Chapter 17
Every year the sluice leading from the River Wye needed to be cleaned of weeds and debris to ensure that the fields were properly irrigated. At intervals, wooden dams were erected in the channel, each successive board adding height and consequently slowing the flow of water.
The frames in which the boards fit needed to be replaced from time to time, since they swelled from being in the water constantly.
Ned was repairing a section just off the river, where the current ran swiftly.
Riona was helping, as were several other women, by carrying the baskets of silt away from the sluice and onto the newly cultivated west fields.
She was glad that James wasn’t there. The work wasn’t prettily done. Her oldest shoes squished with water, and the front of her dress was filthy. Add to that the fact that her hair had come undone once again and her braid was muddy.
Women moved in a line from the sluices to the west field, each bent under the weight of her basket. Riona joined them again, preferring to stay busy rather than think about James’s errand.
He’d gone to visit with Gorman McDermott.
Something about plans for a river barge, she’d heard her mother say.
She doubted the excuse. Gorman’s daughters were of a marriageable age, and he’d be a fool to ignore a prime candidate for a son-in-law in James.
She didn’t doubt that Rosalie and Caroline had pleaded with their father to think of some reason for James to come to their home.
“Riona?”
She glanced up, realized she was next in line, and gave her basket to one of the men dredging the sluice on the other side of the dam. Ned was hammering the top board into position, softly muttering to himself as the frame, swollen and waterlogged, refused to budge.
Riona was returning from the field when she saw the commotion. The line of women disintegrated into a group crowding around the dam. She pushed her way forward.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Ned. He’s gone and gotten his arm trapped.”
Ned’s face was pale, his body half in and out of the rushing water. “Get the mallet, lad,” he said, directing another, younger man. “I dropped the fool thing when the board slipped.”
Riona threw her basket down and knelt on the side of the sluice. “How can I help, Ned?”
“Get a wedge from the smith. A long bar that we can use to lever up part of the dam. My arm’s caught between two boards.” The effort of speaking was evidently costing him.
She nodded and stood. The journey back to the farm was uphill, and she held up her skirts and ran.
There was no one in the smithy, but she looked around for something that would act as a lever. Finally, she found it, hanging next to the door. A long flat iron bar that she remembered was used to help change the wheels on the wagons.
She grabbed it and began retracing her path when she heard the sound of hooves. Turning, she saw James riding into the yard. She flagged him down by waving both arms in the air.
The moment he halted his mount she was beside him. “James,” she said, breathlessly, “you must come and help Ned.” Quickly, she explained what had happened.
He dismounted, leaving his horse in front of the barn, and accompanied her back to the sluice.
Quickly, he surveyed the situation, then removed his jacket. Taking the bar from her, he jumped into the river. A second later, he disappeared from sight beneath the surface. It was only then that Riona realized the water level was rising.
Ned was paler than he’d been earlier, the thinness of his lips now rimmed with a bluish line. She knelt at his side, then lowered herself into the water, shivering at the chill.
“What do you think you’re doing, lass?” Ned asked, but his voice had lost its edge.
“Helping you,” she said shortly. She drew closer, using both hands on his back to push him gently upright. The current seemed to be getting stronger, and the water level was at his chin. If James couldn’t free him, Ned might drown.
James surfaced, whipping his head back. “Can you hold on for another few minutes, Ned? I’ve nearly got the board free.”
“Do I have a choice?” Ned answered, the surliness of his answer reassuring Riona as nothing else.
She exchanged a smile with James over his shoulder.
He disappeared below the surface of the water again, and a second later she heard a muffled oath from Ned. One end of the board came free, bobbing to the surface.
Riona moved to his side, following his sleeve below the water.
“Can you release your arm, Ned?”
“I would if I could feel it, lass,” he said.
His arm was lying limply on the board. Gently, she pulled on his sleeve as James looked on from the other side of the dam.
“Is he free?”
“Yes,” she said.
Ned moved, a grimace shadowing his face. “I’m out of my trap, right enough,” he said. “But fool that I am, I’ve gone and broken my arm.”
James scrambled up the bank, coming to the other side of the dam. He knelt, holding out his hand for her.
Riona shook her head. “Help Ned first.”
“I’ll help Ned after you,” he said firmly.
“You’re a very stubborn man, James MacRae,” she said, frowning at him.
“And you, Miss McKinsey, are my equal in resolve.”
She gripped his hand and he pulled her out of the sluice. Her feet began to slip on the muddy incline, but James wrapped one hand around her waist and drew her closer to him.
A slight breeze pressed her sodden skirts against her legs, outlining them. Her bodice clung to her torso, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Riona wished, suddenly, that her stays were made of leather, instead of canvas. They might have been some protection against his quick-shuttered gaze.
James bent and retrieved his coat from where he’d left it on the bank and put it around her shoulders.
“You’ll catch cold,” he said, not quite looking at her.
She crossed her arms over her chest, grabbing the lapels of his jacket close to her.
“So will you.”
He shook his head as if to negate her comments.
James climbed down the bank to help Ned out of the sluice. A cheer arose from the women still watching them. The sound made Riona turn and frown at the assembled throng, wondering if they, too, were fascinated with James MacRae. Or was it simple relief they felt?
Ned’s right arm hung from his shoulders, his hand nearly blue.
“I’ve no time for an injury,” he said angrily. “How am I to get everything done that I need to do with a broken arm? You might as well shoot me like you would a horse.”
“I’ll help,” James offered.
“Oh you will, will you? I’m thinking you should get yourself gone from here as fast as you can.”
He and James exchanged a look.
“Did you finish your errand at Mr. McDermott’s house?” she asked casually as she helped Ned tuck his hand into the placket of his shirt. The arm would hurt less that way, but it still needed to be set quickly before the injury swelled.
“I did.”
Nothing more than that. No comment about Rosalie or Caroline, or even McDermott’s farm. She glanced at him.
The look on James’s face was suddenly indifferent, almost unfriendly, almost as if he were a stranger. Was this the man who’d kissed her so passionately only days before?
Or about whom she’d lusted only minutes earlier?
She was reminded of the day after he’d first arrived at Tyemorn Manor, when he’d adopted a similar attitude toward her. Was that behavior then and now designed to keep distance between them?
Turning, she led the way back to the manor house, the two men silent behind her.
Ned uttered no word of complaint, and from time to time, Riona would turn and look at him.
Other than a tight expression around his lips, there was no indication that he was in pain.
He was, like the rest of them, soaked and no doubt chilled.
“What on earth happened?” Susanna said, rushing out of the kitchen door. Taking in Ned’s disheveled appearance, she clucked her tongue and frowned at him. “What have you gone and done, you foolish man?”
“That’s what I need,” Ned said, “a lecture. Do you think I broke my arm just to irritate you?”
They exchanged a look, a slight smile finally coming to Susanna’s face.
“Whether or not you planned it, you old goat, I have to treat you. As my patient, you’ll do as I say.”
“I will, will I?” Ned’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
Riona had the distinct impression that they might have said more to each other if she and James had not been present. She stepped aside as Ned entered the kitchen door.
She glanced at James. “Why do I think he is not nearly as upset with her as he sounds?”
“No man likes to admit his weakness,” James said. “Least of all someone like Ned, who hides behind a gruff exterior.”
“What about you, James? Do you dislike displaying your weaknesses? Or do you have any?”
Once again his face was shuttered, his glance almost unfriendly. An irritation, that look. No doubt he was far more charming to Mr. McDermott’s daughters.
“How are Rosalie and Caroline? Did you find them in good health?”
“Excellent health. They are very charming women.”
“Are they?” she said coolly. “Perhaps you’ll be seeing more of them in the future.”
“Are you jealous?” He looked amazed.
Her laughter sounded brittle even to her own ears. “I have no right to be.”
“I am,” he said. Words that were perhaps better left unspoken. “I am, Riona. I can’t think of another man kissing you or touching you.”
“Don’t, James. Please.” How adroitly he’d turned their conversation.
“You shouldn’t stand there in those wet garments, Riona,” Susanna said from the open door.
“Or you, James,” Riona said, just now realizing that his clothing did little to conceal his physique.
There was something almost delightfully wicked about the male anatomy. Not only was his chest outlined in magnificent detail, but other portions of him as well, protruding and obvious.
She glanced upward to find that James’s smile had deepened, but there was a new heat in his gaze.
Her cheeks warmed. She slipped off the jacket and handed it to him, thanking him.