“What is what?” he asked.
The old woman gave him an exasperated look and Phoebe had the distinct impression her own frustrating experience with this man wasn't unique.
“Her name,” Winnie said. “What is it?”
“My apologies,” he said. “Hester Ballingham, may I present Winnie MacGregor.”
Phoebe angled her head. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Allow me to make a proper introduction. My name is Phoebe Wallington.”
Winnie studied her for a moment, then looked questioningly at Kiernan.
“I told you she wasn't like the others.” Before Phoebe could respond, he said to Winnie, “Heddy will be staying with us until Regan arrives."
"Sally," Winnie called, and a woman kneading bread at the counter turned and wiped her hands as she approached.
"We have a guest," Winnie said when the woman stopped beside her. "See to the guest room on the second floor."
The woman looked at Phoebe. "Would you like a bath, my lady?"
"I would, indeed," Phoebe said, "and Phoebe will do. I am no lady." She cast him a Kiernan a glance, but he stared at the peas Winnie was shelling, his expression akin to that of a man who had struck gold.
CHAPTER SIX
Phoebe startled awake to the sound of footsteps running past her bedchamber door. She threw back the covers and jumped to her feet, reaching the door in three paces. She yanked it open in time to see two women, arms laden with blankets, disappear down the corridor. Phoebe dressed and hurried to the great hall. The room was filled with women racing in with more blankets and tossing them onto an already full table. She dodged a young girl who dashed up the stairs, then headed toward a woman who was pulling blankets from the table and piling them into the arms of another woman.
“What's happened?” Phoebe demanded.
“A fire in the village,” the woman replied tersely.
“My God,” Phoebe exclaimed as the woman with the blankets whirled and headed for the postern door. “Is anyone injured?”
“Two men and a child, but Winnie is tending them.”
“The blankets,” Phoebe said, “they are for the fire?”
“Aye.”
“I’ll help."
“Take these blankets to the village.” The woman grabbed several blankets and shoved them into Phoebe's arms as three other women scooped up armfuls. “Go with them.” She waved Phoebe toward the women who were already hurrying toward the door.
The instant she stepped outside, Phoebe gasped at sight of the red glow in the sky. Thick, dark billows of smoke trailed a haze across the moon. She kept pace with the women across the courtyard. Even before they reached the gate, the smell of smoke assaulted her nostrils and the shouts of men filled her ears. The women hurried through the gate and down the hill at a near run. Phoebe's heart pounded harder at sight of the bucket brigade that led from the well in the middle of the square to the two burning cottages sixty feet away.
She followed closely behind the women as they neared the bottom of the hill. Another pail of water was thrown on the burning cottage to the left and she shuddered at the hiss of the water over the flames. She stayed with the other women as they pushed past the old women and children who watched in stunned silence. Men dunked blankets in a tub of water beside the well, then raced along the muddy trail created by the dripping blankets to a cottage adjacent to the burning cottage.
A child shrieked, and Phoebe's heart jumped into her throat as a flame leapt in a furious gust from the cottage on the left to its neighbor. Small patches of red glowed in the thatched roof of the endangered cottage. She hurried forward and dropped her blankets onto the others piled beside the tub. A man pulling water from the well hauled up another bucket. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he handed the bucket off to his companion. The man throwing water directly onto the first cottage hurled another bucket of water onto the inferno. Nothing more than a drop on hell’s flames, she thought. The man turned in her direction.
Kiernan MacGregor.