Chapter Eight

It was still dark when Dorie was licked awake by Rascal. She made a disgruntled noise of protest, having been disrupted from a particularly nice dream.

She’d been with Bryce. He’d been smiling and laughing. He’d kissed her, as he had earlier that day.

Another lick and a whine. Fine. She would get up and let the dog out. It would be better than him having an accident in the house. He was getting so large now she might have to get a shovel from the stables to clean up after him like they did a horse.

She sat up and blinked. Then rubbed her eyes when they stung and tried to focus again. She smelled the smoke and jumped up to go out to the main room.

A fire blazed in the middle of the room. The rug was in flames along with the back wall, cutting off her escape to the front door.

She gasped, which only pulled in more smoke, causing her to cough and wheeze. She needed to get out. Already she felt dizzy.

“Rascal, come,” she said, bringing him back to the alcove with her bed. She pushed the curtain away and tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge.

It couldn’t possibly have gotten stuck in the few days since she’d had it open last. Looking out at the main room, she knew that route was hopeless. That window was her only way out. She hurried over to the fireplace, grabbed a piece of wood, and used the log to break the window. She swiped up a thick blanket to clear away the rest of the jagged glass so it wouldn’t cut them.

“Okay, boy. Out you go.”

She wrapped her arms around Rascal’s chest and heaved, but the beast’s feet only came off the floor a few inches.

“Please. I can’t leave you in here. You have to go out the window. Go.” She pointed, but Rascal just sat whining at her.

Panic started creeping in. She couldn’t leave him behind! But how to get him to move?

The fire was licking at the shelves that held her food, but she managed to dart in long enough to grab the cheese.

“Here we go.” She tore off a chunk and held it out, getting his attention. “Go get it,” she said and tossed the piece out the window. Rascal whined and put his paws up on the edge of the window. “That’s it, jump out. Go get the cheese. Go get it.” She tossed another piece and he leaped through the window like a stallion taking a hedge.

She thought she heard cursing and a growl, but a beam came loose from the ceiling just then and crashed into the room. She had to get out now or she’d die.

Scrambling up the wall, she leaned out and fell onto the ground headfirst, then rolled away under a bush where she closed her eyes.

Thank God.

For the second time in a matter of days, she gave in to the darkness.

…

Bryce had no sooner fallen asleep than someone was beating at his door.

He’d lain awake for hours remembering the kiss he’d shared with Dorie. Wondering what had made him do it. He decided it had been fear. His worries over her safety and wanting to win her trust so he could keep her safe. But he knew that wasn’t all it was.

He’d felt something. Something more than just the need to keep her safe. A different need. Not purely physical, but intimate. She’d understood his pain, and he’d needed her closeness. Instead, he’d left.

“What is it?” he grumbled when the pounding came again.

“Your cottage is on fire. Come quick,” Liam called.

For a second, still in a fog from sleep, Bryce pictured his old cottage. The one where he’d lived with Maggie and their little one. But if that home had still existed, he wouldn’t be sleeping in a room at the castle. Yet there was something else important that had him jumping out of bed to get dressed.

Dorie.

He hurried out of his room, still buckling his belt.

Following the other men out the gate, he looked toward the village and saw flames.

“Dorie,” he whispered when he saw the fire. Even from here he could see how far the flames rose from his cottage.

His wife was in that house.

He tore off at a dead run. He hadn’t so much as grabbed a bucket to help put out the fire. He didn’t know what he’d do when he got there, he just needed to get there. He ran the whole way.

“Dorie!” he yelled—a fierce cry that carried over the crackle and hiss of the cottage as it gave in to the flames. Rascal came up to him. His bark was hoarse as he nudged Bryce in the leg with his big head. He barked again and turned toward the back of the house.

When Bryce didn’t move fast enough he came back, barked, and tugged at Bryce’s kilt.

“Where is she?” he asked the dog in desperation.

In answer, Rascal led him over to a bush. Bryce was about to leave him to start searching when the bush moaned.

“Dorie?” he cried, bending down to feel around in the shadows. Sure enough, his wife was under the bush asleep. No, not asleep. Unconscious. She was bleeding at her temple.

“Good boy.” Bryce patted the dog before lifting Dorie into his arms to carry her back to the castle. He left the other men to put out the fire. It was clear there was no hope for saving the cottage.

It didn’t matter. He’d not leave her there alone again anyway.

All that mattered was that his wife was alive. He’d promised to take care of her and had failed. Again. He’d keep her close now, so he could watch over her better.

The dog followed after, occasionally brushing Bryce’s leg. The maids might have something to say about him allowing the beast into the hall, but Bryce would deal with them. He couldn’t put Rascal out, and not just because he wasn’t sure he’d win that battle.

“How is she?” Lach asked as soon as he made it into the hall. Kenna was at his heels.

“She’s hit her head. She hasn’t woken up, even with the bouncing on the way up here. Can you help her?” Bryce asked Kenna.

She frowned and came closer, carrying a lamp. “Let’s see.”

Bryce stood close by as she felt around Dorie’s head and neck, then moved to her arms, legs, and the rest of her body.

“It looks like there are no other injuries. She just bumped her head. Let’s try some cold water. I’ll clear away the blood. It’s already stopped bleeding. That’s a good sign.”

Bryce wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or herself, but he relaxed because she didn’t seem frantic.

“How can I help?” Mari asked as she stepped up to offer her sister assistance. The more the better, Bryce thought, and stepped back to let them get closer.

Cam strode into the hall looking grim. “It’s gone.”

Bryce didn’t care about the cottage. It was just a building. He’d burned the last one down on purpose and rebuilt. He could rebuild again. People were different. They were irreplaceable.

“Will she be all right?” he asked Kenna as soon as the blood was washed away.

“I think so. It will depend on how much smoke she breathed in and for how long.”

Before she’d finished talking, Dorie began to cough. Her eyes fluttered open and darted from face to face until she found him. He stepped closer and took her hand as she began crying.

He didn’t know how, but he knew she was upset over the cottage. He was only upset about her.

“It’s all right. The cottage doesn’t matter as long as you’re safe. Are you well? Does anything hurt?”

She shook her head too quickly to have done a thorough assessment first.

“Dorie, look at me,” he insisted, raising her head. “What hurts?”

She blinked and he could tell she was cataloging and prioritizing her injuries. After a moment she pointed to her head. Then her wrist. Her eyes went wide and she turned in his arms, looking for something on the ground.

Again, he knew what she needed.

“He’s under the table. He wouldn’t let you get far from his sight,” Bryce said, pointing. Rascal lumbered out from under the table and she hugged the dog.

Bryce was standing close enough to hear her whisper, “Thank you,” to her furry protector.

“Bryce,” Lach called, and he stepped away from the reunion to speak to the laird. Cam followed.

Bryce expected his cousins to encourage him to have Dorie stay with him at the castle. He’d already planned to do so and didn’t need a lecture from them.

“We’ve a problem,” Lach said with a frown and took a few steps farther from the group. “Cam thinks the fire was intentional.”

“Why do you think that?” Bryce turned to the larger of the men. He hadn’t had time to consider such a thing, but given the poisoning, it made sense someone might try again if they’d failed with the first attempt on her life.

“There were footprints leading off to the forest. Blood drops. And this.” He held out a scrap of cloth. A tartan in the McCurdy colors. “There were paw prints. It looks like the dog gave chase. He might have gotten a bite of one of the bastards.”

“A McCurdy bastard,” Bryce said, keeping his voice low. “Why would they want to hurt her? They didn’t seem to care for her much, but to risk getting caught at murder…” He shook his head.

Lach ran his hand over his face with a curse. “I should have suspected the blighter was up to something.”

“What is it?” Cam asked.

“The contract. It said we had to wait a full year to build a ship to moor at their port. I was fine with that, since we weren’t prepared to build our own ship yet. But it also said if anything happened to Dorie within that year, the alliance was void.”

Cam scowled. “And you agreed?”

“I thought he was worried we wouldna care for her. He was her da. I’m a father, and it would be something I might have negotiated if I had a daughter. Though he must not have cared so much for her since he didn’t come to the wedding. But at the time, it seemed easy enough to agree since we’d not harm her and she appeared hearty enough. It wasn’t much of a risk. I didn’t think more of it. I should have.”

Anger and outrage pricked up Bryce’s spine. “They’re trying to get out of the contract by killing my wife,” he said, then slashed a hand through the air. “We’ve dealt with them long enough. It’s time we take Baehaven and end them for good.”

Lach remained silent, his brow raised. No doubt he didn’t like Bryce giving orders, but surely the man had to agree. Now was the time to put a stop to their treachery.

Finally the laird spoke. “Aye. We tried to do things the honorable way, but they are not honorable. We’ll need more men. I think we may be able to get the Stewarts to help. I can send Liam with a message. Bryce, you’ll need to speak to your father’s family and see if the Campbells will join us.”

Bryce frowned. He didn’t want to visit the Campbells, let alone ask for their help. He’d been sent to Dunardry a year after his mother died. She’d been the sister of Lachlan and Cameron’s fathers. As the laird’s daughter, she’d married far beneath her status when she took Thomas Campbell, a lazy soldier, as her husband.

Bryce’s father had remarried a young lass only a month after his mother died. His stepmother was soon expecting a babe and they didn’t have enough room or coin to feed Bryce, so he was sent off to live with his uncles at Dunardry.

It had been for the best. The MacKinlays had welcomed him, and he’d been able to grow up with Lach and Cam. Their fathers were honorable men and had taught Bryce to be honorable as well.

As much he had no desire to face his wastrel of a father, he’d do it if it meant putting an end to the McCurdys and keeping Dorie safe.

“Aye. Once I’m certain Dorie has recovered, I’ll approach the Campbells. And the McCurdys will pay for this.”