“It cost her more,” Emily said quietly. “And, one reason it troubles me so is I cannot help but feel sad for David more than her. That shames me some. But, the man did not deserve what happened to him just because of who he chose to love.”
“No, he didn’t. But that part is over and done, dear, and you have to push it aside. They left a beautiful lad in your care and that is what matters now. That is what those men are fighting for out there.”
“I know. I . . .” Emily frowned and sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?” She was not sure if her memories of the last time she was stuck in a root cellar were causing her to just think she smelled it.
Mrs. O’Neal sniffed the air and then cursed. “I do. The bastards have set a fire.”
Emily handed Neddy to Mrs. O’Neal. The boy whimpered once then snuggled up against the woman and quieted. She still felt bad about the MacEnroys fighting what she considered her battle but she was damned if she would let their home be damaged or destroyed because of it.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mrs. O’Neal as she stroked Neddy’s back.
“Find the fire and put it out.”
“But the bullets . . .”
“If the MacEnroys can face them so can I. It is my enemy after all. Do not let Neddy get away from you,” she added as she headed up the stairs.
The heat of the fire was the first thing Emily noticed as she cautiously stepped out of the stairwell. She hurried to look into the kitchen, saw the fire was not burning there although a window was broken, and grabbed a bucket. Once she had filled it with water she moved down the hall. It too was not on fire but it was filled with smoke. Then she looked into the dining room and cursed. After all the work she had done, it seemed a cruel twist of fate that this was the room they had chosen to set alight.
After tossing her bucket of water on the fire she ran back in the kitchen. It was going to be hard work to quell the flames since she was the only one working with a bucket. She wrapped a damp cloth around her nose and mouth as the bucket filled with water. Finding a second one, she stuck that under the pump as well.
Going back to the dining room, she threw the water on the flames, making sure she got some on every part of the line of fire forming in front of the windows. It was diminishing and she prayed that wetting the area where it burned would keep it from flaring up in the time it took her to gather more water.
As she ran back and forth with her buckets of water, she heartily cursed men who could only fight by burning down everything around them. She was just pouring water on the flames again when a bullet smashed through one of the windows in the room. Emily wondered if they could see her efforts and tried to stop her.
Dragging the buckets behind her she did a strange crouched scramble back into the kitchen. If she had to fight the fire under a rain of bullets that would make it difficult. Yet, if she did not continue to fight the fire it could spread and take a section of the fine house Iain and his brothers had made. Emily refused to allow that to happen.
She moved as fast as she could to gather water and ignored the growing sting in her palms. Emily was determined to save as much from the fire as she could. After what seemed a very long time the fire was just smoldering and she sank against the doorframe and fought to catch her breath. When that proved a troublesome exercise due to the lingering smoke she stumbled back into the kitchen and filled her bucket, leaving the second one she had been filling behind. She went back to the doorway and leaned against it again as she watched the spot where the fire had blazed. If it showed even the tiniest spark of life she would be ready.
* * *
Ian sighed as he watched the men scattered over the land in front of him. They appeared to be giving up but he did not dare believe in that. Some were belly crawling back toward their horses but he was not sure how far they would get. The Powell brothers were proving to be lethal shots.
“We give up,” yelled one of the men, and it took Iain a moment to find him amongst the dead.
“And why should that matter to me?” he called back.
“Just let us get to our horses and we will be gone.”
“So ye can come back another time?”
“We ain’t that stupid.”
Iain was not sure of that but he was tired and there were a lot dead to deal with. He was not looking forward to all the digging. He did not think he wished to know just how many they had killed, either.
“Take your dead with ye,” he said. “And leave your guns. I dinnae see ye drop them to the ground and I will drop ye.”
“All right. All right.” The man stood up, revealing that he was wounded, and tossed his rifle and pistol to the ground.
“And dinnae forget to tell the man who hired ye that he failed. Again.”
One by one a few more did the same. They each grabbed one of the dead but by the time they were gone there were still a sizeable number on the ground. Iain continued to wait until he saw one of the Powell brothers signal him and there was no more sound of horses.
“They didnae take that many with them,” said Matthew.
“Suspect they took the ones they knew.”
“Which means we have a lot of digging to do.”
“We’ll see if we can use the plow for some of it.” He looked toward the house. “If a fire was started it seems to have gone out.”
“Bastards. Always trying to burn things.”
“They wanted us to run to the house because they kenned there were women and children inside.” Iain continued to watch the land in front of him and then shook his head. “Suspicion they are gone. We best go see how Nigel and Duncan are.”
Matthew signaled the others that the fight was over and then followed Iain. “Was one of them hurt?”
“Nigel had his arm burned by a bullet but nay more than that.”
When he saw his two younger brothers sitting and leaning up against the wall looking as exhausted as he felt, Iain breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried about them and had felt guilty about ignoring that worry as the fight had continued. So far they had been lucky in this fight but he was not sure how long that would last, especially if the man was going to keep sending an army against them.
“You lads get any more hurts?” he asked.
“Nay, we are fine,” said Duncan in a subdued voice, and knew the young man was already feeling a sickness over what he had had to do.
Looking over the wall, he saw the dead and sighed. He patted Duncan on the shoulder but had no words to give him. They had all killed today and must each sort that out in their own way. Then he realized there was at least one thing he could say that might help.
“They were here to kill a bairn, lad. Dinnae waste any grief on them.”
Duncan looked a little stronger and nodded. “That fire they tried to start didnae happen?”
“Dinnae think so but havenae gone inside yet.” He sighed. “Better get that done and then we have some burying to do.” He could almost smile as his brothers all groaned. “Come on, lad”—he helped Duncan stand—“we best get that wound seen to properly.”
He was just about to head down to the ground when he saw a man move. The man sprinted for the back door and Iain cursed as he got down from the wall as fast as he could. Obviously this man did not realize the others were dead or had quit. He moved quietly around the house and watched the man kick at the door. He knew his gun was emptied so Iain pulled the sword free of the scabbard and went after the man. He reached the back door just as the man broke it open and went inside.
His heart pounding with a fear he refused to recognize, he stepped quietly up behind the man. The man was heading right for Emily. He watched her hurl a bucket at the man and stayed back to avoid getting hit. It did not stop him for long and he started after her again.
The man staggered a little and Iain used that uncertain movement to hide the sound of his boots on the hard floor. He could see Emily trying to find something to use against the man and Iain stopped closer, readying his sword
. Then he thrust the blade into the man so hard and deep his hand bumped up against the man’s back. He felt a twinge of horror when the man just hung there on the point of his sword and tried to pull it back. When it did not come out as easily as it had gone in, he placed a foot on the man’s backside and shoved his body forward.
When the dead man fell to the floor he saw Emily’s face and almost swore. He was not sure his saving her life was going to make her accept what he had just done. One thing his father had never told him was how gruesome a death one could cause with a sword.
Chapter Twelve
Emily coughed as she threw a bucket of water on the fire just to make certain it was out. That produced even more smoke and she stumbled back to the sink. Clutching the side of the large sink, she coughed until her ribs hurt and quickly used a damp cloth to clean her face. She then filled the bucket up again and cursed Albert and the men he had hired. Why did they always have to burn things down? And why did it have to be in the dining room? She had only recently scrubbed the whole room. She could not get over how much that annoyed her, petty though that it was.
Looking at the damage already caused by the fire, smoke, and water almost made her cry. The MacEnroys had worked so hard to build themselves a home and yet again some English gentry were trying to destroy it. Iain had come to this country to get away from her kind. It was so wrong, so unfair, and she wished Albert were there himself so that someone could shoot him.
That bloodthirsty thought was oddly satisfying and Emily hurried to douse the last of the fire one final time. She was setting the empty bucket on the kitchen table when she heard something at the back door. Emily tensed when she realized she had not barred it after she had let Mrs. O’Neal in. Distracted by the woman and her children she had simply locked it.
Just as she decided she might have a chance to go into the root cellar without the man kicking at the door seeing her, it was too late. The door crashed open and the man started toward her. Emily hurled the bucket at him, hearing the man curse as it clipped him on the shoulder. He staggered a little then started for her again. Emily was backing up and frantically looking for something to defend herself with when the point of a sword appeared out of his chest. Emily met the man’s horrified gaze, certain her own was the same. Blood began to pour from his mouth and she felt her stomach churn. He sagged and then was propelled forward to lie on the floor.
Tearing her gaze from the man’s body, she looked up and there stood Iain, his expression fierce and a bloodied sword in his hand. She started to shake and forced herself to stop. She did not wish to make Iain think he had caused her fear. Emily also did not want him to think she was too horrified by what he had done although she feared he could read it in her face. She had to let him know it was the death that upset her, not the fact that he caused it. The man was planning to kill her and she was more than grateful that he had been stopped. Cautiously she moved around the table. As soon as she had a clear path, she ran into his arms, hearing the sword hit the ground as he wrapped his arms around her. She could smell sweat, blood, and smoke on him but nothing had ever made her feel so safe before.
“Are ye okay, lass?” he asked, rubbing one hand up and down her back.
“I am fine.” Emily stepped back and he was slow to release her. “Best pick up your weapon in case others come.”
“No others left to come.” He bent, wiped the sword clean on the dead man’s coat, and then stood up. “We killed a lot of them and as the men began to fall, others changed their mind about it all and fled. We accepted the surrender of others. We will keep a watch in case some eluded the Powell brothers.”
“The Powells?”
“Aye. They came running and ended up on the backside of this lot. Hid themselves well and, I cannae say how many, but I dinnae think many of the ones who ran away got very far. I am hoping we’ll find one alive.”
“So many dead,” she whispered in shock.
“They intended to kill ye and the boy. Dinnae waste a moment of grief on them.”
“No grief. Just shock. I begin to think Albert is more than greedy. He must be mad.” She looked around. “Oh, Iain, your lovely home. They have ruined it.” She felt tears sting her eyes.
“It will be fixed, love,” he said quietly.
“Smoke, fire, ash, and blood are not easily banished.”
“Dinnae fret. We will do it. There is no damage to the main structure. Where is Mrs. O’Neal?”
“Still in the root cellar. Is anyone hurt?”
“Nay. A few nicks and bruises is all. How about ye go and fetch her, but take it slow so I have time to get this body out of here. Dinnae want the children seeing it.”
“Yes, I can do that.” She took a deep breath and reached for calm. “I am glad none of you were badly hurt and I am so sorry for all of this.”
“Ye have nothing to apologize for. This wasnae your doing, never think so. It was all the fault of that greedy bastard Albert. I would sorely like to find him. He is a man who badly needs killing. Just keep that thought in your head. This is all Albert’s doing.”
“I am so sorry you were forced to do that,” she said, and nodded toward the dead man.
Iain pulled her into his arms and kissed her, all the fear he had felt that he would not stop the man in time adding a fierceness to the kiss. “There was a choice before me. Ye or him. That was a simple choice to make.” He let her go and nudged her toward the door leading to the cellar. “Go and let the others out.”
She nodded and headed to the root cellar, trying hard to ignore the sound of a body being dragged out the door. It was Albert’s doing. A faint smile touched her mouth. She still felt to blame for bringing this trouble to Iain’s door but he was right, the dead were all on Albert’s head. All she and the MacEnroys had done was fight to stay alive.
“Em! Fire!” Neddy ran up and wrapped himself around her legs. “We go. We run.”
Crouching down she framed Neddy’s face with her hands. “I put the fire out, Neddy.”
“No fire? I smell it.”
“That is just the smoke and I am afraid we will be smelling that for quite a while. But there is no fire. I threw water on it all and I am sure Iain will do a thorough check to be certain.”
“He will indeed,” said Mrs. O’Neal as she stepped up and stroked Neddy’s hair where he was tucked in the folds of their skirts, then she looked at Emily. “Any injuries?”
“Iain said just a few nicks and bruises.”
Mrs. O’Neal snorted. “Men. Let us get up there then.”
Deciding she had allowed Iain enough time, Emily nodded. “Just keep the children behind you in case Iain was slower to clean up something than he thought he would be.”
“Might be something left that we need to clean up too,” Mrs. O’Neal murmured.
“Quite possible,” she answered, relieved the woman understood what she meant.
With all the children kept behind them, or their faces pressed into the folds of their skirts, they went up to the kitchen. Emily was surprised but relieved to see Iain mopping up the floor. A quick glance told her the water in the bucket had already been changed so there was little sign of blood. She did wonder what had been done with the body.
“Are the others coming in soon to have their nicks and bruises tended to?” asked Mrs. O’Neal.
Iain smiled faintly at her dry tone of voice. “They will be in as soon as things are tidied up a wee bit.”
“Fair enough. Anything done to my cabin?”
“Nay. It wasnae touched and Matthew had a look about to make sure it was also empty.”
“Good. Okay, kids, you are to go home and take our little Neddy with you. Emily and I have work to do.”
Emily watched as everyone but her and Mrs. O’Neal left the kitchen. It was over, she thought as Mrs. O’Neal watched the children go before searching out the things she would need to put together a hearty meal. No one had been hurt except the ones who had tried to hurt them. She tried not to think much on what
the men had to “tidy up” outside. Emily knew she should feel relieved, perhaps even a little triumphant that they had prevailed, but she just felt cold.
The odd mood stayed with her all through the preparation of the meal. She barely spoke during the meal although she carefully studied each one of the brothers to assure herself they were whole. Iain kept giving her long looks filled with curiosity and concern but she ignored them. Emily knew she needed to be alone to shake off the strange mood. For now, she did only what she had to and spoke only when spoken to directly.
“What troubles you, dearie?” asked Mrs. O’Neal after the others left the table and she started to clean up.
“I brought killers to your home, to Iain’s home,” Emily said.
“Nonsense. They brought themselves, the bastards. Whoever wants you and that boy dead will chase you wherever you go. Better you get to a place with high walls and a lot of strong men than out on the trail or in some boardinghouse,” she said as she washed the dishes and Emily wiped them dry.
“This is not Iain’s battle.”
“Ha! It is the battle of any man with a backbone and a solid sense of what is right. This cousin of yours wants to slaughter a woman and a small child, an infant, a babe with no ability to protect himself, and all for gain. It should turn any decent man’s stomach. It is just sad that there are so many men willing to take the money to do his dirty work for him.”
“The MacEnroys saved our lives, mine and Neddy’s. It is a poor repayment for that to drag them into this mess.”
Mrs. O’Neal shook her head. “When you start thinking like that, do one thing for me.”
“What?” Emily asked suspiciously.
“Think of that boy. Think of those big brown eyes going cloudy with death. That is what your lofty principles will gain you if you hang on to them past all good sense. He can stay with us tonight if he wishes.” Mrs. O’Neal walked out leaving Emily with the last of the dishes.
Chastised, Emily finished the dishes. She poured herself a tankard of cider and went to sit on the porch swing. She could hear the faint sounds of the men clearing away all signs of the battle and the death it brought. Emily knew the men who had died were ones who had not quailed at the thought of killing a woman and child but she feared for how causing such death affected the MacEnroys. She could not believe it was an easy thing to kill a man, even one who deserved killing.
The Scotsman Who Saved Me Page 14
