grip became. “Let me go, now! I have always helped with the cattle.” A fold of her skirt snagged on a chair arm, inhibiting her progress even more.
Sutherland seized on the opportunity, pointing at the furniture trapping her. “And just how much help will ye be in a dress ye canna even walk in?” He leaned in close, bringing them nearly nose to nose. “The longer ye delay me with yer foolish fighting, the longer it is before I can help yer wee cow and her calf. Now, leave off and listen to me. A fire is no place for ye, and I willna have ye putting yerself in danger! Understand?”
The part he said about delaying him made sense, but the rest just aggravated her even more. Hands clenched, she finally agreed with an angry nod. “Fine. But swear ye will see to her first, no matter what the other men ask ye to do.”
Sutherland gave a curt nod and turned to leave.
A sudden rush of worry for the man she had just wed joined her fear for her pet. “Wait!” She snatched the bothersome dress free of the chair and hurried after him.
He cast a look back, the stern set of his jaw revealing his suspicion that she was about to renew her argument to come with him. “What now?” he said with what she recognized as strained control.
She leaned in close, framed his face between her hands, and gave him a quick kiss. “Take care, and see to yerself above everything else, ye ken? I dinna wish to become a widow on the same day I became a wife.”
A slow smile softened his scowl as Sutherland tenderly cupped her chin. “I will return to ye, my hard-headed love. Dinna fret yerself, aye?” He stole another kiss, then hurried away.
Sorcha watched him go, wishing she was right beside him. She kept her gaze locked on his broad back until he disappeared out the door.
“Never have we had a fire in any of the buildings,” Jenny said as she fell in step beside Sorcha. “And in the calving house, no less. What in the world couldha caused it?”
“I dinna ken.” Sorcha grabbed up her skirts to easier skim up the steps to her chambers. “All I know for certain is I mean to be shed of this dress so I can go and see what’s happening for myself.”
“But the chief and yer new husband bid ye stay inside.” Jenny rounded her as they blew into the sitting room. The lass was a great deal less encumbered by the extra layers of petticoats Sorcha wore. She flittered about with ease.
Sorcha waved away Jenny’s words, then turned and pointed down her back. “Unlace me, aye?” With a glance back over her shoulder, she made her case, hoping her dear foster sister would understand. “With my work clothes on and hair bound in a kertch, they’ll never know it’s me fighting the flames beside them in the smoky darkness.”
Jenny didn’t move, just stood there, giving her a dubious look.
“When have ye ever known me to abide by any rules?” Sorcha twisted and strained to undo the laces herself. A painful cramp knotted in her shoulder, hindering her progress. Frustration and urgency made her stomp her foot. “Jenny, please! When have ye ever minded the rules yerself?”
“The chief will surely have my arse if anything happens to ye.” Jenny relented and undid the dress, holding the fabric out of the way so Sorcha could step free of it. “He’s always sterner than stern when it comes to me, and ye know it. The only reason he allowed Mama to take me in was to help with her grieving for yer wee brother. I dinna think he’s ever really liked me—more like he just tolerated me for Mama’s sake and now yer’s.”
Sorcha’s tiny brother, born far too early, had lived only three days. She had been too young to remember much about that dark time, but Mama had told her all about it when explaining womanly things. She had stressed time and again how great a blessing it was to survive giving birth and then holding a healthy babe in your arms. Poor Mama had never borne another. She had said it was God’s will. Sorcha spun around and pulled Jenny into a tight hug. “Da does love ye as his own, Jenny. Ye know that as well as I. He just doesna show it.”
Jenny shrugged. “Maybe he’s fond enough, but I do get tired