Highlanders

by Tarah Scott

  She followed closely behind the women as they neared the bottom of the hill. Another pail of water was thrown on the burning cottage to the left and she shuddered at the hiss of the water over the flames. She stayed with the other women as they pushed past the old women and children who watched in stunned silence. Men dunked blankets in a tub of water beside the well, then raced along the muddy trail created by the dripping blankets to a cottage adjacent to the burning cottage.

  A child shrieked, and Phoebe's heart jumped into her throat as a flame leapt in a furious gust from the cottage on the left to its neighbor. Small patches of red glowed in the thatched roof of the endangered cottage. She hurried forward and dropped her blankets onto the others piled beside the tub. A man pulling water from the well hauled up another bucket. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he handed the bucket off to his companion. The man throwing water directly onto the first cottage hurled another bucket of water onto the inferno. Nothing more than a drop on hell’s flames, she thought. The man turned in her direction.

  Kiernan MacGregor.

  He yelled something to the man next to him—Mather—then snatched the bucket Mather held and threw the water high onto the roof of the cottage with the highest blaze. Searing smoke blasted across him. Phoebe stepped forward, but was forced back by a man who shoved past her to grab a blanket. He gave it a quick dousing, then raced to the cottage. The man pulling buckets of water from the well dumped more water into the tub. He shot her a questioning look and Phoebe dropped to her knees in the mud beside the tub. She grabbed the top blanket and dunked it elbow deep in the water, then barely lifted it to have it snatched from her by another man. She doused blanket after blanket, and handed them to men until her arms ached. At last, the pile of blankets had been exhausted.

  For the first time since she’d begun the task, Phoebe looked up and saw the fire had diminished significantly. She looked back at the ground. No more blankets. They needed more. She jumped to her feet and dodged through the maze of people, only stopping when she found an open door several lanes down. She hurried inside. A woman, ransacking a large chest at the foot of the bed, looked up in surprise.

  “What have you got?” Phoebe demanded.

  “Take that.” The woman pointed to two heavy blankets on the bed.

  Phoebe scooped them up, then dashed for the door. When she dropped the blankets at the well, the man who had just dunked a blanket in the tub of water thrust it into her arms. She ran to the cottage and dumped the wet tartan into the arms of the nearest man.

  She turned and started back into the village, but slipped. Sharp pain lanced through one knee. She gritted her teeth against the tears that sprang to her eyes and started to push to her feet. A strong hand gripped her arm and yanked her upright. She looked at the man as he released her, then he seized the bucket his companion shoved into his view.

  Phoebe backed away and, once clear of the bucket-line men, halted and rubbed her knee. She felt something slick on her wet dress and sniffed her fingers. Animal oil. She looked at the blaze. Smoke still rose in dark clouds from the flames. Heavy clouds, like those thick with the sort of oil meant for a lantern. A woman sped past, nearly colliding with her. Phoebe whirled and hurried back through the village.

  An hour later, she stepped from the cottage of a young girl who had given her two linen sheets. The girl had seen her passing by with the single blanket she had found and insisted she take the sheets, but the men had finally reduced the fire to a smolder, and Phoebe felt certain it wouldn't be necessary to burn such lovely hand-made sheets. Phoebe headed for the square, but slowed at sight of a figure sprinting between cottages.

  She hesitated, exhaustion warring with the impression that the man was purposely keeping in the shadows to avoid detection. She recalled the oil she'd slipped in. Her knee still ached. Phoebe glanced down the deserted lane. All the villagers had gathered at the fire, so who would be skulking through the deserted lanes? She tucked the blanket and sheets under her arm and crept along the front of the cottage until she could peer around the edge. The moon shone dimly through thin clouds, lighting the empty lane. A tiny splash drew her attention farther down the narrow road.

  Phoebe crept forward between the cottages. She caught sight of trees and realized this row of cottages butted up against the forest. She stopped and cautiously looked around the cottage to her right. The figure hurried away from her toward the trees. She slipped around the cottage after him. He made an abrupt right turn as if heading back toward the lane. Phoebe halted. Maybe he simply took a short cut. She started at the unexpected bark of a dog, then whirled at a rustling in the trees.

  *****

  “Kiernan.”

  Kiernan drew back after tossing up another bucket of water onto the smoldering ash to find Munro MacGregor looking anxiously at him. “If you have come to tell me Brahan Seer is ablaze, you can go to the devil,” Kiernan said.

  Munro shook his head. “No. It's the Englishwoman.”

  “Heddy?” Kiernan thrust the bucket into Mather’s hands and stepped clear of the bucket line.

  “Aye,” Munro said. “Rebecca says her dog, Surry, chased her.”

  “What's she doing in the village? Where's Rebecca?” he demanded before Munro could answer.

  Munro pointed to Rebecca, who stood in the forefront of the crowd of onlookers.

  Kiernan strode to her. “What's this about the Englishwoman?”

  “We were coming from the north end of the village,” Rebecca replied, “when Surry barked and ran between the cottages. I chased him and spotted her running into the woods.”

  “Damnation,” Kiernan cursed. “You're sure it was her?”

  “Aye,” Rebecca replied. “Ye can't miss that hair.”

  “No, you can't. Mather,” Kiernan yelled, then said to Rebecca. "Show me where you saw her."

  Mather appeared at Kiernan’s side. “You called, sir?”

  “Yes. Mather, seems our work is not yet finished.

  Moments later, Kiernan spotted a boot print where Heddy had jumped a puddle, then frowned, upon noting another much larger boot print in the mud inches from hers. A dog’s growl jerked his attention to the trees. He lunged forward in tandem with a woman’s muffled cry. An instant later, he and Mather crashed through the trees as Heddy shouted, “Take a large bite of him, lad!”

  The dog snarled and a man’s curse followed. The dog gave a sudden high-pitched yelp. Kiernan squinted in a frantic effort to pierce the darker shadows of the trees.

  “Bastard!” Heddy shouted in a breathless voice.

  “Heddy!” Kiernan yelled.

  Boots pounded away from them, headed deeper into the forest.

  “MacGregor!"

  Kiernan veered left, toward her shout and spotted her slim figure amongst the trees. She shifted as though to run. “Heddy!” he shouted. “Stay put!”

  She whirled toward him.

  A moment later, Kiernan arrived at her side. He grabbed her shoulders. “What in God’s name is going on?”

  “A man,” she said in a rush, pointing deeper into the forest, “he went that way.”

  “Mather,” Kiernan said, and Mather rushed forward in pursuit of the man as Kiernan began dragging Heddy from the forest.

  “Sir!” she exclaimed. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Nothing compared to what I plan to do.” Once they stepped from the trees, Kiernan yanked her around to face him. “What the hell were you doing in the forest?”

  She frowned. “The forest—you think I was trying to escape? By heavens, if I wanted to escape, I wouldn't waste time helping with the fire and I certainly would not go on foot.”

  “Then what were you doing?” Kiernan demanded. “Who was the man?”

  “I don’t know. I saw someone behaving oddly and went to investigate. I believe I startled him.”

  “Startled him? What do you mean? Did he harm you?”

  “I am well, sir,” she said. “There's no need for hysterics.”

  There
was a rustling and Kiernan looked up as Mather emerged from the forest, Surry, Rebecca's Border Collie, in his arms. The dog thumped his tail against Mather’s arm.

  "What's wrong, is he hurt?" Heddy demanded.

  “Looks as though he’s hurt his leg.” Mather stopped beside them. "Nothing serious."

  Heddy stroked. “Well, done, lad.” She looked at Mather. “You're sure he will recover?”

  “I caught up with him limping through the forest.” Mather smiled fondly at the dog. “He wasn't about to give up the chase.”

  “And the man?” Kiernan demanded.

  “Horace and Thomas heard the cries and came running. I instructed them to continue looking, but I fear we lost them.”

  “Them?”

  Mather nodded. “I believe there were two.”

  Kiernan swung his gaze onto Heddy. “You said there was only one.”

  “I encountered only one.”

  “Only one? When this mess is sorted out, you will pay the piper. That is me, madam, in case you think otherwise.”

  Her mouth dropped open in genuine surprise. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “Just as you did nothing wrong the night you followed Alan Hay?”

  “I don't owe you an explanation for my actions,” she retorted.

  “No matter how foolhardy the actions?”

  “I would think men skulking about on the night of an arson would be of greater interest to you than what I was doing in the forest,” she replied.

  Kiernan stilled. “Arson?”

  “Are you saying you didn't notice anything strange about the fire?”

  “I notice many things, Heddy, many things, indeed.”

  *****

  “You changed your dress.” Kiernan squinted against the morning sunlight at Heddy, who walked alongside him on the path to the village.

  She glanced down at the bodice that covered her full breasts. “Yes. Winnie noticed my dilemma.”

  Her dilemma was turning into a distraction he was having a devil of a time ignoring. He returned his gaze to the path, using the stick he’d picked up on the trail like a cane. “I shall miss your, er, shawl.”

  “You may have it, sir, if it means that much to you.”

  He would have that, and more. After a moment, he said, “We found no trace of your attackers.”

  "Not attackers, sir. I encountered only one man, and he did not attack me."

  Kiernan looked at her. "No?"

  "As I told you last night, it seemed more that I surprised him."

  "Heddy, there isn't a man in this village who would accost a woman—or attack her—because he was surprised."

  Phoebe nodded. "I know. If he was at all familiar, my description would have jogged your memory, I'm sure. Who do you think they were?"

  "What of the man you thought hired the men who tried to kidnap you the night—"

  "The night you kidnapped me?" she cut in.

  Kiernan canted his head. "The night I kidnapped you. Adam, I believe was his name?"

  "Adam couldn't possibly know I am here," she said. "Not to mention, he wouldn't associate with violent men."

  "He tried to kidnap you."

  "Many men have attempted to woo a lady by abducting her to Gretna Green." Before Kiernan could reply, she added, "I assure you, sir, Adam would never set a fire to a home for any reason."

  "You believe the men who fled are connected with the fire?" Kiernan demanded. "You said nothing of this last night."

  "There's always the chance the fire was an accident, but there is no mistaking the animal oil I slipped in. Did you find the oil as I said?"

  "I did." Just as he found papers on his father's desk in the library in disarray, which wasn't how he'd left them earlier that night.

  They reached the bottom of the hill and a passing villager nodded to Kiernan. “Hugh.” He returned the nod and continued toward the burned homes.

  They entered the square and Heddy halted. “Good God.”

  “Terrible sight, isn’t it?” Kiernan stared at what remained of the two cottages.

  The first cottage had burned nearly to the ground, while the back wall of the second cottage and stone chimney was all that remained of that building. He strode to the cottage on the left and stepped through what used to be the doorway, then dug the stick into the ashes and began shifting through them.

  “Be careful, sir,” Heddy called. “Coals are sure to still burn in spots.”

  “Yes.”

  Nothing but ash turned up in his search and he went to the second cottage. The doorframe stood waist high, and he stepped carefully over the threshold. He shuffled throughout the cottage, stopping to turn a board over with his boot or prod at the ash with his stick.

  After several moments, Heddy said, “Does anything of interest remain?”

  Kiernan turned and met her gaze. “What of interest could remain? Perhaps the coverlet that Evvana’s great-great grandmother made? Or the new pair of boots Logan’s brother sent him for his birthday?”

  “Any of those things would be of interest.” Her eyes softened. “The girl was not badly hurt in the fire.”

  “So Winnie says,” he said, and began picking his way to the far corner.

  “How many tenants live on your land?” Heddy asked.

  “It isn't my land.”

  “How many tenants on your father’s land, then?”

  Kiernan’s stick hit something solid. He pushed aside more ash until the remains of a glass lamp became visible. “Heddy, come have a look at this.”

  She started forward.

  Her skirts swished and Kiernan jerked his head around. “No. I forgot your skirts. It's too dangerous to walk through the cinders.”

  He stuck the stick through the handle of the lamp and lifted it carefully.

  She stepped back as he carried it over the threshold. He squatted and set the lamp on the ground at her feet.

  Heddy followed suit and studied it for a moment. “The glass is still in tact. Had the lamp been the cause of the fire, it would have fallen over. Why didn't it break?”

  Kiernan tipped the lamp slightly to one side. “Good question.”

  “Are you, by chance, involved in a feud?”

  He looked up to find her studying him. “We're not at war,” he replied.

  “I only thought…”

  “Thought what?”

  “If you are helping tenants evicted by the duchess…”

  Kiernan came to his feet, pulling her up with him. “Be careful, Miss Ballingham. Such accusations are dangerous. The duchess wouldn't take kindly to being accused of arson.”

  “I didn't accuse her.”

  “Who then?”

  Heddy shook her head. “I'm not accusing anyone. It's just that such associations—”

  “What associations?”

  “Associations such as Alan Hay.”

  “Do not meddle in things you know nothing of. That's just as dangerous as throwing allegations at someone as powerful as the Duchess of Sutherland.”

  “For whom?”

  “The person making them.” Kiernan looked around, searching the men milling throughout the square. “Nelson,” he called. “Come here, if you please.” When Nelson reached them, Kiernan said, “Be so kind as to see Miss Ballingham back to Brahan Seer.” He turned to her. “I'm going north. I won't be back for at least two days. This is goodbye, Heddy.”

  "Goodbye?"

  "I expect Regan will fetch you before I return."

  Her lips pursed.

  Ah, so she didn't regret seeing him go at all. "You're not still angry with him?" he asked.

  She sighed. “I can make the short walk to the castle myself. No need for your man to accompany me.”

  “I wager you can, but I prefer you not wander about alone.”

  Her brows lifted in polite inquiry.

  “You remember my mention of the piper?” he asked.

  Her regard remained detached. “Once you're gone, what is to stop me from leaving?”


  “Good sense, I would hope. If you should decide to leave, I suggest you don't stop. I am known as a relentless hunter.” With that, he strode away.

  *****

  Phoebe had consulted the maps in the MacGregor library immediately after Kiernan left that morning and, as Alan Hay had said, the duchess' land was far to the north. Earlier, on her way to the kitchen, she had calculated their journey. They wouldn't reach her anytime soon, especially on foot. But by the time Phoebe reached London and Lord Briarden dispatched someone to warn the duchess, it could be too late. Her best choice was to slip away from Brahan Seer and ride as fast as she could for London. Kiernan had been gone several hours now, long enough for her to have a head start that would ensure he didn't catch her. From the corner of her eye, Phoebe caught sight of a tall figure that filled the kitchen doorway.

  She shot to her feet, toppling her chair. “Lord Stoneleigh.”

  “Phoebe,” he said.

  At his one word, the bustle in the kitchen ceased. Phoebe didn’t have to glance at Winnie to confirm her intense gaze. Phoebe groaned inwardly as the earl made his way past the women who stared at him with unabashed curiosity.

  He reached for Phoebe’s hand. “Why so formal, my dear, we're old friends, aren’t we?” His brown eyes held hers as he pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. Releasing her, he looked at Winnie. “Winnie, you grow lovelier each time I see you.”

  “Off with you, you scoundrel.” She waved him away and turned her attention to the batter she’d been stirring.

  Phoebe wasn’t taken in by the old housekeeper’s casual manner, but faced the earl when he said to her, “I take it you’ve had a bit of an adventure?”

  “That is one way of putting it, my lord.”

  He grinned. “That bad?”

  “It has been…interesting.”

  “Kiernan does have a way of livening things up.”

  The activity in the kitchen resumed at a slow pace.