Margo Maguire (10 page)

Chapter 15

L
achann was welcomed warmly by the Kilgorrans, and he felt encouraged by the number of men who’d shown up in the castle courtyard at dawn on his fourth day to begin their training. None of them wanted to be caught ill-prepared if called upon to defend against another invasion.

Lachann knew the feeling well. Even though the Braemore men had been prepared when the pirates had struck, they’d suffered too many losses. He felt quite strongly that neither Braemore nor Kilgorra should ever experience such misfortune again.

’Twould be best for Kilgorra to become known as a well-defended territory, so no raider would take the chance of coming ashore. Nor would they want to risk engagement with the
Glencoe Lass
or any other ship Lachann commissioned.

He felt invigorated after his day’s labors and was walking toward the stable when he encountered several children playing near the blacksmith’s shop. He recognized Angus MacLaren and Robbie Kincaid among them as they battled others in the group, using swords they’d cleverly fashioned out of wood.

Their voices sounded in loud imitation of their elders, and Lachann smiled at the playful noise. Lads were the same everywhere. They played just as Lachann and his brothers had done years before. As he passed the group, he noticed a wagon heavily loaded with crates of cannon ball, grapeshot, and gunpowder. ’Twas ordnance the smithy had been tasked with putting away the day before, and yet there it stood on an uneven patch of ground in front of Ramsay’s shop, with only a block of wood behind one wheel to keep it from rolling.

The children were playing much too close to it.

As their “battle” moved closer to the wagon, Lachann shouted for them to move away from it, but they did not hear him. He started moving toward them, but one of the lads, Davy MacDonall, bumped into it and fell to the ground. He knocked the wedge of wood from the wheel and the wagon shifted, pinning his leg beneath it.

The lad screamed, and Lachann ran. He reached the wagon seconds later and wasted no time putting his shoulder to the side of the cart and shoving hard. At the same time, he shouted to the blacksmith to come and help push the cart off the boy. But the man stood still, watching, as though the accident had been nothing out of the ordinary.

Anna MacIver suddenly appeared as though from nowhere, alone and carrying the heavy pack she’d taken with her to the wee isle. Lachann guessed she must have just returned.

“Mungo!” she screamed. She dropped her pack to come and kneel beside the injured boy. “Help us!”

As she positioned herself near Davy’s head, the other children came and pushed alongside Lachann, but the cart was lodged against something that prevented its movement.

“Ramsay!” Lachann shouted.

The blacksmith came to him just as the cart moved far enough for Anna to pull Davy out from under it. “He’s out, Lachann!” she cried.

Lachann dropped to the ground beside the boy, who was unconscious now, no doubt from pain. His leg was broken, the skin around the break brutally torn.

“Robbie, run down to the village and fetch Janet,” she said. She looked up at Lachann with abject horror and powerlessness in her eyes.

Lachann spoke to the boy who’d made himself known to everyone. “Angus, go and get Kieran or Duncan from the courtyard. Tell them what happened and that we’ll need a splint and a stretcher.”

“Aye, Laird,” the lad said before running off to do as he was bid.

“And don’t call me ‘laird’!” Lachann called after him. Because naught was settled.

Lachann’s temper flared when he looked past Anna and saw Ramsay retreating, then turning to watch, with his hands crossed over his chest.

Anna caressed Davy’s cheeks and forehead, murmuring words of comfort even though ’twas unlikely the lad could hear her.

“Ach, his poor leg is broken,” she whispered, as though the words spoken any louder might make the situation worse.

Lachann nodded, not mentioning the fact that it was more than broken, ’twas mangled. Ramsay was supposed to have unloaded that cart and put away all the equipment yesterday. But as angry as Lachann was, he would not upbraid the man now.

His attention remained on Anna, on her windblown hair, only nominally confined to her plait. Her eyes were bright with tears and concern, and she worried her lower lip with her teeth. Her distress tugged at something Lachann had buried deep after losing Fiona to Macauley.

“You’re just back from your isle?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “Ach, weeping will do him no good. What should we do?”

“Wait for the healer,” he said.

Angus returned with the adults, who scurried to find the makings for a splint. Quickly, they managed to get the leg wrapped and put the boy on a makeshift stretcher.

“Take him to the keep,” Lachann said. “He’ll stay there until the healer arrives. And someone bring his parents.” He turned to Anna. “Who are his parents?”

She kept one hand on Davy’s arm as the men lifted him onto the stretcher. “Meg and Gordon MacDonall. He’s a fisherman.”

“Someone can fetch them,” he said, noting that Ramsay had disappeared all the way inside his shop.

Anna let go of the boy, then rubbed her arms with her hands, still shaken. Lachann ignored the urge to draw her into his arms to comfort her. “Ach, ’twill be a blow to Meg and Gordie. Davy is their eldest, and they’ve three younger bairns.”

They turned toward the keep, and Lachann put his hand at the small of her back in spite of himself. Touching her seemed as natural as breathing. He’d been aware of her absence every day she’d been gone—from the mornings, when he’d taken his plain bowl of porridge from Flora, to the evenings, when he’d retired to his bedchamber and sampled a few of the berries she’d given him on his first day.

“Flora will know what to do until Janet comes,” Anna said. “At least, I hope . . .”

Lachann realized he had not even been this close to Catrìona, in spite of spending half the previous day with her. And today the woman was as elusive as a damned sprite, turning up at odd times, and disappearing quickly thereafter. He dropped his hand away from Anna and stopped, leaving her to walk ahead.

She turned a questioning gaze toward him.

“See that everything is done for the lad,” he said. “I’ve business back at the smithy shop.”

“Business? With . . . Mungo?”

Lachann nodded but did not elaborate. Anna could not have missed the way Ramsay had held back until she’d called for his assistance. ’Twas intolerable.

He made his way back to the heavily weighted cart that stood right beside the blacksmith’s shop. He’d given explicit orders yesterday for Mungo to unload the wagon. At Braemore, he would not have had to mention it twice.

And yet here . . .

His temper was barely contained when he approached the shop and found no one. “Where are you, Ramsay?” he shouted.

The blacksmith stepped out from behind a stone wall, carrying a heavy hammer in his hand. His eyes were dark and shaded by his heavy red brows. Lachann thought them not especially sharp. But that was no excuse.

“I called to you for assistance, blacksmith.” Lachann’s voice was low and just as dangerous as the blacksmith appeared. “You ignored me. You ignored the plight of the child under the cart until Anna MacIver shouted your name.”

“I do’na like all their noise,” the man growled.

“No one cares what you
like
!” Lachann bellowed. “ ’Twas sheer luck I was able to move that cart!” Though he credited the children with adding just enough strength to budge the damned thing off Davy’s leg.

Ramsay narrowed his eyes. “Ye do’na give orders here, MacMillan.”

“What are you, a bleeting idiot?” Lachann approached the man. “ ’Twas not a matter of orders but common sense.”

The man adjusted his grip on the hammer, and Lachann dearly wished he would raise it against him. ’Twas the only provocation he needed to lay the fool out on his arse. Mayhap a solid beating would teach him something about
orders
.

“What happened out here?” ’Twas Catrìona, coming into the shop from the direction of the stable. “Mungo?”

“Aye,
Mungo
.” Lachann did not bother to temper his scathing tone. “Mayhap you can explain to your mistress what happened.”

The man stood mute, looking outside, past Lachann.

Lachann managed to temper his voice and avoid roaring at the bastard. “You need not look to Anna or Catrìona or anyone else in this castle when I tell you something is to be done. Because aye—I do have the authority to give orders here.”

Catrìona shot Lachann a glare as she moved toward the blacksmith. “Lachann—”

“That cart,” he said, giving a curt nod of his head toward the offending wagon. “Unload it now, and see that everything is put away neatly, and in good order.”

With that, he left the smith’s shop and Catrìona, and trotted up to the keep. He was too angry to try and be pleasant with the woman just then. And he had no interest in spending another minute with the likes of Mungo Ramsay.

He entered the kitchen and found Davy sprawled out on Flora’s worktable, still unconscious. Most of the children had been sent away, though Angus and Robbie remained, standing just outside. Davy’s parents had not yet arrived.

Angus grabbed Lachann’s sleeve. “Do ye think he’ll live?”

“I hope so.” Though Lachann did not know if the lad would keep his leg. ’Twould be up to the healer to say.

Chapter 16

A
nna steadied Davy’s leg while Janet washed the wound and reapplied the splint. It grieved her to know the boy was unlikely to walk again, at least not without a crutch. Of course his family had counted on him to grow into a strong young man, capable of manning his father’s birlinn, mayhap even his own one day.

“Wipe yer tears now, Anna MacIver,” Janet said. “The lad will live.”

“I know, but—”

“Ye’re too softhearted fer yer own good, lass.” The healer nodded toward a bowl of clean rags. “Hand that over.”

“Leave her be, Janet,” Flora admonished. “A soft heart is no’ the worst thing for a lass.”

Anna might feel sympathy for a poor, injured child, but she did not feel softhearted toward everyone. If she could toss Birk Ramsay down a deep, dark pit, she would not think twice about it.

She’d only been able to keep Kyla on Spirit Isle for two days. And she’d had no luck in convincing her friend to go away from Kilgorra with her—if she could manage to find the means.

Which did not mean Anna was giving up on Kyla. One of these days, she was going to find a way to persuade her friend to go.

Fortunately, Birk had not been at home when they’d returned to Kyla’s cottage in the village only an hour ago. Kyla thought it possible that her husband was out fishing with his father, but Anna had her doubts. He had become so useless of late that he rarely brought in anything to eat. ’Twas his father who provided for Kyla and the bairn, and Anna respected Roy Ramsay for it, even though he’d not been able to effect a change in his son.

The signs of Birk’s last attack on Kyla had still been scattered throughout their cottage when they’d returned. He’d done naught to right the chairs that had been tipped over or clean up the stack of peat that had tumbled onto the floor. ’Twas unlikely he was aware that Kyla and his child had been gone for two days.

The sight of such violence in the house was nearly as upsetting as seeing what Birk had done to his wife. Anna had been unnerved by it. She’d tried to get Ky to come to the castle and stay in the cottage, but Kyla had refused. She’d insisted all would be well.

And now this.

Anna knew most of the families on Kilgorra, and she knew Davy’s injury would be devastating to his family. Like the other families, they counted on their sons to take up their fathers’ work. ’Twas doubtful Robbie would ever be able to work on Gordon MacDonall’s birlinn. Not on crutches.

At least Lachann had acted quickly to get the wagon off Robbie’s leg. The lad was alive. And as she looked at Lachann now, his face a mask of concern for the boy, she knew the man from Braemore was exactly the kind of laird Kilgorra needed.

And for that honor, he only had to marry Catrìona.

L
achann stepped outside and made arrangements for a wagon to be prepared to take the boy home. Then he took Duncan and Kieran aside. “Go to the smithy shop and make sure that wagon is emptied and the weapons are stowed properly.”

Duncan nodded gravely. “I should have seen to it myself, Lachann.”

Lachann shook his head. “You should have been able to trust that my orders had been followed.”

What Lachann said was true, but it did not help the child who lay inside with his leg—and perhaps his life—shattered.

He went back into the kitchen right after the boy’s distraught mother arrived. The healer spoke to her in quiet tones while Anna moved about, spooning some of Flora’s savory stew into a large pot. She collected bread and bannocks, and even a crock of milk to take to the boy’s home in the village.

When Davy’s mother succumbed to her tears, ’twas Anna who embraced the woman and reassured her. “Whatever you need, Meg. You have only to let us know.”

“I have a wagon ready and men to carry him to it,” Lachann said. He turned to the healer. “It seems best to get him home while he’s still unconscious.”

“Aye,” Janet replied. “Meg, stand aside and let the men carry your lad out.”

Anna remained quiet through the process, her brow furrowed, clearly disturbed by the accident. She held onto Meg’s hand while they moved Davy, then took the provisions she’d gathered out to the wagon.

“I’ll be back later,” she said to Flora.

“Do’na worry, lass. Cat— Er, no one knows yer back from the isle.”

“Aye, she does,” Anna said as she went outside.

’Twas clear to Lachann that Flora meant Catrìona did not know Anna had returned. He had witnessed his intended bride’s harshness toward the servants and her animosity toward Anna in particular. And yet she was sympathetic to Mungo Ramsay.

It made no sense whatsoever.

The wagon started on its trip down to the village, and Lachann went to the stable and saddled his horse, as he’d planned to do before Davy’s accident. He took the path down to the pier, then walked his horse down to the beach.

He supposed he should have stayed at the castle and looked for Catrìona, but he was able to rouse little interest in talking to her, not when she’d shown so much more consideration toward the errant blacksmith than the injured child.

It did not sit well.

He headed south on the beach. To his left was a wall of rock, rising high above sea level. Numerous shallow caves had been carved out of the rock, caves that could possibly be inhabited.

But Lachann saw no signs of habitation now. And he noted that the shoreline was made treacherous by numerous channels of underwater rocks. ’Twas unlikely any boats would be able to approach in secret.

’Twas almost as though part of Kilgorra itself was underwater and lying in wait for the unsuspecting traveler to become snared upon its shores.

When Lachann finished exploring the western shore, he returned to the village and asked the location of Davy’s home. He left his horse at the pier and walked up the lane, arriving just as the healer was about to leave.

Anna was inside, holding one MacDonall bairn on her hip, and stirring a pot over the fire while Meg MacDonall sat beside her injured son.

Lachann turned his attention to the healer. “You do not think the lad will lose his leg?”

The woman shook her head. “My poultice should keep it from festering. But whether or not he’ll ever run on it again is another question.”

Lachann hoped Janet was right about the infection. Such a wound could kill.

While the woman spoke, he was distracted by the approach of a ship out in the distance, sailing from east to west. It astonished Lachann that after being attacked by pirates the previous year, the Kilgorrans had posted no guards on the pier. There wasn’t even a lookout near the harbor to warn of a hostile approach.

That had already changed. He’d given orders for men to be stationed at a few strategic points on the isle to watch for incoming ships—ships that could well be a danger to Kilgorra. He just wished he had a spyglass on his person now, in order to size up the craft that had begun to tack toward them.

Anna put down the child and came to the door, but she turned to speak to Meg before stepping outside. “I’ll send Angus down to help fetch and carry for you until your husband comes home. You’ve enough to do with the other bairns.”

“I’d thank you for that,” the woman said. “Please give my thanks to Flora—for all her help . . .”

“Send Angus to the castle if you need anything,” Anna said, then turned and stepped out of the cottage, closing the door behind her.

“I’ll be off now,” Janet said. “Meg will send Angus to me if there’s any change.”

When Janet left them, Anna placed her hand on Lachann’s forearm and looked up at him. “Thank you. For what you did for Davy.”

“ ’Twas only what any sane man would do.”

She realized she was holding him and released him slowly. Lachann wished she hadn’t. “Did Janet say whether his leg will heal?” she asked. “It looks gruesome.”

Lachann gave a shake of his head. “She does not know, but the poultice is to keep it from festering.”

“I wonder if there’s anything more we can do. Has anyone called for Father Herriot? He’ll be a comfort to Meg.”

Why hadn’t Catrìona come down to the village?
Lachann wondered. It seemed odd that she had not bothered to look in on the child. Or offer any assistance to the family.

Yet here was Anna, doing what she could for the injured lad’s family.
Who, exactly, is the lady of Kilgorra?

Anna started down the lane as she gazed out in the direction of her isle. Lachann walked with her, observing her sun-kissed cheeks and disheveled hair.

“Look,” she said. “There’s the
Saoibhreas
coming into the harbor.”

“You know that ship?”

“I recognize the flag she flies,” she replied.

They continued toward the pier, where, Lachann knew, his men would be armed and waiting to hail the ship.

“ ’Tis wise to send Angus to help Davy’s mother,” he said.

“Only common sense.”

Mayhap. “Do you take care of everyone on Kilgorra?”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Naught. You were gone two days. Is there so much to do on your rocky little isle that—”

“You noticed my absence?”

“Of course. I saw you leave, and you haven’t been at the keep, so I assume you just returned.”

She smiled, and the dimple in her cheek deepened. Her hair swirled about her head like a halo. “You’re right.”

“How is your friend?” he asked.

“Healing.” She moved to stand in front of him. “I need a favor.”

He raised a brow. “A what?”

“A favor. I want you to teach me to shoot a pistol.”

“No.” He diverted to walk past her, but she quickly caught up.

“Show me how to use a sword, then. Or a dirk.”

“No.”

“Why not?” A hint of a crease appeared between her brows. “Do I not have the right to protect myself?”

“ ’Tis the men’s duty to protect the women of the isle.”

“What if I need protection against one of those men?”

“Anna—”

“What if there is no man with the mettle to deal with Birk Ramsay when he attacks Kyla—or attacks me—again?”

Damn all, the woman was right. He’d taught his sister to use a pistol as well as a knife, but she carried the dirk with her when she rode off alone to visit the outlying crofts on Braemore lands. “I won’t give you a pistol.”

“A knife, then. Show me how to use a knife to protect myself.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said.
Gesu,
but she was fierce and beautiful, all at once.

He needed a distraction, so he gestured toward the ship that was fast approaching the harbor. “You’re sure that ship is the
Saoibhreas
?”

She was undeterred. “What is there to think about? There isn’t a man on this isle who will stand up to Birk Ramsay.” Her voice became tinged with anger, and her face flushed with color.

“He will have to deal with me,” Lachann said. And he meant it. ’Twas up to the laird to ensure and enforce lawful behavior. And while ’twas not illegal to discipline one’s own wife, Lachann could not imagine what Kyla could have done to deserve the beating she’d received.

“But you will not always be there, will you?” Anna demanded. “When he comes for us again, you’ll be up at the castle, or off somewhere, seeing to island business.”

She was right. And when Lachann thought about Ramsay’s size and strength, he knew he could not refuse her.

“All right. But I cannot teach you with the men.”

“You’ll do it?” she asked with some astonishment.

“Aye.” He just hoped he would not regret it.