The Raven's Moon (23 page)

"Wait—you were at my home? You saw my wife?"

"Aye. Jennet is fine. And your house can be rebuilt."

Iain hesitated. "And—the bairn?"

A thought occurred to him, and Rowan frowned. "How long have you been here, man?"

"Seven, eight weeks. I've lost count. Jennet would have delivered her child by now, but no one here will say—"

"You have a son," Rowan said quietly.

Nodding, Iain put a hand over his eyes.

"I've seen him myself. He's called Robin," Rowan said. "He's a bonny wee lad," he added softly.

"My thanks," Iain said, his voice hoarse. He turned away.

The guard motioned, and Rowan left the cell.

* * *

"One plow beam cost five shillings last March," Anna said, running her finger along a column of figures. "And six pounds Scots went to iron for a new plow. Some of that iron was used to make a hundred nails to strengthen the yett—Rowan, are you listening?"

Standing by the window, Rowan nodded, his gaze on a dismal view of gray clouds and drear brown fields. "Go on," he said. "Iron for the plows."

"Anna, do not read the whole blasted debit and credit list for the past three years," Jock said, seated beside his wife. "We ken well how hard you work to keep the accounts. Just tell him the greater expenses and income so he has a sense o' the matter."

Anna picked up a page from those spread on the table. "We purchased four young plow oxen at last year's fair. Over thirty pounds Scots, that. I took some money from Lincraig rental accounts, since the plows are shared among many."

"The price for oxen has gone up," Rowan said. "What's the income in rents from our tenants?"

Anna ran her finger across one of the pages. "This year is but half collected. Eighty pounds came in last year. A good amount, but your tenants cannot always pay in coin. Some shillings from each at Whitsuntide, and again at Martinmas, and the better part in kind, from grain rent, beasts, cheeses, and such. Last June, the reckoning of animals kept by tenants was low—the reivers did much damage to herd numbers. Many tenants will not be able to pay the half rent due at Martinmas, and that is but two weeks away."

"Lady Anna," Mairi said from her chair by the hearth, "I am sorry, but this reminds me that I must ask for an extension on Iain's rent due you. The herd is gone—the house—"

"I would extend any courtesy to you, sweetling, were it still my matter," Anna said gently. "But you must ask Rowan about your brother's rent now."

"Iain's house came to him through his wife," Jock told Rowan. "He rents the holding through the custom o' kindness, for the deed is in Jennet's mother's name as main occupant, though she does not live there. Iain has always paid his rent promptly. His plan was always to increase his herds, make a better living, and get his family a fine new house. He spoke of more schooling, too—his father wants him to do that."

"Our father has spoken to Iain about becoming a lawyer, like he is," Mairi said, "so that he can make a good living in the Lowlands and be in good position to take over our parents' lands in the Highlands... when that time comes."

Rowan nodded thoughtfully, and caught, at the corner of his eye, how closely Mairi watched him. He was keenly aware of her presence all the time, more so than ever. "The custom o' kindness should remain," he said. "The rent Iain paid last Whitsuntide will be sufficient for the year."

"Oh, thank you!" Mairi murmured. Rowan glanced at her then, could not help it, while his grandmother went on reading from the accounts. He had been reluctant to look at her, fearful that he could scarce keep his feelings—building, growing, still a mystery to him—from showing.

She sat graceful and beautiful in a carved chair, wearing an old blue gown of Anna's, with a gray shawl over her shoulders. Her injured arm was in a cloth sling. In the week since Rowan had brought her here, she was stronger, for now she was able to reach up with her left hand to brush back an errant lock of glossy dark hair, tresses he wanted to run his fingers through.

A week, yet hardly a word between them. Rowan had felt a taut awareness each time he saw her. But today he felt more relaxed, the air quiet, altered somehow, as if he had begun to accept the changes in his life—the changes Mairi brought him, which he did not fully comprehend. It deepened his thoughtful mood.

Anna talked on about debits and charges, the cost of ginger and raisins and good linen cloth, the number of cows calved last spring, the number of milk ewes and rams counted on his land.

He hardly heard. Mairi's cheeks glowed. Her dark hair was rich and loose about her shoulders. The shawl she wore draped distractingly over the firm contours of her breasts.

If he were to touch her now, she would be all warmth and cream and silk and tenderness. His fingers would cage the softness of her breasts reverently, until they budded beneath his palms and her body and his flourished with passion.

Stop, he told himself, annoyed with such useless, even adolescent thoughts. Cool air sliced through the window, and he turned toward it, needing to diminish the insistent sensations that surged through him whenever he was near Mairi. She could turn his body to hard fire, and she did not even know it.

He felt caught in some spell, and he did not much like that loss of fierce reserve and control. He could not forget those few luscious kisses.

Neither could he forget her flair for highway assault, or the lingering suspicion that she was a traitor, a liar, a spy, and nothing that he wanted her to be.

That would be simpler to face than this alarming turn of mind and heart. Months ago, weeks ago, he was convinced that no woman would ever have a firm hold in his life again. He had let Maggie do that, and only hurt and sadness had come of it.

But his resolve had begun to crumble the day that Mairi Macrae had struck him over the head.

He knew he should look for the innocence and not the crime until otherwise proven. But he was sure that she knew more than she admitted. And his desire to save his own neck from an English heading ax made him wary.

Rain spattered on the stone sill. He closed the shutters and latched them, then turned toward Anna, still talking about account pages.

"...We sold a hundred sheepskins at the last market day for over fifty pounds," Anna said. "Next summer we will have near that amount again, if the lambings go well and the reivers show mercy."

"You're an able accountant and overseer, Granna. I appreciate all that you've done in my absence. Blackdrummond's ledgers are healthy. I could return you the favor you have done for me."

"You can," Anna said simply.

"Aye," Jock said. "'Tis past time to fetch Jamie."

"You have not forgotten that Alec wants wee Jamie brought to safety, I hope," his grandmother said.

Rowan sighed and glanced at Mairi, who watched all of them with keen, curious interest. "I know Jamie needs fetching," he said. "I was thinking that Sandie and I could ride tomorrow."

"Sandie must bide here," Jock said. "Wi' reiving season on us, he's too necessary here. He keeps watch on our flocks and has a steady hand at the pistol and latchbow."

"Tales o' your temper scare them away from here," Rowan remarked. "But I am not capable of tending a wee bairn while I ride. Someone must go—Grandsire, perhaps you will ride."

Anna leaned forward. "His joints would pain him too much for that," she said quickly, and Jock nodded reluctantly.

"Then I'll find a comrade among our tenants. Nebless Will Scott might go wi' me, or his sons Richie and Andrew."

"Will's Richie and Black Andrew are fine men," Jock said, nodding. "They once snatched cattle from under Simon Kerr's own nose, I hear, and left a football as a trade." He grinned. "If haystacks had legs, they'd follow Will Scott's lads anywhere on a moonlit night. They can surely snatch a bairnie from the 'Batable Land. Aye, ask them."

"Snatch a bairnie?" Mairi asked.

"Will Scott's lads are well known in the 'Batable Land," Anna said. "Every thief south of the Tarras Water would ride with you, hoping to scour beasts from the hillsides with those two. You must go quietlike to fetch Jamie and bring him back quick." She smiled suddenly. "Take Mairi!"

Mairi straightened in surprise and squeaked a wordless protest.

Rowan lifted a brow. "Mairi is hurt."

"Her arm is much stronger. And she will have a fair hand with a bairn." Anna beamed as if delighted. She leaned over to explain the situation to Mairi, who flickered a concerned glance toward Rowan.

Jock scratched his whiskered chin. "Anna has decided for you, lad."

"I see that," Rowan said dryly.

"She's pleased to go with you, Rowan," Anna announced, turning back. Mairi scowled, cheeks pink. She did not look pleased, Rowan thought. She looked as if she wanted to see the laird of Blackdrummond frying over the hearth flames.

"Anna's decided for Mairi as well," Jock observed. "Och, perhaps 'tis best. Simon Kerr might ride here to fetch Mairi, and she would be gone. Sandie and I could explain that she is your prisoner and you've taken her elsewhere. And we've enough powder and shot to prove the point, needs be."

"Will's Richie and Black Andrew would be better comrades for this," Rowan pointed out.

"Jamie will like Mairi better than Will's Richie," Anna said. "His ugly face could scare cattle. He'd give Jamie lifelong nightmares. Though he's a muckle pleasant man," she added. "Take Mairi. She'll go."

His heart quickened at the thought of traveling with Mairi, but Rowan shook his head. "A woman in the Debatable Land would only attract rascals and trouble. We need to fetch the bair cleanly and get out fast."

"I would not hold you back, Blackdrummond," Mairi said stiffly. She had said so little until this point that he looked at her in surprise. "I can ride as fast and far as you can."

"With a hurt shoulder?" Rowan asked doubtfully.

"I am fine now. And if Anna and Jock want me to go, I will," she said. "I owe them both a kindness in return."

"Then 'tis agreed," Anna said.

"It is a poor scheme." Rowan said sternly.

"She can wear men's gear," Anna said. "She did before."

"True, two men riding through is less interesting to outlaws than a man and a lass alone," Jock said.

"Her doublet was ruined the other night, but we can find her other gear," Anna said eagerly. "There's an old leather jack that was yours when you were younger. 'Twill fit her. And I'll give you warm clothes for Jamie. He'll need a plaything or two, as well, to keep him happy on the journey back here."

"Plaything?" Rowan nearly groaned. But he knew, rationally, that Mairi would be a far better nursemaid than himself or Sandie or Will's Richie.

He had promised to fetch the lad and he would. But Anna's scheme was riskier than any of them realized. His very heart was at stake, and he was fast losing his ability to protect it.

"I suppose you are right," he said. "Simon might come to fetch Mairi in his absence. Clearly, the best course is to take her with me. But I am not happy about it."

They watched him expectantly.

Finally he nodded. "I'll bring her," he said. He did not look at Mairi. "But she must remember that she is still a prisoner. She must behave herself."

"Oh, she will," Anna said, grinning.

"I am sitting just here, Blackdrummond," Mairi said, her cheeks bright. "I can hear you."

Chapter 16

"Tho dark the night as pick and tar,

I'll guide ye o'er yon hills fu' hie

And bring ye a' in safety back,

If ye'll be true and follow me."

—"Hobie Noble"

Silence seemed to roll off Rowan like fog. Mairi glanced at him as they rode through a mist that blurred hills and sky. Rowan's helmet was pulled low, his profile stony, mouth set firm. He seemed lost in intense thought.

She tilted her chin to peer out from under the brim of the helmet he had insisted she wear. But the steel bonnet, as Rowan called it, was heavy and uncomfortable despite a padded lining that cushioned her head. Her neck ached from the weight of it, and the noise of rain on steel this morning was maddening.