The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(6)

How many minutes had gone by? Two, maybe three? Very carefully she slid the iron latch, her heart stopping more than a few beats when it squeaked—loudly. She froze, but when no one came rushing in with a sword drawn, she slid the latch fully out of the way and grabbed the edge of the wooden door to lift.

It was heavier than it appeared, and she struggled, but finally managed to open it. A rush of cold, dank air pushed her back for a moment, but eventually she kneeled over the hole and peered down into the darkness. It was dead silent. At first she didn’t see anything, but then she saw the unmistakable glow of white gazing up at her.

She startled.

“Morning already?” he sneered. “I was just getting comfortable.”

God, that voice! Deep and powerful, it seemed to reverberate through her bones. “Shhh,” she whispered. “The guard will be coming back.”

Though she knew it was impossible, she swore she could see him stiffen with surprise.

“Who are you?”

“Shhh,” she pleaded again. “Please. The guard will hear you.”

Leaving the door open, she raced out of the small antechamber and plastered her back to the wall next to the entry. Holding her breath for what seemed like eternity, she waited for the guard to approach. With each footstep her heart stopped, starting only when she heard the fall of the next. When the footsteps finally moved away, she ran back to the room.

“We have to hurry,” she whispered. “He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The Scot didn’t waste time questioning her, taking charge in the coolly efficient manner of a man accustomed to the role. “They lowered me down with a rope tied to a latch in the wall. See if it’s still there.”

His voice was closer now, and she realized he must be standing right below her. Probably only a few feet separated them. She shuddered or shivered, she didn’t know which, but turned around to do his bidding. She found the iron peg in the stone wall and sure enough, an old, frayed piece of rope was tied around it. Picking up the end, she moved back to the opening.

Seeing her shadow return, he asked, “Did you find it?”

“Yes.”

“Throw it down.”

She hesitated; suddenly the full import of what she was doing hit her.

After a long pause he spoke. His voice was harder—with disappointment maybe? “Change your mind?”

Had she? No. She wasn’t wrong about him. But still, it was one thing to watch a man from a window and admire him and another to have him right next to you. “If I help you, you have to promise to leave without hurting anyone.”

“I will not leave my friends behind to die.”

She’d anticipated that. It was one of the reasons she was here—a noble leader would not leave his men. “But you will give me your word you will not hurt any of the guards?”

He made a sharp sound that might have been a laugh. “My word is good enough for you?”

“It is.”

He paused as if her answer surprised him. “Very well, you have my word that I will do my best to see that no one is killed.”

He spoke the words with the solemnity of a vow. She had no reason to trust him, and yet she did. Enough to drop the rope.

She moved back, and in a shockingly few moments he was standing in front of her. Looming in front of her, actually. His large, muscular frame seemed to fill the entire room. Jesu, he was even taller and more formidably built than she’d realized! Instinctively, she shrank back, every one of her brother’s warnings suddenly running through her mind.

Cut your throat…Vile barbarian…Vicious brute…

He stilled. “You’ve nothing to fear, lass. I will not harm you. I owe you my life.”

Some of her fear dissipated. He might be built like a brute, but the man inside was noble of heart. She just wished it weren’t so dark. She wanted to see his face up close, but she couldn’t make out much more than shadows. Her other senses worked perfectly, however, and mingled with the dank air of the pit, she caught the musky edge of a well-worked body that was not as unpleasant as she would have expected.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’s not important.”

“Why are you doing this?”

She wasn’t sure she knew herself, but standing here with him, she knew it was right. “It was my fault. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt—I was only trying to help.”

“You brought the food.” He said it as if the last piece of a puzzle had just been fit into place, and it still didn’t make sense.

She nodded.

“How old are you, lass?”

Something in his voice caused her to throw up her chin and straighten her spine. “Eighteen,” she lied.

She could almost hear him smile. He couldn’t be more than a handful of years older than she, but he made her feel so young. Even in the darkness it seemed as if he could see right through her. As if he knew her reason for helping him. He was probably used to women admiring him. Used to young, starry-eyed “lasses” who made themselves silly over him.

But it wasn’t like that. She was righting a wrong. Mostly.

“No matter what your age, what you are doing is a kindness, and I thank you for it. What happened is not your fault, though I won’t say I regret your thinking so, since otherwise I would still be in that pit.”