Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(83)

“Aye, that’s me, as much as they try to make me forget me name. Ye best go from here, lad, lest they chain you up with us.”

“Rot that.” Alec unscrewed his manacles. “Can ye stand?”

“I’ll do.”

Alec pressed the screwdriver into his hand. “Free the others. I’m looking for Will. Is he here?”

Stuart shook his head. “I only ever see him, and the bloody Sassenach soldiers.” He gestured with his foot at the unconscious man next to him. “They put me in here with a McTavish. Can ye credit it?”

“There are horses at the edge of the woods. A boat waiting in the Thames. Sentries are distracted. Get yourself and as many as you can out of here. Now.”

Stuart had enough raiding and fighting days behind him to know how to move rapidly. He nodded and had the second man unscrewed and shaken awake before Alec made it to the hall.

He tried three more doors, finding the same behind each—a pair of men, chained and asleep, barefoot, beaten, starved, and exhausted. Alec hurriedly loosened their manacles with a second screwdriver in his pocket—Mal had taught him to always bring more than one tool, just in case.

Alec moved to the next room on the corridor, making himself go methodically through each one. He didn’t want to miss Will or make too much noise because he got in a hurry.

When he opened one door and went through, a man rose up behind him, wrapped chains around Alec’s neck, and pulled them tight.

Alec fought hard, but the hands on the chains were relentless. The man on the floor rose, also inexplicably free of his manacles, and plunged a dirk at Alec’s heart.

At the last moment, the blade halted. “Will!” the man with the dirk cried in a hoarse whisper. “Leave off! It’s Alec!”

For a second, the chains didn’t waver, then they rattled and fell away. A pair of raw, red hands spun him around, and Alec looked into the face of Will Mackenzie.

Alec barely recognized him. While his beard had not grown as thick and tangled as the others’, his face was covered with scraggly whiskers that could not hide the bruises and raw wounds on his face. His fingers trembled as he held Alec, and his breathing was shallow.

His eyes, though, Mackenzie gold, burned like living fire.

Without a word, Will dragged Alec to him, closing his arms around him in a rib-crushing hug. Alec held him in an embrace for a long moment, rejoicing that his brother was alive, solid, real.

They pushed from each other at the same instant, their relieved looks turning to glares.

“Come on, man, we’re going,” Alec said.

“What the devil are ye doing here?” Will growled at the same time. “Get out before ye ruin everything.”

“What do ye mean, ruin everything? I’m rescuing ye, ye ungrateful bastard.”

“Who asked ye to? I’m trying to figure out what these poxy Sassenach soldiers are up to. A few more days, I’ll know.”

“They’re up to executing you, that’s what,” Alec snapped. “We’re going.”

“Ye don’t understand—”

The man with the dirk cut him off. “We have enough, Willie. It’s too risky to stay.”

Will scrubbed his hand through his hair in a familiar gesture that made Alec’s heart squeeze, and let out a snarling groan.

“Aye, you’re right. I’ll free the others. Alec, go on before you’re caught. I’ll be along.”

“Stuart Cameron is letting out the others. I have horses waiting and vehicles for those too weak to ride. Gair’s on the Thames, ready to float us off.”

Will shook his head. “Wagons will be too slow.”

“Not wagons. Chaises and coaches, pulled by fast horses.” Alec took Will’s arm and swung him around. “Now, go!”

Will’s cellmate pushed past them both with a fierce look and headed into the corridor. Will and Alec followed, and they found the other men freed, Stuart Cameron herding them to the stairs, the more injured slung over the shoulders of the less injured.

The house remained quiet as they trundled out, but Stuart halted after a peek out the door. “There’s an Englishman out there.”

“Aye. It’s Wilfort—Mal’s wife’s dad,” Alec said. “He’s with me.”

“Wilfort?” Stuart asked, startled. “I remember him from when Murray banged him up at Holyrood. Are you sure?”

Will waved him on. “He’s a decent man, for an English aristo. Besides, when couldn’t ye outfight and outrun one lone silver-haired gent?”

“When soldiers started poking me with bayonets to see how long it took me to scream,” Stuart said, but he made the decision to dart through the door, the others following.

The Earl of Wilfort turned to them and pointed through the trees. “That way. Hurry! I hear others coming.”

The sheep were still bounding through the woods, the shouts of the soldiers faint as they pursued them. What Wilfort had heard, and what Alec did now, was the jingle of harness and the rumble of wheels as a carriage came their way, moving rapidly on the rough road.

The Highlanders dispersed, fading into the mists as silent as smoke. Will looked around, listening. “Sheep?”

“Aye.” Alec took the time to grin. “A good distraction, I thought.”