Alex hesitated, knowing that as soon as he left the safety of the MacPherson soldiers, he risked his life. But neither could he let Harkirk harm his daughter.
“If I drop her, she’ll break her neck,” Harkirk taunted. “Is that what you want?”
Alex moved forward, but was startled when Hamish’s men accompanied him, covering his back. He hadn’t expected them to guard his life with their own. With a grateful look toward Hamish, he moved to the bottom of the stairs.
“Take her, then.” With that, the English baron tossed Adaira down the stairs and Alex dived forward, catching his daughter before she could strike her head. His heart raced at the thought of her near encounter with death, and he held her tightly as she cried in his arms.
Lady Harkirk sent a frigid look toward her husband before she disappeared into the tower. The baron didn’t seem to notice.
“Give her over to Hamish MacPherson,” Harkirk ordered, “or my archers will kill both of you.” His soldiers moved in closer, several archers poised at the ready.
Alex held tight to Adaira, whispering in her ear, “I love you,a nighean. Go with Hamish”Be safe, he prayed.
He gave Adaira over to Hamish, murmuring, “Signal the others to attack.” It was harder than he’d thought it would be, for he was afraid it was the last time he’d see his daughter. But at least she would live. He’d kept his promise to Laren, regardless of what happened now.
Numbness settled across him as the soldiers took him into custody, binding his wrists behind his back. And when they struck him, he sank to his knees, tasting blood in his mouth.
LadyHarkirkdidn’tcarethat she was betraying her husband and countrymen. After Robert threw an innocent child down the stairs, any fragment of loyalty she’d ever felt had disappeared.
Now that the baby was with Hamish MacPherson, she hoped the child would be safe, but she had to make certain. She went to the far corner of the main room and walked down the spiral stairs leading to the storage chambers. Robert had built a passageway to escape the fortress, in the event of a siege. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to walk away from this place.
The sound of chains rattling caught her attention. She peered into the darkness and saw the prisoner her husband had ordered beaten. He’d been brought below last night and it occurred to her that he might prove useful, though he was weak.
The man was shivering violently while his breath clouded the frigid air. If she left him here, he would die. Already he was suffering from exposure, his body half-frozen with cold.
This is a mistake, she thought, as she reached for the keys to unlock his shackles. The man was larger than Robert, his body heavily muscled despite his weakness.
“If I release you, will you promise not to harm me?” she asked quietly. His face jerked upward, as though he hadn’t been aware of her presence. He blinked, and she wondered if he could see her.
“Who are you?”
“Alys Fitzroy. Lady Harkirk.” She shivered in the cold, reaching for his manacled wrist. “Don’t even think of using me as a hostage. I want to leave this place, just as you do.”
The man stared up at her and she saw something flicker on his face, almost like a sense of regret.
“What is your name?” she asked, as she released the second manacle.
“Finian,” he answered. “I’m the MacLachor chief. Or . . . I was, before this.” His face grew weary, as if he no longer cared about anything anymore.
Alys folded her hands in her skirts and retreated. “If you follow me, I’ll show you a way outside the fortress. That’s all I can do for you. You’ll have to make your own escape.”
“Why would you offer me help?” the chief asked. He struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain as he took one step, then another. “Surely Harkirk would be furious.”
“I’ve been his prisoner for four years now. I don’t need anyone else to endure what I have.” She swallowed hard. “If I could free the others, I would. But he keeps them locked away, near his soldiers. I don’t know why he put you here.”
“Because they caught me trying to escape last night. He intends to make an example of me.” Finian rested his hand upon the wall and Alys saw another shiver rack his body. She removed her cloak and set it around his shoulders.
He stared at her and she couldn’t say why she’d done it. What had begun as pity had suddenly transformed into necessity. There was something about this man that reached inside her, almost as if she needed to save him.
“I can’t accept this,” he said, holding out her cloak.
“You need it more than I do.” And with that, she fled. Before she could reach the exit, he caught up to her.
“Why me?” he asked, his voice dark. “I’m the last person who deserves this.”
She didn’t speak, nor would she look at him. He was frightening her with the tone of his voice.
The chief’s hand curled against the wall. “It’s my fault. This battle . . . the loss of men’s lives.” He shoved the cloak at her, as though it were on fire. “If the MacKinloch’s daughter dies, it’ll be on my soul.”
