The Raven's Moon (35 page)

He kissed her in the dark, his lips soft and quick over hers, taking away for a moment the pain, the cold, the fear.

A few troopers rode back and began to herd the sheep away. Mairi watched them. "What about the men who were herding the beasts—Heckie's men?"

"I cracked one on the pate wi' the butt of my pistol," Rowan said. Mairi laughed. "I caught the others wi' my ax. I was saving the lead ball for Heckie," he added quietly. "But I missed the rogue. Can you ride?"

She nodded and turned toward Peg, who waited placidly. Rowan helped her mount, then leaped onto Valentine's back. Mairi looked around and saw Simon, on horseback, wading through the teeming sheep toward them. A trooper beside him held an upright lance that impaled a burning chunk of peat, its scant light glowing overhead.

"Heckie and Clem have escaped into the hills. They're slick rascals. Martin Elliot and two others came across the moor to fight off my troopers wi' pistols and arrows. Hepburn turned back."

"Your land sergeant is a fool to lose them so easily, Kerr," Rowan said fiercely. "No reason to let them go."

Simon sputtered. "We'll find them again. I'm already in pursuit o' three English outlaws who took a dozen cattle and a horse from Nebless Will tonight. You, you're my deputy. You take some troopers and ride patrol after Heckie."

"First I must take my wife home to Blackdrummond." As he spoke, he reached out to take Peg's bridle.

"How is she your wife? Days ago she was your prisoner!"

"We got married," Rowan said simply.

"Hah!" Simon stared at them. "By hell! You let lust blind you to her guilt and your duty!"

Mairi began to reply, but Rowan held up the palm of his hand for her silence. She subsided reluctantly.

"I see matters more clearly than before," Rowan said. "Good night, Warden." He nudged Valentine forward. Mairi followed, sliding Simon a scowl as she passed him.

"You're deputy to me," Simon called out, moving after them. "You'll do as I say. Ride out now after Heckie. You want him as much as I do."

"More," Rowan said. "Much more. But first I'll go to Blackdrummond."

"Scott!" Simon bellowed. "Take Mairi to Abermuir."

Rowan turned, his glance cold. "Abermuir?"

"She'll be confined there for her crimes until truce day," Simon said. He called over his shoulder to a couple of his troopers, who moved forward.

Mairi drew in her breath, watching as they came toward her. Bleating sheep milled about the horses' legs, impeding their advance. Simon kicked at a reticent ewe.

"Peace!" Rowan called to the troopers, holding up a hand. "The lass goes wi' me." His voice was low and dangerous.

"I've served a complaint against her," Simon said. "I sent the summons to Blackdrummond Tower. You said the lass was there. You must have known about the summons." He paused. "But the runner said you were not at Blackdrummond. Where have you been?"

"I rode south on an errand," Rowan said succinctly. "Mairi went with me in custody. When is the truce meeting?"

"Friday next. Kershopefoot at sunrise."

"Consider your summons served. She will be there." Rowan stepped the horse forward.

"Halt!" Simon roared. "She goes wi' my troopers now!"

Rowan turned once again, patiently, coldly. "Scots law is based on trust. Have you forgotten? She will be there on the day of truce. I am her husband, and I give you my word. The summons requires only that. 'Tis not an arrest warrant."

"I do not trust you, Blackdrummond," Simon growled.

"We will see you then," Rowan answered smoothly. He spurred his horse and Mairi followed alongside.

"Rowan Scott!" Simon bellowed across the waving sea of sheep that separated them.

"Friday," Rowan called over his shoulder. "At dawn."

"I'll serve a summons to you as well for taking a prisoner unlawfully!"

"We'll both be there," Rowan called. "Have your troopers escort these beasts back to Jean Armstrong at Roan Fell."

He rode on, and Mairi pressed her heels to Peg's sides to catch up. A glance over her shoulder showed Simon glaring after them. His troopers gathered around and they rode off across the moor, the burning peat brick still glowing on its lance like an amber star in the darkness.

Rowan glanced at her. "Let's home to Blackdrummond," he said quietly. She smiled wearily and nodded. They set a steady pace across the moorland and over to the Lincraig road.

Her arm and shoulder ached with every footfall her horse made, and she held the reins in one hand to shift and ease the discomfort. Beside her, Rowan rode with his helmet pulled low over his eyes, one hand on his thigh. She glanced at his profile beneath his steel bonnet, wondering what he was thinking.

"You did not ride after Heckie, though you could have caught him," she said.

"You need to get safely to Blackdrummond Tower," he said. "And—I'm freezing," he said bluntly. "I rode through an icy stream for you, my lass, and I'm soaked." She saw him smile faintly in the darkness.

The smile filled with warmth, despite the wind and the dark and the miserable cold drizzle.

"I will not have to pursue Heckie Elliot," he added. "He will come looking for me soon enough. I still have what he wants."

"The raven's moon," Mairi said. "He said someone paid him to find it. I do not think he knows its powers."

"Who paid him?"

"It could not have been Iain," she said. "He would never hire a ruffian like Heckie."

Rowan nodded thoughtfully.

"Heckie told Martin Elliot to ride to meet someone. He said he would barter me for something. Not the raven's moon, but something else. I do not know who Martin went to meet. Later, when we met Simon and his patrol on the moor, Heckie tried to trade me to him for his freedom."

"I heard them talking as I rode up."

"If Simon had not arrived when he did, Heckie would have had you killed. Clem was ready to shoot you down. Simon was angry with Heckie and wanted to arrest them. The warden and his troopers saved both of us."

"Perhaps," Rowan said thoughtfully. "I hope by truce day we'll have this maze sorted."

"Heckie will not show up for his summons."

"If he wants the raven's moon, he'll find me."

She nodded, frowning. "I've never been to a truce day. I've heard they're wild, unruly affairs, more a gathering for drunkards and gamblers than a judicial meeting."

"On occasion. Most truce meetings I've been to have been fairly dull. If naught else, this meeting will be talked about for a long time to come."

"Why so?"

"A lass has never been summoned before, I think."

"Oh." She fought a sudden onslaught of dread that cut through her stomach. And she remembered that Iain, too, would be handed over to the English that day.

But she was too tired to think about it now. She would have to face the fear, and the challenges, as they came.

Rowan turned. "Mairi o' Blackdrummond," he said. "Your tower is just there."

She looked ahead. The stone tower soared up from its rocky perch, impermeable stone in the shimmering drizzle.

At the top, a beacon flared like a welcoming torch. And suddenly she longed to be inside, where it was warm and dry, where there was fire, and food, peace and safety.

She guided her horse up the rocky slope following Rowan. The gate opened and Jock and Sandie stepped forward in torchlight.

Chapter 23

O hold your tongue of your former vows,

For they will breed sad strife

O hold your tongue of your former vows

For I am become a wife.

—"The Demon Lover"

"Where's Jamie?" Anna asked as soon as she saw them and embraced them both. "You did find him?"

"We did." Rowan removed his cloak and helmet and began to unhook his jack. "He's fine. We left him with Jean Armstrong for the night. I'll fetch him in the morn." He looked up as Jock entered the great hall behind him. "Will you ride with me, sir? Jamie has been asking for you."

"Aye," Jock said gruffly.

"Those horses have been through mud and all this night, I trow. 'Tis a muckle poor night to be about so late." Sandie came in after them, brushing at the rain on his doublet.

"Some would disagree," Rowan said wearily. He set his jack on a wooden chest and went toward the hearth, stretching his hands toward the intense warmth there.

Jock frowned. "You had trouble, then."

"Some. I'll explain. We're cold and hungry just now." Rowan pulled a carved chair close to the fire and gestured for Mairi to sit. She had removed her jack and Grace, the maid, took it while Mairi sat. Anna brought her a blanket, which Mairi accepted with a word of thanks, spreading it over her lap. Anna gave one to Rowan as well, which he threw around his shoulders.

Rowan let the heat of the fire and the blanket sink into him, though he still felt the uneasy, restless residue of the past few hours still stirring his blood, sobering his mood. When Mairi gave him a fluttering, tentative smile, he did not return it.

In part, he was vexed with her for leaving Jean Armstrong's house and putting herself in such danger, and frightening him so deeply. More, he was deeply concerned about her summons for truce day—he knew too much about unpredictable outcomes.

He would say nothing to her of that. He only wanted to see the bloom in her cheeks, wanted to know she was not hurt. He felt a deep urge to ensure her safety, her comfort, whatever she wanted. The depth and variance of the feelings that she stirred in him simply astonished him. Just his fatigue, he told himself.

"Mairi is cold and wet," he said to Anna. "And hungry."

Anna nodded. "We'll see to her."

"Rowan is far more wet and chilled than I am," Mairi said. "He should bathe first."

"Let Mairi have the hot bath. I have had enough of a dousing for one night." Rowan bent to tug off his boots, intending to warm his chilled feet and toes before the fire. He glanced up to see Anna narrow her eyes thoughtfully. Then she poured the contents of a flask into two pewter cups, handing one to him and the other to Mairi.

"Spanish sherry," she said. "'Twill warm you both. I'll heat some broth for you while Grace is heating water for the bath. Then we'll put warm stones in your beds. Rowan, will you let Mairi have your bedchamber again?" She paused. "Is she still your, ah, prisoner?"

"She can sleep in my bedchamber," he answered succinctly. Far more needed to be explained, but it would wait.

Tossing his boots aside, he peeled off his damp nether stockings and dropped them on the hearth stone, then dried his feet with the blanket and stretched out his bare shins before the blazing yellow fire, sighing at the warmth as he sipped sherry.

Mairi began to tug awkwardly at her own long boots, favoring her left arm. Rowan left his seat to kneel beside her and help her to pull off first one boot, then the other.

"You look pale," he said. "Does your shoulder hurt?"

"It's fine. Thank you," she added, touching his arm.

He warmed her bare feet between his hands for a moment. Then he stood and turned to see his grandparents and Sandie all staring at the two of them.

"Well then," Anna said, fisting her hands on her hips, "just how was that ride into the Debatable Land?"

He hesitated, glancing sidelong at Mairi. A blush glowed on her cheeks. "Oh," she said, "'twas not what we expected."

"And why not?" Jock asked. "What happened there?"

"Aye." Sandie glowered at Rowan. "What happened?"

Rowan cleared his throat. "We, ah, went to a wedding."

"Whose?" Anna asked sharply.

"Lang Will Croser got married," Mairi said.

"Oh! How nice," Anna said.

"What else?" Jock asked brusquely. "You two look as guilty as Scottish riders in the night, caught with sheep."

Rowan twisted his mouth to one side. "Well," he said, rubbing fingers over his jaw, "there were other weddings too."