All The Time You Need (7 page)

Though it was apparent that the men had no fear of her, she had to do something. Something that might at least slow them down and encourage them to think twice about any ideas they currently held. Wrapping one arm around the bars of the gate to hold herself up on her feet, she threw the biggest stick she had, with as much force as she could muster. It landed maybe four feet away. The big dog pounced on it and raced up to the bars, the stick clamped between his enormous teeth. Hardly a surprise that the dog feared her even less than the men did.

“I’m not playing, you stupid dog,” she hissed, and drew back her arm to throw one of the stones.

It was no bigger than the palm of her hand, but it felt as if it weighed fifty pounds. When she released it, it was impossible to follow the path of its flight thanks to the tunnel narrowing her vision. No matter how she fought it, the ground called her name, and she had no alternative to responding to its lure. In spite of her best intentions, her new friend was on her own to face their attackers.

“Sorry,” she whimpered as gravity won the battle and she crumpled to the ground.

Chapter 4

“She blusters loudly for a woman with no weapon. Unless…I canna imagine that she thought to frighten us away with sticks and rocks, can you?” Finn asked incredulously from Alex’s side. “There’s little enough to fear if all she’s going to do is entertain Dog by pitching sticks to him.”

“It would appear that was, indeed, her intent,” Alex answered, breaking into a trot when the stone held by the woman in question fell from her limp hand and she slumped to the ground. “Damnation!”

In spite of her lack of weaponry, she’d impressed him with her courage, even if she might well be a danger to all of them. Her concern as he and Finn had approached had been not for herself, but for Lissa’s safety. Had he and Finn been Gordon warriors seeking vengeance against the MacKillicans, it could well have meant a nasty end for both women.

Unless she had nothing to fear because she played a part in a clever Gordon trap.

“Keep a sharp eye,” he called over his shoulder.

He couldn’t ignore the possibility. He also couldn’t ignore the possibility that she was merely a victim. As such, regardless of any danger to herself, not only had she given her best in defense of his sister, now it seemed as though she might have given her all.

“You see?” Lissa chirped from her perch dangling above the ground. “You’ll be getting no apologies from me this day, though I’ll be expecting one from you, brother. It’s exactly as I tried to tell you. Exactly as Grandda’s stories foretold. I found her here this morning, crumpled against the stone seat. Surely now you can see why I sought yer help. Her being trapped in there is why I needed the key.”

The key. He’d almost forgotten.

“Give it to me,” he demanded, more harshly than necessary and, for a fact, much more harshly than he’d intended.

He wanted to believe it was no more than irritation at his sister’s resurrection of the old stories that fouled his temper. Or even that his concern over what might have happened to her when she’d ignored his orders played a role in coloring his tone. But that would be only a part of the reason. The guilt eating at his soul was a larger source of his anger than anything else. A guilt compounded as he scanned for any sign of movement from the woman collapsed on the ground.

He shouldn’t have dismissed Lissa’s plea without having listened to all of what she had to tell him.

“Get me down from here, you great oaf, and the key is yers,” his sister responded, her words holding no hint of the accusation she had every right to voice.

He deserved it all and more. Yes, he was angry with her, but even angrier with himself. Some pitiful excuse for an all-knowing laird he was turning out to be.

Alex stepped onto the bench and lifted his sister up and away from the iron post that held her captive.

“The key,” he said again, taking care to gentle his tone as he passed her down to Finn’s uplifted arms.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Lissa reached inside her shift, pulled out the key and handed it up to her brother. “Hurry, Alex. She’s hurt, and I’ve no idea of how bad it might be.”

With a flick of his wrist, he had the lock opened and off the ring, freeing the heavy gate. Even as he jumped down, Lissa swung the gate wide, falling to her knees beside the prone body of the woman.

“Annie? Can you hear me?”

Annie.
It would appear that his sister had spoken to her long enough to learn her name.

Lissa brushed back the loose strands of hair from the woman’s face, revealing a nasty purple swelling on her cheek. Whoever had locked her in the arbor had treated her with unbridled force in the process.

An odd protective need rose up in Alex’s chest. A need to find the bastard responsible for marking this woman, this Annie, as his sister called her, and gift him with a few matching marks of his own.

“How came she to be here?”

“A good question, that. And one that requires a truthful answer in the fullness of time,” Finn said quietly from behind him. “But no' now. And definitely no' here. I’d recommend that we hasten these women back inside the walls. It’s a good possibility that the forest has eyes. Though whether those eyes travel upon two legs or four, I canna say.”

Alex looked in the direction of his friend’s gaze to see Dog standing at attention, ears alert, transfixed as if he’d just located a prey he sought. Looking down at the harm done to this woman, Alex’s first instinct was to have Finn turn the animal loose and follow him to his destination. But it wasn’t just the two of them he needed to consider. It was the safety of his only sister and the woman. This
Annie.

“As you say,” he muttered, dropping to one knee and scooping Annie up into his arms. Two likely scenarios warred in his thoughts as he straightened, delaying his steps. The first was that this stranger might well be little more than bait in a trap. A trap designed to lure in those whose safety he was pledged to protect. The second scenario was equally chilling. He could well hold in his arms a spy, sent to infiltrate the walls his enemies were unable to breach.

“It would be foolish on our part to spend any more time here in the open. Dog,” Finn called, and the animal came immediately to his side, though the hair on his back remained raised.

With Finn on one side of Lissa, his sword at the ready, and Dog moving to guard her other side, Alex led the way back through the forest, all of them rushing their steps until they were back inside the protective walls of Dunellen. Alex paused only long enough to issue orders that the portcullis should be lowered.

“Take her up to my chamber,” Lissa instructed. “I’m going to find Aggie to see to her.”

“Go with her,” Alex instructed Finn over his shoulder before continuing up the stairs as his sister had asked.

Considering that the clan’s healer had been old long before Alex had been born, Lissa might need Finn’s help to get Agneys into the castle and up to the third floor. The old crone had a wicked reputation for stubbornness, but he had no doubt Finn would return with her, even if it meant carrying her kicking and cursing the entire way.

With one powerful shove, Alex sent the massive wooden door to his sister’s chamber swinging open to bang back against the wall. He crossed the room and gently laid Annie in the middle of the bed before stepping back to study his unexpected guest.

Though he wasn’t one to accept the outlandish stories his grandfather Aiden had invented for the entertainment of his grandchildren—and any others who would listen—he couldn’t blame his twin for thinking this woman had appeared straight out of one of those stories. She was an odd one, truth be told.

From the soft curls of her light-brown hair, which would reach no longer than middle of her back at best guess, to the strange cut and cloth of her garments, he’d not seen her like before. Not even during his time in Edinburgh, and he’d seen all manner of women there, from those who thought themselves royalty to those who made their living lying upon their backs.

Annie was like none of them.

The clothing she wore must be undergarments of some kind, though he’d certainly never seen a match for either their softness or for the colors in that flowered skirt she wore. As it barely reached the middle of her lower leg, he could only surmise that whoever had ill-treated her must also have taken part of her clothing. Or perhaps they’d removed her from the shelter of her chambers without allowing her time to dress.

Again that odd need to protect her blossomed in his chest, and he slowly moved closer to the bed, a man drawn irresistibly forward, like a summer midge drawn to the scent of warm blood.

Her face was delicately beautiful, with finely chiseled features, marred only by the discolored swelling on her cheek. He resisted the temptation to run a finger over her furrowed brow, forcing his hands instead to busy themselves with drawing a light blanket over her long, bared legs. No sense in exposing her to any more indignities than she’d already suffered.

A bowl of tepid water sat next to his sister’s bed, and he searched the room for any manner of cloth he might use as a compress. He found what he wanted folded into a corner of the chest at the foot of Lissa’s bed, and hurried to dip it into the water. With the cool cloth wrung out, he leaned in close and set it on the angry swelling.

As if the movement had summoned her back from wherever she’d been hiding, Annie’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal the deepest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Like pools in a bottomless loch, they called to him.

Or perhaps not to him…

“Peter?” she whispered, and then, like tapestries sliding down a wall, her eyelids dropped, spreading thick, dark lashes against soft, creamy skin.

The interaction lasted only a fraction of a moment, but it left him rattled. He wanted her to awaken again so that he might satisfy his need to know more about her. Who was she? Where had she come from? And, most of all, who the hell was Peter?

* * *

There was something Annie needed to do. Something terribly important she’d left undone, nagging relentlessly at the back of her mind. But remembering what it was or how to find her way back to it simply seemed beyond her abilities. It felt as if she were at the bottom of a very deep well. Or maybe a tunnel. That was it. A tunnel. A very long tunnel, very far away from that tiny pinprick of light beckoning in the distance. A light? Yes! If she could just make it to that light, she stood a chance of escaping from this place.

That important something she’d forgotten continued to worry her as she fought her way forward, nipping at her heels, driving her, urging her on.

Did it have something to do with her family? That must be it. Surely only a family responsibility could hang so heavily around her neck.

With a mighty effort, she managed one last burst toward the light, a cold rush tingling on her face as she struggled to open her eyes.

She lay on her back, a blurry figure hovering over her. A man, she could tell. And a large man at that. But she knew no man who would be this close to her. Well, none except the one she wanted most to escape…

“Peter?”

In the instant after she spoke his name, her vision cleared and she recognized her mistake. This was certainly not Peter. It wasn’t anyone she’d ever seen before.

Except she
had
seen this ruggedly handsome man before.

Again the invisible fingers from the tunnel reached up to grab hold of her and drag her back down into their pit of oblivion.

Within her mind, she struggled to remember. She had known that man. He wasn’t Peter. He wasn’t family. But he was somehow a part of whatever it was that she needed to do.

Like a cold slap to the face, it came back to her in a rush. Lissa! That girl who’d tried to rescue her from the arbor. She’d abandoned that poor girl to the uncertain mercies of the man who hovered over her now. She’d done her best to drive him away, to protect the girl, but she’d been too weak.

Once more she summoned her strength and fought against the invisible ties holding her down, thrashing her head from side to side, clawing her way back up toward the light. She was determined to succeed this time, no matter how tightly they tried to hold her down.

When her eyes opened again, she felt very different than she had on each prior attempt. As if awaking from a long, refreshing sleep, none of that exhausted weakness clung to her any longer. This time, she was ready for battle.

With a shout of outrage, she burst up from the bed where she lay to confront those who held her prisoner.

In her mind, at least, that was the scenario. And though her mind was indeed ready for battle, frustratingly, her body didn’t seem quite up to the task. The mighty shout she’d envisioned came out as more of a raspy groan, and she was quite certain her head hadn’t cleared the mattress by more than a quarter of an inch.

This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“It would seem she’s returning from the Land of Oracles to rejoin us.” The voice of a woman. An old voice, hoarse with age. “My timing, as always, is perfect.”

“Yer timing?” a man said, followed by a snort of derision. “Then I suppose that my having to carry you here like a sack of belligerent grain was little more than a part of yer master plan, aye? To delay yer arrival until this very moment?”