Skye had explored these corridors when she and her mother first arrived in Castle MacKeith, so she knew them well. Now, she chose the ones she believed would be least busy. Moonlight shone through the windows. “Later than I thought,” Skye whispered to Arran. “We must hurry. The castle will be waking up soon.”
Skye tugged him down another corridor, then opened a door that revealed a stairwell leading downward.
“There’s a hole down here,” she whispered. “It connects to an old tunnel that leads to the stables. From there, we can steal a horse—maybe two.”
“Is this how ye and yer maither escaped before?”
Skye nodded. “It is the same tunnel, but we entered it through an old cell that was off the larder. Mary, the cook, told me that one of Blackwell’s former wives used to hide down there and she discovered the tunnel that connected to this one.”
That night seemed so long ago, and Skye suddenly missed her mother terribly. She allowed herself to speculate on what Helena was doing right now. No doubt she was sad and worried. Skye’s heart ached for her.
Down the stairs they went, and near the bottom, she stopped. Arran bumped into her as his foot landed on the step she stood on. His flat, hard chest collided with her back, and she stumbled forward, gasped, but then a strong hand reached out, and she was pulled back into the warmth of his body.
Once again, her knees went weak, but she didn’t move away from him, and he didn’t let go either. She took a deep breath, and the scent of sweat, man, and strength invaded her nostrils and assaulted her senses.
Safe.
Skye was unsure that she’d ever felt truly safe in or out of a man’s presence. Perhaps she’d felt that way as a child, but she really couldn’t recall a time like this. But then she felt something else. Something that started in the pit of her stomach, not her heart or her mind. It was a warmth that spread lower into her loins when Arran tightened his arms around her.
“Nay,” she squeaked.
She jerked away from him and jumped down two steps, glad to put some space between them.
It was too dark still to see his face clearly, but his voice sounded smooth as honey on a warm day. “As much as I’d like to hold ye, lassie, we dinnae have the time. If we manage to escape this wretched place, we can pick up where we left off.”
Men!
Skye blushed, but she didn’t have a clever retort. She continued down the steps. The corridor was narrow and nearly dark, with only two sconces lit, but it was enough. She grinned.
Mary.
“When we get to the tunnel, we’ll have to crawl a bit before we can stand again. Ye’re nae scared of the dark, are ye?” she asked with a grin, though she wasn’t too fond of the dark herself.
“I’d walk through the fires of hell if it meant I’d get out of here. Nay, the dark willnae bother me.”
Suddenly, Skye gasped.
“Nay, nay, nay! What have they done?” she almost wailed.
She ran to the wall and ran her hands over a spot that was plastered over.
“It’s been blocked, Arran!” She heard the panic in her own voice. Someone in Grayson’s circle had discovered the old tunnel entrance.
Think, Skye. Think!
But there wasn’t enough time to make another plan, and her panic quickly turned into despair when a guard descended the stairs.
“Stop right there! Ye cannae go any further!” he yelled.
The words were barely out of the guard’s mouth when Arran leapt forward and punched him square in the jaw. The guard staggered back but quickly regained his balance and threw a punch of his own. Arran dodged the blow and then quickly responded with another of his own, and the guard went down.
Skye watched, expecting the man to get back up, but he was either unconscious or knew it was better to lie there and not move.
Arran kneeled down and rolled him over, but the man didn’t move. Skye’s mouth hung open. He had knocked the guard out in seconds. The muscles in his legs and back bulged as he leaned over the man.
Arran was a fierce and skilled fighter—a useful trait for the current situation, but she wondered if she should be wary of him.
Over the years, she had watched her mother endure so much abuse that she vowed never to marry. And if she did, it wouldn’t be to a brute like Arran. Skye didn’t sense that he would hit a woman, but if he ever laid his strong hands and arms on her, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
