She had to get past the fact that he had been Albert’s guardian for many years before the man had reached his adulthood. Emily did not think there was any great affection there but the man felt as if he had a duty to Albert. What she needed to do was make him remember that he had a larger duty to his other family as well. It was shrinking every day through Albert’s need to be rid of anyone who stood in his way or worked to make his goal more difficult to reach. Perhaps she should even mention how, once he was rid of all the other obstacles to his goal, he would start eyeing the duke himself. Her grandfather was not so very old and could live a number of years yet. That would shortly begin to annoy Albert.
As she composed the letter in her mind she had to smile. The words she thought of had a bite to them but it was past time for such a snappish tone. Now Albert was showing a willingness to kill off anyone who offered help.
Emily nodded and went and rang the bell. Mrs. O’Neal came up a few moments later carrying a tray with some cider and food. One look at the food was enough to remind Emily that she was hungry.
“Thank you kindly,” she said as the tray was set on the table. “I had not asked for food but now find I need some.”
“I thought you might. What did you want then?”
“Paper and a pen. I need to write a letter to my grandfather. I hope to finally get him to act on this. It is far past time he accepted that the boy he cared for for years is a killer.”
“You said he didn’t heed you before. Why would he now?”
“Because I am going to put aside all thought of his position and speak to him as a man whose pigheadedness is costing too many people their lives.”
Mrs. O’Neal smiled. “Be right back with that paper and pen.”
Chapter Seventeen
Wincing, Emily shifted in her seat so that she could rub away the painful twinge in her back. Sitting in a hard chair for three days was beginning to cost her but she knew she would not relinquish her place at Iain’s bedside. Her hatred for Albert, the anger she felt, was a poison that churned inside her but she could do nothing about it. The man still lived and that only added to her anger. It was just wrong that a man like him continued to have such good luck.
How had Albert known the MacEnroys were coming for him? Matthew’s explanation was the only one that still held. It was hard to accept that mere chance and bad luck had been what had brought Iain to this bed, unconscious for three long days. Emily supposed she would have to accept that unknowingly she had been the one to cause Albert to set that trap. Somehow he had seen her and known that she had seen him and acted on that alone to prepare for Iain’s arrival in town.
Iain gave a soft groan and she tensed, watching him closely. There was movement behind his eyelids and she felt her hopes rise. His wound had not festered, was not considered serious despite how it had bled as if an artery had been opened, but it was a head wound. There was no ignoring the fact that no one really knew what damage could be done. Emily had not needed to hear all the horrific stories Mrs. O’Neal had told her to know that head wounds were dangerous. She clasped her hands together and watched his face, silently praying that this time that groan meant he was waking up.
* * *
Iain struggled to open his eyes. His head ached, a dull throb much like the one that lingered after a fierce headache. As the fog of a too deep sleep cleared from his mind, he began to remember. Albert had been expecting them to ride into town. If not for the well-armed locals in the saloon leaping to their defense he and his brothers might have died. He then realized he had absolutely no memory of his brothers getting out of the saloon safely.
He opened his eyes then groaned as the light seared them. He caught a movement to his left and then saw Emily run to the window and yank the curtains shut. Iain took several deep breaths and let them out slowly as he fought to soften the pain something as simple and welcome as sunlight had caused. Then he realized he was thirsty, his throat as dry as a desert.
“Water?” he asked, startled by the croak of sound he produced. Just how long had he been asleep?
Emily hurried to get him a glass of water then slipped her arm beneath his head to lift it just enough for him to drink. He nearly finished the whole glass before the strength needed for that simple chore fled and he slumped. She eased his head back down on the pillows and set the glass on the table.
“My brothers?” he asked, pleased to hear that though his voice was weak, it sounded almost normal now.
“They are all fine. A few bruises from leaping over the bar and then dragging your carcass around. You were the one most badly injured. They feared that you had been shot in the head but it appears you narrowly escaped that fate. The bullet just skimmed across your skull. According to Mrs. O’Neal, your very thick skull.”
“The woman adores me.”
“Of course she does. It is quite evident.”
He wanted to laugh but feared it would hurt. “Knocked me out.”
“And that probably saved your life. According to Matthew, everyone was aiming at you. You dropped like a stone soon after that bullet grazed you so they all thought they had hit you and finished you.”
“How did my brothers escape unharmed?”
“Well, it appears the locals do not care much for Albert and his friends, old and new. I did not realize so many people went about armed to the teeth in this country.” She shook her head. “Anyhow, they all shot back at Albert and his men and that allowed your brothers to grab you and run. Several of Albert’s men were killed or injured before he got himself out of there. Matthew believes Albert was hit, too, but the man still ran out.”
“I cannae understand how he knew we were coming in.”
“Despite how much I dislike the man I have to admit that he is clever. Always has been. I suspect he heard about me being in town. Actually, Matthew thinks he might have seen me looking out of Mabel’s, caught a reflection in the bank window. But once he was sure I had been in town and figured I must have seen him, too, it was highly possible you and your brothers would come looking for him. So he planned for it. Very carefully. Matthew found out all the men round here spent a lot of time in the saloon so he had obviously decided that was the best place to lay a trap for you.”
“Damn. Wily bastard.”
“Oh, yes, most certainly. Wily, sly, conniving, and all other such ills you can think of.”
