The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(35)

“The captain said to stay here,” Malcolm replied dutifully, although it was clear he agreed with her and would much rather be with the other men than guarding them—apparently his punishment for allowing them to escape.

The sound of another crash, this one much closer, caused Rosalin to jump.

“What was that?” Roger asked.

Malcolm pointed to the burned-out stone house closest to them. As it was the largest of the buildings by far, it probably belonged to the reeve—the most important man in the small village. “The last bit of roof has collapsed. One of the beams must have fallen.”

She was about to turn away, when she heard something. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” Malcolm said.

“Listen.” They stood silently for a moment, but with the wind, the roar of the fire, and the shouts of the villagers and men fighting the flames, it was hard to pick anything out.

Malcolm frowned. “If this is another one of your tricks—”

“There!” she said. “Did you hear it? Someone is crying for help.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

But Rosalin was already racing toward the burned-out cottage where the roof had just fallen.

“Wait, my lady! You can’t go in there. The captain said to wait here.”

“Hurry!” she said, not listening. “It sounds like someone is hurt.”

Without waiting to see whether they were behind her, Rosalin raced into the building. What appeared to be a hollowed-out shell of stone from the outside was a dark, smoldering maze of beams, posts, roof trusses, thatch, and furniture inside. She had to cover her mouth with the wool of her plaid to stop the smoke from choking her.

“Hello!” she cried out.

“Here!” a faint voice replied.

She followed the direction of the sound and in the farthest corner of the building came to a tangled pile of wood in front of a partially collapsed stone wall. Wedged in what appeared to be a space in that wall was a man who was penned in by rocks and still burning lumber. It was hard to see through all the smoke in the darkness, but he appeared to be barely alive under all the rubble.

“Here!” she shouted back to Malcolm and Roger, who she could hear calling for her. “He’s over here.”

The two made there way to her, their coughing growing louder as they drew nearer. They were both looking at her as if she were a madwoman. “He needs our help. He’s stuck.”

“What was he doing in here in the first place?” Roger asked.

It was a good question—one they could ask him when they got him out. “I don’t know,” she said. “Here, help me with this post—” She yelped in pain as her hands touched the hot wood.

“We’ll do it,” Roger said. “You don’t have gauntlets. Try to move some of the rocks out of the way.”

Rosalin nodded and went to work on some of the smaller rocks. Recalling a man who’d lifted rocks with much more ease, she couldn’t help wishing Boyd were here to help them. He would make quick work of—

She heard a loud creak as the boys moved one of the larger pieces of charred framing out of the way. She looked up just as what remained of the roof came crashing down on them, along with the main beam that formed its spine.

She screamed a warning, but it was too late. Malcolm wasn’t able to get out of the way in time and the beam crashed down in front of him.

“Malcolm!” She tried to lunge toward him but was prevented by a virtual wall of building material that had landed between them. She could no longer see the first man at all.

Fearing the worst, she was relieved when the ash and dust settled enough for her to see Malcolm move. “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” he said groggily. “Help get this off me.”

Protecting her hands as best she could with the wool of her plaid, she and Roger tried to lift the enormous beam, but it wouldn’t budge. It had probably taken a half-dozen men to move it into position when the building was constructed. “It’s no use,” she said to Roger. “We’ll have to fetch help.”

Their eyes met. She could see what he was thinking, probably because the thought had quickly crossed her mind as well. She shook her head. They might not get another chance to escape, but she wouldn’t leave Malcolm and the villager like this.

Roger nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something that made her pulse spike and every nerve ending in her body flare with panic. The fire was no longer smoldering. The falling beams and roof had stirred the embers and reignited the fire.

“Roger!” she shouted. He turned back. She glanced in the direction of the flames, which were no more than a twenty feet away. “Hurry!”

Robbie’s lungs were burning. He was hot and tired, and every inch of his skin felt gritty with soot and smoke, but he faced the fire with the same win-at-all-costs determination with which he faced the English. He was surprised how good it felt to be doing something to help that wasn’t fighting. It had been a long time since he’d lifted anything but his sword in the defense of his countrymen. But the English weren’t going to destroy this village today. Not if he had anything to say about it.

With the break line in the brush established, he was about to start helping Seton carry water when he glanced down by the river and stilled.