“Will you send a missive to Lewis?”
“At some point, but not yet.”
Abigail listened to Gordon's question and Cormag’s answer. The laird’s response didn’t surprise her. He had learned nothing from her, and he likely had learned nothing from Ronan. They were still useful. He wouldn’t free them or kill them yet. She put her ear to the crack rather than her eye as the men continued to talk.
“How did he seem when you went down there?” Cormag asked Gordon.
“I didn’t go in. I remained outside his cell, listening. He asked aboot his wife, but that’s it. He didn’t respond to aught the men said, nor did he ask for aught. He didn’t even make any threats. Brandon said he whistled to his men a few times, but he didn’t know what they meant. Each of the men answered, though. I suppose he was checking to see who survived.”
“Where are the men you gathered from the beach?” Cormag’s question made Abigail’s brow furrow. She’d been there an entire day. If there had been other survivors, she didn’t understand why they hadn’t taken them to the dungeon too.
“Still in the storage building. I don’t want the bastard kenning he only lost two men. A few are injured, but none mortally.”
“Fine,” Cormag responded. “I’m to bed.”
“What aboot Lady Abigail?”
“One meal a day is all I can manage without wrapping my hands around her throat.”
“That’s not what I meant, Cor.”
“I ken. She just annoys me.” When Cormag paused, Abigail shifted to look through the crack. She watched Cormag run his hand over his face before gulping what she assumed was whisky. “Keep her in her chamber during the day, mayhap even take her to see her husband after you’ve roughed him up. But I’m warning you, Gordy, stay away from her. She’s not far off from what will happen if she’s harmed. Donovan may have predicted that MacKinnon would return to Dun Ringill this sennight, but none of us kenned he married the chit or that she’d be aboard. She complicates everything. Killing him would be easy. But if she dies, she brings a giant’s helping of trouble to us.”
“But the banshee killed Don.”
“I ken that as well as you. He was our baby brother, but you both sailed out to fight. I never wished him dead, and I suffer my own grief for our loss. But he underestimated a woman who’d survived nearly a half hour in frigid water. From how you described her, he should have known she wasn’t weak. If she’d looked half-dead, her attack might have been a surprise. But neither she nor MacKinnon were going to go with you willingly. They would have perished together. Punishing her, making her beg for her life is what I want more than aught—more than the MacKinnon—but it doesn’t serve our purpose. At least not yet.”
“Fine.” Abigail could hear the disagreement in Gordon’s tone, but he didn’t argue with his brother. She watched the men rise from their chairs. Cormag used the poker to spread the logs in the fireplace so the flames would die. The brothers crossed the chamber together. Then Abigail heard the door close. She turned and rested her back against the wall beside the crevice. She would search the solar, but she would wait to ensure neither man returned.
Abigail leaned against the wall for what she figured was nearly ten minutes before she eased the hidden door open. She’d found a sconce in the tunnel and left her torch there, using the dying fire to illuminate the solar. She hurried to the massive desk that sat at the far end of the chamber, positioned so that Cormag’s back would be to the wall across from the secret entrance. She grinned when she discovered Cormag locked none of the drawers. She pulled one after another open, withdrawing parchments, some folded and some rolled. She skimmed each of them, finding nothing she considered useful. She was careful to return everything exactly how she found it. She surveyed the books along the wall beside the door leading to the main floor. A flash of memory returned to her as she recalled Donovan leading them into the tunnels on the other side of the chamber from where Abigail entered that night. Abigail hurried to retrieve her torch before she searched near the bookshelf for the other door. It popped open with a creak, making Abigail wince. Once more holding her torch out before her, she slipped through the darkness.
Twenty-Six
Ronan sighed as he waited out yet another night in his cell. He would try to never reveal to Abigail that this wasn’t his first stay in a dungeon. He knew it would only upset her, and it was likely to reignite feuds when she demanded vengeance. His lips twitched as he thought about his petite bride. He thought back to how he’d assumed she wasn’t talkative and how that was the type of woman he wished to make his wife. He recalled how stricken she’d looked the morning she ran into his chest as she left the garden, how ashamed she’d been as she confessed her shortcomings. But he also remembered their first burst of passion and how he’d never wanted a woman more before that day.
His rod twitched as he thought about Abigail’s arms wrapped around him as they lay together in bed during their stay at Stornoway, the feel of her hand wrapped around his length as she stroked him before she took him into her mouth or into her sheath. He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed as he watched one erotic scene after another play behind his lids. Some were memories and some were fantasies, but they all involved a woman with raven hair and startling green-blue eyes. With nothing else to do, Ronan reached beneath his plaid to ease the ache. He didn’t doubt Abigail thought of him, and he knew she could find her own pleasure after she’d taught him multiple ways to pleasure her with his hands. He wondered if she had touched herself while they were apart. He grinned and shook his head as he continued to stroke his length. His wife was lusty, but he doubted she’d agree that their situation could involve any pleasure. But Ronan figured it passed the time.
He stifled his groan just as a whistle drifted to him. He wasn’t sure he’d even heard it, but rather imagined it. It was the call he’d taught Abigail in case she ever became separated from him or their men. He rose and crossed the cell, his hands hidden behind his back but holding a dirk in case it was a trick. When he heard it a second time, he was certain it was Abigail. He put his face to the bars in the rectangular opening and whistled back. Once he did, a few more whistles sounded. He couldn’t understand how Abigail was within the dungeons without guards dragging her, or how she could be at the opposite end from where they’d entered and where they’d taken her.
Silence filled the air, and Ronan wondered if someone pretended to be Abigail to fool him. As he backed away from the door slim fingers, one adorned with an emerald ring, slipped between the bars. The top of a dark-haired head and a pair of bright greenish blue eyes appeared. Ronan reached for Abigail’s hand, crushing her fingers in his eagerness to touch her. He knew she stood on her toes when the rest of her face appeared. She glanced away from him and toward where the guards sat together. They could both hear the low rumble of the men’s voices.
“I’m all right. Are ye?”
Ronan had never heard a more welcome sound than Abigail’s whisper. “Aye. They never searched me for more weapons, so I still have three. I got ma hands free, but they dinna ken. I suspect the others did too, but they’ve kept it hidden. What’re ye doing here, Abby?”
“Secret tunnels.”
“That’s how. I asked what,” Ronan hissed.
“Making sure ye’re still alive. Now I ken how to get into the dungeon from within the keep. I believe there’s a way out of the dungeon and into the cave beneath the keep. There’s a sea gate there.”
“Nay more exploring, Abby. Ye’re likely to get caught. Please.”
“I’ve found all I dare for tonight.”
“Nae just tonight.” Ronan didn’t miss how Abigail hedged.
“Unless they chain me in here or in ma chamber, I will nae give up searching for a way to get ye out.”
