by Monica Burns
Like an obedient child, she did as he commanded and peered into the darkness. In the far distance, a small light flickered. Sanctuary. She took a slow halting step toward the light. It was an excruciating one.
“I know it hurts, Louisa, but you can’t stay here. You’ll die, and I’m not going to let that happen,” Caleb whispered in her ear. “The boys need you. He needs you.”
She didn’t understand what he meant, but the thought of Charlie and Wills made her obey her brother. Every part of her body was stiff with cold. Each of her limbs protested savagely as the icy rain and frigid wind seeped its way deep into her bones. It made every step she took agonizing, but she pushed on knowing her brother was right. If she stayed where she was, she would die. Overhead another flash of lightning lit the sky, and she blinked away the rain and searched for the light again. It was gone. Louisa’s heart sank.
“It’s there, little one. Keep going. He’s coming for you.”
“I…don’t…under…stand.” Her teeth made a loud clacking sound as she spoke, but she continued in the direction she’d been heading. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other trying to ignore the pounding in her head and how numb her body was.
Unable to see where she was going, she encountered a small drop in the landscape and lost her footing. With a cry she pitched forward to land hard against the ground. She tried to push herself up, but she didn’t have the strength to do so. The salt of her tears mixed with the stinging rain drops on her cheeks as she cried out for help. An invisible, tender touch brushed against her cheek.
“He’s coming, Louisa. It won’t be much longer, little sister.” With each whispered word, Caleb’s voice grew fainter as she slipped into the abyss.
Chapter 2
The harsh wind outside pelted the window of Ewan’s study with a hard rain. A particularly strong gust shook the double doors that led out to the small balcony overlooking the moors. He turned around in his seat half expecting to see the doors give way and fly open with a resounding crash.
Satisfied the fragile-looking doors would hold under the weight of the storm, he settled back into his seat once more and returned his attention to his book. In his effort to ensure the doors would stand up against the storm, he’d lost the comfortable placement of the book he was reading.
A noise of frustration escaped him as he struggled to adjust the position of the volume so he could see the text with the only eye he possessed. Although it wasn’t in as comfortable position as it had been, he could at least see the text. He picked up where he’d left off, and a moment later reached out to turn the page with the hand he no longer possessed.
“Fuck.”
In a violent move, he sent the book flying through the air with his only hand until it landed on the table several feet away. The heavy volume hit an oil lamp, which teetered for a moment as if it would remain standing. It lost the battle and careened downward. The instant the lamp’s flame hit the large amount of oil spilling out onto the floor, a small fire erupted.
Another oath of fury erupted out of him and Ewan leapt to his feet. Dragging the wool blanket off the back of his chair, he threw it over the flames to smother them. Stomping on the blanket, the fire died a quick death. The sound of running feet made him turn toward the study door as Asadi burst into the room at full tilt. The boy jerked to a halt just inside the room.
“You are all right, Argaty sahib?”
“The lamp broke.” Ewan shrugged as he jerked his head toward the mess on the floor. “I had to put out the fire.”
“It broke, Argaty sahib?” Dark eyes wide in his light brown face, the boy’s gaze darted to the charred edges of the blanket before shifting to the table where his book had taken the place of the lamp. “Perhaps your book did not like the lamp?”
Ewan growled with irritation as he glared at Asadi, who had already begun cleaning up the mess. Wheeling about on the edge of his heel, he returned to his chair, and stared into the fire. The heat of the flames reminded him of the desert. Gunfire and screams suddenly echoed in his head, and he stood up to pace the floor waiting for the cries to fade as they usually did, except in his sleep.
“Shall I bring you dinner, Argaty sahib?” At the boy’s question, Ewan directed a scowl of aggravation in his direction.
“Leave me be, Asadi,” he snarled.
The boy quietly moved toward the door carrying the remains of the oil lamp and scorched blanket. As Asadi reached the doorway, Ewan blew out a harsh breath of disgust at his abrupt manner with the boy.
“Asadi. You may bring me something to eat.”
“As you wish, Argaty sahib,” the boy said cheerfully at Ewan’s unspoken apology.
Ewan didn’t bother to look in the boy’s direction as the door closed behind him. Instead, he continued to pace the carpet. For some reason, he knew tonight would be another restless night. He snorted loudly. When was any night not filled with the screams of injured men having their limbs sawed off? He strode over to the window behind his desk and with his only hand threw up the window to welcome in the cold damp air.
The fire in the hearth his only source of light in the room, it allowed him to see the landscape more easily. Off in the distance he thought he saw a movement, but quickly dismissed it. What madman or animal would be out on a night like this? A tentative knock made him glance over his shoulder as he saw the door slowly opening.
“My lord.” McCallum’s quiet, yet steady voice was filled with respect. A long-time retainer of the Argaty family, McCallum had known him since he was a boy. The Scotsman was the only member of the household, other than Asadi, he allowed in his quarters.
“Finn just sent word from the stables that a horse has appeared out of the storm.”
“What the devil does that have to do with me? Tell Finn to stable the damn thing. We’ll find the owner tomorrow.”
“Aye, my lord. However, there is a slight complication.”
“Then say it McCallum, stop dancing around what you came to say.” Ewan frowned as he turned to face the Scotsman who never seemed troubled by Ewan’s foul moods.
“The horse appears tae have been unhitched from a carriage.”
There was a quiet note in McCallum’s voice that said he expected Ewan to respond to the situation. What that response was, he had no idea. Irritated by the retainer’s unspoken belief that Ewan was somehow required to do something, he glared at the older man.
“And what the hell makes you think that?”
“The animal has no saddle or tack other than a bridle. And the reins had been deliberately cut tae a shorter length tae make the horse easy tae ride.”
“In this weather?” Ewan snorted his disbelief. “A man would have to be daft to be out in a storm like this.”
“Unless a vehicle had come tae some harm, my lord.” The Scotsman’s words made Ewan scowl at the man with disgusted disbelief before he turned back to the open window.
In the distance, he saw something move against the landscape once more. He narrowed his one eye to focus on the spot. Perhaps McCallum was right. If a carriage had experienced a mishap on Doune Road, it would make sense for someone to try to seek help. At that precise moment lightning flashed in the sky to illuminate the countryside. In the bright light he realized the movement he’d seen was a figure staggering toward the house.
Whoever it was came to a sudden halt and stood swaying in the heavy wind and rain. A fraction of a second later, the figure disappeared like an apparition on the rain soaked moor. For a moment, he continued to stare out at the spot where he’d seen the figure expecting to see whoever was out in the storm to rise to their feet. Ewan released a soft noise of disgusted skepticism at the likelihood he’d actually seen someone.
“I do no’ like tae think we ignored the possibility of leaving someone out on the moor on a night like this, Master Ewan.”
McCallum only used his childhood title when gently rebuking Ewan. The man had become a father figure to him after his father had died in a riding
accident when he was just a boy, and he allowed the familiarity. He grimaced as he turned to face the man.
It would be a fool’s errand to send Finn out onto the moors in the middle of one of the worst storms Ewan had seen in a long time. The lad had not grown up on the moors as Ewan had. Not to mention it would be difficult to find someone in the dark if the lad didn’t know where to look, when even he wasn’t sure if what he’d seen had been real. With a grunt of displeasure, Ewan slammed the window shut and turned to face McCallum.
“Tell Finn to saddle Lachlan, and send Asadi in with that infernal contraption as well as my coat.”
“Yes, my lord.” Although his face was stoic, McCallum’s voice echoed with approval.
As the Scotsman left the study, Ewan acknowledged the older man was proud of him for agreeing to the search, even if it were for naught. Almost as if he’d expected Ewan’s request, Asadi appeared moments later with the artificial device a physician in London had given him when he’d returned from the Sudan. Ewan glared at the metal and wood attachment as Asadi adjusted the straps that went over his shoulders and under his arms to secure the device. God how he hated the thing.
Asadi offered Ewan his black glove, but he waved it away. The device was more flexible without the leather covering the metal. Lachlan could be contrary at times, and he could control the animal better with the unnatural fingers free of any glove. He also cared little that the grotesque metal fingers might frighten someone, particularly when he was certain he was on a fool’s errand. With a growl of irritation as Asadi tightened the strap, he glanced over his shoulder at the boy.
Regret crossed the boy’s face, and Ewan looked away. He knew the boy would do anything asked of him, and he didn’t like it. He hated how Asadi believed himself beholden to him. Ewan shrugged on the coat the brown-skinned boy held up for him. The metal fingers snagged a piece of thread and pushed back on his thrust. The result was a twinge in his shoulder. A quiet oath of frustration blew past his lips. Asadi immediately darted around to face him and gently wiggled the coat sleeve free of the metal device.
With a nod, Ewan strode out of his study and downstairs to the front door. McCallum was already there with the door open. Outside the rain had eased slightly, but the wind was bitterly cold. He strode out to where Lachlan stood stomping his front hooves into the ground. A cry behind him, made Ewan turn back to the house.
“Argaty sahib. Argaty sahib. Your hat for deer.”
The boy’s description of his deerstalker twisted Ewan’s lips slightly. He accepted the hat then ruffled Asadi’s hair in an affectionate gesture. The boy grinned up at him, and Ewan immediately regretted the move. The gesture would only encourage the boy to do more for him. A quiet sound of irritation flew past his lips as he turned toward Lachlan. Ewan’s natural fingers slid through stallion’s thick mane as he launched himself up onto the pewter gray animal.
In a smooth movement, he adjusted the horse’s reins in his fingers then accepted the small lantern Finn offered him with the paltry excuse of metal that substituted for a hand. Adjusted solidly in the saddle, he turned the stallion in the direction of where he’d last seen the figure on the moors. If there were someone out on the moor on a night like this, he should just leave the fool out here.
But something in the darkness of his soul compelled him to commence the search. At a slow trot, Lachlan moved forward into the dark with only the small lantern to light their way. They’d gone almost a mile from the house when he slowed the horse to a walk. Lantern held high over his head, he guided the light across the ground surrounding him.
“You came out here for nothing, Argaty,” he muttered with disgust. “It was probably some damn animal you saw from the window.”
Ewan urged Lachlan forward once more then paused after a few yards to raise the light again. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and as far as he could see there was nothing moving on the moor. Disgusted with his efforts, he started to pull Lachlan around when he heard a faint sound above the rain and wind. Frowning, he raised his lantern higher and saw nothing.
With a grimace, Ewan tugged on the reins to turn Lachlan back toward the house when he heard the sound again. Twisting in the saddle, he raised his lantern high above his head to see the area around him with the only eye he possessed. Another pitiful sound echoed through the air, and he jerked his head toward the miserable cry.
Overhead a flash of lightning lit up the area for only a second, but it was enough to glimpse a movement on the ground about fifty yards away. Ewan quickly turned sound and nudged Lachlan forward. Lantern raised high, he slowly moved the light in a sweeping arc.
“Please…help…”
The cry was hoarse and weak, but it was a distinct plea. A small nudge of the heel sent Lachlan forward. It wasn’t until the stallion danced to one side and snorted loudly that Ewan saw the figure lying at the feet of the horse.
“Christ Almighty, man, what the devil are you doing out on the moor?” Ewan exclaimed as he leaned down and dropped the lantern onto the ground.
By some miracle, the light source landed upright to cast an unearthly glow across the ground as he dismounted close to the fallen figure. Ewan gently rolled the man over then grew rigid.
“A woman,” he muttered to himself in disbelief.
Dark hair plastered against her forehead and cheeks, she could have been a ghost for how white her face was. Alarmed by her condition, he uttered a harsh oath. At the sound, her eyes fluttered open then closed, and she murmured something. Unable to hear her, Ewan bent his head so his ear was close to her mouth.
“Are you real?” The fear in her almost inaudible whisper made him growl deep in his throat.
“Aye, lass, I’m real.”
Without thinking, he used his metal fingers to push hair away from her face. At the touch, she opened her eyes and released a small cry at the sight of his unnatural fingers. Fear crossed her face as she shrank away from him and the metal device that served as his missing hand.
A fraction of a second later, her eyes focused on his face and the horror widening her eyes made him realize he’d failed to wear his eye patch. Without it, she had an up close view of his scarred face with its skin stretched across the hole where his eye had been. The revulsion crossing her white features was an all too familiar reaction.
“I’m not the devil, lass, although I come close,” he bit out between clenched teeth.
When she didn’t respond, he realized she’d fainted. A growl of exasperation rumbled out of him as he realized she’d be of little assistance climbing onto Lachlan. Quickly shifting his position, Ewan slid his good arm under her legs and shifted her onto his good shoulder as he would a sack of flour.
The sodden wool dress she wore quickly soaked his own coat. It clung to her legs almost like a second skin. She’d obviously been out in the storm for quite some time. He rose to his feet and strode toward Lachlan. His mechanical arm and hand sought to hold her steady as Ewan slowly slid her body down over his chest. The moment her feet touched the ground, he gently patted her cheek until her eyes fluttered open in response to the action.
“I need you to stand for a moment, lass.”
He barely saw her nod of understanding as he turned her toward Lachlan and allowed the horse to absorb her weight. Almost as if the stallion understood the woman’s need for support, Lachlan didn’t shy away from her. As she leaned into the animal’s wet coat Ewan guided her ice-cold hands up to Lachlan’s thick shock of hair running the length of his powerful neck.
“Grab hold of the mane here.”
Slowly, her fingers grasped the animal’s mane as she used the horse as a means to hold herself upright. He briefly glanced down at the lantern on the ground, knowing it was impossible to carry it and the woman as well. Certain her legs were about to give way beneath her, Ewan vaulted into the saddle then leaned over and dragged the woman up onto the stallion. A soft moan escaped her as he cradled her against his chest. Her body shuddered against his in a constant barrage
of small tremors. It was two miles to Doune Road from Argaty Keep. How long had she actually been out in the storm? With a tug on the reins, he turned Lachlan back toward the house.
Lightning flashed above their heads followed by a loud crack of thunder. The sound made Lachlan dance nervously to one side, but Ewan soothed the animal with several words in Gaelic before nudging the horse into a quick trot to the house. The ride to Argaty Keep was accomplished in minutes as opposed to the time he’d spent on his search. As he rode up to the front door, he saw McCallum waiting in the open doorway.
The Scotsman stepped aside to let Finn run out into the rain to meet him. The groom grabbed the horse’s halter as McCallum hurried forward to support the woman as Ewan slid her off the horse and dismounted. The moment he was on the ground, Ewan lifted the woman up into his arms. Cradling the majority of her weight with his good arm, he used the metal contraption he wore to hold her steady against his chest. The movement exacerbated the sting where the leather cup encasing his stub of an arm had rubbed ruthlessly at his skin. As he entered the keep, Ewan paused as he debated what room to use for the keep’s unwelcomed guest.
“I had Maggie prepare the King’s bedroom, my lord,” McCallum said quietly.
It shouldn’t have surprised him the older man had thought to prepare a room when there had been no indication Ewan would return with a lost soul. McCallum always seemed to be one step ahead, and it made him think the man had a bit of the sight. The woman hadn’t stopped trembling since he’d found her, but her tremors seemed to have become even more pronounced on the way back to the house.
“Send Maggie up to help undress the woman, and make sure she brings night clothes,” Ewan said brusquely as started up the main staircase with his unexpected guest in his arms. “Then send for Doctor Munro.”
“Doctor Munro, my lord?” McCallum’s surprise made Ewan pause at the foot of the steps to look over his shoulder and glare at the older man. The family retainer raised his eyebrows as if Ewan was still a boy. “Tis unlikely the burns will be safe tae cross for two or three days, my lord.”
