April Moon

by Merline Lovelace

  “There’s someone here, I know it,” one of them growled. “I heard something.”

  “Och, it could be the piper making his way through caves. They do say he still roams,” another said.

  The leader snorted a laugh. “Ha! The full moon and the Beauty about in the night has made cowards out o’ you brats.”

  “But the Beauty keeps us safe, here in these caves—we’re glad for that legend. No one comes near here,” one of the others said. “But I swear I heard footsteps and saw a light.”

  “You heard the sea, or the birds escaping. And you saw moonlight or the lantern’s reflection.”

  “Could be our own lads.”

  “Aye, could be.”

  They moved again, and Jenny feared that they would soon see her. Turning, she wedged into the crevice, which was deeper than she had first thought.

  Crunching footsteps came closer, and the lantern light spilled over the hems of her brown patterned dress and dark gray cloak, though the fabrics blended with the rocky surroundings. She held her breath, standing in the blackness.

  Then a strong hand covered her mouth from behind, and a hard grip took her by the waist. She was pulled, hard and fast, into the crevice.

  SHE STRUGGLED in his arms, thrashing so much that Simon thought sure she would give them both away. Keeping his hand over her mouth, he lowered his head. “Be still, Jenny, for love of God,” he breathed. “It’s only me. Hush.”

  She froze. Then her cheek moved softly against his own as she looked up him, wide-eyed. She quieted, but sank a well-aimed boot heel into his shin.

  Grimacing, Simon tightened his grip around her waist, hugging her so that her back pressed against his chest, feeling her tense in his arms. The smugglers were only a few feet away, their lantern light spilling into the crevice. Simon held Jenny utterly still with him.

  His left upper arm throbbed where the pistol ball had torn through fabric and flesh, though by some miracle it had not embedded. Every movement made it ache more fiercely. Although he had used his wadded cravat to staunch the bleeding, he felt a trickle down his arm and hand, and he realized that his blood was staining Jenny’s cloak. He fisted his hand as he gripped her, though the flexion brought a fresh wave of pain.

  He wondered if one of the bastards standing just out of arm’s reach had shot him, or if MacSorley or one of his men had followed him to plant a pistol ball. That question was one among many that he meant to have answered before long.

  Resting his cheek against Jenny’s hair, he inhaled the scent of wildflowers in that silky coolness. Her slender body felt good in his arms, and he sensed the thud of her heart. She flooded his senses, filled his body with desire and gratitude just to be with her again, no matter the circumstances.

  Four years ago, he had left his heart in her keeping, like some hidden treasure she did not even know she had. Now she was in his arms, but nothing was as he had imagined it would be. He had planned to take slow, measured steps to apologize, to confess his secrets, to win her love again and to regain the respect of all the Colvins, as well.

  But Jock was sentenced to die, Felix and the others distrusted him and Jenny was angry and wary. Instead of careful wooing, Simon found himself hurtling headlong into danger with the very girl he had promised, however unwillingly, to let alone.

  More than that, he was obliged as king’s officer to discover why she was here among rogues and thieves. He could only hope that Jenny Colvin was not enmeshed with the smuggling criminals he had been sent to find and quell.

  Hearing low murmurs and more footsteps, he opened his eyes to see the light pass by the crevice. Long after the steps faded, Simon stood motionless with Jenny, his heart pounding in rhythm with hers. Finally he let out his breath, and she did, too.

  She turned. “You!” she snarled, and gave him a shove, so that his left shoulder thumped against rock. A stab of pain went through his arm, but he snatched her wrists, held them between her breasts and his own chest. “What the devil are you doing here?” she demanded. “Following me? Set on searching me again?”

  “Should I?” he whispered. “Have you stuffed your drawers with bladderskins since last we met?”

  “Insufferable gauger,” she muttered, and twisted in his grip. He let her go to spare his wounded left arm the effort. She turned in the narrow space, her body brushing his through layers of clothing, and leaned to peer outside.

  He looped his uninjured arm around her to pull her back against him again. “Be careful,” he whispered.

  “I’m not foolish,” she retorted.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” he whispered. “I would not call that whip-smart, my lass.”

  “You’re here, too, Simon Lockhart,” she pointed out.

  “Aye, but I’m a rogue. I’ve the right.”

  She made a little sound of disgust, then craned her head forward to look cautiously into the passageway. “They’re gone.”

  “They could still be in the outer cave. Let me see.” He eased past her, his body rubbing against hers in a delicious way as he leaned out to look.

  A faint glow showed far down the passage, and he vaguely heard voices above the constant roar-and-shush of the entering tide. Simon glanced over his shoulder. Jenny’s face showed pale in the deep shadows, her blue eyes large, dark, so intent they nearly sparked.

  “They’re in the main cave,” he told her. “Who are they?”

  “The older man is a cousin of Captain MacSorley, but I dinna recognize the others. They’re all MacSorley’s men, I would say.”

  “I met him with several of his lads out on the moor. They seemed to be quite busy tonight, too, though they denied it.”

  “They’re all rascals, and I dinna want to be anywhere near them. But we canna stand here in this wee crevice all night.” She began to squeeze past him.

  He took her upper arm. “You’ll stay with me.”

  “Go about your business—whatever that may be—and I’ll go about my own.” She tried to twist past him, but he blocked her with one arm and the leverage of his body.

  “Just what is your business in these caves, Jenny?”

  The effusive light in the outer passage reflected on her face as she stared up at him, frowning. Her eyes were two great dark gleams, and in sunshine, he knew, would be sapphire bright.

  “My father sent me here,” she said bluntly. “He asked me to find something for him here. I canna tell you more than that. Why are you here?”

  He shrugged. “I have my secrets, too.”

  “You always had too many secrets, Simon Lockhart,” she whispered intently. “Well, now I have some, too. When I’ve found what my father sent me for, I’ll leave, and no harm to anyone.”

  “That sounds just the thing to interest the excise man.”

  “The de’il take the excise man,” she said between her teeth, her face angled close to his.

  “He probably will,” Simon murmured.

  God, he wanted to kiss her, suddenly, urgently. The feeling overwhelmed him, strong as the sea. He stood there, aware of her breath mingling with his own, feeling her taut arm under his fingers. His body flexed, heated, in response to her nearness. Gazing at her calmly, he fought the desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her as passionately and madly as he had done on the day they had parted, years before.

  No, he cautioned himself. He had come back to woo her and win her. Snatching her up to kiss her with all the desperation and loneliness inside of him was neither wooing nor wise.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, treading carefully.

  “Not a letter in four years,” she said. “Not a word.”

  “I sent word, I told you, in the first month after I left.”

  “We never got it. What about all the other months?”

  “I was…busy,” he said.

  “And now I’m busy. I must go.” Picking up her lantern, she slid open the shutter a little.

  “No light,” he growled, and snapped the window shut. “Those men saw you
r light earlier, and heard the doves.”

  “The what?”

  “The rock doves,” he said. “When you came in, the birds flew out the entrance. I heard it, and so did the smugglers. Bonny little sentinels, sounding an alarm whenever strangers approach the seaward entrance. That may be why MacSorley uses this place.”

  “That, and because people stay away for fear of seeing the Beauty, or the ghosts who haunts these caves.” She tilted her head to look at him. “How long have you been here? When I left the moor, you were riding out after MacSorley’s band. Yet you were in the cave before me, though I never saw you, nor saw any birds flying out of the cave when I entered.”

  “I did not come by the seaward entrance.”

  “There is no other,” she said.

  “So I thought, too, until I fell through a hole and found myself in the Kelpie’s Cave. I made it this far down the passage before I saw MacSorley’s lads, so I ducked in here. You came along not long after.”

  Jenny looked surprised. “There’s a landward entrance?”

  “On the moor near the hawthorn grove where we left our horses. I saw Sweetheart there with the cart.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you think MacSorley and his men know about it?”

  “Quite possibly they dug the tunnel themselves. The opening was hidden by bracken and turf, and a stone at the entrance moved easily when I fell on it. Likely they use that access to move contraband in here when the tide is high.”

  She frowned. “If they go out now and see our horses in the hawthorn clearing, they’ll realize we’re in here.”

  “Aye, and there’s your wee pony cart filled with empty crates, all ready for transporting…what was it again?” he fished.

  “Nothing a gauger need worry about. Go on about your preventive work and leave me be—but first tell me where to find that landward entrance. ’Twill be hours before the tide recedes, so I canna leave here as I came in, after I—” She stopped.

  “Ah, your urgent matter of free trade.” He regarded her soberly, and lifted his right hand to press on his wound, which ached and still seeped.

  “I told you I promised to do something for my father. Nothing much, but if he wants this…I will do it.”

  “Whatever it is, Jock would not want you in here with smugglers about.”

  “He wouldna want me in here with you,” she pointed out. “So just show me the landward entrance, and I’ll be fine on my own.” She neatly ducked past him to step into the passage.

  “Ho, lass,” he said, snatching her arm and drawing her inside the narrow confine again.

  “Let me go,” she whispered urgently, and smacked at him with a fisted hand. The blow caught the tender spot on his upper left arm that he had been trying to protect.

  With a low, involuntary moan, he grasped at his shoulder. “Damn,” he breathed, as pain exploded in his arm and strange lights dazzled in front of his eyes.

  Jenny clutched his forearm. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. I just—did not expect to be pummelled,” he said, gathering his wits and straightening again.

  “You’re white as chalk. I didna mean to hit you so hard.”

  He laughed then, could not help it, and the sheer agony abated a little. He shook his head. “No, my dear. I’m pistol shot.” Sucking in a breath, he pressed his hand over his torn sleeve, where the blood seeped.

  She gasped. “Let me see,” she insisted.

  “It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You’re bleeding,” she whispered. “I didna notice in the dark.” Her hands encircled his arm, and a little blood leaked through her fingers. “Oh, Simon! My God. That must be tended, and soon. But we must find some place better than this—we need light, and you need to sit down.”

  “There’s a spot back there—I found it just before you came.” He tipped his head to indicate the darkness behind them. “It’s very well hidden. Come on.”

  Taking her arm, he guided her farther into the narrow channel in the rock where they stood. The crevice appeared to end at a sheer rock wall, but a horizontal split in the rock leaked fresh sea breezes.

  “Climb through,” he whispered. “There’s a little cave on the other side.”

  Jenny slid quickly through the crack in the rock and out the other side, while Simon followed, ignoring the burst of pain in his arm.

  He emerged to stand in a small natural balcony formed by a pocket in the massive black rock of the cliff face. The little terrace was open to air and light and provided a magnificent view of sea and sky.

  Jenny stood looking out over the sea, where breakers creamed like lace and moonlight spangled the water. Twinkling lights showed all along the black line of the hills beyond the shore.

  Simon crossed to join her in two or three steps. The sea air felt good as it wafted through his hair and fluttered his shirt and jacket. He stood beside her and breathed in the freshness, resting his right hand over the aching wound. The indigo sky sparkled with stars, and the round moon glowed like a white fire, casting its pure light over the sea.

  “It’s beautiful here. So peaceful.” She smiled up at him in the moonlight.

  “Aye,” he agreed softly. “And it’s safe here. No one will find us—providing we’re quiet.”

  “Good. Then I can care for that wound properly. Sit, you,” she directed, steering him toward a low protrusion in the wall that could serve for a bench, “and take off your coat.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EASING OUT OF HIS COAT, Simon sat, brightening the lantern to cast a golden wash of light in the moonlit interior of the little hidden terrace. Jenny turned her back to him, and he realized that she was tearing a length of cloth from her chemise.

  Coming toward him, she set to work, neatly—and rather heartlessly, he thought—ripping the length of his bloody sleeve to the shoulder.

  “That was good lawn,” he muttered.

  “And will make a fine bandage,” she said. Her touch was soothing as she wadded his torn sleeve to clean his bared arm. Then she pressed with both thumbs on the wound.

  “Ow!” He sucked in a breath.

  “There’s no pistol ball in there,” she pronounced.

  “I knew that,” he rasped. “You had only to ask.”

  She dabbed at the wound, a deep gash through skin into muscle that bled freely. “Oh, my dear…it needs cauterizing.”

  “Bandage it tightly. We’ve no time.”

  Quickly she wrapped fabric around the taut muscle of his upper arm. In the moon’s blue light, he studied the pale grace of her profile and the gleaming sweep of her hair.

  Closing his eyes briefly, ignoring the searing pain in his arm, Simon smelled the copper tang of his blood, the salt air and the faint sweetness of wildflowers in Jenny’s hair. He felt comforted by her fragrance, by her gentle touch.

  He still loved her, always had, always would, no matter if she returned it. The blend of fire and gentleness in her, together with her serene beauty and graceful shape, still captivated him. Memories of her had sustained him through two years in a dreary prison cell, and through two more years while he worked off the rest of his sentencing and strived to improve his circumstances, all the while planning to return a new man in her regard—and in his own.

  “Who shot you?” she asked in a tight, low voice. He saw her frown.

  “I do not know.”

  “You said you spoke with MacSorley out on the moor. Did you see guns on his men?”

  “No guns, but they would not be so foolish as to show them to a preventive officer. Clubs and blades are one thing—pistols are regarded as wholly another. Then the law would be after them for rebellion and treason over smuggling. Most free traders respect that as too great a risk.”

  “My father’s lads never carry them, but MacSorley and his pirates might well have them.”

  He nodded as she tied off the bandage and drew the remnant of his sleeve over the wound. “That will do for now. But you must see a doctor and have
that cauterized, or it will continue to seep.”

  “Later. Thank you, lass.” He eased back into his coat with her help, and stood. A wave of pain and dizziness passed quickly enough. “We cannot stay here.”

  “But you said we couldna be found here.”

  “We’re well hidden, aye, but as cozy as our little secret place is, we must go. I intend to get you back home to Glendarroch as soon as possible.”

  “I willna leave the caves just yet. I told you so.”

  “Jenny Colvin,” he said sternly, “these sea caves will soon be filled with the worst smugglers on the Solway shores, and I do not want you here.”

  She leaned toward him. “Show me where that landward entrance is, and I’ll see to my errand and be gone before the rest of MacSorley’s ruffians come around. And you can tend to your work and then go find yourself a doctor.”

  “You haven’t changed.” He glared down at her. “Still as stubborn as a stone.”

  “And a good thing,” she retorted, “or I might have crumbled, years ago, when someone I once loved betrayed me and mine.”

  He deserved that, he knew, but it still hurt.

  Jenny crouched and slid through the horizontal gap. Watching her slender bottom wriggle through, followed by her neatly shaped limbs and booted feet, he lifted a brow and enjoyed the sight.

  Her hand stretched toward him. “Come on!” she whispered.

  Following her into the narrow crevice, he eased past her to peer out into the passageway. Seeing a faint light moving over the walls down toward the main cavern, he frowned.

  “They’re still there,” he whispered. “We’ll have to go the other way to avoid being seen. Some of these passages loop around—we may be able to find the land exit this way.”

  Tugging her along, he hoped he was right. When he had fallen through the opening, he had been stunned by the pistol shot and was disoriented in the caves at first. Even now he did not feel quite himself. He willed the dizziness to pass.

  Her arm came round his waist to support him, and he let her think he needed it. Better to have Jenny Colvin’s tender regard than her temper, he knew.