My Heart's in the Highlands (17 page)

It might have been June and the days preceding this one some of the hottest she’d ever experienced, but the rain
of the last day had brought with it a bite that was only amplified by the eternal chill of the caves.  This was what made the dungeons such a dreaded place.

Despite that,
a few moments, even an hour or more, would cause no harm.  Robert had told her that as children he and his sister would play there at pirates for hours at a time. 

But when the tides came in
…

Hero shuddered and Ian wrapped his arms around her, chafing her lightly to warm her.
  “Worry not, my love, we will find a way out.”

“There is no other way out.”

“Then someone will find us,” he reassured her.

Hero nodded against his chest but she had her doubts.

Chapter Twenty-One

An hour later, Ian had rammed his shoulder against the door so many times that he knew he would be bruised from the effort.  Still the door hadn’t budged an inch.  He had tried to pry the hinges out to remove the entire door but they were rusted over.  He’d even tried to lever the door away with a rock and a long piece of driftwood.  Nothing had worked.

Now he waded into the rising water, assessing the force of the waves on the incoming tide
and wondering if he could swim to the beach.  He’d have to scale the cliffs as well or run the half mile up the beach to the ancient stone stairs that were built into the cliffs before he could make it into the castle and back down into the dungeon to free Hero.  By that time, there was no telling what condition she would be in.

“You’d never make it,” Hero said perceptively when he pounded his fist against the cave wall in frustration.

Ian turned back to her.  She was leaning against the wall by the door, unable to sit now that the tidal waters lapped about her feet.  She was pale, shivering in his coat.  Her teeth were audibly chattering.  Ian cursed inwardly, angry with himself for being unable to free her.  Terrified for her. 

“You must be freezing, Ian,” she said.
  “Please take back your jacket.”

“The sight of your lovely face is enough to warm me,” he said, earning a slight smile and a shake of her head.
 

In truth, he was chilled.
  His wet feet and legs in particular were almost numb.  But he didn’t feel nearly as cold as Hero looked.  Her cheeks and nose that had been red from the cold not long ago were now a worrisome white.  He was desperate to get her warm and dry, but even as Ian watched, the water rose higher, soaking the bottom of Hero’s skirts.  He looked back, trying to remember where the original water levels had been, measuring where they were now, and applying what little he knew of the Firth of Clyde’s normal tides.

Hero exhaled a huff that might have been a chuckle.
  “I can see you working it out in your mind, Ian.  Shall I save you the trouble?  In just a few hours this cave will be nearly underwater.  Even if it we were not close to a full moon, it wouldn’t matter.   High tide floods this cave every time between nine and as high as nearly fourteen feet.  The water will reach this far up the passage, almost to the level of the main cavern. That’s why the iron parts of the door are so rusted.  If it assures you at all, however, we will not drown.”

“I
t doesn’t assure me at all,” Ian ground out.  What was the worst way to die?  From drowning or exposure to the elements?  The brisk wind swirling about the cave would have been bad enough, but the waters of the firth even in the summer were frigid. When the sun went down, it would be even more miserable.  There had to be a way to keep Hero from the worst of it until someone realized where they were and opened the door.

Again Hero spoke as if she could read his thoughts.
  “I can handle getting my toes wet, Ian.”

“It’s not your toes I’m worried about,” he told her, wading back to he
r and drawing her into his arms.  He lifted her out of the water, negating her protests with a frown.  Turning, he leaned back against the wall with her cradled in his arms.

He was worried about her life.
  He was worried about losing her just as he had found her.  Ian laughed derisively.  Who was he fooling?  He was afraid, very afraid.

Holding her against him, Ian willed his body to warm hers and keep her safe.
  He didn’t want be without her.  His astonishing realization should have shocked him more.  A part of him thought he should fear it, reject it, but some part of Ian embraced it.

Hero was his.
  He had known from the first moment he had seen her that he wanted her and he would lose not her now.  He could not.  Rocking her gently against his chest, Ian studied the door with a frown, wondering again how it had closed.  Ghosts aside, the door appeared too heavy—and had felt too sturdy against his shoulder—to be blown shut, even by the forceful winds from the firth.  That meant that someone had purposefully shut it, locking them inside.

Knowing they were inside?

Ian thought again of the previous night.  Of the candle stump in the pool of oil.  Had someone tossed the lamp and thrown a lit candle into it, hoping to start a fire?  The oil itself would have drowned the flame before it had a chance to ignite but not everyone would have known that.  If someone was trying to harm them, Ian wondered who.  And why.

Pressing a kiss to the top of Hero’s head, Ian had another terrible thought.
  What if her accident in Glasgow hadn’t been an accident at all?

Time slipped by as he mulled
over the problem,  the passage of the minutes marked by the water creeping past his ankles and up his calves.  His arms burned from holding Hero for so long but he refused to let her go.

Hero slumped against him
suddenly and Ian turned his attention frantically to her, checking her pulse.  Not dead, just unconscious.  Or sleeping.  Cold and exposure often had that affect, but sleeping was the worst thing for her.  Ian shook her gently, then more forcibly.  “No, Hero!  Wake up now, lass.”

She moaned softly and Ian continued to shake her and talk to her until she opened her eyes once more.
  “That’s it, my love.  Wake up or I’ll drop you back in the water.”

“Cold,” she murmured but kept her eyes open.

“I know,” he said.  “I am too.  Come, now, stay awake.  Tell me something else about Cuilean.  Tell me about the ghosts.”

Shaking her head, Hero wrapped her arms around his neck
, burying her cold nose in his neck.  “I’m sorry I made you come down here.”

Ian laughed
, hugging her to him.  “I was anxious to get you alone.  At least we’re not locked in the icehouse, right?”

“Probably warmer,” she said with a tiny smile.
  “You don’t have to hold me.  I know I must be getting heavy.”

“
You’re as light as a feather,” he said and she shook her head but at least she was still smiling.  Ian loved her smile.  It carried warmth and caring and was bestowed frequently upon everyone around her.  He’d never met another woman like her, and Ian doubted that there was even another to be found.  Though he’d known her only a few days and knew there was much more to learn about her, he felt that he truly did
know
her. 

For once, the insanity of it all sat well with him.
  Ian rested his forehead against hers and whispered softly, “I know it's madness to say this.  I must tell you.  I love you, sweet Hero.”

He felt her chilly fingers gently touch his face and he lifted his head to meet her eyes.
  They were shiny, filled with happiness at odds with their current circumstances.  “I love you, too.”

Ian kissed her tenderly, then rubbed his nose across hers
, earning a soft smile.

“Daughter!
  Where are you?”

Dropping
his forehead against Hero’s, Ian released a relieved laugh.  “I doubt I’ve ever been so happy to hear those words.”

“Neither have I.”
 

Hero squeezed his neck
and Ian returned the hug, feeling a rush of joy that she would be all right.  “If I had known all I had to do to get us rescued was create a moment worth interrupting, I would have done it long ago.”

Hero grinned
tiredly then, and after insisting Ian let her stand on her own, joined him in calling for Beaumont’s attention and verbally guiding him to the door.  They heard Simms's voice as well as they argued about the keys and eventually managed to open the door.

“Hello,” the duke said with a broad smile as the door swung open.

“Hello, Papa,” Hero said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.  “I’m so glad you found us.”

Taking Hero by the hand, Ian urged their small party farther
up the passage and away from the water.  He was eager to get her out of the cold and into a warm bath.

“I’ve been
looking for you everywhere,” Beaumont said, as if he were unaware that they were wading through several inches of water.  “How was your day?”

Sharing a
droll look with Ian, Hero said only, “Fine, and yours?”

“
I milked a cow!”

Hero and Ian both turned to Simm
s, who was trailing them, lifting his trouser legs to keep them from the water.  The nurse shook his head defensively against the silent accusation.  “I was there, my lady.  It seemed to cause no harm to his grace … or to the cow,” he added as an afterthought.

Slowly they climbed the many flights of stairs while Beaumont rambled on about the cow.
  Ian held Hero’s arm, assisting her along the way as the dungeons connected to the cellars until they reached the door that opened to the servant’s hall outside the kitchen.  Ian shut the thick door, finally blocking the cold drafts away, and called for his staff, ordering the first to appear to prepare a hot bath for Lady Ayr.

Ian turned to Beaumont and gave him a quick hug, pressing a hard kiss to the side of his head.
  “Thank you, Harry.  We owe you our lives.”

“My feet are wet,” was the duke’s only response.

“Come, your grace,” Simms rushed to perform his duties.  “I’ll get you some dry stockings and shoes.”

“You should put on some dry stockings as well, Daughter,” Beaumont said as Simms led him away.
  “I shall have your mother bring you some and a nice cup of tea as well.”

“Papa
…” Hero started to remind Beaumont—again—that his wife had died, but Ian stopped her with a gentle hand.

“
It can wait, Hero. Come now,” Ian said.  “Harry is being taken care of.  Now it is your turn.  Let’s get you warmed up.”

Hero nodded tiredly, weakened by the climb up the narrow stairs
, but when Ian led her to the servants’ stairs, which were closer, Hero just stared up at them with a sigh.  “None of that now,” Ian said, sweeping her into his arms once more.  He started to climb.  “The quicker you’re out of those wet clothes, the warmer you will be.”

“You need to get out of your wet clothes as well,” Hero said, her words bringing a warm
suggestive light to Ian’s eyes, and Hero blushed becomingly.  He was glad to see some color flow back into her pale cheeks.

“I would be happy to accommodate you, my love,” he whispered in her ear as he reached the top of the stairs.
  Still he didn’t release her, carrying her the short way to the State Room.  The door was ajar, and Ian kicked it the rest of the way open, bearing Hero through the bedchamber and straight to the dressing room, where Mandy was already drawing a hot bath.

“Get her warmed up and into bed with some hot bricks,” Ian ordered the maid.

“Yes, my lord.”  Mandy bobbed a curtsey, waiting expectantly for Ian to leave and then frowning fiercely when he did not.

As much as he knew that
he needed to leave so that Hero could bathe, Ian found himself reluctant to go.  He longed to stay and see to her recovery himself but he knew that was impossible.

Hero smiled and shrugged out of his jacket.
  “Give Dickson my apologies for its condition,” she said.  “He’d best have a bath waiting for you as well or he will hear from me.”