Page 38 of Much Ado About a Scot

He smiled down at her with such sweetness that her breath caught. Then he looked away and she felt as though she could breathe again until his hand came up to feather the lightest caress across her belly. “There are a few things that would draw me back here.”

She looked to him once more, daring to hope. “What are those?”

He looked away. “One of which is elusive. The other is if you are carrying my child.”

Instantly, the fantasy vanished as harsh, cold reality sent her stomach plummeting. A child? Why had she never considered the possibility of a child with him? “How could I be so careless?” She struggled in his arms, but he held tight.

“Would it be such a terrible thing?”

She pushed at his shoulders. “I should not have done this. I shouldn’t have let you—”

He reached for her.

She muttered an exclamation that was half despair, half protest as she moved farther away and reached for her chemise. She had to get dressed. Had to get back to Jamie. The fantasy was over. It was time to let him go, baby or not.

“I release you of any obligation to me. I have raised Jamie on my own. If there is a child, I will bear that burden alone.”

“Isobel.” He groaned his frustration as he slid his hand through his hair. “All of this came out wrong. What I’m saying is that I—”

“Dear God in heaven!” Isobel gasped as she stared off into the fields behind them. An odd reddish-orange light lit up the sky that had nothing to do with the dawn. “Fire.”

A flash of fire streaked across the rye fields. “Hurry!” he said.

Never in her life had she seen anyone pleat a tartan so fast. He was in it and fastening his sword to his belt before she had her dress over her head. He put her shoes before her and he tugged on her laces at the back of her gown, securing the dress enough for her to keep from tripping over the hem as they raced toward the flames.

Isobel’s heartbeat slowed. Time seemed to stand still as her worst nightmare unfolded before her. She didn’t care that the fields were on fire. She didn’t care if she lost the house or the grain. All she cared about was not losing the one thing she couldn’t live without . . . her son.

Her throat tightened. “We have to get to Jamie.”

Chapter Fifteen

Her farm was burning!

Isobel stared in disbelief as she ran along the roadway leading to the house. The fields and all the stooks of rye that they’d left to dry were being devoured by the flames. An acrid scent filled the air. Curling clouds of black smoke billowed in the early morning sky. A deathlike pall hovered over everything. The only sounds were the pounding of her and Xander’s feet and the rasp of their breathing.

A cry of despair escaped her lips as she hitched up her skirt, her feet pounding the dry ground beneath them. “Jamie’s in the house!” Why had she left him for the night? Was anyone attending her son? Had someone not put out the bonfire? Is that what had started all this? Freya and Brodie were in there, too, as well as all the workers. They had to wake them!

Xander cast her a quick glance. “We’ll get there. Jamie will be all right.” The words were thick and she recognized them for the prayer they were.

Her heart thundering in her chest, Isobel searched the stones of Gladmuir Hall ahead. No fire had touched the structure as of yet, at least none that she could see. She forced herself to run faster, despite the heat and smoke attacking her lungs and flesh. Around her, the rye burned quickly. The fire leaping from one bundle of rye to the next faster than she could race past them, all heading toward the house.

A flash of thought struck her. If the flames were heading toward the house then it couldn’t have been the bonfire that started the blaze. Something else must have started the fire.

Red-yellow flames licked the road behind them, devouring everything they touched with their ravenous tongues and lighting the sky, making it seem later in the day than it was as they neared the house. The hedge surrounding the front of the house had not yet burned. Isobel and Xander leapt past it and threw open the front door. Together they raced up the stairs.

“You get Jamie, I’ll wake Freya and Brodie,” Xander said before vanishing into the chamber nearest him.

Jamie was asleep in her bed, curled up in blissful slumber. The sight of him sleeping so soundly when danger lurked brought a catch to her throat as she lifted him into her arms.

“Mummy?” he asked sleepily.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

A moment later, Freya burst into the chamber. “A Dhia! A fire? We shall all perish.”

“Nay!” Isobel said, her voice fierce. “We are survivors. We will get through this. Now, let’s get out of the house. I need to get you both to safety.” They met Xander and Brodie in the hallway. The acrid scent of smoke was everywhere.

“Isobel, Freya, and Jamie, leave by the kitchen door,” Xander said hoarsely. “Get as far from the house as you can.”