Moonlight Raider Read online

  “Sakes, lass, I mean you no harm. They both know that.”

  “Appearance often means more to others than intent,” she said, standing and blowing out her candle. “What should I do with this apple core?”

  Shocked that she had challenged his assurance of the older women’s trust but impressed with her quick intelligence, Wat was still seeking a sensible riposte to her challenge when she added the rider and held out the apple core.

  “I’ll take it,” he said, surprised at the curtness in his voice as he did.

  He wasn’t angry with her, just irritated and feeling oddly helpless. If this day was going to set a pattern for the way he would handle Rankilburn’s affairs and those of his other newly acquired estates, he thought, may heaven help his people!

  Immediately recognizing the futility of such thinking, he took control of himself, tossed her apple core and his own into the smoldering embers but kept his candle alight.

  Then, putting his free hand to Molly’s shoulder as she turned away, he said quietly, “We’ll take one step at a time, lass, but together we will find a way. Now, I’ll see you safely to your chamber. Naught else must frighten you tonight.”

  Molly savored the warmth of his hand on her shoulder and had a sudden longing to lean into that warmth, to feel the length of his body against hers again.

  Suppressing the yearning, she went quickly up the stairs, trying to ignore the sense of him so close behind her. She dared not rely on such tantalizing feelings, or on his lordship. Men, in her experience, were never trustworthy. And, sadly, Walter Scott was doubtless more like other men than not.

  In truth, there were no saints in Borderer’s clothing, and she knew that Wat led raids just as Will and Ned did. That meant that he was as much a man of violence as they were, and as Tuedy was.

  A woman who trusted any man, she decided, was a fool.

  Recalling again the odd sense of safety she felt with Wat made her wonder if she was being unfair to him. Whether she was or not, she reminded herself firmly, she must remain cautious and try to become more discerning.

  She reached her landing, but his hand moved faster to the door-latch than hers did. When her fingers touched his, she snatched them back.

  As the door swung open to reveal faint candle glow inside, she looked at Wat and found his face too close to hers. She could see his eyes searching hers and could sense intent of some sort in his posture.

  Abruptly, he straightened and gave her a gentle push toward the doorway. “Get thee inside, lass, and go back to bed. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  Her heart was pounding, and every inch of her skin seemed to have come alive in a new and astonishingly sensitive way. Even the unusually hoarse sound of his voice affected her, sending unfamiliar tremors through her body.

  She opened her mouth to say goodnight, but no words would come. To cover her confusion, she whisked through the doorway, shut it behind her, and stood still, waiting for her reeling senses to return to normal.

  How had she ever thought that the man was safe?

  There could be no safety in the feelings he had kindled in her.

  A vision of Ring Tuedy backed by her brothers and her father loomed in her mind’s eye, looking larger and more dangerous than ever. Yet Ring had never stirred such feelings of danger as Wat had in those last few seconds at the door.

  Tuedy inspired only fear bordering on terror and revulsion.

  She shut her eyes, wincing, but Tuedy’s image refused to fade.

  Wat stood still on the other side of the door. He easily sensed that Molly had not moved farther into the room but wondered at himself for standing there.

  Likely, she could sense him as easily as he sensed her.

  To linger there would be as foolhardy as a bairn playing with fire.

  Annoyed with himself for behaving so, he turned and went on up the stairs to his bedchamber. Only after he forced himself to focus on what he must do on the morrow did his mind cease tormenting him with images of Molly Cockburn.

  However, as he prepared for bed, the torment began anew.

  He had nearly kissed her. What kind of protector let himself even think of doing something so stupid? Such thoughts endangered not only the lass but also himself and his reputation.

  He’d simply have to be more careful now that he recognized how perilously attracted to her he was. He would remain calm, serious, and practical.

  In short, he would return to his normal self. He would approach one task at a time and concentrate on each until he had finished it. Also, he would more wisely leave Molly to his kinswomen to amuse. They would keep her safe, too.

  His mistake was in believing that at Scott’s Hall he could protect her from anyone. Tonight had warned him that it might prove hardest to protect her from himself.

  With these thoughts, he took himself to bed, having dismissed Jed at the stables with the noble intent of making his own way silently up the service stairs from the kitchen to avoid waking anyone. Instead, only pure dumb luck had let him silence the lass before she could scream.

  That thought brought memory of her warm lips against his palm and…

  “Master Wat?”

  Startled awake, Wat had no sense of the hour, only of an odd dream wherein he’d slain a fat dragon with Tuedy’s face—a most agreeable memory.

  “Be ye awake, sir?” Jed asked anxiously.

  “I am now,” Wat replied warily. “What’s o’clock?”

  “The sun just be a-peekin’ over yon hills.”

  Wat groaned. He and his men had returned well after midnight, and he’d spent at least a half hour with Molly. He had slept less than five hours.

  Resigned to duty, he shoved the covers off and sat up to let the icy air wake the rest of him. Then, sardonically, he said, “Is aught amiss, Jed? Or did you just decide it was time I got up?”

  “Herself said that if ye’d come home, ye should bestir yourself, because the lady Rosalie Percy be arriving today,” Jed said, obviously unimpressed by Wat’s tone. “A rider brung us the news late yestereve.”

  “Then someone ought to have told me last night,” Wat said, accepting the shirt Jed handed him and putting it on.

  “Aye, but ye did creep in at the kitchen like a laird who’d been out tom-catting wi’ his mates instead o’ lying peaceful wi’ his lady,” Jed said. “Angus the steward did ha’ the news, so if ye’d come in the front door as ye usual—”

  “Enough,” Wat said, silencing him.

  He’d enjoyed coming in through the kitchen, as he had in his youth after sneaking out for adventure with lads that his father deemed his less suitable friends.

  Last night’s entry had lacked the exquisite sense of jeopardy that had accompanied such past doings when he’d feared he might find his father awaiting him. The more recent experience had certainly aroused other dangers, though.

  His father had caught him only twice, with predictable results. Although Robert Scott had been a man of peace, he had reacted to such breaches of discipline much as any other father would. Certainly, Wat mused now, as he himself would if he were to catch any son of his daring to behave so recklessly.

  Recalling his wits to the present, he said, “Did the rider say how soon Aunt Rosalie means to arrive?”

  “Afore midday, me da did say,” Jed said, making it clear to one of Wat’s experience that Jed’s orders had come from Lady Meg through Sym Elliot.

  Nodding, Wat said, “I must organize a plan for tracking down and capturing Gilbert Rutherford. I need to talk with Tam and Geordie first, though, so they can begin getting the word out that I’ll be looking for the man.”

  “Ye’ll no want him to hear about it, though,” Jed said thoughtfully.

  “Right, so our lads must tread softly. I want to find his lair quickly, or at least his latest hunting ground. I don’t want him running for cover in England.”

  “Shall I fetch Tam and Geordie in? Or will ye find ’em yourself?”

  Wat’s first inclination was to go a
nd find the two men. However, he knew that if he did, he’d likely find other, more time-consuming tasks thrust upon him.

  Preferring to avoid Lady Meg’s displeasure if he failed to welcome his grandaunt’s arrival, he sent Jed to tell Tam and Geordie that he’d see them in his privy chamber after he broke his fast.

  Descending then to the great hall, he found his grandmother sitting in solitary splendor at the high table, eating a boiled egg and bread.

  Ordering a larger repast for himself, Wat sat down beside her and said, “Where is everyone else?”

  “Your mother is still asleep. Janet and Bella are waiting tactfully in the solar, hoping that your breakfast will render you docile enough to let them ride out and meet Rosalie. I’ve heard naught of our guest, so I presume she will break her fast later. Has she, by the bye, asked you yet about letting her ride into the forest?”

  “As I only returned last night—”

  “—and chanced to meet someone on the service stairs who sounded much like her ladyship,” Meg interjected with a teasing smile.

  Wat grimaced and was grateful when Edwin appeared with a jug of ale and a mug for him, as well as a warm manchet loaf in a basket. The butter pot being within reach, he extended the moment by reaching for it.

  With his eating knife poised to cut butter, he looked at Meg and said, “Sym told you that?”

  She nodded. “He was sleeping in the wee room above the bakery, because we got talking about the old days and talked longer than we’d intended. You ken fine that he sleeps like a cat with its ears wide open. He was like that as a boy, too.”

  “I know that little escapes him,” Wat agreed, seeing Sym Elliot enter the hall and stride across the lower hall toward them. “It was Molly, Gram. I came in through the kitchen and scared her witless.”

  “Heaven bless the poor child! Why?”

  “She was hungry, and we met on the stairs. So we went back down and pinched two apples from the bin. Then I escorted her upstairs to her door.”

  “Aye, so Sym said. I’m glad you look after her, love,” Meg added. “I think she has led an uncomfortable life.”

  “With kinsmen like hers, I’m sure she has,” Wat said.

  “It must be hard for her to trust men, so it will do her good to spend time with one she can trust. Yes, Sym,” Meg added, shifting her gaze as he stepped onto the dais. “Don’t tell me that Rosalie has arrived already?”

  Sym’s boyish grin flashed as he said, “Nay, m’lady, her ladyship hasna changed as much as all that. I warrant we’ll see her near midday, ’cause her lad said she’d take the Ale Water path. I were outside just to see if we’d have men enough to ride out wi’ the young ladies and meet her if his lordship agrees that they may.”

  “Ahhh,” Wat said, turning a gimlet eye on his grandmother.

  She met it with an innocent look of inquiry.

  “I begin to see why you mentioned the girls’ ‘hope’ to me, Gram,” he said. “And why you wondered if Lady Molly had asked me yet about riding. Art suggesting that I escort the three of them to meet our aunt?”

  “What an excellent notion, love,” Meg said with her widest smile. “How clever of you to think of it! Your aunt Rosalie will be elated if you do her such honor. Sym, what did Tammy say about accommodating their ladyships’ needs?”

  Sym was eyeing Wat and, for once, did not immediately answer her.

  “Don’t trouble Tam any further,” Wat said to him. “I agree with Gram that the idea is a good one. If you can find your Emma, ask her if she can have the lady Molly ready to ride with us in an hour’s time.”

  “Aye, sure, m’lord. I saw Em heading for the kitchen. I’ll tell her.”

  When he turned toward the service stairs at the end of the dais, Wat said to his grandmother. “You might have just asked me, you know.”

  “I know, love, but you were right to remind me that you will make your own decisions. You make good ones, too, whether you know it yet or not. Even so, I know you are feeling your way, and I don’t want to overstep or interfere.”

  “You are right about me feeling my way,” he told her honestly. “I have much yet to learn, and I’m not sure…” He hesitated, because she was shaking her head.

  “You are a natural leader, Walter-love. You will do well to follow your instincts. Your father, too, was young when he inherited, but he soon found his feet, and so will you. In troth, I think you’ll have an easier time of it than he did. You seem to have inherited the best of both your father and your granddad.”

  Wat raised his eyebrows. “Sakes, madam, do you seek to flatter me?”

  “Nowt of the sort,” she retorted. “I speak only the truth. You have your granddad’s skill with tactics, weapons, and horses. And you’ve inherited most of your father’s good sense, as well as his ability to make friends and to parley with others.”

  “But I do lack many of my father’s abilities,” Wat said.

  “Yes, but you are young yet. I have no doubt that your accomplishments will surpass his when you gain more experience.”

  Certain now that she had some goal in mind and was praising him before revealing her intent, Wat welcomed Edwin’s hasty reappearance with the rest of his breakfast.

  “Eat now, love,” Meg said. “If you would talk more of such things, you need only say so.” With that, she excused herself and left the dais, apparently forgetting that Sym was sending Emma to wake Molly, who would soon come down to break her fast.

  Wat watched her leave the hall, still curious about her motives but beginning to wonder if perhaps she’d had none. She was usually frank with him.

  Perhaps he was wrong to suspect more than her simply having arranged it so he’d feel obliged to escort his sisters and their intriguing guest to meet his grandaunt.

  Molly entered the hall soon afterward, wearing another of Janet’s kirtles, of primrose yellow. The narrow leather girdle sat low around her hips, its wee scissors, needle case, and tinderbox clinking lightly against each other as she moved.

  She hesitated when she saw Wat at the high table alone, attacking a large breakfast. Guiltily aware that she had overslept and more aware of what some might view as her late-night tryst with him, she drew a breath to quiet her nerves.

  Then, knowing that she had to eat, she continued toward the dais.

  He stood as she approached and pulled out the back-stool beside him, saying, “Sit here, lass. Mam is asleep, my sisters have eaten, and Gram just went upstairs.”

  Waving Edwin over to attend her and behaving as if no tryst had occurred, he resumed his seat, saying, “I expect Emma told you that Jannie and Bella want to ride out to meet Aunt Rosalie’s party.”

  “Aye, she did,” Molly said. Turning at Edwin’s approach, she asked him to bring her oatmeal porridge, sliced beef, and bread.

  As he headed for the service stairs, she turned back to her host.

  Smiling, he said, “Would you like to ride with them?”

  Her tension vanished, and her spirits lifted. “I would, aye. Emma said that I might go with them, but will not Janet and Bella wear boots? I have none.”

  Frowning thoughtfully, he said, “In troth, I don’t know. We shan’t leave for a half hour yet, so you still have time to confer with them. It is cold out, though, so I think you should have boots, and you will also need a cloak.”

  “Then you have been outside already.”

  “Nay, but the shutters were open when I woke up, so I know it’s icy cold.”

  “Is that why you were willing to wait for me? To let the day warm up?”

  He shook his head, and she detected an odd glint in his eyes. “I was just talking with Gram. I must also talk to two of my men before we go, though.”

  She eyed him more closely. “Is aught amiss, sir?”

  “Nay, but the King is at Melrose. I met him yesterday, and he asked me to track down a reiver who has been raising havoc with nobles on both sides of the line. I want my lads to see what they can learn about him.”

 
The thought of riding again, instead of remaining as confined as she had felt for the past two days, was heady. But her elation vanished when the unwelcome image of an angry Tuedy loomed again in her mind.

  With a sense of shock, she realized that, since waking to hear that she might go riding, not just with Janet and Bella but also—and most likely, Emma had said—with his lordship, she had utterly forgotten that she had a husband.

  Swallowing hard, she said quietly, “Will it be safe if I go, sir? Might not my presence amongst you endanger everyone?”

  The note of dread in her voice made Wat forget the food remaining on his trencher and look directly at her.

  She had lost all color in her cheeks.

  “You need not worry, Molly,” he said, forcing calm into his voice. “I’ll have my fighting tail with me. Moreover, my grandaunt travels with her own men.”

  “Even so—”

  “We’ll be on Scott land much of the time,” he interjected in the same calm way. “And if Westruther does not send some of his men with her, I’ll be surprised.”

  She looked thoughtful. “He is your grandame’s good-brother, aye.”

  “He is. He married her middle sister, Amalie, and is a Scott cousin, as well. I can never recall the difference between first and second cousins, let alone cousins removed, but Westruther is my granddad’s first cousin.”

  “You have a large family, I think,” she said with a wry smile.

  “Aye, with cousins from hither to yon.”

  The words gave him pause, and he nearly added that having so many close kinsmen was not always a blessing. But he was head of their clan now, and responsible for its well-being. He might confess his concerns to his grandmother, but it would ill become him to bleat about them to anyone else.

  Reminding himself that his father had believed in him, and Lady Meg did, as well, he excused himself, and went to talk with Tam and Geordie.

  A short time later, he met his sisters and Molly in the courtyard, and soon after that they were on their way.

  He took six of his men with him and expected a peaceful trip.