Chapter 31 #3
‘Mama Molly wasn’t just your nurse. She was your great-grandmother.
Your mother’s grandfather was an overseer on a sugar plantation on Nevis.
He’d always had a roving eye. Unfortunately, his wife could not bear children, but she accepted her fiancé’s love child as her own.
Your grandmother married well in Scotland and gave birth to your mother.
That’s the other reason the family were out to do away with you.
Bad blood, they said, though blood can’t get much worse than Peter and Arthur Kildare judging by their behaviour, and I can’t say much for their sisters either. A mean pair, if ever there was.’
Lochranza sat stunned. To any other young lady of refined breeding, it would seem as if the whole world had crashed around her head.
But not to her. Suddenly, she could see why she was the way she was, why she had never been able to conform to what society had expected of her.
She was her own woman and so, it seemed, her ancestors, certainly on the female side, had been much the same.
‘It’s not often one gets to speak with a dead man,’ she said to him, half-jokingly.
‘Ah! Your fiancé told you that?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. He did.’ She frowned as the reason became apparent. ‘He didn’t want me to come here. He thought I would be in danger.’
O’Neill shook his head. ‘I don’t think you will. Your father, Lord Kildare, has made sure of that. He has fingers in many pies. But you are right. MacKinnon wanted to dissuade you from coming here, then for some reason he changed his mind.’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t say why.’
For the second time that day, the door slammed open.
Two men entered holding a struggling Helen between them. Her eyes were round with fear and her mouth hung open.
A pistol was levelled at her by one man, the other aiming his at the captain. They looked surprised, obviously not expecting to see that she was not alone.
Both men smelled of salt and rank sweat, their clothes were stained, their brute faces slick with perspiration.
A cocked pistol was raised and aimed at the captain’s head.
‘If you’re wise, old man, you won’t stand in our way.’
The captain shook his head. ‘I’m too old to change.’
An icy shiver coursed down Lochranza’s back. They were here to kill her, Helen too. Thieves had broken in and killed them both. That’s how this would be. The presence of Captain Joseph O’Neill was unexpected.
Lochranza’s mind raced frantically. What could she do? How could she protect this man who had been her protector for so long? And Helen. Sweet little Helen who had been loath to come on this trip.
Time. She had to play for time. It was all she had.
Prevaricate. Keep them talking in case – just in case – help came, though it hardly seemed possible.
‘Were you paid well to dispose of us?’
One of the men laughed from the corner of his mouth. ‘Very well. We wouldn’t be doin’ this otherwise, now would we sweet lady.’
Ignoring the danger of doing so, she took a step closer to the captain.
‘Who told you to move, lady?’
The muzzle of the pistol rose until she was looking straight down the gun barrel.
‘The captain is an old man. Let him go.’
The man who’d held onto Helen let her go, throwing her into the room as though she was nothing but a bundle of rags.
She landed heavily. Lochranza swooped over her gathering her in her arms.
Her eyes blazed with fury.
‘What big brave men you are, picking on a defenceless girl!’
There was a look of finality in their sneers. A piratical glint in their eyes, like pirates about to plunder gold from a treasure chest. Only their reward would likely be in gold sovereigns paid to them by the Kildare brothers.
The captain was showing all the attributes of a man at the end of his life, gripping the arms of the chair, knees only slowly unbending.
‘Please, please. Would you really shoot two defenceless women and an old cripple like me?’
Captain Joseph O’Neill never went anywhere without a pistol tucked into his belt on one side of his body, a dagger in the other.
As for being an old cripple… Lochranza knew he was playing a part, one that would have this ugly pair believe he was no threat to their endeavours. The truth was that he still had some strength, though not as much as he’d once had.
Hugging Helen to her, she backed off behind an ornate chair of large proportions. Its padding might give them some protection. Very little, but it was worth a try.
She tugged Helen’s head against her bosom and although closing her eyes might blot out the worst of what might follow, she didn’t. In a way, keeping her eyes open and trained on the captain was all she could offer him. Right to the end.
Gradually, although his stance was submissive, arms raised like a man surrendering to whatever they would do, whatever came next. He was protecting her.
The next moment passed in smoke and explosions. A shot was fired, then another.
Lochranza held Helen’s head against her. They were now both hiding their eyes as they waited for the next shots, those that would kill them both.
‘I’m all right,’ the captain was shouting. ‘It’s only a flesh wound. Hit me in the shoulder.’
At first, she thought he was shouting at her, until she uncovered her eyes, straightened and saw there were three other men in the room.
One of the intruders lay dead on the floor. The other was pleading for his life.
A heavy arm wound around her, then dropped as though it was somehow improper.
Her heart was still hammering although relief was washing over her.
‘Ethan! What are you doing here?’
He was grim faced, jaw clenched so hard, she was sure it would break.
‘I had to come. I wanted to come. And so I’m here.’