Thomas kicked his legs out from under him and Lachlann landed on his arse. Hard. “Ye drop down.”
Lachlann held back his angry retort. Left with no other choice, he turned onto his belly ready to drop down into the unseen abyss. How far before he’d stop, he had no clue. Something jabbed against his wound, sending shooting pain through his side.
“Hold!”
The man offered the end of the chain, and Lachlann grabbed it, a scowl on his face.
Thomas wrapped it around himself, digging in his feet before giving the signal to proceed. Not the most secure Lachlann had ever been, but he did as he was ordered. He hit the hard ground and stumbled, his shoulder smashing into a stone wall. He fell to his knees and looked up to the little bit of sky overhead, the opening too far to reach without an aid. The clamminess immediately swallowed him. The sound of the ocean was far off and muffled.
“What do ye think?” Thomas laughed. “Rest easy for now. If all goes yer way, ye’ll be out in a few days’ time.”
“A few days?” Lachlann hadn’t expected that answer or the man’s biting laughter.
“And if I remember, I’ll bring ye food and water. Ye might want to sleep to save yer strength in case I forget.” Thomas’s laughter faded as he walked away.
Lachlann rubbed his side, surprised to find blood on his hand. He inspected his skin. Something had pierced his wound and it was bleeding again. He glanced up at the thick roots and twigs sticking out of the earth.
He got a fire going. After he wiped the wound clean with hisléine, it no longer pained him and he was able to get some sleep.
Despite Thomas’s taunt, Lachlann was not forgotten. The tiny size of the cave made it difficult for him to stand upright except in the center where his food and water was lowered down to him by a rope. The ground remained damp, the cold adding to the miserable cramping that had started seizing him. A nasty aroma surrounded him, reminding him of the time Niall’s sister, Thomasina, had thrown chicken eggs at the two of them. They’d been relentless in their teasing of her, but she gave back as good as she got.
By the second night, he was burning with fever and remembering far too much from when they were in their youth. His wound throbbed again and his body shook hard enough to rattle his teeth. He swore he heard a woman calling him, asking him if he was warm enough. In his delirium, he wasn’t sure if it was Thomasina’s voice or Ethne’s. The past and the present collided in his mind.
“No!” Lachlann startled himself awake. The small fire had long since gone out. It seemed that had been quite awhile ago. He sat up to dig through the embers, not that he had anything more than a few twigs left to feed it, but he managed to keep it going.
Desperate now, he dragged his fingers along the floor in the darkness. He searched where he couldn’t see and found a small stash of timber, ridiculously wet, and prayed for a miracle.
When the wind howled from his left, the stink increased. That must have been the sound his tired mind had turned into the voice of Thomasina. It would have been just like her to see if he needed anything, even going against any orders to do so. Wait! But that would have been Ethne who would have been ordered to keep away, and he did have some memory of her doing just that.
He pulled the small wool blanket—the only concession they’d made to the fact that he was not actually an animal—tight around as much of him as he could encircle and dropped to the ground. He’d convinced himself that the small rock protruding from the otherwise sandy ground was as soft as a pillow. He laid his head there now, having covered the stone with a portion of hisplaide. His eyes drifted closed. He could see Ethne completing her duties, her hair disheveled about her shoulders. Her slim body moved as she worked the small needle, mending Domelch’s gown, while sitting beside the fire.
What did she think about? Escape, no doubt. To a better life. His body convulsed, and he reached for the jug of water. It was empty. Mayhap she could now have that life. Mayhap even children of her own that she would care for just as she did Finn and Mongfind.
He didn’t know how long he’d lain there like that, his head propped against a solid rock and his body shuddering, but he became aware just as the sun lightened the sky. It was a beautiful pink.
“Beautiful.”
The wind whistled, and he heard the woman’s voice again.
“As beautiful as Ethne’s sweet smile.”
Chapter 21
Ethne was mortified. The funeral line went on forever and her brother and Domelch, who sobbed uncontrollably on his shoulder, were at the front. It wasn’t bad enough that both had insisted Ethne stand behind them, in the place of honor as Uradech’s betrothed, but they kept referring to her as such. And the funeral would last several days.
“Do ye need a hand?” Malcolm asked her over his shoulder as they ascended the steep hill to the funeral pyre.
“I am fine.” She regretted her quiet tone as soon as he turned his searching gaze on her. “Really.” She even offered the flash of a smile so that he would return to tending to his wife who was beside herself with grief.
It turned out Uradech was her younger brother, the one she’d always looked out for right up until the time she met Malcolm. The stories Ethne had heard over the past two days just shoved the stake further into her chest. She couldn’t count the number of times she had to physically stop herself with a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream her confession at them. She was the one to end the man’s life!
That they all suddenly treated her like…like…a widow, acting as if she must be mourning the loss of the man, was too much. After everything she’d said and done to get him to leave her alone? She cringed. It was unconscionable.
She had not wanted to marry him. Not ever. Her life would have been a miserable existence had she been forced to do so. That did not change because the man was dead.
This guilt was the worst. Hearing Domelch in her bed and Malcolm’s quiet words of comfort. It was all too much.
“Ethne?” Finn was gazing up at her, holding her hand. She hadn’t even noticed him there. “Are ye sad?”
