could keep from waking her now, she might sleep well into the morning.

  The longer, the better, he told himself. Getting up as gently as he could, he eased the bed curtain shut to block light through the shutters and moved quietly on bare feet to the washstand to wash himself.

  Coll moved as silently, gathering Dev’s clothes.

  “Give orders to pull our people in close to the castle,” Dev whispered as he pulled on his braies and breeks by the door. “Don’t ask questions; just see to it.”

  “I should go wi’ ye,” Coll whispered back. “Wherever ye’re a-going.”

  Shaking his head, Dev opened the door and motioned for Coll to follow him onto the landing. Easing the door shut, he murmured, “I’m taking Jock, not because I trust him more but because he’s gey clever about concealing himself. And he’ll need to be. In a fight, I’d liefer have you and your sword. Today, I need Jock.”

  Coll nodded, and Dev knew that he’d obey. “Keep close to her ladyship, and see that she stays here,” he added, his mind having automatically shifted to the person most likely to disobey him.

  “I wield no authority over her,” Coll reminded him.

  “You do today,” Dev said. “Stuff her in a kist and sit on it if you must.”

  “Sir, you can’t mean that, nor would she ever forgive me if I did such a thing.”

  “Then use your imagination, my lad, because if you let her do aught to endanger herself, I will have your head. So choose how.”

  Hearing Coll gulp, he knew he’d made his point, and Coll would keep Robby safe.

  Robina waited until she was sure that Dev had gone downstairs and Coll would be busy with his usual duties. Then, aware that Dev expected her to sleep late and would tell Corinne not to wake her, she dressed as hastily as she could and went downstairs and out through the bakehouse to look for Sandy. Disconcertingly, she ran into Coll instead.

  “I thought ye were asleep, m’lady,” he said.

  “I woke up,” she replied with a smile. “Have you seen Sandy or Shag?”

  “Shag’s gone to help call in our lads. Sandy’s yonder,” Coll said, pointing. “I should tell ye, m’lady, that the master said I’m t’ keep close to ye.”

  “Faith, why should you?” she demanded.

  “To see ye keep safe, he said.”

  “Well, I can keep myself safe, so you need not trouble yourself.”

  “He said I’m t’ stuff ye in a kist and sit on it if I must,” Coll said desperately.

  “Look here, Coll, you care about his safety, too, do you not?”

  “Aye, sure, but—”

  “Dev has gone, aye?”

  “Aye, he left whiles ago wi’ Jock. But m’lady, I canna—”

  “Clearly, I must take you into my confidence, Coll. You see, last night…”

  Chukk woke Benjy early, knowing that to reach the meeting place would take time. His men were ready. Others had gone ahead, and they all knew what he expected of them. If Devil Ormiston’s sworn word was good, he’d have his treasure soon after midday.

  He’d have preferred to meet at dawn, because folks in the area would still be sleeping. But they would have had to
ride at night, and since their lair was two hours from Coklaw and the moon was full, they’d have risked being taken for raiders.

  As it was, they’d separated into twos and threes and were keeping to woodland, away from open roads. When Chukk saw people gathering wood, he thought nothing of it. None paid heed to a man and a boy on horseback who looked like a father and his son.

  Chukk led the lad’s horse to keep him from trying to flee. That irritated the laddie, but his glowers would lead onlookers to suspect only that he’d misbehaved. In any event, Chukk had told Benjy he’d take leather to him if he grew troublesome.

  They soon saw many more wood gatherers, and children picking flowers, whereupon Chukk realized with shock that people were gathering wood for their Beltane fires. He’d forgotten that the first of May, when folks relit their home fires from communal ones, was nearly upon them.

  “Not a word, lad,” he murmured to Benjy as they passed close to one group.

  The boy wisely kept silent.

  When someone called out to wish them good fortune, Chukk returned the greeting but increased their pace to discourage further discourse.

  “Good lad,” he said when they were safely past the gatherers.

  “I didna ken any o’ them,” Benjy replied gruffly. “I didna think they’d believe aught I said. They’d ha’ believed whatever ye said, instead.”

  “Ye’re a wise laddie,” Chukk said. “See that ye stay wise.”

  They came at last to the road he wanted, and he took it, confident that none would interfere with them there. Coklaw men would risk no harm to their lairdie, and others would assume that Benjy knew him.

  He was more worried that one of his lads might err while they tried to position themselves without drawing notice. They were good lads, though, and clever.

  As they rode, to pass the time, he told Benjy some of the tales his dad had told him about Shetland. When the boy asked if he thought he’d ever get back again, Chukk said, “If all goes well, I will. Sithee, me da wanted to go hisself. But he could never think how to collect in safety what I’ll get today by me own wits.”

  “What is it?”