“It’s cold,” grumbled the second voice. “Out in the open where the wind gnaws your bones. Wish we’d drawn the watch at the abbey—at least it would be warm there.”
Young Ian’s hand was clutching my upper arm tight enough to leave bruises. I pulled, trying to loosen his grip, but he paid no attention.
“Aye, but less chance o’ catching the big fish,” the first voice said. “Ah, and what I might do with fifty pound!”
“Awright,” said the second voice, resigned. “Though how we’re to see red hair in the dark, I’ve no notion.”
“Just lay ’em by the heels, Oakie; we’ll look at their heads later.”
Young Ian was finally roused from his trance by my tugging, and stumbled after me off the road and into the bushes.
“What do they mean by the watch at the abbey?” I demanded, as soon as I thought we were out of earshot of the watchers on the road. “Do you know?”
Young Ian’s dark thatch bobbed up and down. “I think so, Auntie. It must be Arbroath abbey. That’s the meeting point, aye?”
“Meeting point?”
“If something should go wrong,” he explained. “Then it’s every man for himself, all to meet at the abbey as soon as they can.”
“Well, it couldn’t go more wrong,” I observed. “What was it your uncle shouted when the Customs men popped up?”
Young Ian had half-turned to listen for pursuit from the road;now the pale oval of his face turned back to me. “Oh—he said, ‘Up, lads! Over the cliff and run!’”
“Sound advice,” I said dryly. “So if they followed it, most of the men may have gotten away.”
“Except Uncle Jamie and Mr. Willoughby.” Young Ian was running one hand nervously through his hair; it reminded me forcibly of Jamie, and I wished he would stop.
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about them just now. The other men, though—if they’re headed for the abbey—”
“Aye,” he broke in, “that’s what I was tryin’ to decide; ought I do as Uncle Jamie said, and take ye to Lallybroch, or had I best try to get to the abbey quick and warn the others as they come?”
“Get to the abbey,” I said, “as fast as you can.”
“Well, but—I shouldna like to leave ye out here by yourself, Auntie, and Uncle Jamie said—”
“There’s a time to follow orders, Young Ian, and a time to think for yourself,” I said firmly, tactfully ignoring the fact that I was in fact doing the thinking for him. “Does this road lead to the abbey?”
“Aye, it does. No more than a mile and a quarter.” Already he was shifting to and fro on the balls of his feet, eager to be gone.
“Good. You cut round the road and head for the abbey. I’ll walk straight along the road, and see if I can distract the excisemen until you’re safely past. I’ll meet you at the abbey. Oh, wait—you’d best take your coat.”
I surrendered the coat reluctantly; besides being loath to part with its warmth, it felt like giving up my last link with a friendly human presence. Once Young Ian was away, I would be completely alone in the cold dark of the Scottish night.
“Ian?” I held his arm, to keep him a moment longer.
“Aye?”
“Be careful, won’t you?” On impulse, I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cold cheek. I was near enough to see his brows arch in surprise. He smiled, and then he was gone, an alder branch snapping back into place behind him.
It was very cold. The only sounds were the
Ought I to make a noise? I wondered. If not, I might be attacked without warning, since the waiting men might hear my footsteps but couldn’t see that I wasn’t an escaping smuggler. On the other hand, if I strolled through singing a jaunty tune to indicate that I was a harmless woman, they might just lie hidden in silence, not wanting to give away their presence—and giving away their presence was exactly what I had in mind. I bent and picked up a rock from the side of the road. Then, feeling even colder than before, I stepped out onto the road and walked straight on, without a word.
31
SMUGGLERS’ MOON
The wind was high enough to keep the trees and bushes in a constant stir, masking the sound of my footsteps on the road—and those of anyone who might be stalking me, too. Less than a fortnight past the feast of Samhain, it was the sort of wild night that made one easily believe that spirits and evil might well be abroad.
It wasn’t a spirit that grabbed me suddenly from behind, hand clamped tight across my mouth. Had I not been prepared for just such an eventuality, I would have been startled senseless. As it was, my heart gave a great leap and I jerked convulsively in my captor’s grasp.
He had grabbed me from the left, pinning my left arm tight against my side, his right hand over my mouth.
