In coming to this time to save one life they’d unknowingly put many more at risk. A rather imbalanced trade off.
A necessary one, he now knew.
In the beginning, he’d been content to let nature take its course. Accept God’s plan for them. Only for Scarlett’s peace of mind had he agreed to come to this place to change their bairn’s destiny. If he were honest with himself, Laird hadn’t been convinced it would make a difference. Especially after Emmy had guided the diminutive, dark-haired bairn from Scarlett’s womb. He’d been sure the wee, silent babe would never survive.
Then he’d held his infant daughter in his arms. So fragile, her translucent skin delicate as a butterfly wing. He’d shared his warmth with her and melted on the inside. His bonny girl had looked up at him with solemn blue eyes and he’d fallen in love. Again.
Aye, it’d been worth the risk to save her. Laird couldn’t suffer losing his wee one now. Another full day and she would be released, but no longer was her discharge all Laird needed to ease his worries. A return to the past no longer the single solution to his woes.
Scarlett might protest, claim there had to be another way, but he didn’t see it. She was correct in what she’d said about him though. It was not in him to kill in cold blood, just as he’d never fought solely for glory in the past. What he’d done, he’d done for his clan, his kin.
This was no different. Only the battlefield had changed. He would do what it took to save them all. Draw blood or spill his own.
Hugh had echoed Laird’s sentiments regarding their limited choices while they beat the heavy bag in the gym before breaking their fast. Imagining it was Jameson.
“I agree wi’ ye. Something dire maun be done. So where do we go from here? Like everyone else, I need to ken those I love are safe from this lunatic.”
Laird admired his descendant’s sense of duty, however, the significance of Laird’s future and legacy had never been so profound. His responsibility could no longer be confined exclusively to his wife and daughters. As a patriarch of sorts, the safety of each member of his newfound family fell to him. He would see them all returned to their normal lives unmolested. It was his burden and his alone to see it done.
In that, he refused to fail.
Soon enough he would have to act.
After Claire’s revealing conversation with her brother, Scarlett had taken a call from her agent. Jameson had been released without charges. Their stalker now. Not only hers. Their foe was still out there, likely close. Watching them. Awaiting his chance.
They’d all have to be on their guard. Donell was unlikely to provide ample warning. He’d proven as much.
“So, what is the plan for the day?” Connor asked after their breakfast plates were emptied.
Scarlett paused in wiping Hermione’s fingers clean. “My plans are the same as they are every day. I will be at the hospital.”
All the men at the table parted their lips in protest, but Laird quieted them with a scowl. Then turned it on his wife. “There is safety in numbers, lass. ‘Twould be best if we stayed together until we are sure of Jameson’s upcoming move.”
Bugger it, but his frown, however ferocious, never swayed Scarlett when her mind was set.
“Then I guess I know how all of you will be spending the day as well,” she retorted pertly. “Hope you had enough to eat. I know none of you like hospital food.”
More silent protests, but this time everyone’s eyes were upon Laird. Pleading. Hoping he’d reel in his wayward spouse and make her see sense.
“Lass…”
She shook her head before he could present an argument. “If you all want to hunker down here and wait like a bunch of sitting ducks for all hell to rain down on you, that’s fine with me. I’ve spent the better part of my adult life living like this and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s you can either become a recluse or face adversity with your chin held high. And believe me, they like it when you cower and I bet Jameson is no different. I refuse to give him the pleasure. Besides, this is exactly what bodyguards are for. If you don’t want to play one, I’ll just call Tyrone to do it. He’d even enjoy it.”
Nothing like having one’s manhood truncated and tossed in your face to motivate a man.
Aye, Laird knew Tyrone Halliday had often served as Scarlett’s bodyguard, but with such a sharp tongue, she needed no protection. He recalled a time when most every word from her lips had been just as waspish. When she’d been fearless and bold and every confrontation between them was akin to facing the English army across a battlefield.
The years had softened her more than he’d realized. Life here was transforming her into the Scarlett Thomas of old. While he rather liked her audacity, the sooner he got her home the better.
Before she got them all killed.
To the last, they all knew where they’d spend the day. No man worth his salt would take a set-down like that as anything less than a challenge.
Laird itched to bring his blade along for protection. Unfortunately, not only would it attract unnecessary attention, it would be useless against a modern weapon. Instead, he instructed Rhys to bring his dagger. The jeweled piece wasn’t the most lethal of weapons, but it would do in a pinch.
While the others readied themselves for the endless day ahead, Laird rummaged through Scarlett’s bag and retrieved her pistol. He tucked the gun in his waistband at the small of his back, as he’d seen on the television. He pulled his shirttail over it and added a sport coat to disguise it more thoroughly then slipped an extra magazine into his pocket.
Hopefully he wouldn’t shoot himself in the arse before the day was done.
