Chapter 19
Dust rose in a choking cloud as Evan dragged the rotten shutters out through the front door of the manor and tossed them into the grass with the rest of the debris. There was a lot of it. This was going to take longer than expected.
Undeterred, he wiped his brow with his sleeve and went back in, pausing in the doorway of the main room. Light spilled through the tall windows now he’d taken some of the shutters down, although the window glass would need replacing. Dust lay thick on the floor and cobwebs hung in the corners, but he could still picture what it would be. Floors sanded, long table set near the fire. Ruby’s laughter bouncing off the walls, her boots kicked off by the door.
Ours.
The word had felt reckless when he’d said it. Now it felt possible.
He bent and lifted another warped plank. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he wasn’t calculating escape routes. He wasn’t scanning the horizon for pursuit. He was thinking about furniture. How strange was that?
A faint crunch sounded outside, and Evan straightened. “Hamish?” he called, assuming the headman had returned as promised with some tools and perhaps a few of the village lads to help. “Have ye come to do a bit more ‘supervising’?”
Silence.
“I’ve nearly finished the front room,” he shouted. “So if ye’ve come to criticize, ye had best have brought some ale!”
More footsteps. And three men stepped into the room. They wore travel-stained coats, pistols at their belts, swords strapped to their hips.
“Afternoon, Campbell,” said the man in the center. He was short and squat, with a scar tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Evan felt his face twist into a snarl. “Fergus Key. What in all the hells are ye doing here?”
Fergus’s cold gaze swept the room. He didn’t answer Evan’s question. “Ye look busy. Renovations, is it?”
The other two men followed as Fergus stepped further into the room, spreading out, blocking the exit. Evan glanced at the window, at the door, measuring the distance to each and calculating his chances of escape. They weren’t good.
“What do ye want?”
Fergus smiled. “Ye know exactly what we want. Or rather, what Seoras MacInnes wants.”
“MacInnes can go to hell.”
Evan caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision just as the man on his left lunged at him. Evan spun and drove his fist into the man’s ribs, doubling him over. Another man grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms behind his back. Evan slammed his head back, felt bone and cartilage shatter, but before he could break free, Fergus stepped forward, driving a fist into his gut. Air exploded from Evan’s lungs, and he doubled over as far as his captor’s grip would allow.
“Still scrappy,” Fergus observed mildly, crouching before him. “Ye were always more of a brawler than a warrior.”
Evan fought against his captor’s grip but couldn’t break free. “If MacInnes wants words, he can come himself.”
Fergus’s smile thinned. “Words? I think it’s gone a little further than that, dinna ye? Ye have led us on a merry chase,and that wasnota good idea. Seoras MacInnes’ patience is at an end.”
Seoras MacInnes. Evan had slipped from his grasp twice—once by the coast and then again during the journey with the merchant caravan. He’d hoped he wouldn’t dare follow him this far south, this close to Edinburgh and the authorities that would see him hanged if they caught him.
He’d clearly underestimated the man.
Fergus stood and wandered toward the window, peering out at the land beyond. “Nice stretch ye’ve got here. Shame if anything happened to it.” He turned back. “Wouldnae take much. Accidents happen. A hearth fire left unattended. A candle knocked over.”
“I dinna take kindly to threats,” Evan growled.
He struggled, but his captor twisted his arm a fraction higher. Pain shot white-hot through his shoulder.
“And that village,” Fergus continued as if Evan hadn’t spoken. “Full of good, hardworking folk. Families. Children. Such precarious lives. So easy to lose everything in an instant.”
Rage flared in Evan’s chest. “Ye will leave them be.”
Fergus crouched again, bringing his face level with Evan’s. “Perhaps. If ye give us what we want.”
Evan glared at him. “Fine. Take me to MacInnes.”
