Chapter 22
Benjy was miserable and wished he had not so easily eluded Ash’s keen eye the day before. But he had, so his misery was his own fault. He knew that Beany would say so and that Dev would likely do more than that.
Rab would skelp him, if Rab were still alive. If only he were!
Rab had not said one word to him. Yet Beany told Dev that Rab had warned her of danger more than once, so why—?
“Art hungry, laddie?” the growly man asked, looming over him.
Benjy shrugged. He was hungry but did not want to eat their food. The four men guarding him were rough and mean-looking. But, in the graveyard, their growly leader had crept up behind him so softly that he’d had no warning until the man spoke.
By then, it was too late. The man had said they were just going for a short ride. But they’d ridden for hours before stopping by the thin rivulet in this unfamiliar forest. They’d been here for a while, too.
The sun was going down, and they’d not even built a fire to keep warm.
“Do I call ye ‘Coklaw,’ or do they call ye summat else?” the growly man asked.
Benjy knew his proper title was Laird of Gledstanes and Coklaw. But strangers had called Rab “Gledstanes.” His friends had called him Rab even after their father died, so Benjy was not sure what to say. Still, good manners required an answer.
“Me name’s Benjy,” he said. “I want to go home.”
“I ken that fine, Benjy. I want to go home m’self. I ha’ wanted that since I were a bairn younger than what ye be.”
Habitually polite, despite his anger and unhappiness with the situation, Benjy said, “Ha’ ye been away from home as long as that?”
“I ha’ almost nae memory o’ the place,” the man said. “But that doesna lessen the yearning,” he added with a sigh.
“Then why d’ye no go home?”
“ ’Tis too far away, across fearsome seas.”
“Where?”
The man glanced at their companions. “You lot, get on wi’ yer work. I’ll look after the bairn. Caleb, send Joey to me when he returns.”
The men left, muttering to each other, and the growly one handed Benjy two small oatcakes, which the boy took without hesitation.
The man said, “I dinna talk much about me homeland. Most o’ that lot doesna believe the place exists.”
“What be it called then?” Benjy asked. He bit into an oatcake and chewed.
“Scots and English call it Shetland. We called it Hjaltland.”
To Benjy’s ear, the two words sounded similar but not quite the same.
“The ancients called it the Isles o’ Cats,” the man added.
“Are there many cats there?”
“Nae more than most places. Me mam had one, though. I ken that fine, ’cause she were sad at leavin’ it behind. But had she brought it wi’ her, the wee beast would ha’ drooned when our ship sank.”
“Then why did you not drown, too?”
“D’ye wish I had?”
Uncertain how to answer that honestly, Benjy kept silent.
Chukk eyed the boy speculatively and realized when Benjy bit his lower lip that the lad feared him.
“I didna mean it that way,” Benjy said softly. “I was curious only because you said the cat would have drowned.”
Grimacing, Chukk realized that the night ahead might be long. He dared not leave the lad with the others; yet he had to know if Bangtail Joey had succeeded. At least, Joey would not tell Devil Ormiston where the laddie was. Joey didn’t know.
Chukk had twelve men at the encampment and had sent six others on ahead, so, counting Joey, they’d be a score in all.
He had heard much about Ormiston, but even Northumberland admitted that, devil or not, he was a man who kept his word if he gave it.
Joey would demand his word of honor before revealing their meeting place.
Not being trustworthy himself and believing that most men were not, Chukk was taking precautions to ensure that Devil Ormiston did keep his word.
The young laird was a surprise, though, having remained unnaturally calm from the outset.
Although he had insisted that he would not go with them, he’d kept silent when Chukk forced him to go.
Nor had the boy complained as they’d ridden south.
In truth, Benjy reminded Chukk of himself at the same age, unhappy and homesick but doing as he was told, knowing that resistance was useless.
Chukk liked the wee lairdie and hoped he would not have to kill him.
Despite every attempt, using every wile she knew to persuade Dev, Robina failed to learn where he was to meet the villains who had taken Benjy.
“If I broke my word to the messenger now,” Dev said as they left the hall after supper, “how could you believe that I’d not break my word to you?”
“This is a matter of life or death,” she reminded him.
“However, your participation is not,” he pointed out, maddeningly.
“I have a right to know, Dev. Good sakes! They are villainous Percys, who do not keep their word. You’ll likely ride into a trap.”
“Would you risk Benjy’s life just to protect me, Robby?”
To her shock, a voice inside her shrieked “yes!” Her lips parted but she could not speak. Tears sprang to her eyes at the fact that she could even entertain such a horrible thought for a second. She could not bear to lose either of them.
“I can’t…” Stifling an unexpected sob, she blurted, “I can’t lose anyone else!”
He stopped on the landing, opened his arms, and held her close. She felt his breath on her hair and smelled the scent of the soap he used and the woodland scents from his jack. Its soft leather felt like a caress against her cheek. Her treacherous world steadied.
“You must send for Wat and your father now,” she murmured.
Giving her another brief hug, he set her back on her heels to say, “I cannot send for more men, sweetheart. ’Tis too dangerous. If those villains suspect I’ve sent for reinforcements, they’ll likely kill Benjy and slip across the line.”
“He’ll need Wat, Beany! Persuade him!”
Gritting her teeth, she muttered. “You cannot go alone to meet them, Dev.”
“Jock will go as far as—” He broke off, drew a breath, and Robina silently cursed the demon who had reminded him of his damnable promise.
“I’ll take Jock part way with me,” he went on.
“He’s as skilled a man as I know for looking as if he has every right to be where he is, doing what he’s doing.
He’ll conceal himself, keep me in sight, and be able to report what happens. ”
She knew that Dev was more skilled at tactics and strategy than most men, so he had to know how little aid one man, even Jock Cranston, could lend him at such a distance.
The villains, having watched Coklaw unseen and abducted Benjy without a soul stopping them or reporting their presence, clearly had equally well-trained men to watch for trouble.
“'Just a few shepherds,” she muttered, remembering.
Dev’s eyebrows flew upward. “What?”
“What if every shepherd who was supposed to be hunting lost sheep was a villain instead?” she asked him. “Were there not several reports of such?”
“There were. But, if you think we should have questioned each one as if he were a villainous Percy, just imagine the reaction hereabouts had they all been innocent.”
“They could have been Turnbulls rather than Percys,” she said. “Having lost two cows and four sheep in return for lifting our beasts, they may be seeking revenge.”
“Sweetheart, right now, who the villains are matters less than the fact that they have Benjy,” Dev said. “However, as you must have heard, they want to trade him for an item about which the Turnbulls ken nowt.”
“Will you give them the jar?”
“I gave my word. And its contents likely do belong to the Percys.”
“Aye, perhaps,” she said quietly, knowing that she’d lost any argument she might make when he’d given the messenger his word. “Promise me that you’ll wear your shirt of mail under your jack and do all that you can to bring yourself and Benjy back safely.”
“I’ll do all of that, sweetheart. You know I will.”
“I do,” she said with a sigh, “but I’m so tired I cannot think. If you won’t let me help, I think I’ll go to bed. You’ll wake me if aught else happens.”
“Aye, but I’ll go up with you,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry about me or about Benjy. Worrying alters nowt, lass. ’Tis wiser to wait and see what happens.”
She agreed not to worry, and when he wanted to couple before she slept, she accepted him willingly and exerted herself to show him how much he had taught her. After all, she thought desolately, it might be the last chance they had.
Even so, she’d had to exert herself not to snort in derision when Dev said not to worry. The only people who never worried were na?ve innocents who still believed that nothing bad would happen to them.
Those who knew better worried because they knew better.
However, agreeing with him and encouraging his lovemaking, which she enjoyed as much as he did, meant they would waste no more time in debate. And time was vital, because Rab had said that Dev would need help.
She had realized as much herself when Dev reminded her that the villains wanted the jarful of silver.
The only one likely to know its whereabouts now was the thief who had stolen and buried it or someone who had aided him.
It had to have been one of Northumberland’s own men just to get inside his tent.
However, once they had the money, would they really release Benjy?
Midday tomorrow would come quickly, and she had a number of things to do.
Dev was glad to see that Robby still slept when he woke at dawn to Coll’s light touch. He had feared he might waken her when he’d come to bed in the middle of the night, but if they could keep from waking her now, she might sleep well into the morning.
The longer, the better, he told himself. Getting up as gently as he could, he eased the bed curtain shut to block light through the shutters and moved quietly on bare feet to the washstand to wash himself.
Coll moved as silently, gathering Dev’s clothes.
“Give orders to pull our people in close to the castle,” Dev whispered as he pulled on his braies and breeks by the door. “Don’t ask questions; just see to it.”