Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (278 page)

As they headed back to the kitchen, Shi Liang tugged at her arm, pointing to the sky. The clouds were a boiling black mass, swallowing all remnants of daylight. They tried to light candles but the wind extinguished them immediately. As Mary and Annie hurried out the back door toward their homes, she saw Callum striding toward her.

“Are ye all right lass? Dinna be afeared, the house is strong and will withstand the storm.”

“I guess I’m a bit frightened, I’m certainly not used to storms of this magnitude,” she said running to meet him. “I’m not sure I want to be alone though, would you and Shelagh come to the house?”

“Aye, I’m way ahead of ye lass. Shelagh’s securin’ our cabin and gatherin’ up our belongings to join ye now. I’ll be checkin’ the animals have been attended to and makin’ sure the workers dinna do anything stupid, an’ then I’ll be back. Get yourself inside afore the rain starts.”

“Goodness, a bit of rain won’t hurt me,” she yelled over the wind.

Callum threw back his head and laughed. “The rain doesna’ come down in wee bits in this country, lass.” He walked off, still chuckling to himself.

Shi Liang fussed about her evening meal and managed to make a dish of cornmeal and vegetables, enough to feed them all. It would soon become too dangerous to run back and forth from the kitchen, so they carried everything into the dining room to be eaten when they were ready.

As Electra crossed from the kitchen to the house, a flash of lightning lit the night sky illuminating the yard and the outbuildings, momentarily blinding her. She stopped in her tracks, mesmerized, and was unprepared for the ear-splitting clap of thunder following close on its heels. She screamed, dropped the plate of food and ran full pelt into Shi Liang, running from the opposite direction. As she extracted herself from the flustered cook, two flashes of grey hurtled through the door, bowling her over again. Hero and Dante, tongues hanging out, wide-eyed with terror, trembled against her body.

“Aiyee! Devil storm come,” howled Shi Liang.

Before she could ask what a devil storm was, a second flash of lightning heralded an even louder crack of thunder. They huddled together on the dining room floor with the dogs plastered against them, sneaking terrified glances out the window at a show of heavenly wrath beyond the scope of her imagination. A rush of wind toppled a vase off the mahogany sideboard as Shelagh flew through the door and plopped onto the floor beside them.

“Och, it’s a devil of a storm,” she said, shaking out her coat.

Electra and Shi Liang looked at each other and laughed.

“The roofs have come off two o’ the workers huts already. Callum’s still out there battlin’ to make sure the grain is well covered. He’s a wee bit worrit that Will and the lads will be caught in the storm on their way home.”

“Goodness, I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think they would already be this close to home?”

“Weel, Callum was expecting them two days past. Did Will no’ give ye some idea o’ when he would return?”

Electra bit her bottom lip as she remembered the mood in which he had left. “Not really, no.”

Shelagh looked at her. “Ah, I see. Ye’re both still bein’ stubborn then?”

Electra glanced over at Shi Liang, who raised his eyes to the ceiling as if intently watching a bug.

Suddenly the sky opened, hurling down sheets of rain, drenching everything in its path and making great holes in the ground. Now she understood why Callum laughed at her. This was no misty drizzle causing mild irritation. The storms were as big and as passionate as the country itself.

The two women had their noses pressed to the window like children, silently watching the furious storm. The trees were bent nearly double and the sheeting rain slashed through the flowers in the garden like hurtling daggers. As another fork of lightning lit the yard, they both saw the stable boy struggling with one of the horses. The thick-muscled stock horse had kicked through its stall and was now in the yard, rearing over the boy, its eyes yellow and rolling with fear, its teeth bared in panic.

“We have to help him, he’ll be trampled,” said Electra jumping to her feet.

Without hesitation, Shelagh was beside her, pulling on her coat.

They ducked their heads and burst into the deluge, waving their arms to distract the frenzied animal. The horse backed away from the boy toward the stable and then panicked at being trapped once again. It pawed the ground and with nostrils flaring, bolted at the women. Shelagh began to run and slipped on the muddy ground. Electra turned and grabbing her hand, tried to drag her to safety but her feet slipped from under her. Just as the horse was almost upon them, a huge shape loomed out of the dark and barrelled into the side of the animal. There was a loud “whoosh” as the air left the horse’s lungs. With no breath to continue, the horse slowed to a halt and stood confused as the rain fell in runnels off its mane and tail.

Shelagh dragged herself up and ran to the motionless shape on the ground, calling Callum’s name. He moaned and lifted his head to receive her anxious ministrations.

“How is he?” asked Electra, pushing the heavy, wet curls from her face.

“Ah, he’ll be fine,” said Shelagh rocking him in her arms. “He’s got a head hard as a rock. It’s the poor wee horse I’m worrit about,” she said grinning down at the man.

“Och,” he gasped, “ye’d no’ be laughin’ had I no’ used this fine, hard head to save ye.”

“Sir, I’m that sorry I caused such trouble with the horses. I hopes yer orright,” squeaked the frightened voice of the stable boy.

Electra felt a stab of compassion as she squinted at the boy’s face in the rain. His lip quivered and, it could have been the rain, but she was sure a tear trickled down his cheek. The lad looked no older than twelve.

With difficulty, Callum turned to face the boy. “Mr. Radcliffe would be verra proud of your courage tonight, lad. There’s no’ too many who would come out in a storm like this an’ I’ll be sure he hears about it.”

Swiping the rain out of his eyes, the boy grinned. “Thank you, sir, I done me best an’ that’s fer sure.”

“Would ye do me a favor before ye go then lad and put tha’ crazy horse back in the stable? I dinna want to go near it meself.”

Eyes shining, the boy grabbed the now docile animal and led him back into the stable, securing the stall door. With a wave, he disappeared into the rain.

“Can you walk yet, Callum? We need to get out of the rain and into dry clothes,” said Electra, shivering. She helped Shelagh heave the big man onto his feet and they made their way back to the house.

The rain had set in for the night but the intervals between the thunder and lightning had thankfully increased. Both Electra and Shelagh changed into dry clothes and Callum changed his shirt. After some difficulty, Shi Liang managed to light the fire. Although smoky from the damp wood, it was serving to warm their wet, chilled bodies.

Electra took a sip from a mug of hot tea and turned to the big Scot.

“You dealt very kindly with the young boy, Callum. You weren’t really scared of the horse were you?”

“Oh aye, scairt witless, lassie,” he said grinning. “The big bastard fair knocked the wind out o’ me.”

They laughed and Shelagh nudged her husband. “Ye’re right barmy, ye are. Here have some o’ Shi Liang’s cornmeal.” She passed him a bowl.

Electra wiggled her toes in front of the fire, feeling the warmth go through her feet and into her body. “We must be thankful all is well and everyone is safe and accounted for.”

As she finished speaking, they could hear hoof beats thundering across the yard and minutes later Sean Sullivan burst through the door.

“Mr. MacDonald, come quick. It’s Mr. Radcliffe. He’s hurt bad, we’ll be needin’ the cart.” He bit his bottom lip and sucked in a half breath. “Jesus and Mary, I think he’s dyin’.”

Chapter Fourteen

Callum was on his feet before the boy finished, running for the stable. Without hesitation, Electra grabbed her shoes and coat and followed him.

“I’m coming too,” she yelled through the rain.

“No you’re not, lassie, it’s too dangerous,” he called back as he rolled out the cart.

She grabbed his arm and with surprising strength, turned him to face her. “Don’t you dare tell me I can’t be with my husband when he’s dying. Don’t you dare, Callum MacDonald!”

Shelagh caught up with them and screamed over the lashing rain, “Do ye think anyone could stop me if it were you, Callum?”

“Christ almighty, I’m no’ a match for the two o’ ye. But prepare yourself, lass, Sean says there was a snake.”

Electra stemmed the panic evoked by his words and rushed back into the house to collect extra blankets and bandages. As she passed the kitchen, Shi Liang called out and pushed a bottle of brandy into her arms.

“Good for pain, Missee.”

The anguish in his eyes halted her preparations. She touched his arm gently. “We will bring him home safe and alive, Shi Liang. You’ll see.”

Shi Liang blinked back a tear. “Thank you, Missee. Master William my family. I not want him to die.”

She hurried to the stable where Callum had already saddled his horse and was hitching the mare to the two-wheeled cart.

“Can ye drive the cart, lass?” asked Callum.

“Of course I can.” With a grunt, Electra thrust her bundles onto the bed of hay in the back, pulled the oilcloth cover back over the lot, and allowed Callum to boost her onto the cart.

“That was good thinking, lass, to bring the brandy. If it’s as bad as Sean says, he’ll be needin’ the numbing, aye?”

She shook her head. “It was Shi Liang who thought of it, not I.”

“The wee oriental loves Will, ye know.”

“Yes, I think he does.”

Sean was in the yard, his hat pulled low over his face for the rain. He had one hand on his saddle, ready to mount, and his right foot tapped the ground rapidly as he waited.

“Let’s awa’ then, lass.”

She flicked the reins as the men leapt onto their mounts and they moved out toward the road. Electra turned back to wave to Shelagh but she had already disappeared into the blurred, wet night.

“Why do we need another cart? Didn’t you take the dray with you?” called Electra, trying to keep pace with the two riders.

“We did and now it be stuck in the mud with the broken axle. And Himself not able to ride, mum.”

“How far away is he, Sean?”

“It’ll be taking us two hours, mum.”

By the time they arrived, it would be more than four hours since Sean had left William. She muttered a wet prayer to a God who had seemed conspicuously absent for quite some time.

The fear of not knowing left her throat tight and her heart jumping. She was surprised at this depth of emotion over William. He was sullen, moody, and appeared to have tarred her with the same brush as the evil Charlotte. He certainly didn’t deserve her sympathy but it seemed she had no choice. Damn him for getting under her skin. Damn him for being dangerously ill. She bit her tongue at the fluency of the curses. It was the longest two hours she could remember.

When finally they came upon the dark, awkward shape of the dray, listing to one side, none had the courage to ask Tom if William was still alive.

Tom huddled in the dark with William, muttering words of encouragement; her husband, he said, had slipped into unconsciousness. But at least he was alive. Sean lit the lantern as Electra and Callum climbed onto the dray and lifted the canvas.

As the thin light of the candle lantern flickered across William’s body, Electra gasped at the extent of his injuries. His face was badly bruised and a deep gash ran the length of his arm. Tom had ripped away the cloth of William’s breeches and all she could see was copious amounts of blood.

Her mouth dropped open in shock and she swallowed the rising nausea. She had expected two small puncture wounds on his leg but this was horrendous. “Lord Tom, what size are the snakes in this country?” she whispered.

“Ah, no mum, ’twasn’t the work of the snake up there,” he said, pointing to the upper part of William’s body with a bandaged hand. “’Twas only the leg. The rest, well, it be part of another story.”

“And your hand, Tom?” Was that the snake too?”

Tom shook his head and started to tell her this was also part of another story. She raised her eyebrows, telling him they’d get to that story later. In the meantime, she concentrated on the results of Tom’s panicked attempts at removing the venom.

Two jagged cuts had been made just above the ankle where Tom tried to suck at the poison. Even with the blood cleaned away, the puncture marks of the fangs were almost unrecognizable except for the blueish tinge surrounding them. The leg was swollen to the knee and a wicked red line was spreading toward his thigh.

William stirred as the pain of their prodding ripped him out of the depths of unconsciousness.

“It’s us, Will. Electra and Callum. We’ve come to take you home.” Her words caught in her throat. “What are you feeling?”

He tried a grin but his facial muscles would not obey. “Pins and needles … hands and feet. Face numb,” he mumbled.

Callum picked up his hand. His fingers were swollen like sausages and at the touch of Callum’s wet hand, William began to shiver uncontrollably.

Callum turned to the other two men. “We have to get him into the cart and away home. Dinna move him more than an inch at a time. The venom will spread at any exertion, aye? Here, Tom, help me with his arms. Sean, you and Electra take his feet.”

Gingerly they moved him from the tilting dray to the hay-cushioned bed of the smaller cart. When he was settled and encased with blankets, Callum held the brandy to William’s lips. He drank clumsily, gasping as it hit the back of his throat and drank some more. When Callum placed the bottle down, Electra reached for it and, lifting the blankets off his leg, poured it into the open cuts. William groaned as alcohol bit into the wound but had no strength to protest further. Sean and Tom transferred some of the equipment from the dray into the cart and left the larger items under canvas for later retrieval.

“Do you know what sort of snake it was?” asked Callum, as he climbed over to the front of the cart and took the reins.