Lissie’s legs went weak. “How old?”
“Seven and ten.”
Alisabeth picked up her skirt and pulled the shawl from her shoulders. “I’ll find them. Go and wait outside!” Running toward the storeroom, she saw Fenella return with a dozen women, their faces streaked with smoke and tears, hacking and coughing but alive.
Fenella grabbed her. “Where are you going?”
“Two little ones are back there. Mary and Frances.”
“Sweet Jesu! I’ll get more help.”
Alisabeth stumbled down the hall, tears streaming from her eyes. The heat increased with each step. Getting down on her hands and knees, she called for the children. There was a little more visibility at this level, and she stopped at an open door. The room was dark but she called their names. As she backed out of the doorway, Lissie thought she heard a whimper. “Mary! Frances!” A racking cough.
The crackle and snap of burning timber echoed in her ears. Flames licked at the ceiling above, creeping toward them like a predatory wolf. She crawled into the room, feeling her way until her fingers touched a foot. A small hand grabbed her arm, tiny nails digging into her skin. “I’ve got you! What’s yer name?”
The girl squeezed Alisabeth around the neck, sobbing and coughing. “M-m-mary.”
“Where is Frances?” The girl pointed.
The boy was lying on the ground, not moving. Saints and sinners! Her fingers grasped his collar and she pulled then crawled. Pulled then crawled. Mary clung to her. Blood ran down Lissie’s neck from the girl’s imbedded fingernails. She made it to the hall, pulled the shawl from her head, and placed it over Mary’s face.
Sizzling flames danced above her, searing her skin. The smell of burnt hair permeated her nose and blocked her air passages. She tried to breathe through her mouth but gulped in more smoke. Mary’s wheezing turned into short, desperate gasps. Without the shawl over her head, her lungs struggled to pull in air. The heat singed her throat. Keep calm, keep moving. Crawl, pull. Crawl, pull. Crawl… Her muscles wouldn’t obey her mind any longer. Winded and weeping, Lissie covered the children with her body before the blackness consumed her. I’m so sorry, Gideon. So verra sorry…
Chapter 14
“The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can quietly be led.”
—Edgar Allen Poe
The smoke spiraled into swollen gray clouds above the skyline. Gideon peered in the direction of the fire. “That’s close to the mill.”
Lachlan studied the sky then picked up the reins and slapped the horses. “Hiya!” The animals lunged forward, sending pedestrians scattering. “It is the mill.”
By the time they reached the river, the block was crowded with employees who had escaped the burning building, family members looking for loved ones, and rows of bucket brigades on either side of the mill. Wooden buckets and leather bags were dipped into the Clyde and handed down the line. As water splashed onto the stone and the flames shot out of the far end of the factory, Lachlan shook his head. “Spittin’ in the wind.”
Gideon grabbed a boy by his arm. “What happened?”
“The mill caught fire and the workers were trapped inside, my lord.”
“What?” He shook the lad by the arms. “Is everyone out?”
“Don’t know for sure, but the supervisor got most of ‘em out a window. Some of ‘em went ‘round and opened the door but it took a while. The bolt was broken in the lock.”
Gideon squinted from the smoke and spotted a man talking with Lachlan. The weaver from the tavern. The spy. He called to Lachlan, who nodded his head as the man talked, waving his arms.
“He says he stopped a mon with an English accent running from the fire. He knocked John down in his haste to get away.” Lachlan turned back to the weaver. “Thank ye for yer help, John.”
The man nodded and tried to move on but Gideon pulled him up by the collar and stared into his eyes. Gideon heard the slam of a bolt in his head but did not see flames in the man’s eyes. An accomplice. “You locked them in, you bloody bastard.”
The man squirmed and fought to get away. “Take yer hands off me!”
“Gideon, we must find Colin.”
Lachlan, not understanding why Gideon detained the man, pulled hard on his arm. The conspirator twisted from Gideon’s grasp, hit the pavement, and scuttled away.
They pushed through the throng toward the front door. “Have ye seen Colin?” Lachlan yelled to a group of men. They pointed to the other end of the building. They found Colin, standing inside a shattered window, smoke still pouring out above his head. His face was smeared with ash and his hands wrapped in a ragged black cloth, staunching the blood that dripped down his forearms. He deposited an equally filthy woman onto the ladder. Mama.
Gideon rushed forward just in time to scoop her up in his arms as she stumbled to the ground. “Mama, what the hell are you doing here?”
She hugged him, her raspy voice faint in his ear, “Lissie went after two little ones.” She coughed and gasped. “In the store room.”
A sledge hammer pounded his chest. Colin appeared next to him and he handed his mother to the giant. “I’m going after Lissie. Which way is the fastest?”
“Take the ladder,” he yelled. “I’m right behind ye.”
Gideon looked over his shoulder and saw Lachlan now holding the countess. What in God’s name were they doing here? I’ll thrash Lissie if we both get out of this alive, he thought grimly, dread gutting him like a pig on a spit.
A hand caught his elbow. He turned and accepted the wet wool blanket Colin slammed into his chest. He motioned for Gideon to follow him, and they made their way toward the hallway that led to the storeroom. He was glad to have the supervisor’s bulky form in front of him because it was impossible to see anything until you stumbled into it. His feet seemed to be made of lead as the smoke engulfed them. He had heard scraps of conversation in the crowd. The fire had been contained to one end of the mill. If Lissie was outside the storeroom, there was still a chance.
He put a hand out blindly, his fingers finding and latching onto Colin’s coat. His eyes watered and the smell of charred wood stung his nostrils. His throat burned with the effort of swallowing. Colin stopped abruptly. Gideon’s nose smashed into his back then the man squatted to the floor. Gideon took another step and his foot made contact with something. Crouching low, he felt a limp hand.
“Get Lissie, I’ll carry the wee ones,” came Colin’s muffled voice as he rolled her lifeless body off the children.
Gideon’s stomach lurched. He fumbled along her unmoving form, found her head then her legs, and scooped her up into his arms.
“Ready?”
Gideon nodded and followed Colin back out. His eyes burned and he swore, not able to see Lissie’s face. The smoke thinned, and the broken window came into view. Gideon began to run, coughing and sputtering as prayers he thought he’d forgotten came to his lips. Don’t die on me, love, don’t die. He kissed her gritty face as men climbed the ladder and took her from him. He scrambled down after them.
A crowd gathered around Colin, a mother wailing, a child coughing then vomiting. He knelt beside his sweet Lissie, held her hand, and kissed her lids. “Wake up, love. Wake up.” He lifted her head, removed the damp wool blanket, and wiped her face. Looking up, he searched the sea of faces for his mother. She would know what to do. Lachlan appeared in the throng, his arm around Mama. Behind them a familiar face bobbed in and out of the crowd. Gideon blinked and wiped his eyes with one hand, trying to focus.
Ross Craigg.
“Colin! Colin!” The supervisor turned at the hoarse shout and followed Gideon’s finger as he pointed. Recognition lit up the Scot’s red-rimmed eyes, and he nodded then disappeared. Craigg realized he’d been seen and turned tail.
A grating moan brought Gideon’s attention back to Alisabeth. Her eyes fluttered open, puffy and the most beautiful red he’d ever seen. A wave of relief washed over him and he lost his balance, falling back
on his bum and drawing the first deep breath since entering the building. His body rocked with a spasm of painful coughs. Maeve plopped down next to him, placed a cold cloth on Lissie’s forehead and handed one to him.
“Och, lass. Ye scared me so,” she said as she wiped Lissie’s face.
“The children?” she croaked then gagged, rolling to her side.
Maeve smoothed the hair from the girl’s cheek as she expelled bile from her throat. Her eyes watered, her nose ran, and Gideon thought she’d never looked more beautiful. A cup of water appeared in Maeve’s hand, and she offered it to Lissie once she stopped coughing.
“The children are alive, thank the heavens.” Tears streaked the older woman’s face and her voice caught. “I’d like to give ye a thrashing, but I’d have done the same thing.”
“Can you breathe now?”
She nodded. “If I dinna breathe too deeply.” The sentence caused another torment of coughs.
Gideon gently lifted her onto his lap and rocked her back and forth, knowing he’d never let her go again. “Good God, I thought my life had ended when we found you unconscious. You’re never leaving my sight again.” He buried his head in her neck. The faint smell of lavender mixed with smoke reminded him how precious life could be. “No more heroics, do you understand?”
She nodded, gave him a weak smile, and closed her eyes.
“We’ve got him. He admitted to taking payment from English moles to start the fire.” Lachlan’s harsh voice cut into his thoughts. “He’s on the docks with Colin, surrounded by a mob. A verra angry mob.”
“I can’t leave her and Mama. You take care of it.” Gideon eyes did not leave Alisabeth’s face.
“Son, our carriage is on the way, and I’ve sent for the physician to attend us at the townhouse.” She laid a hand on his arm, and he saw the coldness in his mother’s usually warm eyes. “Go and tend to business now.”
Lissie’s battered face from the previous encounter with Craigg flashed in his mind. “Yes, you’re right, Mama. I believe a reckoning is at hand.”
“Do not let laws and righteousness keep ye from doing what’s right. That man needs to pay for what he’s done.” His mother patted his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. A familiar coachman appeared, helped her to her feet, and then gathered the sleeping Alisabeth in his arms. The threesome made their way through the thinning crowd.
Lachlan held out a hand. Gideon grasped his cousin’s wrist and pulled himself upright. As they neared the dock, he spotted Craigg’s sneering face and rage filled him. His heart slammed against his chest; his fists curled and uncurled. He could kill the man himself. They shouldered their way through the jeering men, workers employed by MacNaughton Textile. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. They wanted blood as badly as he did himself.
Colin had found a length of rope and tied Ross’ hands behind his back. When Gideon stopped in front of the bound man, he spit at Gideon’s boots.
“I’d think you’d be more cooperative, considering the circumstances,” Lachlan said, and then punched the man in the nose. Blood spurted out, speckling the front of Gideon’s shirt and mixing with the soot and dirt. The men jeered and shouted.
“Just one question,” asked Gideon. “Why?”
“I should have been chieftain of the Craiggs. When that whore’s father married her to a MacNaughton, it created peace between the clans. Peace”—he spit out the word, saliva and blood clinging to his own boots now—“and I prefer power. Then ye came with yer witch’s ways, and I had to sacrifice my daughter because the high and mighty MacNaughton declared it.”
“You were willing to murder all these innocent people to get revenge?”
“I’d have sold my soul to the devil. When the English spy offered to pay me to set the fire, it only sweetened the pot.” The man’s eyes held such intense fury, Gideon knew there was no hope for him.
Colin yanked his head back. “Ye sent the note, ye sniveling snake.”
“Just figuring that out, are ye?” Ross laughed, a mocking sound that grated on Gideon’s nerves. “My special thank ye to that whore of yers for shooting at her own kin.”
Reform was impossible for such an addled mind. “Where are the authorities? I want this mongrel out of my sight.”
“Weel, the constable and I have an understanding. He’ll be back in an hour. If Craigg’s still here, he’ll be jailed and put on trial.” Colin raised his voice. “What say ye? Do we leave him to the courts?”
“My boyo was in there with me!” came a shout.
“He could have taken out my entire family!” cried another.
“We’ll take care of him!”
“Hangin’ is too good for him.”
Craigg struggled against his constraints. “I ken my rights. I’ll have a trial, ye cowardly devils.”
“Ye’d murder innocent women and children and call us cowards?” A man near the front yelled and threw a rock, hitting Craigg in the chest.
Gideon rubbed the back of his neck and looked back at the Scot, watching the vehemence. Fear had replaced the malicious satisfaction in his eyes.
“No. Wait, no. Dinna let them have me. They’ll tear me to pieces.” Ross fell to his knees, his voice now a pitiful whine, his lips trembling. “Please, I’ll take my chances with a hanging.”
“Ye seem to have plenty of courage when ye’re smacking around a woman or have a paid brigand to back ye up. Ye’re a sorry excuse for a Scot and a man.” Lachlan grabbed the hair on top of the traitor’s head and jerked the man to his feet. “Cousin, it’s time we check on the women. We’ll leave this pig to his fate.”
Colin shrugged his shoulders. “I feel a mighty thirst coming on and dinna think I want to wait an hour for the constable.” He gripped Ross on the shoulder. “Stay here and wait for him like a good lad, eh?”
Gideon steeled himself as the three left the dock. Ross’ shrieks were drowned out as the mob surged forward. He did not look back.
Chapter 15
“I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.”
―Percy Bysshe Shelley
April 5, 1820
Glasgow, Scotland
Lissie nestled into the feather mattress and rested against Gideon’s hard chest, listening to his heart beat as he dozed. Her body was slowly mending, but the physician insisted a full two weeks before they attempted any travel. Her lungs would need time to heal. Exertion of any kind could cause shortness of breath so the trip to Stanfeld Manor would be much too taxing. Exercise would need to be introduced slowly into her daily routine, he had warned.
Lissie wouldn’t argue. The first few days had been a haze of voices and prompts to swallow the liquids forced down her throat. A dark form, smelling of orange and spice, had murmured sweet words of comfort and love. Gideon. The earl, according to Maeve, had never left her side. The fatigue showed in the shadows beneath his deep blue eyes. Even now, he stretched out beside her on top of the counterpane, his boots gleaming in the candlelight. She snuggled deeper, the slick material of his waist coast cool against her cheek. He stirred, his lips brushing the top of her head.
“Awake, my sweet?”
His breath ruffled her hair, and she nodded, eyes closed, comfortable in the warmth of his embrace. When she’d tried to talk yesterday, she’d sounded like a bullfrog. Gideon had barked a laugh, which had made her giggle. That had caused such pain in her throat, tears sprung to her eyes. The poor man had looked as if she’d dealt him a physical blow. Nothing more than a whisper, Maeve had suggested, until she was able to speak without pain. Or Gideon was far enough away not to see or hear her distress.
A soft knock at the door and the countess entered. “The maid is bringing up a broth for supper. Perhaps tomorrow, if ye’re feeling stronger, I could have a chess board set up.” She bent over her son and kissed Alisabeth on the cheek. “The color is returning to yer cheeks.”
Lissie smiled and pushed herself up against the pillows. She should be embarrassed to have a man
lying next to her, clad only in her nightdress. At least it was her favorite one, made of soft rose linen and gold scallops at the neck and sleeves. Maeve had scoffed at the physician’s mention of proprieties, so Lissie decided to enjoy his closeness.
“Once we’re home, I have no doubt Sanders will see to every detail of her recuperation.” He stretched and untangled his arm from around her body. “Did Lachlan bring any news?”
“He said he’ll bring us up to date at breakfast tomorrow. Most of the strikes have been quelled, and the newspaper didna report any new disturbances. According to the butler, more English regiments arrived this morning.” She sat down in a chair beside the bed. “It’s surprising there havena been more fatalities.”
“Once the leaders are rounded up, the trials will begin.” Gideon shook his head. “I wonder if it would have come to this if those blasted spies had not stirred up the skilled artisans and factory workers.”
“We’ll never ken for sure,” Maeve’s voice was heavy with regret. “Perhaps something good shall come of it. It isna only the Scots merchants unhappy with Parliament.”
Lissie sipped her broth and dozed. When she woke, Gideon was slumped in the chair next to her bed. A glass of brandy sat precariously in his hand. She leaned over to remove it from his grasp, but his other hand shot up and held her wrist. He leaned down, brushed his lips against the soft skin of her forearm, and made a trail of fiery kisses to her palm.
“You’ve already stolen my heart. Will you take my nightcap as well?”
“I prefer yer heart,” she whispered.
“You have it.” He stood and swirled the golden liquid. “The question is, do I have yours?”
With a smile, she nodded and held out her arms. He set down the brandy, slid onto the bed, and pulled her close. His breath was hot and tickled the sensitive skin below her ear, sending goosebumps down her arms. His lips brushed each eyelid, her nose, the corners of her mouth. His tongue traced the line between her bottom and top lip. She sighed and opened them, letting him explore her mouth and tasting him in return. The brandy was sweet with a hint of citrus. Or was that him? Her mind was muddled with passion. It didn’t matter. She whimpered when he ended the kiss, burning her tender throat.
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