Why couldn’t I play Ben like he had played me?
I stood up, leaned over, and held my plaid to the side so as not to drop it into a glass or plate. Ben’s eyes riveted on my breasts, which even I had to admit looked pretty lush in a miracle pushup bra and strapless silk gown. “I’m going to fetch my wrap and take a walk, get some fresh air, such a beautiful night.”
“You’ll catch your death. It’s far too cold for you to be outside in that”—he scanned my outfit, cleared his throat—“beautiful gown.”
“Don’t worry about me, Mr. MacIver. I can handle a little cold.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Suit yourself.”
I turned on my heel and headed toward the door, affecting my best catwalk stride.
Take it all in.
Smugly pleased at the sound of his footsteps behind me, I stole a backward glance. He wasn’t in the hallway. No matter, he would find me.
The hard wind bore through the glen straight into my pores, promising a storm and turning the air so bitter I swore the ancient stones in the old wall shivered. The cold was what I needed; it tempered the heat in my blood and chased my wild emotions back toward home.
The weight of a long, wool coat fell around my shoulders. “You shouldn’t be out here . . . exposed to the elements.”
“Thank you.” I looked Ben up and down as he stood there in his dress kilt, being too charming, looking too handsome for me to attempt to be the vixen I wasn’t. My heart urged me to be bold.
I opened the coat wide and pressed my body against his, wrapping it around us both. “But you will catch your death. We should at least share.”
“I can’t . . . don’t,” he protested as I nestled my face in the curve of his neck. “Ellie . . .” The sound of my name tumbled into the air, weathered and shorn.
The heat of the whisky turned against me. Longings stirred my blood, stripping away my dark intentions, leaving me honest. His hands fell warm against my skin, and his eyes held mine firm in his intense gaze.
“God knows you hold the power to redeem my gray and feckless heart or break it into ten thousand pieces. Whichever you choose, there is nothing I can do to save myself,” Ben said, and then his mouth enveloped mine.
My heart warned that it would drown me at the bottom of the ocean if I lied to myself one more time. I offered no protest.
“Ben, you’re needed in fifteen minutes.” Anna’s voice rang out over the wind whistling through the dark courtyard.
A grumble vibrated Ben’s throat. He ran his hand around the edge of my face. As his mouth found the curve of my neck, my body melted into him in response.
“Ben, are you smoking? You need to come now.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll be right there,” he yelled back.
Holding my face gently in his hands, he said, “I am for you, Ellie Jameson, and I will find a way to prove it.”
When he released me, I shook my head to indicate I didn’t want to go back in yet. I watched Ben fight the howling wind as he hurried back inside, his words repeating in my mind.
My gaze caught the movement of someone retreating into the shadows at the edge of the house. The hair on my neck and arms bristled as a dark wind, far colder than the winter air, bore through my body. I didn’t want to leave the shelter of the tall hedge but my instincts urged me to head back toward the house. My nerves and muscles tensed in preparation.
I stepped onto the path to the house, but running against the wind proved impossible. The only upside was it would take as long for the shadowy person to fight their way to me through the gale as it would for me to get back to the safety of the house.
Reaching the door, I stepped inside and shut it behind me. As I let out a relieved sigh I heard John announce, “Ben MacIver will provide our night’s first entertainment.”
The crowd applauded and I hurried to get to my seat, following close behind Ben as he strode to the front of the room. I slid into my seat just as he sat down on a stool in front of the massive window, which would have given an expansive view if not obscured by the darkness of the winter night. He placed the guitar strap over his shoulder and adjusted his microphone.
“It’s nice to be safe and warm inside with all of you tonight. The wind is whipping itself into a frenzy. If the weather grows worse, we’ll put you up here at Glenbroch.”
Everyone laughed, but I grimaced at the thought. It was becoming likely I would have to deliver on his offer as the weather shaped itself into a proper storm.
“Most of you would know this. We’ll be singing Rabbie Burns’ poem, ‘My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose.’ I’ll play the first stanza twice, once for you to get yourself ready, the second time we’ll sing together.”
My mind flew back to the first time I had heard this song, in the van, as Ben sang along in his rough-hewn timbre.
And now his gaze rested on me as he sang—the strum of his guitar and his voice the only sounds I could hear in the room. I couldn’t stop imagining what would have transpired between us had Anna not come looking for him.
The
plinks
and
thuds
of what sounded like a handful of golf balls falling on the stone patio outside the window quickly became a roar, interrupting the singing. We all turned our heads toward the outside, but there was only darkness. The wind shrieked and slammed massive globs of hail against the house, vibrating the windows and inciting a few startled exclamations from within the room.
Abruptly, the hail stopped, but the wind continued its loud complaint.
I can’t say if I saw the dark mass coming toward me before I heard the first crack or the other way around. The shaking and the explosion came nearly simultaneously.
People screamed, ran, dishes hit the floor, glass shattered, chairs fell.
Whatever came down took me down with it, and the heavy thuds on my body told me it wasn’t done falling.
Pushing and crawling forward, not sure which direction to go, I instinctively kept moving. Fear heaved itself from my gut as I headed toward a light. Wrong way. Every move entombed me deeper in the wreckage. And then, the screaming faded. Only ominous cracking and tearing sounds filled the dark, dusty air.
Which way was out?
Hands latched onto my legs, pulling me backward. I flailed my feet at the grabbing hands, not sure why my legs were fighting. My body seemed possessed of its own mind, separated from the one in my head.
“Daft woman. You have to get out.”
I recognized that voice, kicked harder.
But John MacIver’s grip held me with the same cold steel that filled his bloody veins.
I jerked his hands loose the moment we were outside. “Why did you pull me out?” I spat at him.
“Stupid fool. You are completely mad.”
“You think I’m the mad one?” My eyes widened, and a snort steamed the air. My house. Glenbroch! What had happened? Had he caused this somehow? Was anyone hurt?
“You’re insane.” I shoved him away from me, catching him off guard.
He staggered back.
“Stay away from me,” I bellowed.
Anna appeared in between us. “John, everyone is accounted for in the steading except Ben. He was next to the window, right underneath the tree as it fell. Where is he? Where is Ben?” Anna demanded, her voice rising with each word.
John visibly jerked at the barely controlled anger in her voice, blinking at her as if she were speaking gibberish.
“The guests and staff are okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” she spit the word from her mouth without turning her attention from her husband. “John!” Anna’s use of his name hit as hard as a vicious slap. “Where is Ben?”
John stared at her as if in a stupor, his words slow to come. “I thought he was out here. I caught sight of this one in there. She wasn’t coming out and I grabbed her.”
“He’s still in there. Ben is in there.” Anna’s voice rose nearly to a shriek, laced with horror. “Find him!”
Not waiting for John, I turned and ran back into the house, disregarding them both, pushing back the fear clawing at my heart. The only sounds inside were the rumblings and crashing of the house collapsing.
“Ben!” I yelled out, desperation racking my voice. Beginning to see the ruin of my home, my limbs slowed to a stop. I closed my eyes, refused to be sucked under. I had to find him! “Ben!”
A different sound—human—came from somewhere near me. I picked my way toward it. A body lay trapped under debris, a long, thick branch weighing down a pile of stones, wood, and glass covering the barely visible person.
Don’t panic. Be strong.
“Ben, it’s Ellie. I’m going to get you out. Everything is okay.”
John appeared next to me, waving a small light into the wreckage. I turned to see Jim beyond his shoulder.
“We have to get all this off him and get him out of here before more of the house caves in,” I said.
“You need to get out of here,” John yelled at me.
“I’m not going anywhere. Stop ordering me around and help me.”
Jim intervened, putting his hand on John’s shoulder. “Let’s get him out, John. Come on now.”
John shrugged his hand off and grumbled, “She shouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t have happened.”
I shook my head at him, turning away, and started removing debris. All three of us lifted the branch off Ben. He was lying on his stomach, not moving. His shirt was soaked with blood, making me dizzy. A stag’s head lay on him, and it looked as if the branch had driven its broken antlers into his back. Jim shoved John, who stood transfixed at the sight of his son, to the side and pulled the antlers out of Ben’s skin.
Pieces of the house rained down on us and a prolonged cracking sound warned that what was left of the ceiling and second floor would soon bury us all.
“We need to hurry,” I said, as a large chunk of the ceiling fell within inches. The dust swirled in the light from Jim’s lantern.
“Aye,” John said quietly.
Busy pulling debris off Ben, I barely registered John’s response. We worked together to turn Ben over, protecting his face and body with ours. Jim’s back caught a heavy board with an exposed nail as it fell, and it stuck in his shoulder. John pulled it out and tossed it to the side. Neither said a word.
Blood covered Ben’s face. Was he breathing? There was no time to find out.
Clearing debris took far too long—it kept falling—but we were able to get hold of him. We lifted Ben’s body and shuffled our way toward the front door. As we stepped through to the foyer, a mighty groan shook the air and the second floor collapsed, knocking us all to the ground.
I don’t know how much time passed before I opened my eyes. Climbing to my feet, I heard coughing and wheezing coming from the two older men. They were alive, but where was Ben? I fought back the terrible thoughts assaulting my mind.
“My torch was knocked out of my hand,” Jim said.
Scraping and sliding sounds told me he was scrambling around to find it.
“We don’t have time,” I snapped.
“Aye,” Jim said.
We grappled for Ben’s body along the floor, in the thick, black air.
“I have him,” John called out.
John’s hand found mine in the dark and he led my hand to Ben’s body. When Jim had a position as well, we picked Ben up and slowly picked our way through the debris to the outside. We used our own bodies to shield Ben’s from the screaming wind. He didn’t move or make a sound, and none of us were sure if he was breathing or if we were carrying a dead man. We were all focused on one thing: making it to the lights of the steading.
17
B
en’s face, pale and covered in dust, looked eerie. Anna ushered a woman to Ben’s side who began to check his vital signs.
“She’s a doctor from Skye,” Anna told us, her gaze distant. “It’s a good thing she chose to spend her Burns Night here. She’s examined the others. Everybody’s okay. Like me, they were sitting farther back. We had time.” Her voice sounded vacant. “He didn’t see it. His back was to the window.”
John moved to the front of the steading and stood up on the ottoman. What was he doing? His son could be dying and he was standing up on . . .
what the—
“Folks!” John’s voice rang through the steading, and all the chatter ceased. “We will make sure everyone is taken care of tonight. Anything you need. We’ll get you to our homes in the area and make sure you all have a warm bed and a hearty breakfast tomorrow. We’ll make sure your vehicles are all right and if you have any more problems because of the storm, we’ll sort you out. Everything is going to be fine.”
“Ben’s had a good knock on the head, and several cuts and bruises,” the physician said, turning to face me. “It looks like he was a lucky man. I can’t say if there are more serious injuries, but it doesn’t appear so. We do need to get some tests run and get his back stitched up. Your house, on the other hand, Ms. Jameson, is in pretty bad condition.”
I hadn’t wanted to think about Glenbroch yet, but she was right. When the tree crashed down, it took out my world. Had it been caused by the storm or had someone done this and used the storm to hide their actions? It didn’t matter right now.
The physician interrupted my thoughts. “I’ve called to arrange transport to Skye. They’ll take him to Broadford. I’ll stay with him until then.”
“Thank you.”
Ben lay too still . . . I couldn’t help but hover, in spite of knowing the physician had it handled, knowing I was in the way. Anna appeared from somewhere, took my arm, and guided me into the steading’s kitchenette. She handed me a cup of tea, her usual calm back in place.
How does she do it?
“You’re staying with us,” she declared.
“No, I need to go with Ben.”
She lifted my chin until I looked her in the eyes, said nothing for a long moment. “Yes, of course you do.”
“Are you coming too?” I asked.
“If you’re with Ben, my mind can rest easy. I’ll look after my husband and help Ben’s hired staff sort things out here. John and I will be up tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”