Highlander Undone (Highland Bound Book 5) (26 page)

Then she heard it, a faint scratching sound on the wall—Rose jerked back, her hand tightening on the candlestick. The stones beyond her bureau shifted, showing the merest crack of a secret door. Rose’s mouth fell open, a silent scream on her quivering lips. She’d not known there was a secret door. Surely Byron would have told her if—

“Rose?” came a familiar whisper.

Myra? Could it be? Or simply a figment of her imagination? The opening in the wall looked real enough.

“Hello?” Rose said, tentatively, scrambling awkwardly to her feet. She held the candlestick out in front of her like a weapon. Her eyes burned from the tears she’d yet to shed.

“Rose, ’tis Myra.”

Truly?
Rose scuffled to the bureau and peered through the crack, seeing Myra’s dark hair like a cloud framing her shadowed face.

“Myra!” she whispered frantically. “Ye must help me. They’ve come. I think they killed Byron. Everyone.”

“Who? Wait, help me push this door open, ye must come in here.”

Rose shook her head. “They will tear the castle apart looking for survivors. If I come in there, then they will, too.”

It would be impossible for them to put the bureau back in place if she pushed it aside to go through the secret entrance. If escape was even possible, and she highly doubted it, then they had to do so unnoticed. The secret passages were the only way—and they had to remain concealed.

Myra licked her lips and spoke with speed. “Can ye get to Byron’s library? There’s a passage through the hearth.”

Rose looked about frantically, expecting the door to her solar to bang open at any moment. It was too quiet. The silence before all hell would break lose. She nodded, fear filling her veins. To leave the sanctuary of her solar… To tread the halls and possibly straight into the arms of the enemy…

But, ’twas the only way.

“I will meet ye there. Go. Quickly.” Myra reached her fingers through the door and gripped Rose’s, giving her some measure of comfort, however little it was. “I will be there waiting.”

Rose nodded again, squeezing Myra’s hand with trembling fingers.

Sucking in a ragged, fear-filled breath, Rose said, “I’m going now, Myra.”

She tiptoed to the door, placed her fingertips on the handle but couldn’t make herself open it. She closed her eyes, heard Byron’s frantic whispers to hide. This was the only way. For several agonizing heartbeats, Rose contemplated. Then she opened the door slowly, and slipped into the darkened hallway. No one struck her down. No one shouted. No one leapt from the darkness. The air smelled stale, and she swore she caught the scent of blood.

Rose took a steadying breath, not daring to close her eyes for fear of missing a shadow of an enemy coming toward her. She pressed her hand to her belly, feeling the bairn kick beneath her palm.
Go. Move! You must protect your child, Byron’s child.

Being so close to birth, Rose moved as agilely as she could to the end of the corridor and the circular staircase. One step, two steps, three steps, four… Five steps, six steps, seven, almost there… Rose held her breath as she reached the first landing. One more flight of stairs would lead her up to the next level and Byron’s library. How could she do this? If they’d attacked the castle, wouldn’t they be looking for his study? The place where all his important papers and treasury were?

Rose stalled, took one step backward, her hand bracing on the stone. What was she thinking?

But, Myra would be there, waiting to take her to safety. She couldn’t allow her sister-by-marriage to linger, not when danger was so close at hand. Besides, she didn’t hear anyone. At least, not yet. Rose summoned the strength to put first her left foot and then her right onto the stairs, and hoisted herself up once more.

After what felt like forever, she finally made it to the top without incident. Silence still reigned with an occasional scream of terror accompanied by a shout of anger. They were picking off her people one by one as they found them. Byron had told their servants to hide, and most of them would do so, but the men, more than likely, would feel the need to protect, and she couldn’t fault them that. They were good people.
Her
good people, and all of them dying.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Rose listened. When she heard no distinctly human sounds, she tiptoed down the hall, keeping one hand on the wall to help balance her girth. Byron’s library door was closed, giving no indication if someone was inside waiting or if the room was completely empty. She pressed her ear to the wood, held her breath and listened. Nothing. Luck was on her side.

This was it. Now or never.

Her breath hitched and panic threatened to take over, but she willed herself to calm. Willed herself to stay strong for Myra and for her own unborn child’s sake.

With trembling fingers she found the handle, twisting until the metal unlatched and then slowly pushed it open. When she saw the library was empty, a small whimper of relief escaped her.

Her gaze flew to the library’s hidden door within the hearth. Made from plaster to look like stone, it was a perfect disguise within the wall. Soot stained the etchings. There was no fire, and crouched low behind the crack was a shadow.

“Myra?” Rose called softly.

“I’m here.” Myra scrambled out of the hidden door in the hearth, bumping her head on the oak mantel. “Come, we must hurry.”

Rose didn’t hesitate.
Dear God, let us make it out of here safely.
They were through the secret door, the last inch closing when the main door to the library crashed open. Rose jumped beside Myra, letting out a strangled squeak. Myra reached up, finding Rose’s lips in the dark and pinched them, indicating silence as she painstakingly slowly closed the last inch of the secret door.

Rose gripped Myra’s hand with deathlike force.
Sweet Lord in Heaven, help us!

Not waiting to see if those who’d entered the library happened to notice the wall shift when Myra closed it the remainder of the way, they hurried down the darkened stairs, hands held tightly together. Rose prayed the entire time that the enemy did not follow and for her own stable footing. Already off balance with her huge belly, and not being used to the darkened stairs, she was made all the more unstable. She prayed her body would comply with her urgent need to escape.

They made it to the door leading into the dungeon without even one of the evil villains following.

Myra stopped, her face covered in darkness and gripped Rose’s shoulders.

“Listen now, sister. Ye must hide in here. They willna find ye. I promise.”

Rose swallowed around the massive lump of fear lodged in her throat. “Where?”

“The dungeon.”

Rose shuddered and shook her head.

“Ye must. If they find these tunnels, all is lost. But within the dungeon, they’ll not find ye.”

She couldn’t stay here alone. She couldn’t let Myra run off again. They had to get out together. “Where are ye going? We need to leave!”

“I have to find Byron.”

Rose gasped. “Nay! Ye canna!” Panic seized Rose, and she was certain she was on the very verge of hysterics. She didn’t want Myra to go. Didn’t want her to leave her all alone. Knew in her heart… Something was wrong with Byron. He would have come for her. He’d not have left her to her own devices unless—“He’s dead…” she whispered.

“Shh… Ye dinna want them to hear us. I willna tarry long. But I must see if he lives.”

Rose sobbed quietly and pulled Myra in for a hug. A fool’s errand. If he lived, she’d have felt it. Nay, her husband… God rest his soul…

They stood, embracing each other tightly, for as long as Myra would allow, which wasn’t nearly long enough, before she pushed the dungeon door open and guided Rose inside.

“Hurry back,” Rose said, her voice cracking.

“I will.”

Rose slid to the darkened ground of the dungeon, the wetness from the wall seeping through the back of her gown. She crossed her legs in front of her, and clasped her hands in prayer, murmuring for strength and perseverance. Finally there was a whisper of footsteps, a swish of skirts, and Myra was there again, her torch shining on her face, her expression pinched.

Byron was not with her.

Rose let out a little sob. Though she’d known he was gone from this life, there had been just a tiny spark of hope hidden in her heart.

“We must make haste.” Myra’s voice came out harshly.

Rose made no comment. She knew why. Her husband was gone, and Myra had most likely laid witness his body, spirit departed. Poor lass.

The father of Rose’s child. Murdered by an enemy, someone who’d supposedly been close to them. When Rose didn’t move, Myra pulled her to her feet and led her back into the darkened corridor, tugging her along as they made their way farther down the stairs.

“We will have to crawl through here. Think ye can manage?” Myra asked.

“Aye,” Rose said, her voice coming out hard and edged with ice. There was no time to mourn. No time to feel sad for the life of a handsome man who had been taken too soon.

They crawled through the last tunnel, the weight of the castle above them. The stones were slick and bits of debris littering the floor jabbed into her palms.

Ye can do this.
Rose repeated the words in her mind a thousand times, and with each recitation, she felt a little stronger.

When they neared the end of the tunnel, a bright light slipped through a crack of stone, beckoning them forward. A breeze whistled through the fissure sending wintry chills up and down her limbs. ’Twas cold outside… Traveling would not be easy.

“We’re almost there,” Myra called to Rose who crawled behind her.

Rose let out a little grunt.

“Keep that bairn inside ye.”

“He’s to stay put,” Rose panted from the exertion of crawling.

“Let us pray ’tis a boy.”

Aye, she did pray it was so, for her son would inherit Foulis and would be Chief of Clan Munro. She’d need to find someone to champion her bairn, take up arms and reclaim what had been stolen from them. They at last reached the end where there was room to stand. Myra helped Rose up, her legs wobbly.

“When we leave this cave, we will have to keep close to the walls, and ye’ll need to stay hidden while I fetch us a horse,” Myra said.

“Nay!” Rose shook her head vehemently. They would only end up getting killed. “The attackers are sure to be out there.”

“Aye. But what choice do we have? We canna stay here and wait for them to find us.”

In the sliver of light coming from the hidden entrance, Rose studied Myra’s determination. Though she was heavy with child, Rose wasn’t going to let Myra walk into a trap. She could still protect her, or at least try.

“We shall walk into the village and get a horse from there,” Rose offered.

Myra shook her head. “Most likely they’ve burned the village, or at the very least are looting it. I’ll not have us stuck there.” Myra pressed a steady hand to Rose’s belly, feeling the child kick within. “Or be killed. We will see my brother’s heir to safety. Ye and I together.”

Rose let out a shuddering breath. If there was anyone who could get them to safety, it was Myra. “I trust ye.” Rose nodded, her eyes wide. “I do.”

“All right, then, ye stay here. If I’m not back within a quarter hour, run.”

As Rose watched her sister-by-marriage dart off toward danger, she though to herself,
I will never be weak again
.

Chapter One

Foulis Castle

Spring, 1306

“A good morning to ye, Giddy.” Lady Rose Munro stared at the beautiful chestnut mare eating quite happily in the stable. The lazy mount was happier munching on hay in her stall than roaming the moors to eat fresh grass. Exactly the opposite of her sire, Coney, the warhorse who’d brought Myra and Rose to the safety of Dunrobin Castle all those years before, when Foulis was attacked. The fated day that changed the course of her life.

Without Coney, they’d have been lost to the enemy for certain.

To honor him, she’d taken Giddy with her and spoiled her rotten.

Giddy’s penchant for laziness only lasted as long as the walk to freedom and then the mare could soar over the moors faster than some chargers.

“Shall I get her ready for ye, my lady?” the stable master asked.

Rose smiled. “I dinna want to take ye away from your duties. I know plenty of the mares have already begun foaling this week.”

“Aye, happy I am that spring has come.” He rocked proudly on his heels.

“As am I.” While pretty white landscapes with crystals of ice were a beautiful sight to behold, the bitter cold had kept Rose and her son, Byron Munro II, cooped up inside the long winter months. Now that spring had arrived, Byron was off running around with a few of the clan lads, along with his three slobbery hounds, and she was ready for a brisk ride upon the open moors.

Rose opened the stall, receiving a cranky snort from Giddy, which she ignored. She brushed her hand over her horse’s withers, whispering sweet nonsense as she readied Giddy. Already, the surge of excitement that riding brought pumped through Rose’s veins.