“Androu!” Kiernan shouted. “Get her out of here."
Phoebe twisted in an effort to look in Kiernan's direction, but Androu swept her into a bear hug and in three long steps, reached the gag between the nearest building, and dropped her onto her feet. She pulled the pistol from her cloak.
Androu glanced back. “By the Saints, are ye daft, woman?” He knocked the weapon from her hand with a heavy-handed swipe.
She cried out as the pistol sailed into the lane. "You fool! Hand over your revolver."
His brows snapped down in a frown. "I'm not of a mind to be shot by a woman."
Another gun report sounded. A woman screamed.
Androu's head whipped around and he peered past the building toward the ship. "Run, MacGregor," he shouted, and fired.
Phoebe hugged the opposite building and peered out toward the ship. She caught sight of Kiernan an instant before he lunged into their alley. Another shot blasted, this time, from the direction of the ship, and Androu fired back.
Kiernan seized Phoebe's shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“What in God’s name are you doing here? Never mind. In the future, I’ll entertain guests someplace other than a room next to our bedchamber.”
“Kiernan.” Phoebe gasped his lapel. “That man—Clachair—is my father.”
Kiernan’s expression softened. “I know. I meant to tell you, but," he flashed a lopsided grin, "you distracted me. That's why I'm here. I had to tell your father I'd married you.”
Tears threatened again. “What?”
“Stay back!" Androu shouted, then, "There the bloody bastards are!” He fired again.
Kiernan gave her a hard shake. "Do not move, Lady Ashlund, or I swear by God Almighty, I'll spank your bare arse in the town square." He released her and pulled the revolver from his waistband as he sidled up to the building's edge and peered into the lane. “Your handiwork?" he said to Androu."
"Aye, got him through the heart."
"Damn good shot. No sign of the others. How many did you count?”
"Two, maybe three. They made MacDougal's place, nearest the ship.”
“Clachair," Kiernan shouted, "Stay down.”
“Has Clach—my father—no weapon?” Phoebe demanded.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Kiernan's attention remained on the street. “He’s a man of peace, Phoebe.”
A tremor shook her. “I always knew he was a peaceful man. No such man could be a traitor.”
Kiernan's gaze shifted onto her. "I believe we discussed this last night."
She felt her eyes widen and he lifted a brow in confirmation of her thoughts: her father was the Clachair wanted by the Crown because, like Kiernan, he was aiding criminals. He was, indeed, a traitor.
Her jaw tightened, then she whirled on Androu. “Give me your spare pistol.”
He cast a shocked look at Kiernan.
“Do as she says,” Kiernan instructed.
Androu looked dubious, but pulled the pistol from his waistband and extended it butt first.
She looked at the pistol. “Had you not knocked my Blanch pistol from my grasp, I would not have to make do with this archaic piece of machinery.”
Androu looked offended. “‘Tis a respectable Scottish pistol.”
“Flintlock,” Phoebe muttered. "Care to trade the Pepperbox for this pistol?”
His eyes narrowed, then he swung his gaze onto Kiernan. “I’ll go find the bastards for you.”
Kiernan shook his head. "I must ask that you do something far more important.”
Understanding struck like lightning and Phoebe began backing up.
“Stay where you are, Phoebe, or that spanking will be forthcoming,” Kiernan said without taking his eyes off of Androu, and she halted when he added, "She's my wife, Androu."
Something in the way he said 'my wife' sent a tremor through her stomach.
"Aye," Androu replied, and Kiernan faced her.
“He’s my father,” she pleaded.
Kiernan stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. “And he’s my friend, for many years.”
"Years?" she repeated.
"Yes, love, years. Now trust me.” He flashed the all-too-familiar grin, and added, “After all, you're my wife—spy and all." He cut off her gasp with a hard kiss, then shoved her into Androu's arms. "Whatever you do, Androu, don't let her out of your sight. She's a very clever woman. Sit on her, if necessary.”
"MacGregor," she shouted, but Androu hefted her up like a sack of potatoes and raced down the tiny alley.
Kiernan glanced back at her, then looked both ways down the lane and disappeared, headed toward the ship.
"Release me," Phoebe ordered, and jammed the pistol into Androu's side. "Or I'll shoot."
He halted at the edge of the building. “No you won't. Unless you wish to explain to your husband that you shot his cousin’s husband.”