Margo Maguire (16 page)

“Do it now,” Lachann added without blinking. He waited for a sign, and when the man swallowed heavily, Lachann knew he’d won. Mayhap the burly blacksmith had learned his lesson yesterday.

Chapter 24

W
ith an eye toward moving forward with his plans, Lachann took a ride up to Roscraig Peak, the cliff that rose above the village and overlooked the harbor. He was not exactly avoiding his return to the keep, but he knew ’twas best if he did not see Anna MacIver for a while. He needed to put some distance between them.

He had to stop reliving the moments before he’d heard the gunfire, when she’d come apart, just from his touch. Lachann had been seconds away from paradise when Macauley’s gunshots had interrupted him.

He should be thanking the bastard for his timing.

Lachann chose a spot where he would station a lookout, then located the best place to perch a cannon. There was a clear view from there to the castle, and a good place to ignite a signal fire if an enemy approached from the harbor.

The sea was quiet, and Lachann saw Kilgorra’s fishermen anchored far in the distance.

Then he saw Anna walking on the beach west of the village.

He knew it could only be she, for he’d seen no other woman on the isle with such pale hair. And the thick plait down her back swayed in time with her purposeful stride. Lachann’s entire body quaked at the sight of her.

He forced himself to look away. What he might desire and where his duty lay were two entirely different things. He thought of Duncan’s earlier query about Catrìona and knew he needed to work on a strategy for gaining the lairdship without marrying the woman.

He could not tolerate a life shackled to that woman.

He’d already offered his gold to shore up Kilgorra’s defenses, and he hoped ’twould be enough. But Macauley was not without resources. His own wealth, along with marriage to the laird’s daughter, could be persuasive to a drunken old man.

Gesu
. It had all become far more complicated than it ever should have been. Lachann hoped the Cameron brothers returned from Skye with some useful information about Macauley. Soon.

Drawn to Anna in spite of himself, Lachann rode back to the village and stepped off the pier, retracing the path he’d taken yesterday. He could not help but wonder what she was doing on that isolated stretch of beach.

Gesu,
was she making her way to the caves further south, where Birk Ramsay’s father had said he would be? By the determination in her step, Lachann feared she was about to go after him alone.

With the dirk he’d strapped to her leg.

He rode down the beach, quickly catching up to her. He jumped down from his horse to walk beside her and managed to speak calmly to her. “Anna. I hope you are not on your way to look for Birk Ramsay.”

She looked surprised. “You know the man is a menace.”

“ ’Twould not be wise for you to confront him alone.”

“I realize that,” she said, resuming her quick pace down the sandy beach. “But
someone
needs to!”

The thought of her doing it filled him with dread. “Anna, he is dangerous.”

“Aye.” With her expression set, she resumed walking.

He took hold of her arm and stopped her. “What if he attacks you? What will you do?”

Her eyes were clear and guileless, and her mouth was a temptation he found difficult to resist. He drew her close.

“I’m not going for Birk,” she said, but he hardly heard the words, not when his body was demanding that he lift her into his arms and carry her to some secluded spot and remind himself just exactly how delectable those plump lips were.

She breathed deeply, and his arousal grew to impossible proportions when her chest moved against his. He wanted her, wanted to explore every sweet inch of her.

He tipped his head, determined to savor at least one kiss, when she suddenly tugged away.

“Sorcha,” she called out, the name wrenching Lachann out of his sensual haze.

She slipped out of his grasp and turned toward an old woman he’d not noticed before, not when ’twas Anna who’d held his complete attention.

The crooked old woman was walking toward them from one of the caves, a large basket hanging from her arm. She seemed to be in her own world, walking toward the surf, bending every now and then to pick up something and place it carefully in her basket.

S
omehow, Anna managed to make herself step away from Lachann, but her breath felt tight in her chest and a heated flush of pure sensation flowed through her veins. She did not know how she succeeded in speaking to the old midwife, Sorcha Carnegie, while Lachann still had his hand on her.

This white-hot attraction that flared between them must not continue. She would not be able to bear it later, when . . .

She swallowed back her unwise yearnings and looked up at him. His jaw was tightly clenched.

“I . . . I must go,” she said.

For an instant, she thought he might protest, but then he gave a brusque nod of his head and moved away. He mounted his horse but did not take off for the pier right away.

“Anna . . .”

She felt the intensity of his gaze through her entire body, pooling in the womanly heart of her—right where he’d touched her and created a maelstrom of sensation.

She let out a shaky breath and turned to Sorcha. Because she knew better than to dwell upon what could never be.

She hurried away from Lachann, toward the old woman who was walking alone down the beach, bending periodically to collect a shiny shell from the sand and put it into her basket.

Sorcha had attended Anna’s mother at the fatal birthing of her bairn, Laird MacDuffie’s son. These days, the woman often lost her way, and ’twas feared she might one day walk into the sea—and not return. Somehow, she’d gotten past her niece who usually kept an eye on her.

“Sorcha!” Anna called again.

The woman straightened up and looked back at Anna. She smiled broadly. “Anna? ’Tis a joy t’ see ye, lass!”

“Aye, and you,” Anna replied. “It looks as though your basket is full, Sorcha. I think ’tis time to go home. Màili will be worried about you.”

“Màili? Nay, she’s workin’ at her loom. She will no’ miss me.”

Ah, but she would. Anna took the old woman’s arm and started walking up toward the pier. Toward Lachann, whose retreating figure was not so very far away.

Anna’s chest ached. Her resolve faltered, and for a moment, she entertained the impossible wish that everything could be different. That Sorcha had not been there on the beach, that she had taken Lachann to Spirit Isle, where they could be alone to—

“Is that yer man, Anna lass?”

“What?” Anna’s face infused with an impossible heat.

“Yer husband.” The old woman took hold of Anna’s arm. She had a surprisingly strong grip.

“No, Sorcha. I have no husband, and I . . . I do not plan to marry.”

“Ach, then, a lover,” Sorcha said, embarrassing Anna even more. “Ye must take a man t’ yer bed—”

“I do not think that would be wise—”

“Blatherskite,” she retorted. “Wisdom plays no part in what takes place betwixt a woman and her man.”

Anna nearly choked, for ’twas absolutely true. What had happened in Gudrun’s cottage between her and Lachann had not been the least bit wise. “Sorcha, I’m sure you’re right. But I—”

“What are ye afeared of, lass? Gettin’ a bairn?”

Anna felt mortified by the conversation. Luckily, Lachann was too far away to hear what Sorcha was saying. ’Twould only magnify her embarrassment at such talk. “Please, Sorcha, you must not speak of such things.”

“And why ever not?” the midwife demanded. “I might ferget a wee task now and again, but I remember every bairn I brought into this world. And I know a thing or two about keepin’ one from startin’,” she added with a wink. “How d’ye think Catrìona MacDuffie has gotten by all these years without one?”

A
s Lachann returned to the pier, he wondered why naught could ever be as simple as planned.

He did not like leaving Anna on the beach when he knew Birk Ramsay could be nearby, but he didn’t really believe Ramsay would come out of his lair and attack her. He was likely so hungover he could barely walk.

Besides, Anna had an old woman to deal with, and he knew she would not just abandon her. Not his fair Anna. She was so much a part of this island that he found her desire to leave impossible to understand.

He rode up onto the pier, where all roads seemed to meet on Kilgorra, and saw Catrìona coming down the path from the castle. She was alone, and not paying much attention to her surroundings.

But at least Macauley was not with her. Lachann wondered what new mischief he was up to.

Catrìona stopped abruptly when she saw him. “Lachann! You . . . you are just the man I wanted to see.” She looked past him and up at the ship, causing Lachann to believe otherwise. He wondered what business she had with the
Saoibhreas
.

“Aye?” he said, dismounting. “You thought you would find me here on the beach?”

“Of course not,” she responded. “But you were not up at the castle with your men, so I thought possibly . . .”

“You grew bored with Macauley?”

“You must forgive him, Lachann. He did not think.”

“Mayhap,” Lachann replied. “But if you believe that’s a fair excuse for a man who thinks he ought to be laird—”

“Well, he
does
want to marry me.”

She said it as though a proposal from Macauley was the greatest honor that could have been bestowed.

If Lachann had had any doubts about taking Catrìona to wife, the answer to that question became clear at that moment. But he was not going to tip his hand just yet. He would say naught of the matter until he discussed it with Duncan and Kieran. There had to be a way to wrest control of the island without marrying MacDuffie’s daughter.

The first order of business would be to get rid of Macauley. He would attempt to do it peacefully. But if the stoat would not leave, then Lachann would deal with him in whatever manner was most expedient.

’Twould be greatly satisfying to tie him to one of the small boats, tow him out to the open sea without a paddle, and leave him there. In a storm.

Catrìona put her hand through the crook of Lachann’s arm, but she stopped suddenly when Anna and her elderly companion came onto the pier and up into the village. Lachann winced when Anna’s eyes caught sight of Catrìona’s arm in his. He felt like pushing Catrìona aside and following Anna to the village.

But circumstances did not allow it. Not yet. He turned his attention to Catrìona. “Where is Macauley now?”

“I have no idea, Lachann.” She turned a bright smile upon him. “But I do know the bonniest point of all Kilgorra. I’d like to show it to you.”

“Mayhap some other time, Catrìona.” Lachann disentangled himself from her grasp. “I still have much to do this morn.”

“Are you saying—”

“I will see you later, at the castle,” he said. He took his leave of her, leading his horse up the path to the public house. He wondered which direction Anna had taken, for she was nowhere in sight.

He passed numerous shops as he rode through the village, and soon he came to a cobbled street that was lined with modest stone dwellings, all bordered by a low, stone wall. Some had small gardens in front, and there were pots full of colorful flowers on the wall. At the top of the lane, Lachann saw Anna standing with the old woman she’d met on the beach, talking with yet a third woman.

Her smile was stunning, as was her regal stance. She was gracious and sweet, and at the same time so very sensual that every muscle in his body clenched tightly as he observed her.

All three women were laughing and enjoying the swift breeze and early afternoon sun. Anna smiled and looked up at the sky as if she hadn’t a care in the world, though when she caught sight of Lachann, she blushed to the roots of her hair. Just the sight of her charming dimple high up on her cheek was enough to make him as hard as the stone wall that edged the lane.

He blew out a long breath, reminding himself that he needed to tread carefully, at least until matters with MacDuffie were settled.

He dismounted and walked up to the group.

“Ach now, are ye no’ the braw lad?” the old woman said in greeting.

Anna blushed to an even deeper red, but she collected herself and made the introductions. “Lachann, these are my friends, Sorcha Carnegie and Màili Carnegie, cousin to Janet, whom you’ve met.”

“We’ve all heard of yer wee clash wi’ Birk Ramsay,” Màili said. “Has he come lookin’ fer ye yet?”

“Ach,” Sorcha scoffed, looking up at him with canny gray eyes. “Birk has no’ the wits God gave a sparrow. He’s no match fer the likes o’ ye.”

“Sorcha—”

“Anna,” Sorcha said, turning to the object of Lachann’s interest, “ye would do well to take this one t’ yer bed and see what kind of braw sons he can give ye.”

Chapter 25

L
achann did not seem to hear Sorcha’s incredibly embarrassing words, for his attention was wholly directed on something behind Anna.

“
Gesu,
the distillery is on fire!” he rasped.

Anna turned to look back and saw black smoke rising from . . . “ ’Tis not the distillery, Lachann,” she said, just before he mounted his horse and took off at a gallop. “ ’Tis the granary!”

The bell at the kirk began to clang just as Lachann turned and raced down the lane.

“Màili, take Sorcha inside,” Anna said. “Then we need to get everyone to the granary with their buckets.”

She shouted the alarm as she ran, and people hurried out of the shops and cottages, prepared to fight the fire. By the time Anna arrived at the granary, Lachann was there with Geordie Kincaid and the other men from the distillery, who were already trying to douse the fire with pails of water from the river.

But the back wall of the building was nearly engulfed in flames.

Lachann climbed a stout oak that stood behind the granary. A group of men gathered to form a line from the river to the granary, handing buckets of water, one after the other, to Lachann, who tossed it on the flames. Another man brought out a ladder and stood at its top on the far side of the granary, doing the same thing.

Anna organized the village women into yet another brigade to fill the buckets and quickly pass them down a line of hands that got the water to Lachann and the others who were closest to the fire.

The smell was horrific, and the work was backbreaking as well as desperate. They could not allow the fire to spread outward, else several shops and homes would be destroyed, as well as the distillery itself. Losing the granary was going to be bad enough.

Anna hastened ’round to Lachann’s position and saw how perilous it was. He was far too close to the fire! His face and arms were filthy, and he was covered in sweat. Burning ash flew about his head, and Anna worried one of the embers would land in the brush nearby and start another fire that could easily engulf him.

Men handed buckets to him, one after the other, and he tossed the water at the fire as quickly as he could. But the flames spread and licked up toward him.

Panic engulfed Anna, much like the flames that were so very likely to overcome Lachann. She shouted at him to come down, but he kept at his task.

Anna interrupted the flow of buckets, taking one to throw its contents on the ground ’round Lachann, wetting it to prevent a spark from catching beneath him.

Men from the castle soon arrived and threw their backs into the fight, some carrying water, others climbing to high points behind the granary.

“We must pull down the walls before it spreads!” Lachann shouted to the men.

“Aye!” they responded, though they continued pouring water on the fire.

Finally, Lachann climbed down from his perch and disappeared into the distillery with Geordie. When they returned a few moments later, they carried several long poles with hooks attached to their ends.

“Clear the field!” Lachann shouted, distributing the poles to several of the men.

Anna and the others with buckets scurried away and watched as Lachann and his men stepped as close as they could, hooking the ends of the poles into any crack or crevice in the fiery wall.

On Lachann’s count, they started pulling down the burning building. After much straining, it came crashing down, crumbling into embers while the other three walls fell into it.

The fire ebbed, but the work was not done.

People continued throwing water on the collapsed building, and the men all pitched in to dig a trench ’round it. Hours after Lachann first saw the smoke, the granary was reduced to a mere stinking, smoldering mess. But at least it posed no threat to anything else on the isle.

T
he tavern keeper brought out a few benches and a barrel of ale, which he poured liberally into the mugs of everyone who’d helped with the fire. Lachann drank deeply, looking ’round the crowd for Anna.

He was sure he’d just seen her.

Mayhap she’d gone back to the castle. Or to her friend’s cottage.

“Kincaid,” he said, catching sight of the distiller. “Walk with me. Duncan and Kieran, come with us.”

They stepped over the rubble left by the disaster and soon came upon the pile of wood and stone that was left of the granary. “Do you know how the fire started, Kincaid?”

The man shook his head. “I can’na think how, MacMillan. The weather has been fair damp most days, not a dry timber anywhere on the isle.”

Which was exactly what Lachann thought. They’d had a few rays of sun that afternoon, but the days had been misty in the morn, and there had been some rain as well. “Kieran, did you see the blacksmith return to the castle after he changed the locks?”

Kieran nodded. “He went back a long time ago. Hours.” He glanced at Kincaid, who nodded. “Lachann, do you think the fire was started intentionally?”

Lachann gave a nod. “Unless ’twas an accident of some sort.”

“What sort?” Kincaid asked, his forbearance obviously wearing thin. He paced back and forth next to the destroyed building. “What kind of accident would it be? No one has any business hanging about the granary. No one would be lighting a pipe back there . . .” He shook his head, obviously unable to figure how the fire might have begun.

“Aye. That’s what I thought, but I wanted to make sure you agreed.” Cullen Macauley had to believe his chances of gaining the lairdship of Kilgorra were slim if he was trying to interfere with Lachann’s plans to build a fighting force here.

Macauley’s strategy might be to mount an attack and try to take the isle by force, for what better way was there to ensure success than by keeping Kilgorra preoccupied with rebuilding the granary and therefore leaving itself undefended?

“But I can’na think of any purpose to burning down the granary,” Kincaid said. “The harvest does not take place for at least two more weeks. If someone wanted to harm the whiskey business . . . well, there was very little barley inside, and we do’na store our barrels there.”

“Lachann,” Duncan said, “I did not see Macauley in any of the brigades.”

“Nor did I,” Kieran said. “And the man knows naught about distilling. He likely did’na know the granary was empty.”

Lachann met Kincaid’s eyes and knew the man shared his own suspicions about Macauley. “I’ll go up to the castle and see if I can find him.”

“You’ll question him?”

Lachann gave a nod. “And I’ll find out if anyone saw Ramsay in his shop.”

“Do you want us to come along?” Duncan asked.

“No, I’ll handle this alone.”

A
nna had never been so terrified. When Lachann had perched so precariously in the tree behind the granary, she’d realized she might lose him to the fire.

’Twould be far worse than losing him to Catrìona.

Ach, she felt torn in every direction as she made her way back to the castle.

It had been a horrid afternoon—
a horrid day all ’round,
Anna thought as tears filled her eyes. It had become clear that there was no solution to her predicament. She did not know how she was going to get away from Kilgorra, and Lachann was not about to leave.

No, after seeing him fighting the fire, she realized how firmly dedicated he was to becoming laird.

She trudged up the path to the castle and had nearly made it to the gates before she heard the sound of horses’ hoofs trotting up behind her.

Lachann swung down beside her. He did not hesitate but pulled her into his arms. They were both hot and filthy, but naught had ever felt as good as his body pressed tightly against hers. He kissed her hard, then released her.

“You are unharmed?” His eyes were reddened from the irritation of being so close to the fire, and his face was sooty. She supposed hers must be the same.

She nodded, swallowing hard, just as Angus and Robbie came running up the path.

“Anna!” Robbie shouted. “Did ye see it?”

“Aye.” Her voice was as shaky as the rest of her.

“Laird MacMillan! Ye pulled the whole wall down!” Angus cried excitedly.

“Lads,” Lachann said, “were you in the village when the fire started?”

The two boys looked at each other. “Aye. O’ course we were!”

“Did you see anyone up near the granary? Or the distillery?” Lachann asked, as several of his men rode up alongside them.

Angus shook his head. “We were fishin’ off the pier. I did’na see anyone. Did ye, Rob?”

Robbie shook his head, then Angus grabbed his friend’s sleeve and pulled him along to the castle gate.

“Do you think—”

“Lachann!” His men came up behind them, engulfed him, asking questions.

Anna had no business there, and she ran ahead to catch up with the boys as they went through the castle gate. She hurried past the keep and the courtyard, taking the path through the garden to Gudrun’s cottage. Once inside, she shut the door and sat down on the bed.

Ach, she seemed to have come full circle, all in one day. From those exquisite moments in Lachann’s arms, to her terror as he’d fought the fire. She
was
going to lose him.

Kilgorra needed a leader such as Lachann.

She could not stay and witness Catrìona’s marriage. The
Saoibhreas
would not take her, and she doubted any other ship would, either. But she needed to get away from the keep, away from Lachann and his wife.

Aye, she could go to Spirit Isle for a time, but she could not live there permanently.

Anna glanced ’round the cottage and thought mayhap it could be her home. Gudrun had lived there for years after Sigrid’s death. All Anna needed to do was to clear out the boxes and crates, and she could make it her own.

’Twould mean she would not leave everyone she knew and loved on the isle, though she would need to take pains in order to avoid Lachann and Catrìona. She decided it could be done.

She got up and went to the window. She pushed the shutters open and gazed out at the bench, now overgrown with moss and mold, where Gudrun used to sit. She could so easily picture her mother’s old servant, living alone out there for so many years.

Anna quickly pulled her head inside and closed the shutters, unwilling to think about what that reality meant for her.

A
nna managed to slip away from Lachann far too easily, but he let her go for now.

He checked on Ramsay and discovered numerous people had seen him hanging about his shop after returning from changing the locks at the distillery. Which left Macauley. Lachann intended to find the bastard and give him the thrashing he deserved.

“The men would like to resume their training this afternoon, Lachann,” Duncan said.

“I want to meet with them back at the distillery in an hour,” Lachann replied.

“Aye?”

“We’ll need to rebuild the granary right away,” he explained. “ ’Tis nearly harvest time, and the barley must be stored somewhere so the distillery has what it needs for this year’s brew.”

Kieran nodded. “We can get a new one up quickly. All we’ll need is the timber.”

“And the hardware,” Duncan said, frowning. They were going to need the blacksmith’s skills.

“Aye. And manpower,” Lachann said. “Training must be suspended until there’s a new granary to store the grain.”
Damn all.

“This sets us back, Lachann.”

“ ’Twas likely the point,” Lachann said angrily. “If Macauley wanted to distract us from creating a fighting force, he succeeded.”

“ ’Tis quite a diversion from what we intended to do here,” Duncan said.

Lachann was furious. If that was what Macauley had intended, he’d succeeded. Lachann wanted nothing more than to ram his fist down the bastard’s throat and then shove him off the battlements to the sea below.

But he reined in his temper and rode through the gates, quickly dismounting at the keep, leaving his men to take his horse to the stable.

He went into the keep and up to the great hall, where Graeme was replacing the candles in the lamps.

“Have you seen Macauley?”

“No, I haven’t seen him all day,” Graeme replied.

“Do you have any idea where he might be?”

The man’s color deepened—with anger or embarrassment, Lachann could not tell. “Ye might look . . . er, try the old chapel, sir.”

“The chapel?” Lachann asked. “Beyond the stable, out by the castle wall?”

Graeme nodded. “Aye, that’s it.”

The place where Catrìona had taken
him
. The information did not sit well with Lachann. If Catrìona had also taken Macauley out there . . .

He was doubly glad of his decision regarding their marriage. “What about Laird MacDuffie?”

“He is in his bedchamber, sleeping,” Graeme replied.

“Has he heard news of the fire in the village?”

“I do not think so, sir,” Graeme replied. “Is the granary completely gone?”

Lachann nodded. “But nothing else in the village caught.”

Graeme crossed himself. “Thank the Lord.”

“Aye.”

Lachann took the stairs to the bedchamber two at a time and went to MacDuffie’s room. He knocked softly, and Alex MacRae came to the door. Lachann stepped inside and saw that the laird was indeed sound asleep.