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Moonlight Raider

Page 30

by Amanda Scott


  LAIRDS OF THE LOCH: THE KNIGHT’S TEMPTRESS

  LAIRDS OF THE LOCH: THE LAIRD’S CHOICE

  SCOTTISH KNIGHTS: HIGHLAND LOVER

  SCOTTISH KNIGHTS: HIGHLAND HERO

  SCOTTISH KNIGHTS: HIGHLAND MASTER

  TEMPTED BY A WARRIOR

  SEDUCED BY A ROGUE

  TAMED BY A LAIRD

  BORDER MOONLIGHT

  BORDER LASS

  BORDER WEDDING

  KING OF STORMS

  KNIGHT’S TREASURE

  LADY’S CHOICE

  PRINCE OF DANGER

  LORD OF THE ISLES

  HIGHLAND PRINCESS

  THE SECRET CLAN: REIVER’S BRIDE

  THE SECRET CLAN: HIGHLAND BRIDE

  THE SECRET CLAN: HIDDEN HEIRESS

  THE SECRET CLAN ABDUCTED HEIRESS

  BORDER FIRE

  BORDER STORM

  BORDER BRIDE

  HIGHLAND FLING

  HIGHLAND SECRETS

  HIGHLAND TREASURE

  HIGHLAND SPIRITS

  THE BAWDY BRIDE

  DANGEROUS ILLUSIONS

  DANGEROUS ANGELS

  DANGEROUS GAMES

  DANGEROUS LADY

  THE ROSE AT TWILIGHT

  RAVES FOR THE NOVELS OF AMANDA SCOTT

  THE WARRIOR’S BRIDE

  “4½ stars! Exciting… a fact-paced romp through Scotland… a tale of love and betrayal that will leave you in awe.”

  —MyBookAddictionReviews.com

  “Exquisite writing, a fast-moving, highly intriguing plot, and constantly rising levels of emotional tension make this a page-turner. Scott seamlessly melds historical events with her touching story, and readers will find it impossible to put down.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  THE KNIGHT’S TEMPTRESS

  “4½ stars! Scott is known for her deft storytelling and her knowledge of Scottish history, customs, and legends. Her latest may actually exceed reader expectations. The Knight’s Temptress is exquisitely written, and its intricate and highly charged plot enhances the wonderfully wrought romance and the emotional maturation of her characters.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Danger, action, and a white-hot hero… what more can you ask for?… I felt like I was right there in Scotland in the fray with the hero. The writing simply flowed, drawing me right in.”

  —LongandShortReviews.com

  “Charming… I eagerly await the next in the series.”

  —SingleTitles.com

  “A fast-paced, action-packed story… Filled with passion, danger, Scottish allure, treason, and love. The romance and passion sizzle off the page… Ms. Scott has yet again created a dazzling story with a bigger-than-life hero and a feisty heroine. A must-read.”

  —MyBookAddictionReviews.com

  THE LAIRD’S CHOICE

  “Wonderfully romantic… [a] richly detailed Scottish historical from the author frequently credited with creating the subgenre.”

  —Library Journal

  “Splendid scenery… Atmosphere abounds in this colorful romance.”

  —HistoricalNovelSociety.org

  “A fine piece of historical romance fiction.”

  —TheBookBinge.com

  HIGHLAND LOVER

  “4½ stars! Excellent melding of historical events and people into the sensuous love story greatly enhances an excellent read.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “With multiple dangers, intrigues to unravel, daring rescues, and a growing attraction between Jake and Alyson, Highland Lover offers hours of enjoyment.”

  —RomRevtoday.com

  “[An] exciting, swashbuckling tale… will grab your attention from the very beginning… Ms. Scott’s unique storytelling ability brings history to life right before your eyes… If you are looking for a great Scottish romance, look no further than Amanda Scott!”

  —RomanceJunkiesReviews.com

  “The latest Scottish Knights romance is a wonderful early-fifteenth-century swashbuckling adventure. As always with an Amanda Scott historical, real events are critical elements in the exciting storyline. With a superb twist to add to the fun, readers will appreciate this super saga.”

  —GenreGoRoundReviews.blogspot.com

  HIGHLAND HERO

  “4½ stars! Scott’s story is a tautly written, fast-paced tale of political intrigue and treachery that’s beautifully interwoven with history. Strong characters with deep emotions and a high degree of sensuality make this a story to relish.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “[A] well-written and a really enjoyable read. It’s one of my favorite types of historical—it’s set in medieval times and interwoven with actual historical figures. Without a doubt, Amanda Scott knows her history… If you enjoy a rich historical romance set in the Highlands, this is a book to savor.”

  —NightOwlRomance.com

  “[A] gifted author… a fast-paced, passion-filled historical romance that kept me so engrossed I stayed up all night to finish it. The settings are so realistic that the story is brought to life right before your eyes…”

  —RomanceJunkiesReview.com

  HIGHLAND MASTER

  “Scott, known and respected for her Scottish tales, has once again written a gripping romance that seamlessly interweaves history, a complex plot, and strong characters with deep emotions and a high degree of sensuality.”

  —RT Reviews

  “Ms. Scott is a master of the Scottish romance. Her heroes are strong men with an admirable honor code. Her heroines are strong-willed… This was an entertaining romance with enjoyable characters. Recommended.”

  —FreshFiction.com

  “Deliciously sexy… a rare treat of a read… Highland Master is an entertaining adventure for lovers of historical romance.”

  —RomanceJunkies.com

  “Hot… There’s plenty of action and adventure… Amanda Scott has an excellent command of the history of medieval Scotland—she knows her clan battles and border wars, and she’s not afraid to use detail to add realism to her story.”

  —All About Romance

  TEMPTED BY A WARRIOR

  “4½ stars! Top Pick! Scott demonstrates her incredible skills by crafting an exciting story replete with adventure and realistic, passionate characters who reach out and grab you… Historical romance doesn’t get much better than this!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Captivates the reader from the first page… Another brilliant story filled with romance and intrigue that will leave readers thrilled until the very end.”

  —SingleTitles.com

  SEDUCED BY A ROGUE

  “4½ stars! Top Pick! Tautly written… passionate… Scott’s wonderful book is steeped in Scottish Border history and populated by characters who jump off the pages and grab your attention… Captivating!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Readers fascinated with history… will love Ms. Scott’s newest tale… leaves readers clamoring for the story of Mairi’s sister in Tempted by a Warrior.”

  —FreshFiction.com

  TAMED BY A LAIRD

  “4½ stars! Top Pick! Scott has crafted another phenomenal story. The characters jump off the page and the politics and treachery inherent in the plot suck you into life on the Borders from page one.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Scott creates a lovely, complex cast.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  Amanda Scott’s exciting Border Nights series continues!

  When lady Robina Gledstanes discovers a stolen treasure, the English lass is beset by scofflaw suitors seeking to add her newfound fortune to their own. But only one noble Scotsman sees that the true prize is the fair Robina herself…

  Please see the next page for a preview of

  Devil’s Moon.

  Chapter 1

  South Teviotdale, the Scottish Borders, Spring 1428

  Although the nearly full moon had slipped behind a cloud, ringing it with a silver halo and dimming the rugged landsca
pe below, the five riders on the old drove road could see their way without difficulty. Their mounts were sure-footed and accustomed to moonlight raids.

  Somewhat hampered by their booty—four gently lowing cows and a pair of nervous sheep—the small party traveled slowly downhill and northward through a cut that, due to its shape, men called “Leg-o’-Mutton.” White Hill lay behind them, and they could make out the shadowy Witch Crags in the northeast distance.

  Two other riders from their party acted as sentinels, the first riding the hill crests separating the cut from Slitrig Water, to the west, where the Slitrig flowed swiftly northward toward the town of Hawick. The second man rode near the timberline of the eastern hills, skirting their rockier heights.

  The slope below those heights, on the riders’ right, boasted patches of dense shrubbery and scattered trees near its base, then denser woodland above, with grass and rocky crags from the tree line to the peak. A narrow stream ran to their left.

  The west slope of the cut was neither as high nor as steep as the eastern one, although on the Slitrig side, the western range sloped down more steeply. Woodland on both sides of the westward hills was less dense than the foliage to the east.

  The riders knew every cranny and dip in those hills and would be home within the half-hour. The night was still except for the occasional nightjar’s call and the soft bubbling of the stream that tumbled past them just to their left of the drove road.

  The large man riding his sturdy roan next to the leader’s black charger heaved a sigh. “Nowt to boast of in this lot o’ beasts,” he muttered in near disgust.

  “We did not lift them to boast of it, Sandy,” the leader muttered back. “We took them to feed our people.”

  “ ’Tis true, that, but chance beckoned us to take more, and had Rab—”

  “With any luck, they won’t miss a half-dozen beasts,” the leader interjected curtly. “The last thing we want is to stir a feud with—”

  A shout diverted their attention to the west slope, where the moon, emerging from its cloud, revealed a rider pelting down toward them.

  “That be Shag’s Hobby!” Sandy exclaimed.

  Turning swiftly, the leader said clearly but without shouting, “Ratch! Shag! Hie those beasts into the woods. Keep them still and yourselves out of sight. Dand, get Hobby’s attention and signal for him to follow us. We’ll be riding apace by then, but be ready to slow before the next turning.”

  Sandy protested. “Sakes, me l—”

  “Silence!” the leader snapped. “I told you, Sandy, call me nowt tonight save plain Bean. And if you’re thinking we should ride all the way home like madmen, you’re daft. You ken fine that Hobby’s haste means riders are coming. We must make anyone who sees us now believe we’re nowt save innocent travelers.”

  Sandy shook his shaggy head but obediently urged his mount to a faster pace, saying, “I doubt ye’ll want to tell that tale if them riders catch up with us.”

  “Haud your wheesht! We’re nobbut a mile from Coklaw, and we’ll be only four riders with Hobby. If Shag and Ratch can keep the beasts hidden and quiet—”

  “Aye, and if them wha’ come didna already see us wi’ the beasts—”

  A shout came from Hobby, now more than halfway down the west slope: “A dozen riders coming up yon road through the pass, lads! Likely they’re after us!”

  Waving for him to follow, the three remaining riders did not wait but gave spur to their horses.

  Twenty-four-year-old Sir David Ormiston, having ridden from Hermitage Castle in Liddesdale and forded Slitrig Water an hour before, on his way to Hawick and then home, crested the drove road pass above Leg o’ Mutton and, in the increasing moonlight, saw three riders racing toward the cut’s narrow end. A fourth rider, nearing the base of the slope below him and shouting as he rode, gave Sir David to understand that the other riders had set watchers to guard their passage.

  The shouted warning amused him. They were a small group, and although he scanned the eastern slope for a second watcher, he saw none and had no interest in their activities. He acted for the Earl of Douglas and had business in Hawick.

  Jock Cranston, the captain of his fighting tail, drew rein beside him. “D’ye think they be reivers, sir?”

  “If they are, they seem to be unsuccessful ones. Do you see any beasts?”

  “Nay, but they may be just heading out. Or mayhap they be English.”

  “Just four men, or five if they have another lookout yonder?” Sir David shook his head. “They were in an almighty hurry when I first saw them, but they’ve slowed, and—”

  He broke off, stunned. The moon, abruptly free of the cloud that had dimmed it, beamed brightly down on the leader’s big horse, turning its black hide glossy and revealing a big diamond-shaped white star between its eyes when it tossed its head.

  “I know that horse!” Sir David exclaimed. “But who would dare—?”

  Louder shouts from below interrupted him.

  “They be taking flight,” Jock muttered. “ ’Tis gey strange, if ye ask me.”

  “I’m going after them,” Sir David said. “You and the others follow more slowly, Jock. I don’t want us to look like raiders. If I’m right, that lot is heading for Coklaw, and I mean to learn who the bangster is that dares to ride Black Corby.”

  “Aye, it could be Rab Gledstanes’s Corby,” Jock agreed. “And we ken fine that Rab isna riding ’im. Whoever it be, the man rides like he kens the horse well.”

  “Corby is even better trained than my Auld Nick is,” Sir David said curtly. “But if that chap runs him into a rabbit hole, or worse, he’ll answer to me, by God.”

  “Ye could be wrong, sir.”

  “Just bring the lads, Jock. I’m away.”

  “Wi’ the deevil in ye, too,” Jock muttered loudly enough for him to hear. His only reaction was to smile grimly and spur his charger after the riders below.

  The road he followed was safe enough, and Auld Nick was sure-footed. But he also knew that the speed he demanded from the big horse now was such that his crusty father, and likely others, would deem it reckless.

  Nevertheless, he wanted to catch up with the riders ahead before they could vanish completely. A thought tickled his mind about who might be leading them, but he dismissed it half-formed and fixed his attention on the path ahead.

  Glancing back as he forded the stream racing down the center of the cut, he saw that his men were following at a slower pace. The riders ahead had disappeared around the next curve before he had ridden a third of the way down the slope.

  Auld Nick was willing, though, and the moderate pace that his master had set earlier from Liddesdale had not taxed him. The charger was eager to make speed.

  Although the moon was bright whenever the scudding clouds let it be, the light it cast was too dim to read tracks from the saddle of a galloping horse, so Sir David did not try. Instinct and the black horse assured him that his quarry would race to Coklaw Castle, midway between the end of the cut and Hawick.

  A quarter-hour later, the huge, square stone tower loomed ahead, pale white in the moonlight. There was no sign of the riders or their horses, but he knew Coklaw well. Its stables and yard lay hidden now beyond the tower.

  Riding more sedately into the stableyard, he saw a lad in breeks, boots, leather jack, and a knitted cap dashing across the yard from the stables.

  Sir David shouted, “Here you, lad, come see to my horse!”

  The lad failed to heed him, but another, no more than eleven or twelve years old, darted from the stable and shouted, “Aye, sir, I’ll see to him for ye.”

  He did not recognize the youngster. “Do you know who I am?”

  The boy’s eyes flared like a nervous foal’s. “Aye, sir. Ye be Dev—that is, Sir David Ormiston.”

  “Auld Nick will be hungry, lad. You’re not afraid of him, I hope.”

  “Nay, sir. I’m no afeard o’ any beast. I’ll gi’e him oats and hay.”

  “Good then. I’m going inside.”r />
  The boy’s eyes widened more. He glanced warily toward the stable and back at Sir David. “I can send some’un tae tell our steward ye be here, sir.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself. If John Greenlaw’s not snug in bed, he ought to be.”

  “Aye, but—”

  “Never mind, I know the way,” Sir David said, striding toward the tower’s postern door, the one through which the other lad had apparently vanished.

  Shutting the postern door, the person who had dashed across the yard ran up the stairs, muttering, “Lord, preserve me. There’s no time. That was Dev, and he saw me. He thought I was just one of the lads, but he must not find me still up.”

  There was no time to lift the heavy bar into its brackets, let alone to bolt the iron yett to the wall, making that entryway impregnable. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. Dev would go through the main entrance.

  Just hurry then, get upstairs. Puffing now, startling at the sound of a crash downstairs—the door, the damned door, crashing back against the wall.

  He’s inside, not at the front!

  Heavy, hasty footsteps pounded on the steps below.

  The landing’s just ahead. There’s the door, push it open. Close it… doucely, doucely! Throw the bolt. Hurry!

  No time to change. Would the bolt hold? Footsteps on the landing!

  He’s here, Beany. You’re in trouble now, and it serves you right.

  The latch rattled. “Open this door!”

  “I will not! It is the middle of the night. Go away! You’ve no business here.”

  The door crashed open. The big, dark-haired man filled the doorway. Even in the dim light of a moonbeam through the small window, anger blazed from his eyes.

  Without hesitation, Sir David strode to the breeks-clad figure in the middle of the room and snatched off the knitted cap.

  A cloud of tawny hair cascaded to her shoulders.

  He’d been angry before; he was furious now. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he gave her a rough shake. “What demon possessed you to do such a stupid thing?”

 

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