The Devil’s Due by Boucher, Rita (short books for teens .txt) 📕

“Nor its outbuildings,” he concluded.

Damn! “Nor its outbuildings,” Kate repeated reluctantly.

“Well done, that was, Milord,” Daisy said, picking up his fallen shirt from the ground and shaking it before handing it to him. “I tell you it fair put my heart in my throat every time she climbed that ladder.”

“I can well imagine,” Duncan said.

“May I have my hand back?” Kate asked in a small voice. “There is a great deal to do before the foul weather hits.”

Just as Duncan was relinquished his hold, Anne burst forth from the bushes, her eyes wild with fright.

“She must have heard me scream, poor lamb,” Daisy said. “‘Tis all right, child. There is naught to fear.”

Kate bent and gathered the child in her arms, knowing full well how Anne must have viewed the scene. This was not the first time that she had seen someone laying an unwelcome hand on her mother, and it would not be prudent to let any misunderstanding linger. “Anne, there is naught amiss,” Kate crooned softly. “Mamma is fine and nothing can harm you.”

Anne looked accusingly toward Duncan.

“Perhaps, I had best leave,” Duncan said.

“No, Milord, please stay,” Kate said. “Lord MacLean saved my life, Anne. He caught me when I fell from the roof.”

“Aye, ‘tis true, Annie my lamb. Look at his poor back,” Daisy pointed, clucking her tongue, “‘tis all scraped and bruised from when your Mamma fell upon him. If you’ll come into the kitchen, Milord, I can be puttin’ some of my salve on it. It’ll be stingin’ somethin’ awful, less we do.”

Anne stared, looking from Daisy to her mother and finally to Duncan.

“I shall surrender to your ministrations,” Duncan said, stirring uncomfortably beneath the little girl’s gaze.

Anne tugged her mother’s sleeve, signifying that she wished to get down.

Duncan stood rooted as Kate set the child upon the ground and Anne walked toward him. The little girl looked up, her eyes asking him a question that he could not quite understand. When he looked at the two women for an explanation, they provided no guidance. From their expressions, it was obvious that they were just as puzzled as he was. Then, without warning, she threw her arms around his knees, giving him a fierce hug that nearly knocked him from his feet. Then, she turned and ran back into the woods, the dog barking at her heels.

Duncan’s sight blurred, transforming the child into a flash of red running amidst a watery haze of brown and green. A strange warmth spread within him, like the first rays touching the winter snows, gentle with the promise of spring. Tears. He could not recall the last time he had shed one.

“She were sayin’ ‘thank you,’ Milord,” Daisy said, her voice quavering.

“I know,” Duncan said, turning away to hide behind a mask of gruffness. “I will collect that salve later. I er. . . have to see to my horse.” He moved stiffly, his body still sore from the impact. Lucky it was, that Kate was such a wee thing, so small, so very fragile. If he had not been below to break her fall . . . He shook his head, not daring to think of the possible consequences, as he strode down the path, hoping that his obscured vision would not cause him to stumble.

Only Kate saw the glisten of the single tear that ran down his cheek. Indeed, she felt like weeping herself. Before, Anne had been such a friendly little girl, so sweet and charming. Even the frosty Mrs. Drummond-Burrel had warmed sufficiently to urge Anne to sit upon her lap during one afternoon call. Now, however, even the merest contact, the chance jostling of a crowd was sufficient to make the child flinch. When a carter, who had been kind enough to give them a ride from Dover, had patted Anne upon the head, she had cringed before bursting into tears. Perhaps Duncan MacLean was a miracle if Anne could willingly trust him sufficiently to touch him. Whatever the consequences to Kate herself, she was now certain that she had made the right decision, for Anne’s sake. Perhaps Anne could learn to put her faith in people again and maybe then, she would speak once more.

. . .

“We’ll be needin’ to get the livestock into shelter,” Daisy said, glancing anxiously at the sky. “Glad his lordship made the coops tight again, or we’d be playin’ at Noah’s ark once more.”

“There is yet time before the storm breaks,” Kate said absently, watching as Duncan retreated around the bend. He was walking awkwardly, stirring her to guilt. What if he had truly been hurt? She should have been expressing her thanks, but instead, she had made light of him. Perhaps he was still in pain? She made her decision. “I will assist his Lordship first, Daisy. He might be injured and not yet realize it.”

“Aye,” Daisy grumbled, drily, “and the fall just might have addled your wits, milady.”

Kate lifted her chin, not deigning to reply to that blatant bit of disrespect.

“Now don’t you be looking at old Daisy like that,” she chided. “You know yourself that that man is trouble on two feet.”

“He saved my life,” Kate said. “Or do you forget that so quickly.”

“Aye, he did, most like,” Daisy admitted. “And I’m grateful for it.”

“So am I, and was it not you who taught me that I ought to always express proper appreciation?” Kate asked.

“Aye,” Daisy admitted grudgingly.

“Then that is what I intend to do,” Kate said, turning to set off down the path. “And Daisy,” she added, casting a look over her shoulder. “You must stop addressing me as milady. We will have to leave here eventually and it is too much of a risk.”

“Risk,” Daisy muttered glumly at her mistress’ retreating figure. “You’re a fine one to talk of risks, milady.”

Chapter 8

Duncan heard her before he saw her. The hasty tread was far too light to be Daisy’s footfall, but too purposeful for a child. For a moment, he