Surrender to Me (The Derrings #4)(44)

Trust him, a voice whispered across her mind.

Drawing air thinly through her nose, she moved behind him, looping her arms around his neck. He rose with her in one smooth motion, the burden of her weight seemingly insignificant.

Grasping the rope in both hands, he swung a leg over the window and lowered them out. Astrid squeezed her eyes shut, her arms tightening about his neck as the night’s cold air washed over her.

“You might not want to choke me,” Griffin wheezed.

Her eyes flung wide open and she looked down. And quickly realized she should have kept her eyes closed.

With his feet braced upon the wall, they hung above the earth. The ramparts loomed tall beside them, emphasizing how high they dangled from the ground. Her chest squeezed, lungs constricting until she could not draw breath.

“Astrid!”

The sharp sound of her name penetrated her panicked thoughts. She loosened her arms around his neck—even if it terrified her to relax her hold—both relieved and alarmed when he began to move, as deft and limber as any jungle creature. Hands moving one after the other, he lowered them down the wall.

She permitted herself to breathe once they touched down. Sliding off his back, she shook her skirts and plucked her valise from beside the waiting man, eyeing him inquiringly. Failing to recognize him from their exploration of the castle today, she wondered when and where Griffin had made his acquaintance.

The man’s hand shot out, his palm a pale flash in the dark. He snapped his fingers impatiently.

Griffin reached in his jacket, pulled something out from inside and handed it over.

She leaned forward, trying to see what passed between the two men.

The other man glanced at whatever it was and shoved it into his pocket with a satisfied grunt. “Come,” he rasped from beneath his hood, the thread of anxiety in his voice unmistakable, heightening Astrid’s own tension. “Your mounts wait beyond the trees.”

Burrowing deeper in her cloak, she glanced around them at the encroaching shadows.

The Scotsman led them quickly through the bailey. “Last I checked, the guard on duty was tupping Hilda. But he’s well in his cups, so I don’t count on that lasting long.”

The yard was silent this late hour, the few torches flickering in sconces along the far stone walls lending eerie shadows to the night.

Tension knotted her shoulders as she followed Griffin, fixing her gaze on the broad expanse of his back. They slowed at the gatehouse. Their guide motioned for them to wait as he went ahead.

She shifted from foot to foot as they waited, the heavy fall of each second convincing her that the man had been intercepted and only moments remained until they were caught.

“Easy,” Griffin whispered near her ear, his warm breath rustling loose tendrils of hair. She shivered. And not entirely from her current state of anxiety.

She nodded jerkily and leaned against the chilled stone wall outside the gatehouse.

“Who’s there?” a deep voice rumbled over the night.

Astrid jolted off the wall, squinting at the dark shape materializing from the shadows.

One of Gallagher’s men approached, eyes wary as he surveyed them. “What are you two doing down here—”

Griffin cut off the rest of his words with a swift, merciless blow to the face. The man fell in a graceless heap. Astrid jumped clear at the last moment, saving herself from being dragged down with him.

Griffin reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, assessing his half-closed eyes for a moment to make certain that he had in fact been rendered unconscious. She sighed, grateful when the man’s eyes fell completely shut, saving him from a second blow.

The other Scot returned then, gaping between the unconscious man and Griffin. “What the hell did you do to him?”

Shaking loose his fist, Griffin growled, “Seeing that he doesn’t alert the entire castle of our escape. What else was I to do?”

Scowling at his felled compatriot, he bit out, “Very well. I’ll put a bottle in his hand and drag him into the hall after I finish with you two. Come on with you, then, before someone else comes along.”

Some of the tension ebbed from her shoulders as he led them forward. Apparently the guard on duty was still occupied with Hilda. Hopefully, they would have no more incidents.

They passed through the gatehouse and beneath the half-raised grate. Astrid stood to the side and watched as Griffin and their guide lowered the drawbridge, grateful for the well-oiled chains and levers. Not a creak or clang broke the silence.

The bridge set down and Griffin swung his bag over his shoulder. Taking her valise from her hand, he tucked it beneath his arm. His eyes met hers briefly, conveying urgency. “Ready? You must be swift. We cannot be spotted.”

She nodded, a tremor of excitement skating down her spine as he closed his hand around hers. Crazy. She should feel nothing but fear. Not excitement. Not…freedom. Not pleasure in touch.

Cold wind whistled through the air, chapping her cheeks. She watched him as he lifted his gaze to the sky.

“One moment,” he whispered, strong fingers flexing around hers.

She followed his gaze, watching the fast-moving clouds skim the night sky, drifting like smoke over the nearly full moon. Suddenly the clouds thickened, obscuring the bright orb and washing the land in darkness.

“Now,” he commanded, his voice fierce.

Adrenaline shot through her. Together, they dashed forward, racing across the wood planks of the bridge and into the wind’s sharp teeth, her hand still clamped in Griffin’s as they fled across the open grassland surrounding the castle.