The Heather Moon (20 page)

"Anna," he insisted. "You see Anna for me."

"Hah," Ned said. "The tawny wench is right!"

"Anna likes me well!" Arthur argued.

"She likes Jock Scott well. 'Tis why we were out riding after him this night, blockhead."

"If I find Jock Scott of Lincraig, or his kinsmen who rode with him, there will be none left of the Scott surname for Anna to favor," Arthur muttered. "Gypsy, you are wrong."

"Anna told her father she would not wed you," Ned said. "He locks her in her room, but her mother lets her out. Anna had another rendezvous with Jock Scott—you saw that this very night! You've already lost the girl."

"I'll kill Jock Scott for cuckolding me! Gypsy," Arthur said fiercely, "tell me how to make her mine. You must know some spells. Make me a potion, or tell the old hag to do it. I will pay you any amount of gold."

"I know naught of magic," Tamsin replied. "Nor does my grandmother." Nona frequently used spells traditional to the Romany, but Tamsin was not about to admit that.

"The gypsy chit cannot see the future in a few skin wrinkles," Ned said. "I told you 'twas a waste of good silver. Palmistry is for fools and women."

"Every hand holds a tale of past, present, and future," Tamsin said. "Even yours, Ned Forster."

"Bah!" Arthur pulled his hand away. "'Tis said that Egyptians know the secrets of the future. But this is folly! You did not foretell me what I wanted to know!"

"If you dinna like what you hear, I am sorry," Tamsin said.

Ned took Tamsin's right hand. "Here, girl, look at my palm now," he said. "I will give you pretty coins and more, but tell me what I want, hey." He chuckled low. "You're a fine wench, though you be part gypsy." He pulled her closer.

Tamsin pushed at him. "I dinna want your coin. Be gone!" Nona reprimanded him in Romany, but he did not look at her.

Ned held her arm in a tight grip. "I have a pouch full of coin, and a codpiece that's full too." He grinned and Tamsin shuddered.

She glanced toward William, who placed a hand on the ground, readying to stand. Anxious to prevent him from coming closer, she tried to jerk away from Ned. "You must let go of me!"

"Gadjo
pig!" Nona said in Romany. She held the candle high and purposefully spilled hot tallow, and though she missed Ned's arm, he yelped.

"Ned, stop," Arthur warned. "Her husband is just there. He'll defend her. We'll have trouble with this whole tribe!"

"Her man will not care what she does, if he sees silver of it," Ned replied. "Come with me, girl. We will find a quiet place—and you can look at my palms." He was breathing heavily as he tugged at her arm.

"Bad
manus!"
Nona said in awkward English. She shook the candle, and the flame blew out. Neither man looked toward her. Tamsin flung her grandmother a desperate look, and Nona reached out to snatch the silver coin from Tamsin's hand before hustling off, calling for John Faw, who had disappeared among the guests.

As Nona passed William Scott, who had stepped away from the tree and was moving toward them, she muttered to him in Romany and waved him toward Tamsin. He nodded beneath his hat.

"Be gone before there is trouble!" Tamsin urged Ned and Arthur. She glanced back at William.

"Trouble, hey," Ned said to Arthur. "We'll be off with her. We'll make a game of it! The gypsies will chase us into England, and give us reason to hang one or two of them for vagabonds and thieves." He dragged her another few steps. Arthur muttered a weak protest, but ran toward their horses, which were tied on the other side of the trees.

Tamsin glanced wildly over her shoulder. William advanced between the trees, silent and ready as a wildcat. Tension hardened the long, agile lines of his body. Neither of the Englishmen noticed him.

If Arthur recognized him, Tamsin thought frantically, there would be violence in the camp. She had to get free on her own. Struggling against Ned's grasp, she cried out and faltered as her bruised leg twisted painfully beneath her.

Ned slowed, and Tamsin kicked his booted shin with her bare foot. He let go of her right and yanked on her left arm. The silk cloth slid free, exposing her hand. The light from the bonfire fell across its small, odd shape.

"Huh! What is that?" Ned stopped abruptly. "God be with, 'tis a devil's claw!"

Chapter 12

"...Catiffe, witch!

Baud, Beggar, Gipsie: Anything indeed,

But honest woman."

—Ben Jonson,
The Magnetic Lady

Firelight illuminated the shape of her left hand. Instead of separate fingers, a curved wedge of flesh rose from the top of her palm, narrowing to a tip with a single, delicate oval fingernail. In Ned's grimace, she saw revulsion and fear, a look she had seen too often in her life.

Ned stepped back. "'Tis a sign of evil!"

His fear gave her a sure weapon, the only one she had. She held the hand high in the yellow glare of the firelight. Regret flashed though her, but she had no time to think, had no other choice. Her hand could not be hidden now.

Ned stumbled into Arthur, who had run toward him. "God's bones!" Ned cried. "Look! She's a witch! She means to curse us—look at her hand, man!" He grabbed Arthur's sleeve and pointed at Tamsin. "She's part demon!"

She held her hand up like a threat. She stared at Ned, making her eyes wide, hoping their odd color would alarm the men further. She took a step forward, and they backed away.

"Be gone from here—or I'll curse you with the evil eye!" she said. Arthur gasped.

"God in heaven, she can do it too, look at her," Ned muttered.

"The devil in the shape of a woman," Arthur said. "She wore a glove when I saw her before. 'Twas to hide that demon's hoof! By God! My father should have hanged her for a witch!"

She sensed William behind her in the shadows like a protective presence. Yet she was aware that he watched her, that he knew, now, the truth about her. A sob curdled within her. While she could endure what these brutes thought of her, a tender, wounded part deep inside of her did not want William Scott to see her flaw, her weakness, her ugliness.

She sucked in a breath. No matter how much she hurt inside, she would not let it show. She was the granddaughter of an earl of Egypt, and the daughter of a great Scottish scoundrel. Lifting her chin to raise her pride, she held her left hand high, unmoving.

"Arrest her, man," Ned said, looking at Arthur. "You have the authority! Your father made you a deputy warden of the English Middle March!"

"Ah," said a deep, sure voice behind her. "But we are in Scotland, lads. Arthur has no authority here."

Tamsin caught her breath as the sudden, welcome warmth of William's hands rested on her upper arms. He guided her behind him, and she went without protest, her heart beating fast. She peered at Ned and Arthur around the width of his shoulder.

"Her husband!" Ned said.

"I told you!" Arthur hissed. He blinked. "By God! What? William Scott—guised as a gypsy!"

William inclined his head. "Very good. Now get out," he ordered. "You disturb a wedding."

"Yours?" Ned sounded confused. "Did you wed the gypsy this evening? Is that what this celebration is all about?"

"There are easier ways to bed a tawny than to wed her!" Arthur said. "That one's a witch! And you must be a fool to want her! Though she's a pretty little tart. I wager you did not know about that claw either, hey?"

William slithered free the dirk sheathed at his belt. "Guard your tongue," he growled.

"She took our silver and put a curse on Arthur!" Ned said.

Arthur looked startled, but nodded. "Aye!" he said. "She put an evil eye on me—both of us—and she took my silver, telling me lies!"

"She told no lies," William said. "Palmistry is regarded as a science among scholars and physicians, though I doubt you know that. And she knows a good deal about your true character, Arthur. Certainly more than you would want anyone to know," he added in a low drawl.

"Did you truly wed that gypsy?" Arthur demanded. "My father will want to know what the devil you are up to!"

"If I were to wed a gypsy, 'twould be my concern, and not yours or your father's," William said. "If I were to wed a gypsy"—he twirled the dirk and caught it, swift as a spinning star—"your father should be pleased, for he wants a contact among these people for his own purposes. Now be gone from here. Or the evil eye will be the least of your troubles."

"I will tell my father what I saw here!" Arthur said.

"Tell him that you saw Tamsin Armstrong and me meeting with the gypsies. Tell him too that Ned insulted the lass in a lewd manner, and you both were sent out of here as you deserved."

Ned snarled and drew his own dirk, launching toward him. William stepped aside with easy grace, his arm sweeping back to shield Tamsin.

Ned stopped abruptly, staring past them. Tamsin turned to see her grandfather and several Romany men walking toward them. John Faw held a whip and lashed out with it, cracking the supple length.

William looked at Ned and Arthur. "Be gone," he ordered.

Wordlessly, the men turned and ran toward their horses. Within moments, they vaulted into the saddles and rode away, vanishing into the darkness of the moor.

Tamsin whirled to see John Faw nod silent thanks to William Scott, who nodded in return. Her grandfather looked at her.

"Are you harmed, girl?" he asked in Romany.

"I am fine," she replied, rubbing her left wrist with her right hand. Her small hand was open to view, but she did not care. The damage had been done.

John Faw stared from her to William for a long moment. Tamsin was sure that he had heard Arthur asking William if he was indeed her husband. She swallowed nervously and waited for John Faw to ask for an explanation or to show his anger.

But her grandfather only swiveled his black, intense gaze from one to the other, as if he tried to divine what they knew and he did not. She realized that he would say nothing to her of his private thoughts, or the matter of her behavior, in front of his people. After a moment, he turned to walk toward the bonfire, followed by the men. The camp was quiet. Just when the music and chatter had stopped, Tamsin could not have said.

John Faw gave the signal for the music to resume. Tamsin saw her grandmother comforting the tearful bride, whose wedding celebration had been tainted by violence and strangers. Tamsin felt some remorse over the ruined festivities, but knew that her apology would not be accepted. The bride and her closest relatives had often shown a wary suspicion of Tamsin.

She turned away. William stood watching her, the firelight flickering over his face. She glanced away and bent to pick up the fallen silk, wrapping its softness around her left hand.

She knew she should thank him for helping her. But she only wanted to run from him, ashamed that he had seen the flaw she had tried to hide. She whirled and hurried toward the bonfire.

An instant later, she felt long fingers grasp her left hand. The silk fell away and floated to the ground.

"Evil eye," William muttered. He pulled on her hand and started through the clearing. "Evil eye! Casting a curse! God in heaven, lass, what were you thinking!" His fingers were warm and strong on her skin as he yanked her with him.

Too stunned to answer, overwhelmed by the sudden touch of his hand on hers, Tamsin tried to pull away. He did not slow down, tugging her in his wake. Some of the gypsies stopped and stared after them.

"I didna take you for a foolish lass," William continued in an irritated tone. "But that was a silly performance indeed." He stopped and glared at her. "Do you know what you've done?"

"Nay," she said hotly. "I dinna have a hint of it!"

"Well, you'll soon find out, when Jasper Musgrave puts out a summons for your arrest and accuses you of witchcraft."

"He wouldna," she said. "Anyone can see Arthur is a fool."

"He is. But so is Jasper. He will believe Arthur, if the lad reports this. And be sure he will." He shook his head, looking down at the ground as if in thought. His fingers remained firm over her misshapen hand. She flexed it in his. He did not flinch, did not even lessen his hold.