Birdie suppressed another gasp when saw figures moving; she recognised them as the men from the village. They lugged barrels and crates, which they stacked up along the cave wall. One group of men unloaded goods, another took them and carried them out of the cave along a narrow path that led up to the cliffs.
“It was much easier when we could just carry ‘em up through the passage, through the hall, and store ‘em in the outhouses like we used to,” grumbled one man. “Then the lassie arrived and ruined all our plans. Now we have to unload them, upload them on another boat, row to another harbour, unload again. The work is threefold.”
“Aye. But after she nearly caught us, it ain’t safe.”
“The old man kens anyway and ne’er said a peep.”
The man dropped the barrel and wiped his forehead. “Aye he knows, and he don’t care, specially not with the whisky we give him. But the duke doesnae know.”
“The duke’s harmless. He doesnae give a tuppence ‘bout any of us.” The man set down a barrel with a groan and wiped his forehead. “I say, as long as he lets us in peace, we let him in peace.”
“Aye but e’s no fool, the duke. Logan shouldn’t have set the fire. Made the duke suspicious. Stupid thing to do anyhow. Near burnt his own bairn.”
Birdie gasped. Logan set the fire! Tommy’s father? Why on earth? She took an involuntary step back and stumbled against one crate.
The men froze immediately.
“Weel, weel, weel. What do we have ‘ere?” She whirled around, just in time for her to hear a clank. And then everything went dark.
Gabriel felt physicallyill when he saw the broken look in Birdie’s eyes. It was for the best; he told himself. It was better this way. But then, why did his heart ache when he’d heard her moan as he left the room?
“She’s better off this way,” he muttered as he paced. He tried to convince himself he was even doing her a favour.
The truth was, he’d felt a rush of icy terror when he’d seen the flames licking into the sky. When he’d realised she was inside the burning building, he had been certain he’d lost her. He hadn’t thought twice before charging after her and pulling her out of the inferno. Sudden realisation slammed into his gut. He’d go to hell and back to save her. He couldn’t bear it if something ever happened to her, if but one hair on her body got hurt. Earlier, she’d looked up at him with that gentle light in her eyes; she’d said she loved him and wouldn’t have him any other way, scars and all. The mere memory of her words caused sweat to break out on his forehead. He hadn’t felt nearly as terrified when he faced Napoleon’s entire artillery battery in all his wars combined. He’d felt an iron mantle of responsibility close over his shoulders, followed by the sick feeling of certainty that he’d doomed her. Because she lovedhim, he would end up hurting her. The irony, of course, was that to avoid causing her pain, he’d already done so. He wiped his brow with a shaky hand.
He left the room, not even knowing where his feet were leading him. He needed to make sure she was well.
She was not in the drawing room, and her room was empty. Her things were only half packed. He felt relief. Had she gone down to the village again?
He went to the library and stopped short. Birdie was not there, but the bookshelf was open. He stared at it, surprised. He’d heard about secret corridors in castles, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise him that there were some in Dunross castle as well. He peeked down the narrow stone stairs.
Birdie, of course, would’ve gone down all on her own. He swore under his breath.
As he descended the stairs, a sense of foreboding overcame him, of the kind he always felt shortly before the enemy attacked. Odd voices and sounds emerged from below. Blast it. He didn’t have his pistol. He crept between a stack of crates and the rock wall.
It looked like all the men from the village were here, lugging crates and barrels. Gabriel was shocked when he saw the reverend, McAloy, heave a sack from a skiff.
Fury rushed through him. If he’d only paid closer attention, he’d have seen the signs. How long had the old duke been dead? Five years. He hadn’t arrived here until last year. He’d been too walled up in his tower room to even notice what was going on right beneath this nose. Then Birdie had come prowling around the castle at night. Poking her nose everywhere. Refurnishing rooms—including the outer building.
The fire. Of course. It all came together.
The fire was meant to warn her away.
The entire village was complicit in smuggling, and Dunross castle was their smuggler’s den.
Chapter 19
Agroup of village men unloaded the boats and rowed them back to a large ship, which was docked outside somewhere behind a rock. Gabriel ducked lower behind a stack of crates, hoping they wouldn’t discover him.
“We could ransom ‘er,” a burly man said after he dumped a heavy crate down. Given the way the other men acted in his presence, he appeared to be the leader of the group. He had an auburn beard and a cruel look in his eyes.
“I dunno, McKenna. We should leave ‘er out of it. She’s been a good lass,” replied McAloy. The reverend looked troubled.
A bundle on the floor groaned. Gabriel strained his eyes, trying to make out the shape. With horror, he realised the bundle was not a sack, but a person.
It was Birdie! Gabriel shot out of his hiding place with a roar. “What have you done to her, you scum?”
“Weel, weel, weel.” McKenna pointed a pistol at him. “The Beast of Dunross in person.” He curtseyed in mock obeisance. “How dee do, Yer Grace. I must say I imagined ye a lot more terrifying than ye are.” He pointed the gun at Birdie. “Stay where ye are or she dies.”
