Page 61 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“I am Lady Mackenzie,” she said, then wished at once she had thought of something less foolish.

Of course the woman knew who she was. Everyone knew that she was the reason danger had perhaps come nearer, though no one said so. Catriona looked at her.

Elspeth clasped her hands tightly before her. “I didnae ken yer husband. But I am very sorry fer yer loss. If there is anything ye need that hasnae already been given, I would ask ye tae tell me.”

The widow’s gaze flickered to Colin, then back to her.

“The laird has seen tae more than we asked,” Catriona whispered.

“I am glad,” Elspeth answered softly. “Still, grief shouldnae have tae ask properly before it is answered.”

Catriona nodded once. “Thank ye, me lady.”

Behind them, the villagers gathered at a respectful distance. Elspeth felt their attention, not pressing, but present. They watched Colin with trust so old it did not need to announce itself. They watched her with something newer, uncertain and waiting.

Colin’s hand came lightly to the small of her back. The touch lasted only a moment. Still, it steadied her.

They remained with Catriona a little longer. Colin spoke to the older women about firewood and the funeral. Elspeth listened, learning the names of those who would sit with the widow through the night, those who would bake, those who would mend the roof before colder weather came.

When they turned toward the small gathering of people, the little girl from earlier appeared again and offered Elspeth half of the sweet Colin had given her. Elspeth stared down at the sticky fragment in the child’s palm.

“Fer ye,” the girl said. “Because ye are the laird’s lady.”

The words struck more deeply than they should have done.

Elspeth crouched and accepted it as if it were a jewel. “Thank ye.”

The child smiled and ran off. She looked toward the children near the well, toward Catriona’s cottage and the people already quietly gathering around it.

Then she looked back at him. He was almost smiling.

And then, someone screamed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The sound tore through the village like a blade through cloth. Colin moved before thought finished forming. His hand caught Elspeth’s wrist and pulled her behind him as his gaze swept the lane. Another scream came, this time from the eastern side of the village, followed by a shout.

“Fire!”

The word changed everything. Men ran, while women cried out from doorways. Children were seized by older hands and pulled back from the lane. Smoke rose above the roofs, black and sudden against the gray sky.

Colin released Elspeth only to point toward the old well. “Stay there.”

Her eyes flashed. “Colin?—”

“Now.”

Perhaps something in his voice reached sense before pride could argue. She turned and ran toward the well where two olderwomen gathered the children. Colin did not wait to see if she obeyed fully. He was already running.

The storehouse stood near the edge of the village, a long low building of stone and timber where grain sacks, dried meat, root stores, and winter provisions were kept when households had more than they could safely hold. Smoke poured from the front. Flames licked greedily along the thatch and through the gaps beneath the roof.

It all happened too quickly, and Colin knew that fire did not take so quickly in damp weather unless invited.

One of the villagers reached him, having come from the far side of the lane with three men at his back.

“The doors are barred from outside,” the man said breathlessly.

Colin’s blood went cold.