by Amanda Scott
“Aye, I learned as much myself,” Dev said. “I’m going to leave you and Jem Keith here whilst I’m away, Jock. Don’t stir coals with anyone, and don’t let Jem do so, either. I just want you to keep an eye on things here. Greenlaw, the steward, is a good man, as we know, but the best Gledstanes men-at-arms rode with Rab.”
“Aye, and four o’ them was killed at Chesters when he was.”
“And then I gave leave to others to visit their families after we buried him,” Dev said. “If they have not reported back yet, send for them. Those Percys at Chesters got nowt from their ambush but the deaths of a few good men. But if they know who Rab was, they may now hope to seize Coklaw.”
“Aye, sir. Does Greenlaw know ye’re a-leaving me here?”
“No, but you need say only that I thought you might be useful to him. I shan’t be away long, but my father has as good as summoned me home, so something may be amiss. If it is aught to delay me, I’ll get word to you. Meantime, there is one other thing.”
“Her ladyship?” Jock said in a carefully even tone when Dev paused.
“Just so,” Dev replied.
“I did wonder, sir. Black Corby be gey finicky about who rides him.”
Just thinking of the danger she had flirted with on her mad raid made Dev’s blood run cold. Grimly, he said, “You will keep such conjecture to yourself, I know, Jock, but you know her ladyship almost as well as I do. If you see her taking the bit between her teeth…” He paused, then added, “Keep a close eye on her.”
With an uneasy look, Jock said, “I’ll do me best, sir.”
“That is all I ask,” Dev said, knowing that where Robina was concerned, he could ask no more of any man, save himself. “I’m away then.”
Summoning his other men, he mounted and led them out of the yard. Heading westward to the nearest Slitrig Water ford, they wasted no time. Even so, it was two hours after midnight when they rode up the hill to Hawick’s stockade gates.
Shouting, “A Douglas!” Dev identified himself to the guards, and the town gates opened. The Douglas’s Black Tower loomed ahead on his right with only two faint lights above the ground floor. Torches lit the front entrance and the archway into the stableyard.
Dismounting in the yard, Dev turned his horse over to Pony Eckie, his equerry, and walked back around to the main entrance.
The porter admitted him, saying, “How many be wi’ ye, Sir David?”
“Seven to sleep inside,” Dev said. “I expect the Douglas is asleep by now, aye?”
“Aye, sure, sir. He doesna keep late hours. The chamber ye used when last ye was here be open for ye, if ye want it. Your men can sleep in the great hall.”
Thanking him, and telling him to send his squire up when he came in, Dev went on up to the cell-like room he had used many times before. It boasted only a cot with bedding, a washstand, and a straw pallet leaning against one wall.
The cot was uncomfortable, but he welcomed it.
He didn’t wait for his squire, Coll Stitchill, but divested himself of his weapons, boots, breeks, and jack. Then, in his shirt and netherstocks, he lay down and assumed that he would be asleep before Coll came in.
Instead, his thoughts drifted back to Robina. She had seemed the same, as headstrong as ever and as sure of herself and her right to do as she pleased. Now that he reviewed their meeting in his mind, something seemed awry, but he had no idea what it was. It was not her fury. He had deserved that for several reasons.
He had seen her only briefly when he’d escorted Rab’s body home for burial, and he knew he had been a bit short with her then. The last thing he’d wanted to do was to give her a clear picture of how Rab died. That he had flung himself in front of Dev and two other men, engaged with opponents of their own, and had taken a blow likely meant for Dev, was something that he would tell her eventually though, because she deserved to know how heroically her twin had behaved.
At the time, she had greeted him stoically and without a tear, saying only, “This is your fault. You promised when you first took him from us that you would keep him safe.”
Her words had cut through him like so many knives, shredding him to his soul, because she was right. He had made her that promise. He’d been a damned fool to say such a thing, but that was four years ago. He had wielded authority over other men for only weeks then and, he knew now, had been dangerously cocksure of himself.
He would not make such a promise again to anyone. One could never predict what would happen in battle… or in life, come to that.
He heard the door open and Coll’s soft movements as he prepared for bed, but Dev kept his eyes shut.
Drifting, he was semiconscious when a stray thought brought him fully awake again. What had struck him as awry earlier was that, except for that catch in her voice the first time she had said Rab’s name that night, she had shown none of the lingering grief that one might expect. Nor, and even odder, had she shown much surprise, grief, or other emotion the day he’d told her that Rab was dead.
She had simply looked at him and said, “I know he is.”
That was also when she had said it was all Dev’s fault.
He had never heard that she had what Highlanders called “the Sight.” So how, he wondered, could she have known of Rab’s death before he’d told her? He had heard of mothers knowing that their sons had died before word reached them. He had never heard of a sister who had. However, Robby also knew that Rab had died in his arms, although he could not recall telling her so. Perhaps twins were different.
That was the last thought he had before Coll woke him soon after dawn to tell him that the Douglas would see him as soon as Dev had broken his fast.
The next thing Robina knew, the bed curtains were rattling back and Corinne was bidding her a cheery good-day. The maidservant’s irrepressibly curly black hair stuck out as usual all around the edges of the white veil she wore, and her light sky-blue eyes twinkled when her gaze met Robina’s.
“Is it morning already?” Robina muttered, sleepily blinking. “I cannot have slept more than a few hours.”
“Aye, they told me what time ye got back,” Corinne said as she took a fresh, russet-brown wool kirtle from the nearby kist and shook it out. “What happened to yon door?”
“Never mind what happened to it,” Robina said. “It was my fault. Can you get one of the lads to fix it, so that I need not tell Greenlaw?”
“Aye, sure. Will ye get up the noo, or d’ye want me to go away again?”
“No, I’ll get up,” Robina said. “Did they tell you what beasts we brought back?”
“Two coos and four sheep, and one o’ the ewes be lambing soon, Shag said. And,” Corinne added with her cheeky grin, “there be two new menfolk in the yard as weel, mistress. One o’ them’s young, and a gey handsome chappie, too.”
“What?” Robina sat up. “What new men?”
Corinne shrugged. “I dinna ken exactly who they be, but the younger one’s called Jem Keith, and the older one thinks he’s cock o’ the yard. He doesna give orders, but our men hop when the chap says ‘hop.’ And Greenlaw likes ’im.”
Robina frowned, trying to imagine who the two men could be. Awareness came with a jolt. “May Auld Reekie fly away with the villain,” she muttered.
“D’ye ken them, then?” Corinne asked, laying the kirtle out at the foot of the bed.
“No, but I can guess who foisted them onto us,” Robina replied. “If I am right, you’d be wise to keep away from both of them. And don’t let either of them fix my door.”
Corinne nodded, her eyes twinkling again. “Aye, then, I’ll stay away from the old one for sure. I’ve seen him afore, I think. Mayhap when we buried the laird.”
“Corinne, I mean what I say. Stay away from them both.”
With a roguish smile, Corinne said, “Now, m’lady, ye ken fine that I try to behave as ye’d wish. But I canna help m’self. When a handsome laddie takes interest in me—”
“Good sakes, has he? Already?”
&
nbsp; Corinne’s eyes twinkled again, and a reminiscent smile touched her lips. “He said I’m the sweetest morsel he’s ever clapped his keekers on. And then he said—”
“Enough!” Robina said, stifling an unexpected bubble of laughter. “I know you attract men like flies to a honey pot, Corrine, but in troth, I think you do so willfully. Only last week, I saw you in the yard, kissing Shag’s Hobby.”
Corinne shrugged and moved to the washstand to pour water from the ewer into the bowl. As she watched the water level rise, she said frankly, “I like kissing handsome men, mistress—or kind ones, or any ones, I expect. ’Tis how I were born. Me mam’s mam were a tavern wench, after all.”
“And no better than she should have been, I know,” Robina said, having heard the excuse before, often. “I also know that your granddad was a French soldier who came to the Borders with others of his sort to help old King Robert’s army invade England. But, Corinne, that was forty years ago.”
“When the Frenchmen first came, aye,” Corinne agreed. “But they was here for years, and me granddad stayed after the others left, ’cause he’d married me granddame. By then, he said, he spoke the French tongue with so strong a Scottish brogue that he doubted France would take him back. And though he were born noble, as a younger son, he said, he had more chance to better hisself here, ’specially if he could win hisself a knighthood.”
“But he never did, I know,” Robina said, swinging her legs out of bed to let her bare feet adapt to the chilly air before touching the floor. “Even so, if I thought you’d been behaving like a tavern wench—truly behaving like one—”
“In troth, mistress, I dinna ken what that means,” Corinne confessed. “Me mam said that mostly it meant that me granddame enjoyed the laddies afore she met Granddad. Mam said she’d explain more when I were older, but she died afore then, and I came here.”
Since Robina was also unsure of exactly what behaving like a tavern wench meant, she said, “Do not encourage the new man, Corinne. Faith, but I’d liefer you encourage no young man unless you mean to marry him.”
“But Hobby be a handsome chappie, and he thinks I’m sweet. As for Jem Keith…” Pausing, she added, “See you, m’lady, Hobby left to visit his mam. Also, how will I know I want someone or that he might want me if I dinna encourage them all to flirt wi’ me?”
Robina could think of no good answer to that, so she told Corinne simply to behave herself, then dressed swiftly and went downstairs to break her fast. Afterward she hurried outside to see what men Dev had left to guard her.
When Douglas’s steward escorted Dev to the inner chamber beyond the hall dais, the wiry, thirty-eight-year-old, dark-haired earl sat behind a big table there. He had several documents before him, a stick of red wax, and his heavy seal in a polished oaken box.
Douglas looked up when Dev entered and the steward announced his name.
Dismissing the steward, Douglas looked speculatively at Dev. His dark eyes glinted, and a thin smile appeared. “Welcome back, Davy-lad,” he said in his customary evenly measured tones. “How did you find Hermitage?”
“As well-run as you had expected, my lord,” Dev said. “Forrest did say he could use more men, though. It seems the Percys or men like them are bent on mischief again.”
They discussed some additional provisions and weapons that the constable at Hermitage had requested. Then, abruptly, Douglas said, “Did ye have cause to visit Coklaw on your way or returning, lad?”
“I looked in briefly last night, sir,” Dev said. “All seemed to be well, although rumors of incipient trouble are ever flying.”
Douglas cleared his throat but remained quiet for a moment or two.
Knowing that the earl disliked making decisions, Dev wondered if trouble existed of which he was unaware. At last, he said, “Have you heard otherwise?”
“Not yet,” Douglas said, meeting his gaze again. “I do find it worrisome, though, that a tower as close to the borderline as Coklaw is—less than a day’s march, I’m told—has lost its laird and can provide nae one suitable to take his place. I’m thinking of putting one of my own captains in charge there.”
Exerting every fiber of his being, Dev strove to conceal his dismay.
Robina easily recognized Jock Cranston, but seeing him in the stableyard shocked her, because he was the captain of Dev’s fighting tail. Jock had always ridden at Dev’s side if Rab or another noble leader did not ride with him.
Without hesitation, she walked up to him and said sternly, “What are you doing here, Jock? You should be with Sir David.”
“Aye, I should be, m’lady,” Jock said as a wry smile creased his thin leathery face. “Likely, he’ll find hisself in trouble without me, but he told me to stay here and keep young Jem Keith wi’ me. I dinna ken if ye’ve met Jem.”
“I need not meet him now, Jock. I have all the protection I need. In fact, I am beset with protectors.”
“Nay, then, m’lady,” Jock said quietly. “Ye lost four o’ your best men at Chesters, including his lordship’s equerry, and others o’ them be still wi’ their kin. I had your Sandy send for those men when he awoke, so likely I’ll be here only till Sir David returns.”
She nearly told him that she had no need of Sir David, either, but she held her tongue. Her battle was with Dev, not with Jock, who was only obeying orders.
With an inner sigh, she wondered exactly what orders Dev had given him and this Jem Keith person, who flirted with vulnerable maidservants.
“The truth, Beany, is that you resent any interference at Coklaw, which is why you never sent for our nosy aunt and that greedy son of hers. Not that I don’t agree with you about keeping them away, but…”
Ignoring Rab, she wondered just how much trouble Jock might cause her.
Deciding to test the man, she said lightly, “I suppose I must thank you for looking after us, Jock, but I won’t keep you here now, talking. Sithee, I walk outside the wall each morning. We can talk more later, if you like.”
“I’ll tell your Sandy to send a lad or two with ye, m’lady.”
“I’d only send them back,” Robina said firmly. “I like to walk alone, and it has been relatively quiet here of late. I’m just going into the west forest, so I shan’t be long.”
Turning away, she strode toward the gate, fully expecting him to say she must not go. Hearing only silence, she waved at Ratch, who currently manned the gate.
He grinned as he opened it. “Mind yer step out there, me lady,” he said. “We dinna ken how many lads Devil Ormiston brung wi’ him last night. Mayhap he left some o’ them outside the wall, too.”
Smiling, she said, “If he did, I can cope with them. But pass the word that no one is to make trouble for Jock Cranston whilst he’s here, Ratch.”
“We all ken better nor that, m’lady. But ye must have a care, too,” he added with a straight look. “Them Turnbulls may ha’ men out a-seekin’ their beasts, and Jock kens that as well as we do. He saw for hisself what we brung home.”
Although that detail alarmed her, because what Jock knew Dev would also know, she returned Ratch’s look with ease. “Jock wields no authority over me,” she said softly. “Come to that, I doubt he will risk angering me.”
“I was no thinking o’ Jock,” Ratch said. “I was thinking o’ his master.”
Feeling a tingle at the base of her spine reminiscent of the muscles clenching there when Dev had warned her that he’d meant what he’d said, Robina rolled her eyes anyway and said, “Sir David may be angry. But he won’t murder me.”
Ratch looked skeptical but swung the gate wide, and as she hurried through the opening, she assured herself that none of the men would betray her to Dev.
“You like to think so, Beany, but you’re daft if you think Jock Cranston won’t tell him all he kens when Dev returns. Sakes, if Corinne tells Jem Keith about your door…”
“Oh, hush, Rab,” she muttered. “I don’t care if Dev is angry with me. He can’t get angry about the door, because he brok
e it. And I won’t let anyone confine me inside our wall. I’ve rambled over our hills almost daily since I was small, and we’d hear about any English raiding party long before they arrived. You know we would.”
As usual, when there was naught that he could say, Rab kept silent.
Even so, she knew he was right about one thing. Jock would tell Dev if he learned that she had done anything of which Dev might disapprove.
“Beany, wait!” Benjy shouted behind her. “I’m going with ye!”
Knowing that the Douglas, despite a generally mild temperament, would take no more kindly to dissent than his forbears had, Dev managed to avoid blurting his dismay at the earl’s notion of installing his own man at Coklaw.
The last thing Rab would want was a Douglas running his castle.
Forcing calm into his voice, he said, “I doubt that you need to worry about losing Coklaw to the Percys or other English ruffians, my lord. Recall that when Northumberland besieged the castle twenty-five years ago, he failed to breach its walls.”
“Aye, but that was then. The Percy cannon are more effective now.”
“John Greenlaw is as skilled a constable as I know,” Dev said. “He held Coklaw then, and he says the castle is still impregnable. I believe him. Moreover, although the English still intrude on our lands, we’re keeping closer watch than ever. We’d hear of any large party, let alone cannon, heading toward Carter’s Bar or Carlisle, and they’d never dare try to approach the area through Liddesdale.”
Douglas was silent for a time before he said, “I’ll think more on the matter, but I cannot say that I agree with you. Perhaps you’d like to take your men and have another look at our defenses throughout the Middle March.”
“I am at your disposal, my lord, although I’ve had word from my father, desiring me to visit Ormiston. He said only that it had been long since I was home, but such a summons from him is unusual. It should take only a day or two of my time.”