Lissie settled next to Lachlan. “Colin is worried also. He thinks there are spies working within the weavers.”
“Three of them.” Gideon pushed away from the fireplace and paced. “They were at the tavern but not sitting together. They’ve had pamphlets printed and will distribute them over the next few days, inciting Scots to take up arms.”
“Which three men?” asked Colin, alert and following Gideon intently as he wore a path in the Axminster carpet.
He shook his head impatiently. “I don’t know their names.”
“But ye could recognize their faces? Their voices?”
“Their faces yes, not their voices. I didn’t hear a conversation.” Gideon tensed, waiting for the reaction sure to come.
“Then how in the bloody—”
“I saw the Truth in their eyes.” He yelled back at Lachlan. “It sounds insane, but I know without a doubt those men are not who they say they are. If you continue on your course, you will hang as a traitor.”
Alisabeth picked up her brother-in-law’s hand and held it between both of hers. “Lachlan, it’s true. He saw it in Ross Craigg’s eyes. Calum recognized the gift, and he’d tell ye to heed this warning.”
Lachlan narrowed his eyes at Maeve. “Aunt? I’m sure ye have an opinion. Ye dinna come all this way to sit in silence.”
She shook her head with a sad smile. “Ye ken how I feel. I’ve told ye my dream.”
He leaned on his knees and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Gideon, would ye come with me tomorrow afternoon? Since the assembly was dispersed, we set up a time to meet above a bookstore. I can try to dissuade some of them from joining the military drills, and maybe ye’ll recognize the three turncoats.”
Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. One catastrophe avoided. He prayed they had changed the course of Mama’s dream. “Yes, if you think I can help, I’m willing to accompany you. With the understanding that no one leaves this house.” He glared at Mama then Lissie. “We don’t need anything else to worry about. Is that understood?”
Alisabeth nodded solemnly. His mother grinned.
***
Gideon had left earlier that afternoon. Alisabeth leaned back on the chair, one leg propped over the armrest, her foot twitching restlessly. She couldn’t keep her mind on the book in her hand. Maeve looked up from her needlepoint when the butler entered the drawing room.
“My lady, a note has arrived.”
“Could they be done already?” Maeve tore open the envelope, unfolded the paper, and skimmed it quickly. “Please order the carriage right away.”
“But Gideon said—”
“This is from Lachlan. We’re to meet them at the mill.” She rose and smoothed her dress. “Let’s find out what our men have accomplished, shall we?”
Less than an hour later, the women entered the mill. Lissie recognized two of the older children who toted water buckets. She smiled at them and they bobbed to her with shy grins. When the ladies entered the office, Colin looked surprised.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, ladies?” He stood and met them at the doorway. “Lachlan and his lordship didna mention yer visit.”
“We received a note from Lachlan to meet us here.”
Colin scratched his head. “What did it say, exactly?”
Lissie’s chest tightened as she turned to Maeve. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“It only said to meet him here and he’d explain. It looked as if it had been scrawled quickly. I assumed…”
Colin smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s fine, Maeve. Please be seated and I’ll be right back.”
Alisabeth took a deep breath and wiped her sweaty palms against her skirt. She pushed down the panic that rose in her throat. The anxiety must have shown in her eyes.
“I think we’ve been duped. But why?” Maeve drummed her fingers on the wooden armrest. “Did they want us out of the townhouse or here in particular?”
Raised voices echoed from the hall. A bell began to clang. Lissie and Maeve ran into the large workroom and saw the employees running to the front of the building. Lissie sniffed. Smoke!
Colin barreled down the aisle. “The storeroom is in flames. Out with ye, now!” He pushed them behind the other employees. Fenella, Lachlan’s wife, shoved through the escaping crowd and tried to push past Colin. “No, lass. Ye’re going the wrong way.”
“I need to go upstairs and make sure the women heard the bell. I’ll meet you on the street.” She disappeared, only her white-blonde hair visible as she made her way down the smoke-filled hall.
A crowd had gathered at the entrance, and the shrieks of panic grew steadily louder. They were not moving.
“The door is blocked,” someone shouted, “we’re trapped.”
Colin jumped on top of a loom. “This way!” He waved and pointed to another door. Jumping off the machine, he ran to the heavy steel door and pushed. It didn’t budge.
Maeve gripped Lissie’s hand. “Stay calm, lass, and we’ll find a way.”
She nodded and watched as Colin picked up a bucket and threw it at the window. The glass shattered and formed a jagged opening. He slammed the thick pane with another bucket until he created a hole big enough for a person. Yanking material from several looms, he threw the cloth over the serrated glass and climbed out.
Cries of terror followed him and another man scrambled on top of the machine to peer out the window. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “MacNaughton’s coming back. He’s got ladders.”
A bleeding Colin clambered back over the sharp edges of the windowsill.
“Up ye go!” Colin yelled to a young girl of twelve or thirteen.
He lifted the girl up as if she were a bag of cotton, and she disappeared over the uneven windowpane. The other man followed Colin’s lead, dropping a woman onto the second ladder. The workers pushed and shoved toward the safety. The smoke increased, billowing through the hall and into the workspace.
Lissie’s eyes watered, and she covered her nose to reduce the amount of smoke going into her lungs. “Maeve,” she called through the shawl, “you have to get out of here.”
“This is our mill and we’re responsible for these people. I’ll not leave before the women and children are out.” Maeve found a large box and set it in front of the loom. She stood on top, keeping two orderly lines for evacuation on either side. Her commanding voice seemed to calm the workers and the press of bodies eased.
A frantic young woman called two names over and over. “Mary, Frances. Oh lord, oh lord. Mary! Frances!”
“Is someone missing?” Lissie called to her over the din. “They may be outside already.”
The girl shook her head. “They haul carts back and forth to the store room. My wee brother and sister.”
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 a
round 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 Fourteen
“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 p
recious 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.”
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