The Raven's Moon (30 page)

When he had wanted Maggie to be his bride, years ago, he had been young—blinded by love, and blind as yet to life. Now, seasoned by time and tragedy and lessons, he knew what he wanted. And he wanted Mairi Macrae for his own.

He had taken the right road this morning in saying those vows. He could only hope that she felt the same way.

He studied the child. Jamie had Maggie's eyes, like bluebells in sunlight; he had her dimples, too, when he smiled. Rowan felt a pang and realized, suddenly, what he missed most about Maggie: friendship—not love. She had been part of his life since childhood.

He saw Alec in Jamie too, in the dark hair, the straight brows, even the ear shape common to Blackdrummond Scotts. Rowan drew a breath. He had always loved his brother, and seeing Jamie's small, bonny face merging both parents, Rowan felt a surge of love—and a sense of what was irreparably gone from his life.

But Mairi was here now—and he knew he had gained much. Serenely beautiful, possessed of fire and pride and compassion, she was his companion now, legally, and that opened a door he never thought to find again. But he was not ready to give up his guarded heart. Not yet.

Mairi smiled over at Rowan. "He's a joy, this lad, and so smart. He's only just learned this. Watch." She held up her palm, and Jamie held up his to match. "Go on," she told him.

"Come east, come west—" Jamie said.

"Pick the one ye love the best," Mairi finished with him, as Jamie slapped her hand. They laughed, and both looked at Rowan, who smiled at the familiar childhood rhyme.

"Roon!" Jamie said, stretching out a hand. "Do it!"

Rowan leaned over and held up his palm. "Come ye east and come ye west," he said in unison with the child, "and pick the one ye love the best." Jamie lifted Mairi's hand then, so that Rowan smacked his palm to hers.

Smiling, Rowan saw a pretty silver flash in Mairi's smokey eyes. He glanced away, feeling his own cheeks heat.

"Clever lad," he said.

Mairi hugged Jamie to her as the child sucked on two fingers and settled back against her. "Clever as his Da," she said. "Or his mother. Did you know her well?"

"Aye," he said in a low voice. "Her name was Maggie."

He did not turn as he guided his horse alongside hers. Jamie yawned and Mairi spoke softly to him.

"Rowan," she asked after a moment, "did Maggie have aught to do with however Alec betrayed you?"

He was not truly surprised that she had guessed. She had that way about her. "You see too much, as I said."

"What happened?" Her tender tone nudged at him, peeled away a layer over his heart. "Did you love her?" she asked.

Gentle words, but they had the strength to crack another layer. He would not look at her, but saw the child watching him with those Maggie-blue eyes, a trusting gaze that stirred a well of hurt and longing in the uncle.

"Rowan?" Mairi asked softly.

"When I was held at Carlisle," he said flatly, "I had a letter from Anna. She said that less than a month the trial, Alec had married."

"Ah," she said. "Maggie."

"She was my betrothed. Later in the year, Anna wrote to say that Maggie had—had a child, and died in childbed."

Mairi was silent. What could anyone say, really, Rowan thought to himself, watching the road.

Then she reached out and laid her slender fingers over his. After a moment, Rowan turned his palm up to hold her hand.

No one had ever comforted him over the matter of Alec and Maggie. He had borne the pain alone—until this moment.

As he cradled her small hand in his, a pure, simple, warm feeling welled in him. He felt, in that instant, cared for, cherished. Loved. And he felt humbled that she offered that so freely and generously to him, despite all their differences.

They rode side by side in the quiet. Then she took her hand away and pulled on the reins. "Rowan, stop, if you please," she said, shifting the sleeping child awkwardly.

He glanced at her and halted his horse. "What is it?"

"Could you take him for a bit? He's muckle heavy against my shoulder. 'Tis beginning to ache."

Remembering her injured shoulder, Rowan reached out to gather Jamie's limp, slumped form into his arms. Mairi handed him her black cloak and he tucked it around the child, settling the slight weight into his lap. Then he resumed riding.

Jamie was warm against him, a comforting little burden. The child murmured and giggled in his sleep, and Rowan saw sweet dimple emerge. He smiled to himself and hugged Maggie's child close.

As he rode, the warmth of the small boy seeped into his bones and somehow into his soul. The pain and anger that he had stored so carefully for three years began to melt.

He looked back at Mairi. She gave him a wise look, patient and understanding. And then he knew that she had not handed him the child because her shoulder hurt, but because she knew that Rowan was hurting—and that holding the boy might help.

He tightened his arm around Jamie as they went onward.

* * *

Mairi glanced at the sky. "'Tis nearly dark and the wind is strong. We should stop for the night." She shifted Jamie's boneless, sleeping weight in her arms. Rowan had handed him back not long ago so that he could watch carefully as they rode through the dusk on their way out of the Debatable Land.

"Aye, we can stop," Rowan said. "We're near the Tarras Water and Roan Fell, do you know it?"

"I do. Jean Armstrong lives near here," she said, brightening. "Jennet and Christie will be with her."

"Aye. When Devil Davy and I went reiving together, I remember that Jean Armstrong always kept a warm fire and a full kettle for visitors. We'll rest there for the night." He surged forward in the twilight.

Soon Mairi saw warm yellow lights glimmer in the narrow windows of Jean Armstrong's house tucked in the lee of a hill. Of fieldstones and a thatch roof, the stout bastel house was more fortress than farmhouse. Slit windows pierced the front, and the ground floor level, with no visible front door, was used for storage and had an enclosed cow byre that opened at the back. Mairi knew that the entrance to the upper level, where the main room was located, was accessible only by a ladder that would have already been pulled in for the night.

Weary, stiff, and hungry, with the wind beating around her, Mairi waited with the child while Rowan called a greeting and tossed a stone at the door.

After a moment the door cracked open. Devil's Christie yelled happily and slid the ladder out. Silhouetted in the doorway, Bluebell yelped in ecstasy. Jennet waved, holding her baby in her arms, while her mother, Jean Armstrong, smiled behind her as they all clustered in the doorway, waiting.

Rowan lifted Jamie from Mairi while she dismounted. "We'll spend our wedding night here, my lass, and glad for the company, I think."

She blinked up at him.
Wedding night.
"I had not thought—oh, I suppose we should tell them we're wed!"

Rowan quirked his lips. "We may as well," he drawled. "Tammie the Priest and Dickie the Mountain will spread the word quick enough, from the Debatable Land to the Yarrow Water, that the Black Laird has wed a bonny Highland lass." He tilted a brow.

She felt a frisson of joy at his words. Then she turned and was swept into Christie's arms, and soon was safely up the ladder and seated by the blazing hearth with a bowl of hot broth in her hands.

Chapter 20

Near me, near me,

Lassie lie near me,

I woo 'd thee and wedded thee,

Lassie lie near me.

—"Lassie Lie Near Me"

"Wed to the Black Laird," Christie said, grinning at Mairi as she entered the main room, having set Jamie down to sleep with Bluebell for a cozy guardian. "I still cannot believe it!"

"Hush, Christie, it's a bonny thing, I say," his mother Jean murmured. She patted the bench beside her, and Mairi sat in the circle of light near the warming hearth. Nearby, Robin slept in his cradle, and Jennet talked quietly with Rowan, seated on another bench.

"Jamie's asleep," Mairi said. "So is the hound."

Jean, her thin, pretty face framed by a white kerchief, smiled. "I'll gladly share the bed wi' wee Jamie while you and the Black Laird are wi' us. You two will take the bed in the loft. Christie can sleep on a pallet by the hearth."

Blushing as she thought of sharing a bed with Rowan, Mairi nodded thanks in silence.

"D'you think Heckie followed you here?" Christie asked.

"I do not know," Mairi said in half whisper. "It could be."

"Should be rain tonight, and most reivers will avoid poor weather," Jean said. "We'll be safe until the weather clears."

"Why were Heckie and them at that inn?" Christie asked. "They would not have been reiving in the 'Batable Land—the tenants and the reivers there are tougher game than Heckie finds here. I wonder... could they be looking for Alec?"

"They may have been," Mair murmured, remembering Rowan's certainty that Heckie was involved in the spying circle that might include Alec. She glanced at Rowan, who still spoke quietly with Jennet. She saw Jennet give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, and she wondered what they talked about.

Then Jennet stood, murmured good night to all and went toward a bed curtained at one end of the room. But she paused by Mairi for a moment, leaning down. "Your Black Laird is a fine man," she whispered. "He's done me a great kindness."

Rowan stood to go to the windows, peering out in silence. Moments later, Jean also bid good night, slipping behind the curtain of her own bed, where Jamie and Bluebell lay asleep.

Then Christie yawned and stretched, firelight sheening his blond head. "I'll sit up and watch," he said, eyes twinkling. "You two have had a long day and should rest."

Mairi saw the grin he suppressed, and she wrinkled her nose at him for the delight he was barely suppressing.

Rowan went to the door and tugged on the wooden bar. "Christie, the outer door in the byre below us," he said, turning. "Has it been secured?"

Christie stood. "I pulled the door bar across after I put your horses there with my horse and my mother's milk cows and ewes. But I did not yet roll the boulder to block the door."

"Do it," Rowan said bluntly. He crossed the room and picked up one of his wheel-lock pistols, which he had left on top of a wooden cupboard along with his other weapons.

Quickly, Christie went to a small trapdoor in the wooden floor, raising it to climb down a ladder into the byre. Mairi could smell fresh hay and animals, and heard a sheep bleat as Christie disappeared into the byre.

Mairi stood and went to Rowan. "You think Heckie will come tonight, despite the weather?"

"He very well may," he said. His fingers were deft and busy over his guns as he loaded them with powder and lead shot and took out the small key that he kept on a string around his neck. He fitted the metal cylinder to a stud in the gun casing, winding it to set the trigger mechanism. As he readied the second gun, Christie came back up through the trapdoor.

"The byre is safe," the lad said. "But the wind is high, and a storm is coming. We will not see reivers."

"I think we will," Rowan said quietly.

"This good bastel house is strongly fortified," Christie said. "They might get some of the cattle and sheep out left out on the far hill, but they cannot get our gear without climbing up to break down the door. Most reivers will not take lives unless they must. Most will not start a blood feud over a bit o' gear."

"Most," Rowan said, checking the mechanism on his latchbow. "Christie, you'll take the first watch."

Christie nodded. "They want more than gear and beasts, I think. What is it?"

"Something that I will not give up. Load your matchlock and ready your latchbow. Your father had a steady hand with both, and I do not doubt he taught good skills to you."

"He did. I'm a bonny shot wi' the latchbow, long bow, any sort of pistol and lance—long ax, too," Christie detailed proudly. He rubbed his shoulder where the lead ball had taken him down. "I would have shot Clem Elliot the night they burned Iain's house, if my pistol had not misfired."