Moonlight Raider

by Amanda Scott

  As disoriented as she had been when he’d brought her inside, she knew only that the pantry stood near one end of the cottage. Also, although she had heard Tuedy’s approach, she had not seen him ride in. Nor, now that she thought about it, had she seen the stockade or the barnlike outbuilding when she put her head outside.

  She had seen only an overcast sky above and some lofty grass-and-shrubbery-clad hills so nearby that she had hoped to hide amid those shrubs.

  That hope would die unless she could save herself now. Risking a glance past him, she tried to discern any sign of movement beyond him and listened hard for aught that she might hear outside. All was still.

  Then a bird chirped, too nearby.

  Tuedy looked toward the floor by the outer wall, his brow creased as if he wondered how a bird had got inside. Following his gaze, Molly saw with horror that the sliver of dawn light remained visible even with the pantry door open.

  With a muttered curse, Tuedy bent to snatch the pallet away.

  As soon as he did, Molly stepped forward, brought the stone from behind her back, and clouted his head as hard as she could. He collapsed to the floor.

  Without a second thought, she whisked through the doorway and slammed the door shut. Flipping the hasp into place, she snatched up the iron bolt that hung by a slender chain from a nearby hook, and thrust it hard through the staple.

  Having no illusion that Tuedy would be as unsuccessful as she had been at budging the door, she snatched up her skirts and ran to the only door she could see.

  Opening it, she dashed outside, right into her brother Will’s arms. They closed around her and held her tight.

  The hills northwest of the river Teviot were just as much a maze as Wat remembered them being, but the tracks of the horses they followed were clear.

  After crossing the highroad, and again when the tracks turned northward, the men they followed had tried to obliterate their tracks by dragging branches from trees or shrubbery across them for nearly half a mile. But the ruse had failed to fool Jed. He had left Wat’s mark each time, showing them the way.

  When at last Wat saw Drinkstone Hill rising above its companions ahead, he told all the men except Sym and Len Gray to fall back. “Keep far enough behind us,” he told Geordie, “so that any watchers will see just three riders approaching that wee hidden glen.”

  Geordie objected to abandoning him, still suspicious of a trap, and of Len Gray.

  When Wat’s quiet “Do as I say” prevailed, he realized he had not worried for days about what his father or grandfather might think. Frowning, he wondered if he was giving his lads’ acceptance of his authority more weight than it, or he, deserved.

  “What’s amiss, laird?” Sym asked. “Be your head still a-paining ye?”

  “I deserve that it should, for letting myself get clouted as I did,” Wat said ruefully. “But it aches only if I move it too suddenly. I was just thinking about my father and granddad, wondering what they’d have done in such a coil as this.”

  Sym shrugged. “They’d ha’ done what needed doin’, just as ye have,” he said. “At your age, your da would have acted differently wi’ the lady Molly, because he would already ha’ been married and he already knew Cockburn. But if someone had snatched her, your da would ha’ raised the dale, too.”

  “And Granddad?”

  “I dinna ken what he’d a done had he met Herself in a forest, fleeing her family. Had she been abducted, though, he’d likely ha’ acted a mite too hastily and wi’ more flinging o’ swords about. But he’d ha’ found her, sure, and heads would ha’ ended on pikes. Fact is, laird, men wha’ lead other men ha’ different methods o’ leading. Some be good leaders, some fair, some bad. In me own opinion, a good man wha’ kens his people and his own mind, as well, makes a gey good leader.”

  “But if a man is new to the position, how can he know if he’s a good leader or a bad one?”

  Sym grinned. “Easy as winking,” he said. “He needs only to watch his men. Ye’d ken fine did your men no trust ye to lead them, me laddie.”

  “He’s right about that, sir,” Len Gray said from behind them.

  Glancing back to see if Geordie and the others were still in sight and seeing only grassy, shrub-ridden hillsides, Wat realized that the words were not as comforting as Sym or Len might have intended them to be. Knowing that his men trusted him meant that he’d have to keep his wits about him more than ever and not let them down.

  But he had greater cause than that to keep his wits about him now, if he was going to find Molly before Tuedy could do her irreparable harm. The fact that the brute might already have hurt her, or worse, did not bear contemplation.

  When her beautiful face rose easily to his mind’s eye, he felt certain that she was still alive, waiting for him to find her.

  Glancing at Sym, he urged his horse to a faster pace.

  Whatever happened, he would not let Molly down.

  Chapter 20

  Will grabbed Molly by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake. “What be ye doing here? Were ye daft enough to run away from Wat Scott, too?”

  “Let me go, Will,” she cried, trying to pull away. “Was it not enough that you forced me to marry Tuedy? Are you set on letting him kill me now?”

  “Dinna talk blethers, lass,” he said, giving her another shake. “Tuedy wanted ye. He’s no going to kill ye.”

  “He will now,” she snapped. “I promise you.”

  “Then ye must ha’ done summat to vex the man,” Will said. “If ye didna like him, ye should ha’ stayed at Scott’s Hall.”

  “It was not my choice to leave,” she retorted. “Tuedy sent men pretending to be monks, who told Father Eamon that the Abbot of Melrose was bringing Father to Rankilburn Kirk to talk with me. But when we reached the kirk, they killed Father Eamon. Then Tuedy brought me here. I don’t even know where we are.”

  “It doesna matter where we are,” Will said. “Where’s Tuedy?”

  “Cockburn, who is this woman?”

  Her notice thus drawn to a stranger who eyed them hostilely from a short distance away, Molly realized that he had also likely seen her run out of the cottage.

  Straightening her shoulders and relieved when Will released her, she feared nonetheless that they would not let her get away in time.

  Will said, “This is my sister, Molly, Gil.”

  Gil? Realizing that, despite being inches shorter than Will and pounds thinner, he was most likely Gil Rutherford, and that Wat had failed to capture him, Molly swallowed hard. Her stomach tightened.

  “Tuedy married her a fortnight ago,” Will added. “And now—”

  Rutherford—if it was he—gave a shout of laughter. “Married? Tuedy?”

  “I am not married to him,” Molly declared more loudly than she had intended. “Tuedy abducted me from Rankilburn Kirk, and my husband is—”

  Will grabbed her with one hand and clapped the other over her mouth. “Wheesht, will ye wheesht! The man doesna want to hear your daft ranting. Just answer me question, lass. Wha’ had ye done wi’ Tuedy? He brought us here, then left us to tend our horses and hied himself into the cottage.”

  A crash from inside answered his question before Molly could decide what to say. Hearing it, she stiffened, fighting the wave of fear that engulfed her.

  Tuedy had broken free.

  He burst through the cottage doorway and stopped short when he saw her.

  “Good on ye, Will,” he said, glowering at Molly. “Ye’ve caught the willsome wench. She wants a good thrashing, and I mean to see that she gets one.”

  “There, yonder,” Sym said just as Wat saw Jed, waiting on his horse under an oak tree thirty yards ahead, at the base of the hill they had just skirted.

  When they reached him, Wat said, “Ned didn’t see you, did he?”

  “Nay, laird,” Jed assured him. “I tethered me pony out o’ sight yonder and climbed up to ha’ a look northward from the crest. I havena seen any watchers, but I saw Ned ride by a short time a
go, heading—”

  “—toward the old boggy sheepfold tucked away on the far side of that hill,” Wat interjected impatiently. “How many other men could you see from up there?”

  “Five or six riders well ahead o’ Ned. Looked like Rutherford and a bigger one—mayhap Ring Tuedy—leading ’em, so I didna try to get closer lest they see me.”

  “Good lad,” Wat said, hoping that the bigger man was Tuedy. “I want you to get back up there now and take Len Gray here with you. If he can creep about on a hillside the same way he creeps up on people, he’ll be a good man to help you watch for trouble whilst the two of you see what lies ahead of us.”

  “Aye, sure, laird,” Jed said with a nod to Len. “D’ye have a plan, then, sir?”

  “Not yet,” Wat admitted. “Keep an eye on us, though. We’ll follow their tracks, and Geordie is close behind us with the others. So if you see aught that troubles either of you, especially where her ladyship is concerned, wave something.”

  “I’ll wave me shirt or ha’ Gray wave his,” Jed said.

  “What I’d like to do,” Wat went on pensively, “is ride into that glen, kill Rutherford for making such a nuisance of himself, and ride out with my lady unharmed. However, his grace wants to hang the reiver, and if Tuedy fears that he’ll lose her ladyship, he may kill or gravely injure her. Therefore, we must do this in a way that keeps her safe.”

  “Likely, ye’ll ken what ye should do when ye get there,” Jed said confidently before he gave his pony a kick and rode back up the hill with Len following him.

  Meeting Sym’s twinkling gaze, Wat grimaced. “I’d rather have a plan now,” he said. “But I don’t.”

  “Well, dinna look to me,” Sym said. “I ken only that altogether there be more of us than them. That willna win our lady from Tuedy, but it may give us that gallous reiver.”

  “I won’t give a damn about Rutherford if anyone hurts Molly,” Wat growled as he spurred his mount to its fastest pace.

  “What are you on about, Tuedy?” Rutherford demanded. “If she’s your lass, thrash her later. But lock her up now so we can decide what to do. I see nowt to suggest that there be food to eat here, and I’m famished. Can the woman cook?”

  “I wasna expecting more visitors, Gil,” Tuedy said. “ ’Twas just a stopping place for me and me lads till the fuss died down. But,” he added hastily when Rutherford’s eyebrows snapped together, “since Will said ye needed us—”

  “Devil’s curse on ye, Ring! D’ye mean to say ye’ve brung me here when someone may be searching for this woman o’ yours?”

  “I am not his woman,” Molly blurted. “I am Wat Scott’s wife!”

  “What d’ye mean by that?” Rutherford demanded. “How can ye ha’ two—?”

  “Never mind her,” Tuedy snapped. “I’m telling ye—”

  “Will! Will!”

  Molly recognized Ned’s voice, and all of them turned to see Ned riding toward them. He wrenched his mount to a stop, and flung himself off.

  “Hoots, what now!” Rutherford exclaimed.

  Dropping his reins, Ned said urgently, “Will, ye should ken that—”

  “Ye told me we’d be safe here!” Rutherford roared, turning his fury on Will. “ ’Tis more like a Cockburn gathering place!”

  “We saved your hide, Gil,” Will retorted. “Had we not known Tuedy would be here, ye’d still be riding wi’ your own men. A bairn could follow their trail.”

  “Aye, perhaps,” Rutherford snarled. “But ye said ye’d covered our trail, and yet here your brother is, so anyone might follow. Where do we go from here, eh?”

  “Ned knows this glen as well as I do,” Will said. “How d’ye think we found Ring and his men and arranged to ambush your captors? Had Ring not been here to aid us, as he’d promised to be, ye’d be standing before Jamie Stewart, awaiting his hangman. Show some gratitude for your freedom, man.”

  Molly sensed Tuedy moving closer to her. Standing, as she was, between him and Will, she felt sure that all chance of escape had died.

  Ned said fretfully, “Will, I’m a-trying to tell ye! Wat Scott’s raised all o’ Teviotdale. He’s even sent for the Douglas’s men.”

  “That’ll do him nae good,” Rutherford said flatly. “Archie Douglas has nae desire to fratch wi’ me or my men.”

  Molly eased away from Tuedy, closer to Will.

  “Here now, what are ye doing?” Tuedy growled, reaching for her.

  “Leave her alone, Ring,” Ned snapped. Turning to his brother, he added, “She’s the reason Wat’s raising the dale, Will.” To Rutherford, he said, “He’d like to catch you again, aye, Gil, but he told me himself that Molly’s his wife now, legally.”

  Looking from one to the other, Rutherford’s face reddened. “By the Rood,” he muttered, scowling, “ye’re all daft. And damned fools, as well!”

  Argument erupted all around Molly, nearly deafening her.

  She felt trapped, but as she tried to slip away, she caught sight, between Rutherford and Ned, of furtive movement on the hillside beyond them. Looking swiftly down, lest anyone else follow her gaze, she feared she had imagined it.

  Glancing back up, she saw only bushes and trees on the grassy slope.

  Tuedy grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him, startling a cry from her.

  The other three men had stopped arguing, and she saw that Tuedy’s men—four of the six louts she had seen before—were striding toward them, swords drawn, doubtless alarmed by the shouting.

  She saw just one of the false monks with them and wondered where the other one was. Tuedy’s grip tightened more, bruising her.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said tartly as she tried to pull free.

  Rutherford snapped, “Damn you, Tuedy, tell your men to put up their swords! Then take that woman inside so she can find us summat to eat.”

  “Dinna let Ring take Molly with him, Will,” Ned muttered when Tuedy shouted at his men to sheathe their weapons. “Wat said Ring offered to trade her for Gil and threatened to kill her if Wat wouldna do it.”

  When Molly looked hopefully at Will, Tuedy’s grip tightened until she gasped.

  Will’s jaw jutted forward. His whole body stiffened.

  Into that pause, a more beloved voice with, for once, welcome ice in its grimly measured tones, said, “Take your filthy hands off my wife, Tuedy.”

  Rutherford whirled and ran toward the barnlike outbuilding, where he and his men had doubtless left their horses. But Molly’s searching gaze had found Wat, astride his horse at the nearest corner of the cottage. He was looking right at her.

  In a trice, Tuedy’s dirk was at her throat, his strong left arm tight across her breasts, pinning her arms. He said, “Ye’re a dead man, Wat Scott. Take ’im, lads!”

  To Molly’s shock, Wat smiled.

  Wat fought to conceal his terror and keep smiling.

  If Rutherford got away, so be it.

  Without shifting his gaze, he could see that his unexpected smile had frozen Tuedy’s men in place. But the sight of Tuedy’s dirk at Molly’s throat sent chills through him, and his hope of fixing Tuedy’s attention on himself long enough to initiate a discussion died.

  He and Sym had managed to draw close enough behind Ned Cockburn to catch glimpses of him ahead as they rounded curves on the winding trail. Ned showed no suspicion that anyone was following him. But, as they rounded the last curve, leading into the glen, Jed appeared on the hillside above them, frantically waving his shirt.

  Wat had been watching for him and waved but, at that point, still had no plausible plan other than to keep Ned in sight. Jed immediately vanished into the shrubbery.

  Knowing that Jed’s fervent waving meant danger to Molly, Wat had nearly spurred his mount on right then, but Sym’s firm hand on his arm stopped him.

  A fierce glare at the older man drew only a twinkle that on a younger one might have looked mischievous. “What?” Wat demanded. “They’ve got Molly!”

  “Aye, and I see your granddad’s
devil has got ye,” Sym retorted.

  “If you mean that I’m angry—”

  “Nay, laird. I’m thinking mayhap ye’ve forgot ye ha’ men awaiting your commands—not only m’self but Geordie and the others.”

  Without hesitation, Wat said, “We dare not attack until I see what’s what for myself, Sym. You wait for Geordie, whilst I go in and try to delay those villains until you and he can get the others into place. They cannot be but a minute or two behind us, so find a place where you can see me, and tell Geordie that no one is to ride in until I have Molly safe. Then I want you all to look and sound like an army.”

  When Sym nodded, Wat wheeled his mount and urged it on into the glen apace. Ned was just disappearing around the decrepit cottage, so he was able to approach from behind it. Only then did he realize that he had given Jed and Len Gray no further orders.

  Now, however, facing the men in the cottage yard, he dared waste no time thinking about aught but Molly, and Tuedy’s dirk.

  Resting his knotted reins on the horse’s neck, Wat shifted his own dirk from his right hand to his left and reached casually back to draw his sword.

  Instead of charging him as he’d expected, Tuedy’s men just watched, apparently mesmerized.

  Gruffly, Will Cockburn said, “Ye heard the man, Tuedy. Let Molly go.”

  “I will not,” Tuedy retorted. “I married the woman. She’s mine.”

  “Nay, then, she’s ours,” Will replied, snatching his dirk from its sheath. “If ye draw one drop o’ blood from me sister, I’ll gut ye where ye stand.”

  Shoving Molly aside, Tuedy leaped toward Will, and the two men grappled.

  Sword out, dirk in hand, Wat used his knees as he would in battle to urge his horse between the two men and Molly, backing her near the cottage wall as he did.

  When one of Tuedy’s men leaped forward and slashed a sword at him, Wat parried the stroke so deftly and hard that the other’s weapon went flying. Without pause, Wat dispatched him and, with a sweeping gaze, sought the next attacker.

  Horns blew, hoofbeats thundered toward them, and battle erupted.