Page 45 of The Nabob's Designing Daughter
“You,” Gillespie shouted. “Ye meddlin’ busybody.”
Maggie appeared silently behind him, wide-eyed, her face drained of color except where the bruises had gone to yellow and green.
“I’m heating broth,” Ann said. “Do you want some?”
“We don’t need yer damned charity.”
Maggie opened her mouth, but with a quick shake of her head, Ann silenced her. Maggie disappeared.
To grab a shovel, Ann hoped. It was too far to the tower to run for help.
“No. I see that you don’t need charity. I see that you had enough coins to pour whisky into your gullet while your wife and son went hungry.”
“Why you—”
“You beat your wife and broke your lad’s leg.For shame.”
He glowered, his lip curling into a feral snarl.
She plunged the dipper into the boiling broth. “Come no closer.” Rage coursed through her veins and stiffened her hands around the dipper handle. His drunkenness be damned. She wouldn’t make excuses or wheedle this bully. “Rolly loves you,” she said. “God knows why, the way you treat him and his mother. Hiding in your cups and only coming out to beat on the people God gave you to care for. What a lesson of manhood you’re giving your son.”
“Oot,” he shouted and lunged. “Oot of me house, ye—” He yowled.
The dash of boiling liquid had struck square in his broad, ruddy face. While he pawed at his eyes, Ann grabbed for the poker.
“I’ll kill ye,” he bellowed. His fist flew. Ann ducked, raised the poker, and froze. Gillespie’s next punch had jerked backward. A figure in black locked on the bully’s arm and wrenched it around.
Errol.Errol was here. She glanced at Rolly. He’d raised up on one elbow, his eyes as wide as his mother’s had been earlier.
Ann crouched next to the lad, her weapon ready.
Errol had his opponent on height, but the crofter was built like a barrel with powerful shoulders. He was drunk though, and clumsy.
Gillespie swung. Errol ducked and delivered a slap. “That’s for Maggie.” He struck again, this time harder. “And that’s for Rolly. And this…” He dispensed a bone-cracking blow that had blood spurting from Gillespie’s beak of a nose. “Is for Ann. How dare you insult her for helping your family.”
“Damn ye, ye broke my nose. Who are ye to interfere here?” He leered at Ann. “Ann, is’t? Aye… she’s yer strump—”
Errol’s fist came up under Gillespie’s chin, knocking him into the wall and shutting him up.
Maggie pushed through the door, with Will behind her and Busby crowding in behind him.
“Ye fool,” Maggie said. “He’s the doctor as tended our Rolly’s leg that ye broke.”
Gillespie rubbed his jaw and swiped at a flow of blood. “Pah. He’sh nought ta me.”
Errol dusted his hands. “And there’s where you’re wrong, Gillespie. I’m your new laird. I’m the new Baron of Darleton, and this ismyland andmycottage. You live here undermysufferance and the terms of the rent.”
Ann’s heart leaped into her throat and tears welled. Did Errol mean to stay?
“Are you all right, Ann?” Errol asked, his look heated. No doubt, a lecture was coming.
She nodded, her throat too clogged to speak. So grateful she was that she hadn’t had to fight Gillespie on her own, she couldn’t blame him.
“Busby, Will, tie this fellow and put him on my horse. Lock him up somewhere in Mounth Tower. Tomorrow or the day after, when he’s sober, I’ll decide on his punishment.”
Bloody spittle landed near Errol’s boots. “Ye broke my nose, ye bloody—”
Errol thrust out a hand and wrenched the beak straight. Gillespie screamed.
