He walked back to the edge of the precipice and looked down. Magnus’s silver-white hair shone in the moonlight, making him easy to spot in his descent down the mountain. “Cover your hair, man,” Alexander said under his breath. “They’re sure to see ye from the turrets.”
As if he’d heard him, Magnus’s almost glowing mane disappeared. Alexander strained to follow his movements, barely picking out his form amongst the shadows. Magnus needed to hurry. In just a few hours’ time, daybreak would be upon them.
Frustrated beyond measure, Alexander returned to his horse and sat on the edge of a boulder beside the beast. He’d ne’er handled idleness well.
* * *
Catriona staredup at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance with the flickering firelight from the hearth. She peered at one particular crack in the plaster, not blinking until her eyes burned with the need for it. With the slow determination of a butterfly fighting to emerge from its chrysalis, her bull-headed sense of survival returned. There had to be a way out of this mess that her life had become. Had to be. All that remained was to find it.
She rose from the cot and set to pacing the length and width of the room. Ten strides from one end to the other and six strides across. Not even big enough for a proper tomb. She paused mid-stride. A tomb. Maybe that was her means of escape.
Calum adored pomp and circumstance but only if it focused on him. She harbored no doubt he’d dump their father into his final resting place with no funeral decorum at all. If she could convince Gaersa to intercede on her behalf, perhaps the old housekeeper could persuade Calum to allow her one last visit to her father’s gravesite. 'Twould be expected for the chieftain's daughter to pay her respects and bid him farewell. Such an opportunity would free her of this godforsaken place and provide a means of escape.
But could she trust Gaersa?
Gaersa’s demeanor when she’d shown up in the room had set off warning bells that the housekeeper had never triggered in the past. But why? Why would Gaersa betray her? They’d always been so close. Now that she knew Calum’s history, she understood Gaersa’s softness toward him. The old woman had always made excuses for him and tried to look the other way no matter what he did. But did that mean she couldna be trusted at all? Was it safe to seek her aid?
The shuffling of footsteps and rattling keys sounded out in the hallway. Catriona faced the door, widening her stance and lifting her chin. Who would it be this time come to torment her?
The metallic thud of metal entering the lock, the clinking of multiple keys on a ring, then the door latch jiggling repeated in sequence over and over. It was as though whoever was on the other side of the doorway attempting to open it didn’t have a clue which key to use.
“Damnation and demon’s balls,” a young voice growled out in a low hiss on the other side of the portal.
Catriona rushed to the door and pressed her face close to the crack. “Sawny? Is that you?”
“Aye, m’lady. Me and Tom come to get ye out if we can find the right feckin’ key.”
A glimmer of hopefulness thrilled through her and brought a smile to Catriona’s lips. Who knew her saviors would be a pair of young lads?Praise be.The keys rattled again, coupled with another string of curse words. Well, they’d save her if they could ever figure out which key to use.
“Are ye sure them’s the r-r-right ones?” That was Tom. Poor lad. Such a stutter.
“Hush, Tom!” Sawny snapped in a loud whisper. “I lifted them from her own pocket, I did. These here are the only keys she had. Now hush up, soon as I get the door open, ye must take them and put them back in her apron afore she wakes up.”
Catriona rolled her eyes and leaned back beside the door. This could take a while. Bless their little hearts. She massaged her temples, squinting against the pounding ache inside her head. No more tears. Tears did nothing but make your head throb.
After what seemed like forever, the latch clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing two wide-eyed young laddies. Sawny greeted her with a proud grin. “I told ye we’d get ye out.”
“That ye did.” Catriona hugged both the boys. She’d never been so glad to see those two ragamuffins in all her life.
Sawny handed the ring of keys over to Tom. “Hurry now. Her apron’s hanging on the bedpost beside her pillow so step with care or she’ll have both our heads on a plate just like she did Murtagh.”
Tom took the keys, clamping them between both hands to keep them quiet. “G-G-Godspeed, m’lady,” he said with a respectful bob of his head then bolted out of sight down the dark hallway.
Catriona sent a silent prayer after the young lad, begging for protection against his getting caught. She turned back to Sawny, something he’d said pricking her like a splinter. “Ye said Gaersa betrayed Murtagh. Are ye certain, Sawny, or could it be rumor?”
Anger flashed red across Sawny’s freckled face and his blue eyes narrowed. “I heard her with me own ears, Mistress. She didna tell Calum herself but she as good as did and I wouldha warned Murtagh, too, if she hadna locked me and Tom in the pantry.” He plucked at her sleeve with an impatient jerk as he held the lantern higher and sidestepped down the hallway. “We’ve no' much time. 'Twill be dawn soon.”
“Lead on.” Catriona grabbed up her skirts and hurried after the boy, wishing all the while they had more light. She didn’t remember this wing. She didn’t know what secrets the place might hold.
“Over here, m’lady.” Sawny stood beside a stone archway that had a moth-eaten set of heavy curtains hung across it for a door.
When she swept aside the curtain, Catriona realized what it was: the garderobe for this wing of the keep. Still holding the rotting curtain to one side, she turned to Sawny. “The garderobe?”
“Aye,” Sawny hurried to explain as he pushed past her and lifted away the wide board with the hole in the center. He pointed downward. “This shaft empties out close to a set of caves with passages connected to the stable’s main chamber. Only me and Tom know about them. I figure ye can hide in them caves until that bastard—begging your pardon, Mistress…” Sawny paused and gave her a polite ducking of his chin. “I ken he’s your brother and all that but the man killed Murtagh.” He took a deep breath and continued, all the while pointing downward at the gaping hole that had carried away human waste and whatever else was dumped down it. “But I figure ye can hide in them there caves until me and Tom find a way to get ye a horse so’s ye can escape.”
Pressing the back of her hand against her mouth and nose, Catriona peered down the chute. A thankful breath escaped her. It looked to be dry as dust—full of cobwebs—but dry and only smelled of dank, musty castle rather than the other aromas one might expect to find in the garderobe.
“This is the highest floor in the keep. Are ye certain the chute empties close enough to the ground so I dinna risk breaking my neck?” Her concern was valid. Some garderobe chutes were short runs that opened out at the same height of whatever floor they were on and the waste ran down the side of the castle.
