Page 59 of The Major's Mistake
“Look at her gown! It’s nought but a rag. And she don’t live with you.” He was beginning to regain his bravado. “I tell you, it’s a hum.” He took another step forward.
“The reasons for our current arrangements are of no concern to the likes of you, but rest assured the lady is my wife and if you touch her, you—and your underlings—are dead men.”
Scofield swallowed convulsively while Gibbs shuffled nervously from foot to foot.
“Maybe we should talk things over,” said Scofield. “There’s still plenty left in the jug and besides, they ain’t going nowhere.”
Seeing that his support was in danger of ebbing away, McTavish allowed himself to be convinced. “Very well, but I’ll see them tied up in any case. You!” He pointed to one of the men at the edge of the fire. “Fetch some rope and bind their hands.”
The fellow rose reluctantly and returned with a length of rough hemp. After cutting into two lengths with one of the cooking knives, he did as he was told.
“Bring them over here.” McTavish pointed to a place hard up against a slab of rock and some distance from the warmth of the fire. Miranda was able to walk on her own, but Julian didn’t have the strength to get to his feet. The man had to drag him over to the spot.
“Rip out my heart,” said McTavish as he glowered over the marquess’s prostrate form. “Why, you don’t look so mighty now, Your bloody Lordship.” As he finished, he took back his booted foot and delivered a vicious kick to the injured leg.
Julian bit back a scream. His head spun in a haze of pain, then everything went black.
Fourteen
Miranda also bit back a cry, one of outrage rather than pain. She realized she must keep both her wits and her emotions together if she was to find some way to extricate the two of them from this nightmare. Drawing a steadying breath, she turned her gaze to Julian. He had clearly lost consciousness and his labored breathing sounded too shallow for her liking. Worse, the patch of blood on his breeches was spreading noticeably. She could hardly bear to imagine what lay beneath the torn buckskin.
Tears welled up but she forced herself not to dwell on how badly he was hurt. What mattered now was to find a way to get him the help he needed.
She twisted her hands against her bonds. At least she had a start, she thought grimly. The man who had bound her wrists had whispered a caution not to struggle so that he could leave the rope as badly tied as possible. Indeed, it was loose.
Loose enough for her to work the skirts of her gown around so that her fingers could just about reach into one of the pockets. Miranda fumbled for the canvas packet and was finally able to extract it on the third try. She got the strings undone andsearched within the folds for the thin scalpel. The razor sharp blade cut through the knots in a trice.
As the rope fell away, she studied how things were. It was impossible to slip away unnoticed, even if she wished to. Rocks hemmed her in from behind and on both sides. Straight ahead was the fire, with the group of men now finishing a meager meal and exchanging muted conversation. Beyond them, in a small group to themselves, were McTavish and his two underlings. The jug had indeed reappeared and it was been passed around with increasing frequency.
Her mouth tightened. There seemed precious little she could do, despite her freedom. Then her eyes fell on the pistol that McTavish had flung at Julian’s leg. It lay unretreived in the shadows, not ten feet from where she sat. Her gaze darted back to the leader’s group. They appeared to be arguing, though McTavish was doing most of the talking. His gestures became more and more animated and she was aware of the rise in his voice though she couldn’t make out the words.
Slowly, she inched sideways just a bit.
When nobody noticed, she began a stealthy crawl towards the forgotten weapon. It was nearly in reach when her half boot dislodged a stone.
Miranda froze as it fell with what sounded like a resounding crash to her ears. However, the sound must have been faint, for only one of the men turned slightly at the noise. With a quick glance, he took in her position, the pistol on the ground and then their eyes locked. After only the briefest hesitation, he merely nodded and went back to the contents of his battered tin plate.
Miranda let out the breath she was holding. She moved another few feet and began to reach out for the gun. To her horror, McTavish suddenly lurched to his feet, and with a loud oath, started to walk toward where the marquess lay motionless.It took a moment, but he slowly registered that something was not quite right.
“Where is she?” he roared, yanking his own weapon from the waistband of his pants and breaking into a run.
Miranda snatched up the pistol, praying that priming had not been jarred loose. “Stay where you are!” she warned. “I know how to use this.”
He spun around. “You meddlesome female. I’ll get more than enough blunt for the marquess alone and be well away into to Scotland before they find your corpse.” His pistol started to draw a bead. “Though when I get through with him, he’s going to wish he were dead.”
She gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
McTavish threw back his head and began to laugh. His pistol came up higher. The laughter turned into a scream as a shot echoed among the rocks. He staggered forward several steps, staring in wild disbelief at the spreading circle of red on his shirt, then collapsed face down in the dirt.
Sykes stepped from behind a boulder. “In the future, milady, you must remember to check your flint.”
Scofield and Gibbs, slowed by the copious amounts of liquor they had consumed to drown their growing anxiety, made no pretense of resistance when Angus appeared and motioned for them to throw down their weapons. The big groom quickly gathered them up and turned his attention to the group of frightened men by the fire.
“You’ve nought to worry from them,” said Miranda quickly. “They wanted nothing to do with this. Couldn’t we allow them to simply slip away? I’m sure they have learned their lesson about where a life of crime can lead.”
“You’ve too soft a heart,” murmured Angus, but on regarding the ragged fellows before him, he had to agree they hardlylooked like a bunch of hardened criminals, just a sad lot of hungry, desperate men.
