Highlander's Ransom (26 page)

And now he would take away his clan’s lady, his wife,
in pursuit of money. Could Alwin be right? Was he any better than Warren? Aye,
he still believed that he sought the best interests of his clan, whereas Warren
thought of no one but himself. He would die for his clan, but, he realized,
they would be better served by a living and present Laird.

He was being a blind fool. He would talk it all over
with Burke. Together they would come up with a plan, but first he had to find
Alwin and tell her that he was wrong, that he would never give her up, that
he—that he loved her. The thought shook him, but only because he knew it was
true. He sprinted down the stairs, needing to see her, needing to make things
right again, if he could. That slowed him. What if he had truly broken her spirit
with his harshness and controlling manipulations? What if she could never
forgive him? He cursed himself again for his blindness, determined that he
would have to find a way to show her how he felt, what she meant to him, and
that he would never let her go again.

His long strides turned into a trot once he was down
the spiraling tower stairs and into the yard. He had to find her, to explain
everything, to kiss away the stony detachment that his callousness had brought
on. Then he heard the scream, and he was running at a dead sprint.

Chapter 38

She would need a horse, for starters. There was no way
Alwin would be able to escape Roslin and Robert on foot. First she would have
to gather some food, though she knew she wouldn’t be able to take enough for the
entire journey to Iona. The tiny island on the western coast was the best
destination she could muster at the moment. She was certainly not returning to
her father’s manor—he would either disown her to put as much distance between
himself and his presumably ruined daughter, or marry her off quickly and
quietly to the first man (probably some widower old enough to be her
grandfather) who would take her given her status as a kidnapped and disgraced
woman. She hadn’t even considered seeking out Raef Warren for protection. He
was more likely to beat her into submission or lock her away from public view,
based on what she knew of the man. And she couldn’t stay here.

Tears welled in her eyes again, but she pushed the
pain aside. She had to be strong. Just because she had fallen in love—yes, she
could admit it to herself now—with a man who had turned out to be like all the
others, that didn’t mean that she would crumble into nothingness under his
cruelty. She would not let him use her, and she would not let him break her.
She would rather live as a nun on a remote island in western Scotland than
that.

She had slipped an extra dress and chemise into a
satchel she had found in Robert’s armoire, then spun her cloak, which had been
hanging there as well, over her shoulders. Now she just had to make her way to
the stables, stopping in the kitchen for supplies. She eased the heavy wooden
door to Robert’s chamber open, wincing as one of the hinges squeaked. No one
was within earshot, apparently, because the stairway remained quiet. She crept
downward, winding her way toward the great hall. Luckily, the evening meal had
already been served and cleared away, and she hoped that she could pass through
unnoticed.

At the bottom of the stairs, she paused and peeked
around the stone archway into the great hall. She breathed a sigh of relief—it
was completely empty. Trying to calm her nerves, she forced herself to walk at
a moderate pace through the open expanse. Bolting through the hall like a
scared cat would surely draw unwanted attention. She made as direct a line as
possible toward the back corner of the hall, where a swinging door led to the
kitchen. Just before reaching the door, she again paused to listen. Her stomach
clenched. At least two voices could be heard on the other side. It was likely
just a couple of the scullery maids cleaning up after the evening meal. Alwin
was tempted to throw out her plan to gather some food before sneaking to the
stables, but realized through the fog of terror at the thought of being discovered
that it would be dangerous to head out without any supplies, especially this
early in spring. Besides, she reminded herself, trying to sooth her nerves, the
maids still knew her as the mistress of the castle. They wouldn’t question or
try to detain her.

On a shaky breath, she set her shoulders back and
plastered a smile on her face, pushing the swinging door inward.

Her heart sank even as her pulse ticked up. Instead of
two scullery maids, Stella and Nora turned and smiled at her entrance.

“My lady! What brings you into the kitchens at this
hour?” Stella said, her eyes quickly scanning Alwin, resting ever so briefly on
her heavy cloak.

“Oh, I was hoping to steal a leftover heel of bread
before catching some fresh air,” Alwin replied, her voice as breezy as she
could muster.

Nora smiled knowingly at Alwin, her eyes glittering.
“I understand perfectly, my lady. The Laird has been…ahem…raising your appetite
in the evenings.”

Alwin felt her cheeks flame and her ears burn with a
deep blush. “Y-yes, I find that I am more hungry than normal.” Thinking fast,
she added, “In fact, he and I are both famished. Perhaps I should take a light
meal up to our chamber?”

“I’ll fix you right up, my lady. We can’t have our
Laird and Lady going hungry, not when the Sinclairs can finally call ourselves
one of the most prosperous clans in all the Highlands. And especially not
considering that someday soon, God willing, we might have a new heir.” Nora
continued to chatter excitedly as she moved about the kitchen, grabbing a loaf
of bread baked that morning, a wedge of cheese, and a generous handful of
expensive dried figs from the Holy Land. Alwin was careful to keep the smile on
her face, despite how difficult it was to listen to the woman go on about how
bright their future was, how she and Robert were known about the castle to be
wooing and making love, and how they all hoped an heir would come soon.

Stella stayed quiet but kept a sharp eye on Alwin,
making her itch. She was sure the head of servants knew something was afoot.
Alwin put on her most serene air, though, and refused to grow jittery under
Stella’s watchful gaze.

Before Alwin could crack, Nora blessedly handed her a
tray heaping with food. Knowing she would have to load up her satchel somewhere
else, she took the tray gratefully and smiled at both women.

“Thank you so much. I’ll just drop this off in the
chamber and take a stroll in the yard. Good night.”

Each woman gave her a bobbing curtsy, Nora smiling
back at her and Stella with a slightly furrowed brow. Alwin didn’t dare try to
smooth things over or explain anymore, fearing getting caught in a lie or
betraying herself with a nervous gesture or quaver in her voice. Instead, she
pushed through the swinging door back into the great hall as if she were going
back up the staircase that led to Robert’s chamber. But instead of crossing the
hall again, she stepped to the side and into a dimly lit hallway leading to one
of the smaller meeting rooms off of the hall. Crouching, she hurriedly stuffed
all the food into her satchel, not even bothering to wrap the cheese or try to
protect her extra gown from crumbs. She left the tray in the dark hallway; by
the time it was found, her absence from the castle would have already been
noticed anyway.

All she had to do now was make her way to the stables,
find a horse, and get out of the castle’s thick curtain wall somehow without
being noticed. Straightening her spine against the long odds of her escape plan
working, she moved silently toward the yard. Knowing that there would be guards
on the curtain wall, looking not only out toward the surrounding landscape but
also inside the wall for troublemakers, Alwin skirted the yard, staying in the
darkest corners and away from the light of the near-full moon overhead. She
knew that the stables would be quiet at this hour, but when she reached them,
she peered in through an open-framed window before reaching for the door just
in case a lad hadn’t finished mucking out one of the stalls. Finding that all
was quiet within, she eased the latch on the wooden door and slipped inside.

It was dim but warm within, the smell of fresh hay and
horses mingling pleasantly with the leather of the tack and saddles lining the
walls. Her eyes instantly went to Dash, who, though shadowed, clearly stood
several hands above the other horses in their stalls. She discarded the idea of
riding him, though, remembering that he only responded to his master. Next to
Dash’s stall, however, there was a smaller but spry looking horse, whose white
coat seemed to glow bluish in the low light. Alwin slowly approached, holding
out her hand, entirely focused on the animal in front of her.

The white horse, whose nose she was almost touching,
suddenly reared. It was the only warning she had. Then a hand clamped down over
her mouth.

Chapter 39

Alwin tried to scream, but only a muffled noise came
out behind the man’s hand over her mouth. She thrashed violently, throwing her
elbows backward, but before she could make contact, the man’s other arm snaked
around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides. She tried to kick him with her
legs and landed a few blows to his shins. She heard an English voice behind her
curse, then she was slammed front-first into the back wall of the stable. Her
head impacted with wood, and her vision blurred. She could feel her knees give
out under her as her head swam, but a voice screamed inside to resist the
darkness that was creeping over her consciousness.

The vise-like grip around her arms vanished for a
moment, and she thought she would be freed, but then she felt the cold
sharpness of a blade pressed against her throat.

“Warren said you’d fight back, but I don’t mind
playing a bit before I slice this pretty little throat of yours,” her attacker
whispered into her ear. Then he inhaled in her hair, and she thought she would
be sick. Whoever this man was, he was going to rape her, then murder her. And
Warren had sent him. Terror clenched her. She was pinned against the stable
wall, her face pressed into the wood, her head swimming, a knife at her throat,
and her attacker’s hand still clamped over her mouth. He was already using his
body to trap her against the wall, but now she felt his hips press into her
bottom, his erection jutting against her.

“You’ll be a good girl and stay quiet, won’t you?” he
whispered as he continued to press against her. His breath was hot and foul.

Those words made something inside her snap—or rather
click into place. This man was not only going to rape and murder her, but he expected
her to behave, to bend to his will, to stay quiet and docile while he forced
and killed her. Despite her best efforts throughout her life to please others,
it was never enough—she was never enough. She was done trying, done caring. All
she knew now was that she had to fight.

Without thinking, she sunk her teeth as hard as she
could into the hand that sealed her mouth. At the same moment, she jerked her
elbow back into the soft stomach of her attacker. He grunted in surprise and
pain, and her blow to his middle caused him to instinctively draw his arms in,
freeing her mouth and moving the blade away from her neck.

Before he could recover, she turned and dove
head-first into Dash’s stall, flinging herself behind his hooves without regard
for the danger of being trampled by the huge warhorse. She scrambled further
back, around Dash’s legs and into the very back of the stall. She could hear
her attacker quietly cursing. His shadowy figure loomed in front of the stall.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch!” He raised the knife and
it caught a moonbeam from one of the open windows along the stable’s walls.

“Dash!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, fear
shooting her voice up. The powerful horse had stood alert until then, amazingly
not trampling her underneath his hooves when she had thrown herself underneath
him. Now he gave a loud snort and took a step toward the open end of the stall,
where the man stood. Muttering something about a dumb animal, the man backed up
to avoid Dash’s powerful chest, then tried to angle his way around into the
stall, but Dash took a sidestep in front of him. Losing patience, the man swung
the knife toward the horse, making contact with Dash’s shoulder. The warhorse
shrieked, not in pain but in rage. He had been in enough battles to respond on
instinct. He reared and brought his huge hooves down toward the man who was
attacking him.

Realizing what he had just instigated, the man flung
himself out of the way, but not before one of Dash’s hooves clipped him on the
shoulder. He screamed in pain, his arm hanging limp at his side as he landed in
the hay on the stable floor. Just then, the door to the stable flew open and
even in the weak half-light of the moon, Alwin knew it was Robert. His
warrior’s frame filled the doorway, his fists clenched at his sides. He was
illuminated from behind in the cold blue light, but his eyes seeming to glow
like ice.

Cursing again, the man on the stable floor fumbled
with his good hand for the knife, which he apparently dropped in the hay. A
strangled cry came out of Alwin’s throat as she tried to warn Robert, but couldn’t
find words. But he didn’t need her warning. He moved like lightning, darting
across the distance between himself and the man. Just as the man raised the
knife from the hay, Robert’s boot struck his hand, sending the knife spinning
into the shadows. Robert launched himself at the other man, sending them both
tumbling backward. From behind Dash in the stall, Alwin could hear the two men
struggle, but couldn’t make out what was happening as they twisted and turned
in the straw. She knew Robert didn’t carry a weapon on him within the safety of
his own castle walls. Fearing her attacker would kill Robert and then her, she
screamed again at the top of her lungs for help, praying that someone would
hear her.