Page 39 of Much Ado About a Scot

“What about you and Brodie?”

Xander ushered her and Jamie toward the stairs. “We’ll wake the villagers and have them help to dig a trench around the house that the flames will not be able to leap across.”

“Anything we can do?”

His features softened. “Pray for rain?”

“I can do that,” she said with a half-smile before she hurried down the stairs. Jamie’s arms wound tightly around her neck as she headed out the back door with Freya at her heels. Once outside Isobel hesitated. The animals. She had to free them. She transferred Jamie into Freya’s arms. “Go now, take him to where the air is not filled with smoke. I will meet you there in a moment.”

“My lady?” Concern etched into every line of Freya’s pale face.

Isobel touched Freya’s arm with her own trembling hand. “I cannot leave the animals to die.”

Freya gave an understanding nod of her head and turned away, heading for the fields at the back of the house that were yet untouched.

Losing no time, Isobel raced to the barn and threw the door open, splashing light into the darkness. Inside, the animals skittered in their pens and whimpered in distress. “Hello, my dears, it’s going to be all right,” she soothed as she opened each pen and sent the animals outside. Instinctively, the cow, the goats, the sheep, and Xander’s horse turned toward the back fields and lumbered to safety. The chickens took a bit more convincing, but finally she managed to send them after the other animals.

When she was done, she glanced through the treeline toward David Graham’s house. There were no signs of stirring there. Though she didn’t entirely trust that David Graham had not started the fire himself, she ran across the grassy divide between their two estates. She was greeted by two of Graham’s guard dogs, but they were both used to her scent and allowed her access to the front door. She rapped loudly on the knocker.

It didn’t take long for a disheveled Pringle to answer. When he did, his usual greeting died in his throat as he looked beyond her to the flames that threatened, not only her farm, but theirs as well. “Lord have mercy, there’s a fire!” The old retainer’s face contorted with fear.

“Wake everyone, Pringle.”

He looked at her finally and his eyes flared. “Are you well?”

Isobel batted at the soot that must be all over her face with the back of her hand. “Aye, we are all out of the house and Xander, Brodie, and others have started to dig a trench in front of Gladmuir Hall. But we need to start a fire line to protect both properties.”

“I’ll see to that.” Pringle left her at the door and raced up the staircase shouting, “Fire! There’s a fire! Everyone, wake up!”

Isobel stepped back off the stoop and stared out at the reddish aura that rose from the growing core of heat and flames that spread across the fields. Rain. They needed rain. Not knowing what else to do, she lifted her hands toward the sky that was a dark gray and choked with smoke. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her desperate plea. “Please help us,” she asked to a divine entity above who had not always listened to her prayers in the past. “Please make it rain. A gullywasher would be most appreciated.”

She opened her eyes and brought her hands to her sides as she turned back toward the house. Above her, looking down was a dark-haired man she did not recognize. Perhaps David Graham had visitors, and if so, she hoped they all stayed safe from the fire.

The fire. All around her was destruction. The crops she had toiled over for months vanished in an instant. The enormity of the situation struck her. She’d lost much of her crop. If she couldn’t raise enough funds from the sale of what was left, she would lose her home. Jamie’s legacy. Poverty loomed over her like an evil specter. A chill slithered ice-like down her spine. She was afraid—more afraid than she’d ever been.

Nay! She forced the thought away. Now wasn’t the time to think about her own paltry loss. Dreams of this place had always healed her, kept her going, held the darkness at bay. Her dreams of a life with her son and a future for them both would keep her going now. She had not lost everything. She still had half of her crop, perhaps. She had her son. She had Xander, for now.

She headed back toward Gladmuir Hall, breaking through the treeline as the tops of the trees farther down the row caught fire, forming a line of flames that hopped from one tree to the next. Isobel gazed across the grass to where the men were digging.

At the sight of Xander, tenderness welled up inside of her. As if sensing her presence close by, he looked up. She watched as emotions flashed across his face so quickly that it was hard to identify one from the other. Yet all those emotions touched a place deep inside she hadn’t allowed him to reach, too afraid of the pain it would cause when he left.

But she’d learned in the past few years that life brought pain, and joy. Not in equal measure, but one couldn’t exist without the other. She accepted that fact now. No matter how much it would hurt when Xander left her, she was grateful for their time together.

Her hand drifted to her abdomen as her thoughts moved back to their conversation earlier. Could it be that she was already carrying his child? Was that why she’d been dizzy as of late? And why her nipples were sore? After already having one child it was easier to spot the signs of a second. Isobel swallowed roughly. When he was gone, would she still have a part of him that would stay with her? As hard as having another mouth to feed would be, as much as caring for not only one child but two would tax her, a small part of her hoped he had left her with a piece of himself to comfort her in the days ahead.

Still considering the possibilities, she made her way to Jamie and Freya where they watched the unfolding drama of the fire from a rise in the fields behind the house. She was nearly upon them when she felt it . . . the first cool drop that touched her heated flesh. Tipping her face back toward the sky, more drops fell against her cheeks. A smile came to her lips, followed by laughter. God had answered her prayer. It was raining!

“Na flaithis a mholadh!” Freya said with a smile. “I’ve never been so happy tae see the rain before in my life.”

“Aye, Freya. Praise the heavens.”

“It’s raining, Mummy. Shouldn’t we go inside?” Jamie put his hands over his head.

“Nay, sweetheart.” Isobel took Jamie into her arms, holding him close. “We are going to stay right here and enjoy every drop.”

In the next few minutes, a chilling wind swept in from the north and a torrential downpour marched across the fields. The fire that had spread so rapidly, dwindled to small blazes that under the continued assault of the storm’s power, and the fire line Pringle had organized also died. Within the span of an hour, the acrid scent of smoke had been replaced with the sweet scent of rain, and a steaming mist rose all around them.

For a time, none of them sought shelter from the storm. Instead, they allowed the rain to cleanse the soot from their skin and the fear from their hearts. But after a while when Isobel feared Jamie might become ill from his drenched state, she sent Freya and Jamie back to Gladmuir Hall.