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He turned her toward the landing then proceeded her down the stairs.
Graeme step forward. “Liam, I dinna like this. Somethin’ feels off.”
Camden nodded in agreement, his steely gaze repeatedly sweeping from the front door to the window to the back entrance.
“It is. I spied six men from the window upstairs. Broden noticed them, too, so he’ll have alerted the others.” Liam made certain to keep the alarm from seeping into his voice. He’d never known Emeline to dissolve into histrionics but didn’t want to chance her doing so now.
“Liam, why didna ye say somethin’?” The color fled her face except for two crimson spots on her cheeks. “I told ye no’ to take any chances.”
Merely coming to Edinburgh had been a huge risk. Nevertheless, if there were answers to be found, he’d vow they’d be in the valise she clutched to her chest.
“We’re leavin’ now. Dinna worry.”
“Do stop sayin’ that. I can nae more stop frettin’ than ye can stop eatin’,” she snapped, the strain obviously testing her self-possession. “And we both ken that is never happenin’.”
“Och, an impossibility, to be sure.” Graeme chuckled, earning him a sour look from Liam.
“Do exactly as I say, Emeline—”
“Liam MacKay!” Her irritation had transformed to outright anger. “I am no’ a bairn, nor am I a lackwit. I’d appreciate bein’ asked and no’ ordered about.”
This fiery-tempered version of Emeline was breathtaking. Nevertheless, her tender sensibilities would have to suffer a bit of bruising.
He speared the Kennedys a glance. “As before, we’ll keep Emeline between us. Graeme, ye take the bag. Camden open the door and take a look around. They’ll be to yer left.” He caught each of their eyes. “Ye ken what to do.”
Camden complied with a severe downward thrust of his chin.
“I can carry the valise—” Emeline started to object, a mutinous tilt to her pert chin Liam hadn’t seen before.
“If ye need to lift yer skirts to run, I’d rather ye had both hands free, lass,” he said, holding onto his patience by a thread.
“Oh,” she murmured taken aback, her expression contrite.
She obviously hadn’t considered that possibility. God knew he had. He angled his head toward Graeme and, wordlessly, she extended the valise.
The four of them had no sooner stepped from the shop than the half-dozen armed ruffians descended upon them, weapons drawn. Matrons screamed, mothers clutched their children close, and terrified people scattered in all directions. Reeking of unwashed bodies and stale ale, the band of hirelings approached, menace in each confident, swaggering step.
As Liam had planned in the event something of this nature occurred, Camden swept a startled Emeline into his arms and bolted toward the carriage a few feet away.
Graeme followed, hot on his heels, wielding his own gun. His horse stood beside the carriage, and the coachmen were poised to take off, their pistols drawn and pointed directly at the scourge determined to kill Emeline.
“Nae. What are ye doin’? I willna leave him! Put me down,” she screamed, pounding Camden’s back. “Li…am! Nae. Nae! I canna leave him.”
Without slowing his pace, Camden grunted, “Sorry, lass. I gave my word.”
“Shite, dinna let her escape again!” one gunman shouted, aiming his firearm at Camden’s back.
Liam slammed his hand down on the cur’s forearm while smashing his fist into the man’s face. Dropping his blunderbuss, the sod crumpled into an insensate heap.
That’s one. Five more to go.
Camden all but tossed Emeline inside the carriage before diving in after her. His gun drawn, Graeme threw the bag inside the equipage and jumped atop his mount. As the carriage sprang forward, the door still gaping wide open, Liam growled his satisfaction.
Emeline was safe. For now.
The other five louts advanced on him, and he grinned as he yanked his dirk from his waist and his sword from its sheath. “Come on then, ye devil’s spawn.”
He’d enjoy seeking vengeance on Emeline’s behalf.
