by Jill Barnett
Sometime in the past few years he had gotten to the point where he stopped looking at women unless they annoyed him. He had grown cold and afraid of them. He didn’t even know when it had happened.
But she didn’t annoy him. She fascinated him. She even made him forget that he didn’t particularly like women.
The door burst open and banged hard against the wall. Calum winced. His brother’s favorite entrance.
He turned and, sure enough, Eachann strode into the room with the shrew slung over his shoulder.
You could have heard her in Boston.
Calum’s feelings about women returned with a vengeance. He walked over and closed the doors again.
Eachann dumped the shrew in an empty chair and braced his hands on the arms, pinning her there.
“Let me up, MacOaf.”
“Your friend is all safe and sound. She’s right over there, George.”
The shrew raised her chin. “She’s only an acquaintance.” She turned toward Amy. “Not—” She stopped and suddenly whipped her head around.
Calum realized she was glaring at him.
“What did you do to her?”
He looked at Amy, then back to the shrew named George. “Nothing.”
“I know differently.” She tried to get up. “Let me up.”
“No.” Eachann wouldn’t move.
She looked back at Calum. “I know you threatened to hurt her.”
“I’ve never hurt a woman in my life.”
“That’s a lie! When we were in the cave, she told me what you tried to do.”
“If my brother was going to hurt her, George, he wouldn’t have rescued her.”
“Ha!”
Calum was more confused than ever. The lass was still sound asleep. He wasn’t surprised. She had to be exhausted. He tried to remember what he’d said or done that would make her tell this woman something so ridiculous. As he remembered it, he’d been trying to take away her fear, not add to it.
He could feel George watching him. It made him nervous, which made it hard for him to think. He paced a moment, staring at the wet carpet.
Earlier Amy had been afraid of him, afraid enough to knock him daft with a whisky glass. But he didn’t think she was afraid of him anymore. He shoved his glasses back up his nose and turned. “What did she tell you?”
“She said you were going to ravish her.”
“Ravish her?” Calum stood there dumbfounded. He thought back. What the hell had he said to her?
“Calum?” Eachann roared with laughter.
“Amy wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Calum wouldn’t ravish a woman,” Eachann told her.
“I thought she was tired so I said it was time to go to bed.”
The shrew’s chin came up. “See.”
“I didn’t mean together.” Calum ran a hand through his hair. “I meant to go to sleep. Alone.”
“I don’t believe you.” She glanced at Amy. “She’s not even moving. What have you done to her?”
“Nothing. The poor lass is exhausted. Let her up, Eachann. She’s not going to believe me until she sees for herself.”
Eachann straightened and stepped back. The shrew shot upright. She marched over to Amy and knelt down beside her. “Amy. Wake up.”
The lass didn’t move.
“Amy.” She picked up her hand and rubbed and shook it. “Amy. Wake up.”
Amy opened her eyes and stared at them from empty dazed eyes.
“Are you all right?”
“Umm-hmmm.” Amy wiggled in the chair, then winced. “I’m just so tired and sore.”
“Calum wouldn’t hurt her. I told you that.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you? Sorry, MacOaf, but you have no credibility.”
Calum looked back and forth from one to the other. He was getting dizzy.
“My brother saved her life.”
“And you ruined mine!”
“You think not marrying Tom Cabbage will ruin your life, George?”
“His name is John Cabot.”
Calum had never seen anything like this.
George stood up and jammed her fists on her hips. “You kidnap us and keep us prisoners and I’m supposed to believe you won’t hurt us?”
She had a point.
Eachann was almost nose to nose with the woman. “I had my reasons.”
His brother was so damn stubborn. Calum had heard enough. He’d let them fight it out. He crossed over to Amy’s chair and scooped her up in his arms. “I’m not going to hurt you or Amy. But I think she needs to be sleeping in a bed.” He gave George a pointed look. “In a bed alone.”
“Oh my God . . . ” was all George said.
He looked at her, but she wasn’t looking at him.
He heard Eachann mutter a curse.
Calum followed her look of horror to Amy’s chair. The whole right side was stained with blood.
Chapter 26
If you fall, pick something up while you’re down there.
—New England Proverb
Georgina was wrapping a bandage on the flesh wound in Amy’s side. The bullet had sliced an angry path through the skin beneath her ribs. The gash was deep and ran in a jagged bloody streak about six inches long.
Georgina looked up at Calum MacLachlan, who was holding Amy up so she could finish.
His face was white. She almost felt sorry for him.
“I didn’t know she was hurt.” His voice was filled with angst. “There wasn’t any blood before.”
Georgina tied off the ends of the bandage. “You can lay her back down now.”
He was so gentle with Amy. It was almost as if he thought she was so fragile she would break in two. His concern was honest and open, so much so that she wanted to put his mind at ease.
“The cold water probably slowed her bleeding. Once you got her inside and by that fire it must have started again.”
Calum’s expression was still so guilt-ridden. “She never said a word. She just said she had a cramp in her side.”
“She probably didn’t even know she’d been hit. Didn’t you say she told you she’d fallen in when the gun went off?”
“Aye, that’s what she said. She was more worried about you and Kirsty.”
That was the Amy she’d come to know inside that cave. The same Amy who wouldn’t have left Georgina behind. The one who shared her food and part of herself. The little fool who believed in destiny and wishes on stars, in love and friendship.
Georgina looked down at her and wondered how people could be so very different. Amy did look fragile. She hadn’t awakened the whole time Georgina was cleaning and wrapping the wound.
Her face was still very pale. She brushed back some curly hair that had fallen over Amy’s face, then pulled the blanket back over her. She started to fold it back.
Calum reached for the covers. “I’ll do it.” Then he folded the wool blankets back with precise neat folds and began to pleat and tightly tuck in the sides.
Eachann opened the door and came inside. “How bad is it?”
Calum looked at his brother with an odd look that Georgina couldn’t read. He jerked the coverlet tightly over the foot of the bed and neatly tucked it under the mattress. “It’s a flesh wound. She’s lucky.”
He straightened and confronted Eachann. “What are you going to do about Kirsty and Graham?”
“What do you mean what am I going to do about them?”
“Think. They’re children. Do you want Kirsty to know what happened?”
“No. I guess not. I’ll call Fergus. He can take them to the cottage at Eagle Point for a few days.”
Georgina looked up. “Where’s that?”
“On the other side of the island,” Calum answered distractedly.
Eachann looked relieved. He nodded at Amy. “They can stay there at least until she’s better.”
Calum pinned him with a long serious stare. “Those children shouldn’t know about any of this. When the fog lifts, Eachann,
you have to take the women back.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” Eachann was scowling.
Calum didn’t say anything, but the tension in the room grew thicker and heavier.
Finally Eachann broke eye contact and turned to leave. “I’ll call Fergus.” He started to close the door, then he paused and looked at his brother. “I don’t want to be chasing after her again. Lock them inside.”
Georgina gave him her coldest look. “Do you think I would just leave her like this?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, and he closed the door.
Georgina sat there quietly, then looked up at Calum. “Will you really take us back home?”
“I can’t do anything until the weather clears.”
Georgina breathed a relieved sigh. She believed this MacLachlan. He was honest. “Thank God. It should clear in another day or so.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. There have been times when the fog has lasted for a month.”
“A month? I can’t be gone a month!”
Calum opened the door. “I can’t change the weather. We’ll just have to wait.” When he left, he locked the door.
A month? She couldn’t be gone a whole month. There was no excuse for her disappearing for a month. A week would be a difficult enough lie.
How could this have happened? How?
The deep blare of a horn came from outside; it sounded like a moose call. She crossed over to the window and opened it.
Eachann stood on the grounds below, blowing some kind of huge animal horn with tassels hanging off of it. While he blew it three more times, she heard the front door close and Calum walked over and stood directly behind his brother.
Eachann dropped the horn from his mouth and Calum tapped him on the shoulder.
Eachann turned around.
His brother punched him so hard he knocked him flat on his back.
Georgina’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t seen that coming.
One look at Eachann lying there with a stunned look on his face said he hadn’t seen it coming either.
She felt the sudden urge to applaud.
He rubbed his jaw. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“That was for being so damn stupid!”
Eachann swore, then jumped to his feet too swiftly for someone of his size. He held his hands up in front of him. “I’m not going fight with you, Calum.”
“Good.” Calum hit him again anyway. Harder than before. “That one was for Amy.”
“Goddammit! I didn’t shoot her!”
“No . . . you just kidnapped her.”
Eachann lay there longer this time. He wiped the blood from his lip and scowled down at his hand.
“Get up so I can hit you again.”
Georgina gripped the window ledge tightly and leaned out. “Calum! Please . . . wait!”
Both men looked up at her.
“Can I be next?”
Eachann glared up at her with narrowed eyes, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. He stood again, wiping his lip.
But he only got as far as his feet.
Calum used his left fist this time.
Ouch! Georgina flinched. She’d bet that one really hurt. He’d hit him with an uppercut right to the jaw.
Eachann didn’t get up at all.
“Never mind!” she called down to Calum. “You’re doing just fine.” She closed the window with a firm and satisfied snap, then went back to sit with Amy.
Chapter 27
Providence always makes it a point to find out what
you are after, so as to see that you don’t get it.
—Mark Twain
Kirsty couldn’t hear through the door. She blamed her great-great-grandfather. He had built doors all through the house that were way too thick. If the doors had been this solid at Harrington Hall, she would have never heard anything.
How was she going to learn what her father wanted if she couldn’t spy on him? It was vexatious—another spelling word. Worse yet, there was no keyhole to spy through.
Who had ever heard of a door with no keyhole?
Finally she cupped her hand in the shape of a moonsnail and then pressed it and her ear against the door. If she listened really hard she thought she could hear Uncle Calum’s voice. The voice faded and she turned her head and tried the other ear.
“Och! Tis that a nosy little beastie I see with her ear pressed to the door?”
Kirsty shot up faster than Graham could spit. “Fergus!”
He lifted her high above him. “What’s this here? I caught myself a brownie sneaking around to steal a body’s dreams.”
“Everyone knows that brownies don’t steal dreams.”
“They dinna?”
“No.” She brought her face really close to his. She raised her fingers like claws and wiggled them in between their noses. “Brownies sneak into your bed at night and put warts on your nose.”
He laughed loud and heartily. “Are ye going tae put warts on my nose?”
She crossed her arms and gave him a firm nod. “I’m not a brownie!”
“Let me see . . . ” He brought her so close to his gruff old face that their noses touched. He had fog and dew in his long white hair and his beard, and it peppered his weathered and wrinkled face like raindrops.
Fergus MacLachlan had a face that looked just like plum duff with an acorn thrown in. His nose was plump and round and his eyes were bright green; they sparkled beneath eyebrows that looked like fluffy inchworms. His cheeks were red and rosy like the sweet candied cherries some of the girls at school got from their parents as rewards or just because they missed them.
He squinted up at her. “Och! Ye’re right. I can see now. Ye’re no brownie.”
“I told you so.”
“Tis a wee beastie I see.”
“I’m not a beastie! I’m Kirsty.”
“Ye canna be Kirsty. Why she was awee one, only this high. Ye canna be my Kirsty.”
“I am Kirsty!”
He set her down and poked more fun at her by pretending he didn’t believe her and making a big to-do. He walked around her while he rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. He bent down and squinted at her.
Fergus refused to wear spectacles. He claimed he could see just fine without wearing round windows on his nose that made him look like a “silly auld fool.” He said if the good Lord wanted him to wear glasses he’d have been born with them. Even her mama had never been able to sweet-talk him into wearing them.
She laughed, planted her fists on her hips, and turned with him. “I grew three whole inches.”
“Aye, lassie, I can see ye’ve grown.”
“And I’m home now, Fergus. I’m home.”
He stopped his fooling and scooped her up in another bear hug.
“Aye,” he said gruffly. “Ye’re home, lassie.” He swung her on his broad shoulders and carried her down the hallway.
She bounced along on his shoulders and pretended she was one of those mid-evil knights riding a desk-tree charger. After a moment she patted Fergus on the head. “Where are we going?”
“I need to fetch Graham.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve a surprise fer ye both.”
“A surprise?”
“Aye.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“Weel now . . . if I tell ye, then it would’na be a surprise now, would it?”
“Please, Fergus . . . please tell me before you tell Graham. I want to be first.”
“I’m taking ye both to Eagle Point.”
“On the other side of the island?”
“Aye.”
“Why?”
“Och! Ye dinna want to go with me, lassie? Ye dinna want me to tell ye stories about the great Scots and teach you to catch a trout with yer hands?” He opened a door. “Duck down now, lassie.”
She bent down low on his shoulders while he carried her inside their room where Graham was sitting on the bed and pulling
on his stockings and shoes.
“Fergus!” Graham shot off the bed and ran toward them, then tripped over his laces and fell flat on the floor.
Fergus stood over him and chuckled. “A smart mon ties his shoes before he runs in them, laddie.”
“Graham’s not smart,” Kirsty said petulantly.
“I am, too! I am smart! I know what five times five is and that spiders only live for one year and lobsters aren’t red until you cook them.”
Fergus looked at Graham. “All that, laddie? All that is inside this wee head?”
Kirsty tugged on Fergus’s ear. “Let me down.”
He squatted down and she jumped off his shoulders and landed with her arms out and her ankles pressed together for good luck.
“His head is overstuffed now, Fergus. There won’t be any room left for him to learn anything.”
Graham scowled at her. “Troll.”
“Baby.”
“Fishface.”
“Skunkbreath.” She didn’t care what he called her. She knew something he didn’t. She looked up at Fergus and said, “His head’s so full you can’t teach him anything else. You’ll have to leave him behind.”
Graham grabbed Fergus’s big hand. “Where are you going?”
She lifted her chin. “To Eagle Point. Fergus is going to teach me how to catch trout.”
“I wanna go, too.”
“Then pack yer things, laddie.”
Graham ran to pack while Fergus teased him about growing too fast like he had teased her.
Kirsty didn’t want to leave. They just got home last night. Why did they have to leave so soon?
She walked sluggishly over to the bed and dragged a valise out from underneath. She plopped the valise on the mattress and opened it.
Mama’s green dress was still curled near her pillow in an empty shapeless ball.
All of a sudden she felt as if she were going to cry again. She turned her back on Graham and Fergus and took some deep breaths. Part of her wondered if she had made her father angry when she cried last night and when she wouldn’t let the snake-lady wear the dress.
She stared at her toes and wished she could be so very different. She wished she didn’t feel so confused all the time. She wished she didn’t cry . . . ever. She wished she could be like the little girls at school who had two parents who visited them and brought them gifts and told them they missed them.
