Chapter Twenty-One

 

Scotland

 

A miserable-looking servant showed Blair into the banquet hall. Blair pulled off his gloves and took in the display of warring history the family laid claim to. Uncivilized lot. Could Gina possibly be here? Or had he come on a wild goose chase. He had to make sure she was safe even if she hadn’t wanted him to follow her. These thoughts had tormented him all the way from London. He only knew he had to come, was committed to it from the moment he raced out of the bar and grabbed the portmanteau hastily packed by his valet. He’d hired a carriage, paying the driver an enormous sum to drive him here. The driver refused to linger any longer than necessary in this hostile place. He’d driven off, keen to return to England where he considered the people to be more agreeable.

When Lord Ogilvie strode into the room with Gina in a gown of Scottish tartan, Blair stilled. Stricken, he began to think he’d been unwise to come.

“I expected you much later,” Ogilvie said.

Blair couldn’t take his eyes off Gina’s pale face, her lovely eyes distressed. “You expected me?” he asked Ogilvie.

“You got my note?”

“I did not.”

“What has brought you…”

“Should I have come, Gina?” Blair asked, ignoring Ogilvie.

Gina shook her head and twisted her fingers together.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Not at all,” Ogilvie said. “How unwelcoming of you, Giovanna. You’re my guest, Dunleavy.”

“I shall go if Gina wishes it,” Blair said. But he now had no intention of leaving her. It appeared that his worse fears were realized. It was unlike Gina to be so silent and submissive. Something was not right here; the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Ogilvie signaled to his servant Jarred. “Keep a gun on them.”

Jarred hesitated.

“Do what I say, you worthless peasant.”

Jarred with a hateful glance at Ogilvy, stepped forward and aimed a pistol at Blair’s chest. He reached into Blair’s coat and removed his gun. Blair grabbed the man’s wrist.

“I advise you not to, Dunleavy,” Ogilvy said. “He has orders to shoot you dead if you resist.”

Blair held up his hands. He was no good to Gina dead.

“I’m afraid I shall have to insist you do stay,” Ogilvie said. He put his arms around Gina who pushed at him and struggled. “What a prize. My hands can span her waist. Worth fighting for, is she not?”

“Unhand her, or I’ll kill you,” Blair growled, his hands forming into fists at his side.

Gina came to life, her eyes imploring him. “Oh, Blair! You shouldn’t have come here.” She kicked Ogilvie’s shin, broke free and ran over to him.

Blair swung her behind him, out of the line of pistol fire. “What goes on here?”

“Bolt the door, Jarred,” Ogilvie took the pistol from the servant. “It’s simple enough. I planned to get you here, Dunleavy and used your paramour for bait. As you see, it worked.”

“Then I shall just take her back with me when I’ve finished with you.” Blair eyed the pistol. “Seems a lot of bother for you to go to, Ogilvie. We could have dealt with this in London. How about a fair fight?”

“There’ll be nothing fair about it. You’ve done enough to ruin me, Dunleavy.” Ogilvie gave a mocking laugh. “Much neater to deal with you here as you are now on my turf.”

“You’ve lost your senses, man. At least send Gina away.”

“Make yourself comfortable. We shall dine and then play a game of cards. This time, it is for a valuable prize. If you win, you may take the lass home.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You probably shouldn’t, Dunleavy. But you have no choice.”

“And if you win?”

“I win the prize and you....” Ogilvie shrugged.

“No!” Gina swung around to look at Jarred. He shuffled his feet avoiding her gaze.

A stooped woman brought food to the table, a roast fowl and a joint of mutton. She left again without glancing their way.

“Sit!” Ogilvie ordered. Jarred stood armed beside them as Blair assisted Gina into a big leatherback chair and took the one next to her. His eyes locked with hers. Ogilvie pulled the fowl apart and stabbed his knife into the meat.

Ogilvie pushed away his plate and took a swig from a pewter tankard, his eyes bright and feverish. “No one hungry?

“I have a fine malt whiskey to offer ye. You can’t say we Scots don’t produce a fine drink. Bring it, Jarred, and a deck of cards.” He picked up the pistol. “Let’s see how much money you have, Dunleavy. It will sweeten the pot.”

Blair took note of the man’s swift change of mood. Ogilvie was addicted to gambling. He was as mad and as dangerous as a disturbed snake. He stored the information away, it could prove useful. He glanced uneasily at Gina. Her eyes flashed at Ogilvie. Good. They would both need to fight to emerge from this place alive.

While Ogilvie dealt the cards, Blair explained the fundamentals of draw poker to Gina, who sat silently beside him. “Five cards are dealt to each player. They can discard any or all of them if they want to try for better cards.”

“No talk.” Ogilvie slammed down the pack and studied his hand.

A log crashed in the fireplace and Gina flinched. The atmosphere in the room stretched taut as the string on a fiddler’s bow. On the table, the candle flames danced in the draught.

Blair studied the hand Ogilvie had dealt him. He tightened his jaw. All unmatched cards. Never had a good hand been so vital. Had luck deserted him when he needed it most? The highest card the ten of clubs. Careful not to register his disappointment, he watched Ogilvie throw fifty pounds on the table.

Blair matched it to stay in the hand and asked for five cards.

Ogilvie looked keenly at him. “No good, eh?” He drew only two cards.

Either he had a good hand, or he was bluffing. Blair winked reassuringly at Gina before looking at his cards. Better this time. Three kings, a seven of clubs and a two of hearts. He decided to make Ogilvie bet heavily and put down only twenty-five pounds.

Ogilvie looked scornful. He raised the bet to one hundred pounds.

Blair matched it.

Ogilvie studied his face, but didn’t seem to find what he’d hoped. He snorted as he tossed down his hand. Three tens skidded across the table.

Blair laid down his hand. He looked at Gina and smiled. “I believe I win.” He reached forward and scooped the money up.

“Let’s go home,” Gina her voice shaking.

Ogilvie frowned and poured more whiskey into his mug. “Another hand.”

Blair climbed to his feet. “I have your gentlemen’s agreement that we may leave if I won.”

“This is not London, Dunleavy. And I am the one with the pistol.”

“Take the money.” Blair sent notes and coins skittering across the table. He put his arm around Gina. “It’s time to let us go, Ogilvie.”

Ogilvie jumped up. “I’d like to show you my castle first.” He pointed the gun toward the door. “Walk.”

“And if we refuse?”

“I’ll shoot you dead,” Ogilvie said coldly.

He meant it. “Very well,” Blair said, aiming for more time. “Let’s take that tour.”

“Show them up to the tower, Jarred,” Ogilvie said.

Blair and Gina climbed the steps after Jarred with Ogilvie in the rear. “Follow my lead,” Blair said close to her ear.

“Jarred hates Ogilvie,” Gina whispered.

“Quiet!” Ogilvie snarled and jabbed Blair in the back with the pistol.

They climbed silently. Blair bided his time; confident Ogilvie was such a loose screw he was bound to become distracted. Then he would strike.

 

* * *

 

Once again, Gina stepped out onto the roof of the tower. A full yellow moon peaked through the scudding purple clouds.

A freezing, arctic wind tore battered them. As she sheltered within Blair’s protective arm, she choked with fear, drawing in gasps of salt-laden air that made her throat sore.

“Not the way I planned it,” Ogilvie said, looking at her with regret. “But you should thank me, it will be quick.”

“Jarred!” Gina cried. “Don’t let him do this. He’ll make sure you are blamed for it.”

Ogilvie seized her arm and pulled her away from Blair. “The wench goes first.”

Blair stepped forward. “You can’t just murder us in cold blood, man, are you mad?”

Ogilvie reacted to Blair’s words, hatred spilling from him like a visible, palpable thing. “More deaths are nothing to me,” he cried. “I’ve murdered two already.”

“You killed Milo,” Gina cried. “And Dave, the stage manager. It was you who burned the theater down!”

“Clever girl.” Ogilvie stared at her wildly. “I’m sorry I’m not to know more of ye.”

“You’re a monster!” Gina’s knees grew weak. He would kill them, there was no way they could stop him.

“Enough.” As Ogilvie went to grab her, Blair rushed forward and punched him in the jaw, and again in the stomach. With an oomph, Ogilvie fell backward, the pistol falling from his hands. A loud bang ricocheted around them.

Blair took a step toward Gina, his face questioning, then he crumpled to the ground.

Gina screamed and screamed, her cries echoing into the night. She fell to her knees beside Blair. Pain wracked his face and his eyes closed. She pulled back his coat. A dark stain spread across his shirt-front. “You’ve killed him,” she yelled at Ogilvie. “You fiend! You’ve killed him. May you rot in Lucifer’s fiery furnace for eternity.”

“It’s too bad.” Ogilvie climbed to his feet feeling his jaw. “I wanted him to watch you die. Your time is up. Over the wall, you go.”

He dragged Gina toward the edge as she tried to resist him.

Jarred ran up to them. “Don’t hurt the lass.”

Ogilvie stared at him. “The likes of you, a peasant, dare to cross me? You will feel the full force of my displeasure when this is done.”

Ogilvie had Gina pressing against the parapet edge. The stone dug cruelly into her back as she grappled with him. He bent to grab her under her knees. She stared over the edge in horror, straight down to the black sea. She made herself go limp. The sudden weight of her body caused Ogilvie to stagger. With a curse, he searched for a firmer hold as she dropped to the stone floor. He suddenly released his grip after Jarred shoved him hard from behind.

With a curse, Ogilvie turned on Jarred, but the big man was surprisingly quick. He lifted Ogilvie as though he were weightless and heaved him from the parapet.

With a scream, the gun falling from his hand, Ogilvie plummeted down, his cry halting abruptly at the bottom of the cliff.

Gina clung to the parapet. She caught sight of Ogilvie’s body spread-eagled on the rocks before a wave dragged him into the sea. She spun to stare at Jarred. In the moonlight, the silent man watched her. “You’ve saved my life, Jarred,” she whispered.

“The cur deserved it.”

Rushing to kneel beside Blair, Gina stroked his hair and spoke soft words of comfort that she feared he couldn’t hear. She wondered almost idly, what Jarred might do now, but she didn’t much care, for Blair was surely dead.

But then Blair groaned.

“Thank God! He’s alive!” She turned to Jarred who stood by seemingly unmoved. “Help me get him to a doctor. Please Jarred.”

He didn’t move.

“I know you lit the fire in my room. You are a true hero.” Gina spoke quickly. “You can have all the money and anything else you want. We’ll say no more about it, but please, please help me get Blair down to the carriage. He needs a doctor.”

Jarred moved forward and bent over Blair. He shook his head. “He won’t last the night.”

“He won’t if you don’t help us,” she cried, aware that Jarred was thinking through his future. Perhaps he thought himself better off if she and Blair were dead too. But she would not allow herself to believe it. She would not give up. Jumping up she took his hand, peering into his dark unfathomable eyes. “You are a brave man. A decent one. You cannot refuse me. You know I am your friend and will do nothing to hurt you.”

Jarred pushed past her and effortlessly scooped up Blair’s inert form, throwing him over his shoulder.

“Oh, bless you, Jarred.” Gina rushed to open the door. She followed him down the interminable stone stairs. Blair lay disturbingly still hanging from Jarred’s shoulder. The moonlight shone through narrow slits in the stone alighting on his deathly pale face.

On the next level, Jarred pulled aside a large tapestry hanging on the wall. A door lay behind it. He entered into a stone passage and she followed him down a narrow stairway.

After many twists and turns, they reached the bottom. They emerged near the sea the castle looming above them. Without speaking, he climbed the steps to the road where he laid Blair down on the frosty ground. “Wait here, lass.” He disappeared into the castle by a small door.

Gina waited, hugging Blair close, attempting to warm him. She tried to take comfort in the fact that he still lived while his breath emerged from his slack lips as steam. It gave her hope, but she was very, very frightened. It seemed like an hour before the drawbridge rattled open and the carriage emerged from the castle.

Jarred was alone. He jumped down and hefted Blair as if he was a feather-weight instead of a big man and laid him inside the carriage.

“Oh, be careful, please,” Gina begged, fearful that rough treatment would cause him to bleed more heavily. Already his life’s blood ebbed away at an alarming rate. She climbed in beside him and settled his head on her lap. Her teeth chattered in the bitter cold. She used the hem of her gown to staunch the flow of blood. Blair’s eyes were closed. As his chest rose with each breath, she sent up a prayer of thanks. He lived.

Jarred lit the coach lamps and jumped up on the box. He slapped the reins. The horses whickering at being thrust out into the cold in the dead of night galloped over the coast road. Soon, the dark bulk of the castle disappeared.

“Help won’t be long, my darling.” Gina pressed against the wound more firmly. “We’re taking you to a doctor.” But where was Jarred taking them? She wished she felt more confident that there was a doctor at the end of this mad dash.

They traveled at a bone-jarring pace along the cliff which in the dark, became doubly dangerous. One miscalculation on Jarred’s part and they would all join the earl in the roiling waters below.

The road seemed interminable. They’d been traveling for almost half an hour when Blair began to stir and murmur.

“Soon, my darling,” Gina said chaffed his cold hands. “Not long now.”

At last, around a bend, the bridge over the river came into view. The carriage clattered over the stones. Ahead, the tiny fishing village was still and peaceful under the moon.

In the village, Jarred drove the carriage down one narrow lane after another. He pulled the horses up outside a small, stone cottage. Someone was there, for candlelight flickered in its windows.

Jarred opened the carriage door and pulled Blair roughly out onto the road. Blair groaned in pain as Gina stumbled to the ground and knelt to help him. Jarred thumped on the door with his fist. Without waiting for anyone to answer his knock, he ran back to the carriage.

“You’re not leaving us?” Gina cried.

Jarred didn’t answer. He leaped up onto the seat, cracked the whip over the horses, and the carriage rattled away into the darkness. With growing despair, Gina watched him go.

The door opened, throwing an arc of lantern light over the road. A gray-haired man with his shirt sleeves rolled up, took the pipe from his mouth, and stared at her. “What’s this to do, lass?”

“Blair’s been shot. Please, please help him.” She jumped up to grasp at the man’s waistcoat.

He removed her fingers. “There, there. No need for that. Help me get him inside to the light.” He leaned over Blair, and grasped him under the arms, “Doesn’t look too good, poor man.”

She took hold of Blair’s legs, struggling with his weight. They carried him into the cottage and laid him on a settee. A black iron stove in the fireplace radiated heat warming the room. Gina’s tense cold body began to thaw, and she swayed dizzily.

“Are you a doctor?” she asked, praying that he was. He seemed so calm and sure, it gave her hope.

The man stripped Blair’s shirt away. “I am.”

“Will he be alright?”

“He’s lost a lot of blood.”

She stood by as the doctor examined the wound. “The bullet’s still in there,” he said. “It will have to come out. I’ll get my things.” He glanced at her. “You’d better sit down before you fall down, my dear.”

Relieved that he didn’t ask questions, Gina sank down beside Blair. She gasped when Blair stirred, but he didn’t wake. She stroked his forehead, finding it warm. A bolt of fear at the prospect of infection shook her. “You are going to be fine, my love. Just fine,” she whispered.

The wound below Blair’s shoulder still bled heavily, despite her attempts to staunch the flow.

The doctor returned carrying a bag. He opened it and removed a scissor-like instrument then walked over to the wood stove where a kettle simmered. He thrust it into the fire, then, taking a bowl down from the shelf, poured boiling water into it. He stirred the instrument in the water and wiped it on a clean folded cloth he had taken from a drawer.

After removing a bottle from his bag he poured liquid from it onto a cloth. He held the material under Blair’s nose. Blair grasped his wrist, then he fell back, sagging back against the cushions.

“Just a whiff. It will put him out for a little while. You hold him still, lass.”

The doctor thrust the instrument deep into the bloody hole. Blair’s body jerked, and Gina held him down with every ounce of her strength.

It seemed to take ages. Gina feared for Blair who looked so pale.

“That’s right, good.” The doctor withdrew the instrument, and the wound bled even more freely. “Press hard on there, lass.” The doctor dropped the bullet into a bowl with a clang.

Gina pressed firmly over the wound with the pad of cotton.

The doctor massaged his fingers. “Now, I’ll clean him up and bandage him. When he comes to, we’ll move him to a bed.”

“I am so beholden to you, doctor.” Gina wiped away a tear.

“Don’t thank me till we see if he lives.” His gray eyes studied her from behind his spectacles. He nodded toward the stove. “Make us a cup of tae, will you, lass?”

She jumped up, glad to have something to do. “I’ll be pleased to.”

“Put some honey in it. And there’s a tin of bannocks and cheese on the shelf.”

“I couldn’t eat...” she began.

“You’ve had a nasty shock. Just a nibble with the hot drink will set you to rights,” he said kindly. “You must stay strong for your lad, now, mustn’t you?”

She nodded and busied herself making the tea.

Blair didn’t stir as the doctor wound the bandage around his shoulder. “And while you are making the hot drink, you can tell me how all this came about.”

Gina took cups down from their hooks. She didn’t want Jarred to get into trouble. “The Earl of Douglass shot him,” she said. “It happened as he tripped and fell over the parapet.”

He raised his shaggy brows. “Lord Ogilvie fell off the castle tower?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips and looked at her doubtfully. “That will cause a to-do. There’ll be those who applaud it. Are you going to tell me it was an accident, lass?”

“He fell when he tried to kill us both.”

“Why did he wish to kill you?”

She shook her head in confusion, still not entirely sure what lay behind it. “I think he must have been mad. He kidnapped me, forced me to come here from London. Blair followed to rescue me.”

The doctor’s bushy brows rose. “He always was a bad sort.”

“Might we stay here? I can cook, clean...” she put the food on a tray, then brought it to the table with the tea things.

“That would be nice, but this is a small place. It would hardly escape anyone’s notice that I have a pretty girl living with me. You think the villagers don’t know you’re here right now? Besides, if you stay I would have to explain his bullet wound to the magistrate.”

She studied Blair’s face for signs of improvement. Was his color better? “I don’t like to ask you to lie for us, but I’m afraid we will be blamed for the earl’s death. And we are innocent.”

He nodded. “It could likely be true.” There was a pause as he sipped his tea. “Then you’d best take your man and leave before daylight.”

“But he might die!”

“He might die anyway.”

“I have no means of transport.”

“My son will drive you to my brother in Carlisle. You can stay with him; he runs an inn. When this young man is up to traveling, or he’s ready for his grave, whichever, my brother Garrick will help you return to London. I’ll send a letter along with you. Don’t worry lass.” He patted her hand. “I’ll tell anyone, should they ask, that you were a couple just passing through with a sick baby.”

“Oh, you’re so kind. Bless you.” She kissed the man’s bristly cheek.

“Have done with you.” He smiled. “I’ll slip out and fetch my son. You finish your tea.”

When the doctor returned with his son in tow, Gina rose to give them both a hug. “Thank you so much, you shall always be in my prayers.”

Blair stirred. Gina leaned over him. He opened his eyes and looked at her his eyes dazed. She smoothed the lock from his brow. “Am I in heaven?” he asked, before drifting off again.

The doctor laughed. “I do hope he survives, for heaven on earth surely awaits him.”