Abruptly, he became aware of two things. One, neither he nor Malcolm were going to be able to get to the child in time. They couldn’t simply dive into the water for fear of capsizing the whole boat and losing all the children. Two, he realised that Jennifer was actually swimming frantically towards them, shouting, ‘Leave her to me.’
Seconds later, she managed to grab hold of the child who promptly clung to her rescuer like a limpet. ‘Not so tight,’ Jennifer gasped, trying to keep them both afloat.
‘Keep the boat steady,’ Brendon yelled, as he watched the two of them go under for the second time. Without hesitation, Malcolm held the oars firmly in the water. ‘Go,’ he bellowed.
Brendon quickly laid his own oars on the deck, shrugged off his jacket and slid over the side, reaching Jennifer and the girl in two powerful strokes. ‘Ah hae her,’ he panted to Jennifer. ‘Get tae the boat, sweetheart.’ The endearment came out naturally, but he didn’t have time to question his idiocy. Instead, he boosted her towards the side of the boat, holding the child close to him with his other hand. ‘Careful,’ he warned when the young woman reached out to grip the edge of the boat. ‘She’ll overturn if ye tryand climb aboard. Hang on tae the side.’ Sliding the now silent child in front of him, he pushed her next to Jennifer. ‘Hold tight,’ he ordered, then swam round to the other side of the boat.
With the weight more evenly spread, he was able to heave himself aboard. ‘Hold on tae yer seats,’ he instructed the rest of the children who were staring wide eyed at the drama unfolding in front of them. Seconds later, he carefully pulled the girl back into the boat, bundling her into a blanket, before leaning over the side again to a now shivering Jennifer.
‘Are ye gaunnae be makin' a habit o’ this?’ he muttered, as he wrapped her in his jacket.
‘Th-the man,’ Jennifer stuttered. Brendon looked towards the shore.
‘He be gaun.’
‘Nooo,’ she moaned. ‘He’s going to tell MacFarlane. We need to stop him.’
Without further probing,’ Brendon scanned the Lochside, finally catching sight of the man running along the path towards the MacFarlane Keep. ‘Ah willnae catch the bastart in time,’ he grated, frustration and fear in his voice.
‘Jennifer!’They turned towards the unexpected shout.
‘It’s Peter!’ The young woman’s voice was almost a sob and Brendon knew she was coming to the end of her tether. He looked over towards the shore where, unbelievably, Peter Sinclair was sitting astride a horse, Fergus dancing beside him.
‘We hae her,’ the steward bellowed. ‘She be safe.’ He risked standing up to point towards the fleeing figure.
‘Ye need tae stop him ma lord. He be headin’ fer the MacFarlane.’ For a second, he thought the Viscount hadn’t heard him, but then he gave a nod and, guiding his horse away from the shore, took offafter the traitor, the wolfhound hard at the horse’s heels.
Moments later, they watched as Peter reached the footman, leapt off his horse and felled the man with one blow.
‘Show off,’ muttered Jennifer with a sniff.
‘Have ye all quite finished.’ Malcolm’s strained voice came from the front of the boat. ‘I think my arms are about tae seize up.’
∞∞∞
‘Do you think Duncan MacFarlane will succeed?’ Peter asked.
Brendon nodded. ‘He seemed sure o’ his support. An’ it’s nae a secret that Alistair MacFarlane be daft in the heid. Ah doot there’ll be much fightin’.
‘And there will be no reprisals?’ Peter Sinclair asked, relief clearly evident in his voice.
‘Ah dinnae think so, ma lord. Though Duncan MacFarlane’ll no doot be waitin’ on his grace’s public acknowledgement.’
The Viscount sighed and sagged back into his seat.
‘We dare not let down our guard until we hear fer sure,’ Malcolm reminded Peter.
‘Be it time fer a wee dram yet?’ Dougal croaked theatrically. ‘Ma throat feels like it’s gaunnae close up.’
‘Well, that’s a blessing if ever there was one,’ declared the Reverend.
They were all gathered in the small sitting room. It was late, but no one could even think about retiring for bed. It was also more than a little overcrowded, especially as both Fergus and Flossy were curled up together in front of the fire.
Slowly the full sequence of events unfolded as each person added their part of the story.
The children had been put into the capable hands of MacNee and Mrs. Darroch. After a hot meal they had all been bedded down in one of the stables, though the housekeeper declared she would be organising baths first thing on the morrow. Finn had proved a capable assistant, taking time to reassure each of the children, and of course, living proof that they hadn’t all come to another such as the MacFarlane.
What exactly would be done with the bairns was a decision for another day.
