Page 60 of The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (Kilgannon #2)

TWENTY-FOUR

T he house rocked with noise. The battle cry had been legitimate, for I saw Dougall and other MacGannons, Macleans with them, but there were Mountgarden men mixed in as well, fighting alongside the Scots.

I watched some of the guards on the drive lay down their weapons as the yard filled with kilted men.

Those who did not surrender did not live long, and soon the rest were raising their hands in submission.

But I did not see Alex again. I raised the window and leaned out, calling Dougall, but the noise below drowned out my voice.

From inside the house we could hear shouts and thumps and an occasional shot, and then both Henrietta and I turned from the window as the door behind us opened. The guard entered, closing the door behind him, his eyes wild. The man stood with his back to the door and stared at us. We stared back.

At the sound of running feet in the hallway, we all turned to face the door.

The guard raised his weapon, a pistol, and took a knife from his belt to hold in his other hand.

The footsteps stopped and there was the sound of the bolt being shot on the door.

The guard ran to the door then, shouting and pounding on the wood, and when there was no answer he turned to look at Henrietta and me.

“We’re locked in,” he said unnecessarily.

I turned to the window again, but dusk had fallen and I could see little.

I leaned out and saw torches were being lit on the far side of the drive.

As they were held high, I could see Dougall standing over men who were being bound.

The fighting was finished at the front of the house. “Dougall!” I screamed. “Dougall!”

He looked up at me and grinned as he crossed the yard. “We’ll be with ye shortly, Mary. Thanks for the plaid. We ken where ye are and we’ll be there, but first we have some mopping up to do.”

“Alex?” I called, but Dougall had gone into the house and I got no answer. I turned to find the guard looking over my shoulder. “Did you come in here to protect us?” I asked.

He snorted. “I came in here to escape. I can hear what’s going on downstairs. They’ll butcher me. They’re Scots.”

Before I could argue with him we heard a man shouting my name. I ran to the door while the guard moved to stand behind me. The voice was muffled and I closed my eyes as I listened and prayed. His voice came closer and then he was in the hallway. “Mary!”

I opened my eyes and smiled. “Alex!” I called and pounded on the door. “Alex!”

“Mary?” Alex was on the other side of the door. The bolt was pulled and the latch tried but it must have been locked as well. “Mary, are ye aright, lass?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

He tried the door again and cursed in Gaelic. “Get yerself back, Mary Rose,” he said and waited a moment. “Are ye away? ”

“Yes,” I said. The door slammed inward with a splintering crash, Alex’s left foot still on the lock, his sword in his right hand.

He hopped as he regained his balance and then stood in the doorway looking at me and then behind me.

I had already started moving toward him, but he held up a hand to stop me.

I watched as his expression hardened and followed his gaze to see the guard pointing his pistol at Alex. I screamed.

“Dinna scream, Mary Rose,” Alex said, his voice very calm while he kept his eyes on the guard. “The man’s nervous enough.” He gestured to his right. “Move aside, lass, get out of the way.”

“He thinks you’ll kill him,” I said breathlessly as I moved back. The baby wailed in Henrietta’s arms, but none of us paid attention. Alex’s eyes never left the guard.

“I just might do that. It depends on what he does,” he said.

“I have the gun, Scot,” said the guard, his tone deep.

“Aye, and the advantage,” said Alex, taking a half step into the room. Behind him I could hear footsteps stopping abruptly at the doorway. “Ye could kill me before I got to ye. I’m well aware of that, Englishman.”

Alex took another half step forward and the guard backed away.

Alex moved forward again. Will came through the doorway and stood behind Alex, his eyes on the guard and a pistol in his hand.

The guard sighted down the barrel, his pistol aimed at Alex’s heart.

I stepped forward to stop him as his finger moved to the trigger, but I need not have.

Will, with one swift movement, lifted his gun beside Alex’s shoulder.

And fired. The guard fell at once, his pistol clattering to the floor.

I screamed. Henrietta screamed. And the baby wailed.

“He’s all right, Mary,” Will said. “Alex is all right. ”

Suddenly the room was crowded with men who got between Alex and me, MacGannons, weapons drawn, calling my name and his and asking what had happened. But all I could see was Alex and his face as he reached for me.

“Mary,” he said hoarsely and opened his arms. I was in them before the sound of my name died in the room.

“Mary Rose. Thank God.” He spoke in Gaelic then, without regard to our audience, saying words of love that I had waited so long to hear.

I laughed and cried, touching his face and his chest and his shoulders, trying to convince myself he was real and not just another vision.

“Alex,” I sobbed, clutching him to me. “Alex.”

He leaned over me, his face against my hair. “Are ye aright, lass? Are ye aright?” I nodded.

“Are you all right, my love? I thought he would shoot you.”

Alex laughed and nodded at my brother. “Not while yer brother’s at my elbow, lass.” He looked at Will. “Ye were braw, Lowell. Remind me to take ye with me when I go into battle. Yer a grand champion.” Will laughed, pleased.

“Oh, Will,” I said, throwing myself at him. “You saved Alex’s life. You might have been killed!”

My brother shook his head, but welcomed my embrace. “He was aiming at Alex, Mary. All I did was stop him.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said, clasping him to me. “You are wonderful. You were so quick, so calm.”

“So accurate,” Alex laughed.

Will beamed and released me, gesturing to Alex.

“It was him in danger. As always. Damned Scot,” he laughed.

“And do ye not admire my knees, lass?” Will’s accent was, as always, terrible.

I blinked at him and then realized what he meant.

He was dressed in Highland clothing, complete with kilt and plaid and bonnet and a sword in his belt.

He laughed at my expression. “It was Alex’s idea.

The Duke of Grafton does not burst into people’s houses, but a Scot can and no one is surprised. ”

“Told ye,” Alex laughed, then reached for me again. “Did Webster harm ye, Mary Rose?” he asked as his arms enfolded me.

“No, my love,” I said, leaning to look into his face. “But he told me you had drowned.” I stroked his cheek. “You’re not dead. Oh, Alex. You’re not dead.”

He laughed. “Not the last time I looked, lass, although there have been days lately when I couldna tell ye for sure. I came close enough to drowning for the report to be true.” He pulled me to him again and I tightened my grip on him.

“Mary,” he said, his lips against my ear.

“Oh, lass, I thought to never see ye again. ’Tis a miracle to have found ye. ”

“Are the boys safe?” I asked, looking from Alex to my beaming brother. “Are they all right? Where are they?”

“Safe and sound aboard the Mary Rose , lass,” said Alex. “With a guard of thirty clansmen and wee Donald in charge. No one will get his hands on my sons,” he said grimly, “unless it’s me.”

Dougall appeared in the doorway then and nodded at me before turning to Alex. “Hello, Mary. I see yer well.” I smiled. “All is quiet downstairs, Alex. They’re waiting for ye.”

The baby whimpered, and Henrietta, still cradling him, peeked out from behind the clansmen. “I’ll be down soon, Dougall,” Alex said. “I’ve more important things to do now,” he said, clasping me to his chest again and giving me a hearty kiss.

Dougall grinned as he left. “When yer ready, chief, we’ll be waiting.” He gestured to the men and the room emptied.

Alex released me with a smile and we turned together to Henrietta. At my nod she handed the baby into Alex’s arms as Alex smiled with joy. “Your son, my love,” I said.

“Aye,” Alex said softly as he held the baby’s cheek to his own.

The baby whimpered again and Alex rocked him.

“Whist, laddie, dinna fret. Hush now. It’s yer da, come to find ye.

All is well.” He kissed the baby’s head.

“Hello, my son,” he said in Gaelic. “Welcome to the world.” Alex looked up at me, his eyes shining. “What’s his name, Mary Rose?”

“Alexander Robert Harold Lowell Keith MacGannon. I’ve been calling him Little Alex.”

Will laughed. “She has not. She’s been calling him ’the baby.’ I told her to call him Robbie.” Alex looked from Will to me. “After his grandfather,” Will said softly. “As your Ian is named after his. My father will be remembered in your son.”

“Robbie,” Alex said quietly and exchanged a long look with Will while I held my breath.

“Yer father. Aye,” Alex said at last and nodded, his decision made.

“We’ll call him Robbie, lass, if ye will.

One Alex is quite enough in this family.

” He shifted the baby and smiled at him.

“Welcome, Robbie MacGannon,” he said in Gaelic, and then looked up at me, his eyes very blue. “Mary Rose, we have a bonnie son.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Alex laughed and leaned to kiss me. “Speechless, aye? Well, I’m glad to know I can still render ye such.” He looked around the room, then grinned. “Let’s get out of here, aye?” And Will laughed.