Highlander's Prize (27 page)

The doorway was small, only two feet high. The silk dress was a hassle but she made it and Nareen closed the door behind her.

It was cold. Maybe it was the blackness, but Clarrisa shivered and was sure the sensation traveled to the deepest parts of her soul. Panic tried to seize control of her. It sent her heart pounding, and sweat began to bead on her skin.

Courage!

She reached for the walls, smiling when she felt them. Moving along, she searched for the cloaks and found one. She shied away from thinking about how dirty they might be, telling herself they were only musty from lack of fresh air. At least the one she donned was thick. She raised the hood to help warm her head and began walking.

How far was it?

She started to count, for at least it would tell her how far back the door was if she lost her nerve.

You
will
not!

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and focused all her attention on counting. She would not allow her mind to think of anything except the numbers; that way, she’d not have the chance to change her mind.

One… two… three… four…

***

Someone pounded on his door.

Broen sat up, ripping the covers off in a motion so violent he heard the sheet tear.

“Come in.”

He pulled a shirt over his head before realizing what he planned to do. Edme had already pleated his kilt, and he grasped the ends of the belt.

Edme entered, a parchment in her fingers. “Norris Sutherland is at Bronach.”

Dread twisted his insides. There would only be one reason Norris would be so far south. The man was hunting for a prize.

Clarrisa.

“Tell no one else.”

“But…” Edme argued, “it is nae safe for ye to ride out alone.”

“One glimpse of me riding with me men and Norris will know what I’m coming for. The only chance is for me to try and sneak into Bronach.”

He knew how, but only because Edme had told him of the escape route out of the Grant stronghold.

Lacing his boots took enough time to drive him mad with frustration. Each second felt too long, like a nightmare he couldn’t fight his way free of.

His sword slid easily into its scabbard, and he ducked his head under the thick leather harness to settle the large weapon across his back, Highland-style. The keep was silent; the two men set to watch the lower hallway sat near the hearth where they rolled dice to pass the time.

Broen walked past them, making no more sound than a specter. The stable lads were all sleeping with their plaids pulled up over their heads. His skin was hot from the accelerated pace of his heart.

The gate guards were wide awake. They peered down at him.

“Lift it.”

They complied, only pausing to consider what was happening after he rode through the gate and no one followed. By the time they realized the laird had left the castle without his escort, the night had swallowed him. The clouds moved to hide the moon, making it impossible to catch sight of him. The captain was going to strangle them both for sure.

***

Two hundred twenty-four… Two hundred twenty-five… Two hundred twenty-six…

Clarrisa ground her teeth so hard, she expected them to shatter, but she continued to count.

Two hundred twenty-seven…

She hit a wall in front of her. A strangled sob rose from her throat.

Too
good
to
be
true.

Maybe she was disoriented because of the darkness. What terrified her the most was knowing the sun would never reach her in the passageway. She’d struggle to find the end until she collapsed into a heap to die in the darkness—like being entombed alive.

Stop
it!

Her fingers were on a solid wall. She forced her mind to function past the paralyzing fear.

Nareen had told her she’d need courage, and she had enough to see her way back into the light. She would not die beneath ground.

She slipped her hands along the surface and bent her knees until she was near the ground. The stones gave way to smooth wood, and she shook with relief. It was so overpowering her legs gave out. She landed on her backside in a puddle of silk and musty wool.

But her fingers found the latch. It was bone-chilling cold and slick with something she decided she was better off not identifying, but it was preferable to the costly silk she wore. Smoothing her fingers back and forth along its length, she discovered the direction to move it.

The latch resisted, the damp interior of the passageway having corroded it. She struggled and her breathing increased, but it refused to budge. Courage had seen her to the door, but she needed fate’s blessing to make it to freedom. Or perhaps some clear thinking.

Leaning her back against the wall, she struggled to move the silk skirts aside and raise her foot. She wedged it against the latch, gritting her teeth as the delicate slippers offered her little protection. She drew a deep breath and shoved with all her might. Pain bit into her, threatening to steal the strength from her knee, but she persisted. Her cry echoed along the passageway, the pain becoming white-hot. The latch slid.

She cried out again, this time with joy. She scrambled out of the way so she might pull the door open. Desperation drove her to yank hard on the door, even though one of her fingernails began to tear. It was worth the effort.

The night was dark, but not as pitch-black as the passageway. She crawled out, tearing her skirt as she pushed with her feet to propel her body out of what had felt like a tomb. She collapsed onto the dirt, breathing in the fresh air as though it had been years since she’d smelled it.

Thank
you… thank you… thank you…

Clarrisa wasn’t sure who she sent her gratitude to. God? Fate? Nareen? Or perhaps herself for refusing to allow her fear to rule her. It didn’t matter.

She forced herself to stand. She’d come out in the forest a short way from Bronach Tower. She could see the fires along the battlements twinkling like stars.

The woods should have frightened her. There were sounds all around her: the scrabbling of something and the whistle of the wind. But she seemed to have no fear left in her. It felt like it had washed away, leaving her content in a deep sort of way she couldn’t completely understand.

Yet it felt miraculous. Empowering and confidence-filling—as if she could do anything she pleased without the fear of failure.

Now all she need do was decide what she wanted. The question confounded her as she closed the door and began walking.

The only thing she was sure of was that she wanted away from Norris Sutherland. She was a thing to him, a material possession. The knowledge stung even more when she recalled how charming he’d been with Nareen.

Many would call her a fool for longing for Broen instead of taking the chance to be claimed by the heir of an earl.

Well… not Edme.

She smiled as she thought of the woman who had borne Broen. Satisfaction filled her as the lights of Bronach Tower faded. She had no idea how long a walk it was to the village, and she began to shiver.

She heard a horse and somehow decided it was Broen. Maybe she was too cold, or perhaps she’d collapsed in the tunnel and was only dreaming of freedom. People went mad in the Highlands at night. The dark hours were the time when witches and ghosts reigned supreme.

She heard the blood rushing past her ears, and the sound of the horse seemed to keep time with her heart. The rider appeared in front of her, cast in slivers of moonlight that fell in tiny, sparkling drops.

A specter… Broen… She wanted to believe he was both. Just for a moment, one perfect moment, everything was as she wished it. She felt him look at her and watched the way he pulled the stallion to a halt. Recognition rose from someplace deep inside her, someplace still warm.

Yes… Her moment of perfection.

“Broen…”

It was her last word before she slid to the ground, her strength spent. She didn’t notice when her body failed, because she was locked in her moment of joy.

***

“What would ye have of me, woman?” Shaw demanded. “Would ye have me ride up to Laird Chisholms and admit I’ve no idea where me laird is?”

Edme wasn’t impressed with Shaw’s tone. “Ye must do something. Ye’re the head of me son’s retainers!”

Shaw froze, along with a half dozen men near enough to hear what Edme shouted. Several younger lads serving as gillies also heard, and their eyes widened.

Edme realized what she’d said, one hand covering her lips as silence surrounded her.

Shaw recovered first. “Well, I suppose I can understand yer nerve now. But I still do nae know which direction to go looking for me laird and cannae ride out now or risk ruining the tracks he left. We’ll have to wait until sunrise.”

A bell began to ring from atop the gate. “Rider approaching,” the guard cried out.

Shaw climbed to the top of the wall and peered over the battlement. The horse that materialized from the early-morning mist was one he thought he recognized, but a lifetime of Highland fireside tales made him question what his eyes showed him.

“It’s the laird. Lift the gate,” Edme cried.

He was so tense Shaw almost sent his fist into her face because her voice startled him so badly.

“Jesus Christ, woman! What are ye doing on the battlement? Have ye gone daft?”

“Ye’re the one lacking sense if ye cannae see the truth which is right in front of ye,” she accused.

Broen let out a whistle and several more in a prearranged pattern that sent relief through Shaw.

“Lift the gates, lad! I told ye all no’ to worry. Our laird is pure Highlander, and no midnight ride could have an ill effect on him.”

The gate lifted, the chains grinding loudly enough to drown out any further conversation. Shaw took the moment to breathe a sigh of relief, but when he opened his eyes, he was staring at Edme, and the muscles along his neck tightened once more.

The
laird’s mother?

***

“Come back to me, lass.”

She smelled him, the scent of his skin. It made her smile, and she snuggled down into the warmth surrounding her.

“Clarrisa…”

She frowned, a pain stabbing through her forehead like a dagger. It grew white-hot, sending a burning pain down her spine. It radiated to every limb, not stopping until even her toes hurt. She didn’t want to wake up, not to the pain. She wanted to die in her perfect moment, safe where nothing else existed.

“Ye need to allow her to rest.”

Edme spoke softly, but Broen growled at her, “I must wake her. She’s hiding in this fever.”

“Ye cannae know such a thing.”

He didn’t know it; he felt it. Just as he’d felt her fear. He clamped his lips shut recalling how easily he’d condemned Faolan. He knew better now. There were ties that made no sense, connections a man couldn’t rationalize or even understand. He stroked Clarrisa’s scarlet cheek, feeling her slipping away from him as surely as he felt the heat of her skin against his skin.

“Come back.”

She muttered something and smiled as her breathing became slower. He heard Edme smother a sob. She reached out and placed a hand on top of his.

“It’s time to summon a priest.”

“I refuse to give up.” He reached for the hilt of the dagger tucked into the top of his boot. “And I refuse to believe Clarrisa would give up.” He reached for one of her braids, clamping his teeth tight as he cut it. The second one met with the same fate as Edme nodded approvingly. She needed cooling, and her hair was only keeping her warm. It was a desperate attempt to interfere with fate, but he’d take it since it was his only sliver of hope.

Someone rapped softly on the door, and he turned to see a priest entering. Edme covered her mouth but waved the man inside.

It was a damn thin sliver of hope.

***

The night was alive.

Clarrisa rose up, not sure how she’d lain down to begin with. It didn’t matter, though. She felt so light; her feet didn’t even touch the ground. It was a miraculous feeling. Around and around she twirled, until her hair floated away like a cloud, but it didn’t matter because she felt so cool and free.

Nothing mattered at all.

***

“Ye belong to me.”

She jerked, trying to flee, but she was paralyzed. Norris Sutherland was no longer charming, but cold and controlling. His face transformed into her uncle’s as he loomed over her.

“Ye shall do your duty.”

She tried in vain to move again, but her limbs lay useless. Her mouth was parched and too dry to form any words. All she could do was wait helplessly for Norris to take what he would.