“Wee Stu is trapped inside!” Essie’s voice carried shrilly above the roar of the fire and panicked voices. “The smoke may have already choked him!”
Nausea washed over Fiona. The cook was right. Even from a distance, the oily smoke burned the lungs. Up close, it would be poisonous. She kept passing buckets though. They couldn’t stop. Not until the blaze was doused.
More shouting drew her attention then. The lads had arrived with the wheelbarrows. Now, along with pails of water and wet sacks, they had something else to fight the flames. Men startedshoveling the dirt, tossing it onto the kitchen roof. However, smoke was now billowing from the open doorway.
“Ailean’s been gone too long.” Kylie’s voice cut through the din. Fiona twisted to see that the laird’s wife had joined them, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her brown hair wild around her face. “Someone has to—”
At that moment, a tall figure erupted from the kitchen, a small, limp figure in his arms. The now smoking sacking over his head and shoulders fell away as Ailean staggered across the cobbles.
Relief gusted out of Fiona, the sensation so strong that her knees wobbled.
Taking another pail of water, she didn’t hand it on this time. Instead, she broke out of the line and rushed over to where Ailean sank to his knees at the bottom of the steps leading up to the tower house. Coughing violently, he lowered Stu to the ground.
The lad was unconscious, his face pale. But he was breathing.
Dropping to her knees next to them, Fiona scooped up water in her hands from the pail and splashed it upon Stu’s face. She then rolled him onto his side, away from the fire and the worst of the smoke. He needed to drag fresh air into his lungs.
“He was lying on his pallet in the spence,” Ailean wheezed. “The smoke must have gotten to him.” Reaching out, he grabbed the boy’s hands, rubbing them. “Come on, lad … wake up!”
A heartbeat followed, while chaos raged around them—and then Stu’s eyelids flickered.
He began to cough.
“That’s it!” Ailean gently slapped and rubbed the lad’s heaving back. “Breathe!”
Relief barreled into Fiona then. Sitting back on her heels, she realized that people had clustered around them. Essie. Carrie.Tay. And some of the other kitchen servants, their faces all strained with worry.
“He’ll be all right.” Ailean waved them away. “Return to the line … we’re not out of the woods yet.”
And they weren’t.
The dirt was helping, but the flames that still devoured the bakehouse hadn’t yet finished wreaking havoc. They couldn’t let it spread.
Ailean turned to Fiona then, their gazes locking. “Stay with Stu … make sure all is well,” he said, his voice rough from inhaling smoke. “I need to rejoin the others.”
Fiona nodded. “I will.”
“What caused the fire?”
Stu’s voice was raspy, weak, yet his eyes were wide as he gazed at the smoldering ruin of the bakehouse and the smoking kitchen roof. The dirt they’d thrown on had put out the flames.
“Who knows, lad,” Ailean replied, reaching out and placing a hand on his thin shoulder. “We always keep the fire in there burning overnight … but something might have rolled out.” He paused then, shaking his head. “Sometimes, all it takes is an errant spark.” His attention slid to the blackened roof of the kitchen.
The dirt had arrived just in time; they’d managed to save that building at least. However, the smoke damage was serious, and the roof itself would need to be completely rebuilt.
“The important thing is … that no one was hurt,” Fiona said then. “Ye had us all worried, lad.”
“Aye,” Ailean agreed roughly, glancing over at her. She stood to Stu’s right, her wild blonde curls a halo around her face. Warmth ignited in his chest as his gaze lingered on her. She’d been a great help, arriving when she had with the water and helping him rouse Stu.
He appreciated her practical approach. Her steadiness and lack of panic. Fiona wasn’t a lass to stand by, wringing her hands and wailing. No, she was one to get stuck in and help.
“Come, lad.” Essie approached then, her usually harsh features blunted by exhaustion. “Let’s find ye somewhere to bed down indoors.”
Stu nodded, but not before he cast Ailean a look that reminded him of an adoring puppy.
“Ye have an acolyte there,” Lyle noted as he approached. Like Ailean, his brother was sweaty and dusted in ash. His short dark hair was singed at the ends, as were his eyebrows.
Ailean snorted. “Aye? If only ye had looked at me that way.”
