“The mon who hit ye when ye woke the last time did it much harder than Gordon. I feared ye wouldnae wake at all.”
“I’m nae giving up ma life with ye when it has just begun. I dreamed of ye while I was unconscious. I was fighting to get back to ye. I’ll always fight to get back to ye.” Ronan leaned back until he could see Abigail’s face. She tilted her head away from his chest before they exchanged another tender kiss. Both were too exhausted for more, and relief was stronger than passion as they lay looking at one another.
“What do ye think they will do? Will they ransom us back to our people?”
“Most probably. But I dinna think Cormag will be in a rush. I think he’d rather I languish here for as long as he can keep me. I can only hope his wife, Cecily, learns that he has a woman imprisoned down here. She’ll rail at him until he takes ye out of here. She’s as greedy as he is, but she’s also the most pretentious woman I have ever met. She’ll nag him about how improper it is to keep a woman down here, and how she’s too good to live in a keep with savages who keep women locked away.”
“How can ye be so sure?”
“Because that’s what she did when Cormag kidnapped MacNeacail’s sister.”
“Kidnapped?”
“More like bride stealing. MacNeacail arranged for his sister to marry a northern MacDonald chieftain. Cormag refuses to accept any alliance between them because he kens they’ll partner against him. He stole the woman, intending that Donovan marry her. But he didna ken she was already with child—from a mon in her own clan. Neither marriage happened.”
“But Lady MacLeod intervened?”
“Only so much as to get Lady Katherine into a chamber, for appearance’s sake. She didna care what happened to Lady Katherine once she thought she’d protected her own reputation.”
“I’m nae leaving ye down here, Ronan.”
“Ye will if ye can.”
“Nay, I—”
“Abby, if ye can get out of here, ye will. I dinna want ye in this filth. I dinna want ye falling ill, if ye arenae already going to. Ye’re still soaked. Cecily will give ye something to wear, and she might even let ye have a bath. Dinna count on being invited to their table, but ye’re safer up there than ye are in here.”
“But, Ronan, ye might die down here. I amnae leaving yer side.”
“They willna let it come to that. There is money to be made off ma head. If I’m dead, our clan willna pay a ransom for me. Same for ye. If aught happens to ye, there’ll be nay ransom. Cormag is impetuous and greedy, but nae entirely stupid. Killing me in his own keep rather than in battle will only anger the Bruce. Yer MacLeod plaid is somewhere at the bottom of the Little Minch, but if ye can convince Cormag that ye’re Kieran’s sister, he willna touch ye. If he kens he’ll cause a rift between the branches, he’ll think twice. Yer brother could overrun the MacLeods of Harris if yer branches from Raasay join Kieran. Cormag willna let yer brother have the entire island nor dominate members of his own branch.”
“Do ye think there is any way to get a message to Kieran?”
“I dinna ken aboot that, but Cormag willna need vera many reminders of what will happen once Kieran learns he captured ye.”
“Us. Captured us. Ye’re a MacLeod now, whether Cormag acknowledges it. I told ye that when we exchanged vows at the kirk. I may bear yer name now, but ye’re part of ma family as much as I’m now a part of yers. Our marriage contracts bind Kieran as yer ally, even if he didna already like ye and think of ye as a brother.”
“That’s a wee stretch.”
“It’s nae. Ronan, I ken what I saw. He’s the same way with ye as he is with Lachlan, and he considers Lachlan to be his brother, even if it’s only by marriage. For all our faults, Kieran is vera protective of his family, especially if Maude learns of this and it upsets her.”
“I’d rather ye were well away from here, preferably at Dun Ringill, before the MacKinnons or the MacLeods of Lewis attack. I dinna want ye caught in the middle.”
“Cormag may have already made that decision for ye.”
Abigail and Ronan turned their heads toward the door when they heard the heavy thud of boots approaching. Ronan glanced at Abigail and cocked an eyebrow, telling her this might be their chance for her to leave. He wouldn’t allow her to remain. She frowned at this, but nodded. She swore silently to herself that if she got free of the dungeon, she would get free of the keep. She would get them both away from Dunvegan, then sit back and watch as Ronan and Kieran rained holy hell down upon Cormag. The moment the MacLeods attacked, they had sealed their fate. Even if Ronan and Abigail didn’t survive, the MacKinnons and MacLeods of Lewis held the combined strength to suppress the MacLeods of Skye. It would create a fissure between the two MacLeods branches that wouldn’t be reconciled in the lifetime of anyone who drew breath now.
“Dinna drink aught but watered ale or water. Better yet, naught but water. Dinna eat aught with a sauce,” Ronan hurried to whisper. “Naught that they can tamper with and ye wouldnae taste. Be careful that nay one spots yersgian dubhif they give ye a bath or a change of clothes. Tell every lie ye can think of if Cormag or Gordon demand information and ye even suspect it might protect ye. I love ye, Abby.”
“I love ye, Ronan. And dinna think for a moment that I will let ye die down here.” Abigail pressed a swift kiss to Ronan’s lips, her tongue flicking out against his lips. They pulled away all too soon for either of their wants, but the key in the lock told them their time together was likely over.
“Lady MacLeod is eager for a lady companion,” one guard announced. Abigail looked at Ronan, barely able to see his cocked eyebrow in the dim light. She knew he was thinking “see.” She dipped her chin in agreement. Rough hands once more grasped her underarms and yanked her to her feet. She kept her eyes on Ronan as they dragged her from the cell. She watched as the cell door slammed shut and another guard locked the door.
As the guard steered her forward, Abigail caught sight of several MacKinnon guards languishing in their cells. Some were unconscious, but some watched her pass by. She hoped they understood her determined expression and didn’t think she was abandoning them. Her eyes swept over the area where the guards sat watch. She observed the guard with the massive keyring hang it on a hook beneath a tabletop, hiding it from sight. She’d counted the number of cells and the number of men she could see. Only half of the men they set out with were present. Grief for their families swept through her, and it strengthened her resolve to get Ronan and the MacKinnons free.
Twenty-Two
Abigail complied with all the orders given to her, hoping to appear too frightened and overwhelmed to fight back. It didn’t match how she’d fought earlier that day, but she was determined to make the MacLeods think she was complacent and unsuspecting. She also needed the dregs of her strength to survive whatever would come next. With a guard shoving her in front of him, and one on each side flanking her, she made her way abovestairs to the third floor. A maid led the way to a well-appointed guest chamber that already had a steaming tub awaiting her. Abruptly, her hands were freed as a dirk sliced through the rope binding them. Another shove pushed her into the chamber. Appearing to flee from the guards, she moved around the far side of the bed. Her long gown hid the boots she wore, but they were loose from the time spent in the water. She toed them off and slyly kicked them under the bed, hiding thesgian dubhsheathed in her right boot.
