But not any longer.
Now she trusted only herself.
God, how she missed her mother.
Her fingers were stiff and awkward with the cold as she worked the knot of the rope, but eventually she managed to untie the mooring. After checking to make sure the oars were inside, she pushed the boat as quietly as possible to the water. The scrape of the hull against the sand and stones sounded unnaturally loud, but in a few minutes the water caught it with its natural buoy.
This was it. After sliding on the pattens she’d brought for this purpose, she took her first tentative step into the water. A black wave of nausea gave her a moment of dizziness, but she fought it back. She forced her feet forward until the water lapped around her knees. Taking a deep breath for courage, she climbed in. The skiff rolled sharply to the side, and she bit back a scream. Lying prone across the bottom, she gripped the sides until her knuckles turned white as the small craft rocked back and forth with her weight. Eventually, it steadied. Only then did she carefully adjust her position to sitting. Not giving herself time to think, she took one of the oars in her hand and began to paddle—her confidence increasing with each stroke.
It was slow, difficult work. Though the sea appeared calm, the current was surprisingly strong. After a few minutes, she paused and turned around to check her progress, dismayed to see that she’d traveled only fifty feet or so beyond the beach.
It was going to be a long night. But she could do it.
God, she was cold. She tried to adjust her cloak, but her wet fingers were like ice. Her feet were completely soaked, not just from dragging in the skiff, but also from the few inches of standing water in the bottom of the hull. She should have been more careful when she paddled not to splash water in the boat.
Not giving herself time to think, she plunged the oar in again and pulled hard, wanting to put as much distance between her and the beach as possible. Fighting the current that seemed intent on pulling her back.
Something called to her.
A voice hovering on the edge of the wind. A longing deep in her soul. An invisible force that compelled her to turn around. She gazed up to the keep looming in the darkness, barely able to make it out through the shadowy haze. An overwhelming sense of sadness hit her. She thought of how much she’d miss Mary, Gilly, Murdoch, Alasdair, and even the crotchety old Morag. She regretted not being able to say good-bye to the girls but swore that as soon as she was able, she would send for them. No matter whathesaid.
Lachlan Maclean. She hoped she never saw him again. Even now the memory of him tormented her. He’d confused her, evoking a maelstrom of emotions that she didn’t begin to understand. Except that it hurt.
A single tear slid out of the corner of her eye. Furious, she brushed it away with the back of her hand.
She’d waited too long. She should have tried to escape as soon as he’d allowed her freedom to move about the castle. Before she’d grown attached. Perhaps then she could have prevented the burning ache located precariously close to her heart.
With one last look behind her, she faced forward, a determined set to her shoulders, and resumed paddling.
The thought that he might have been wrong about Flora’s reaction haunted Lachlan throughout the day. After what had happened, he wasn’t surprised when she begged off from the evening meal. He’d thought about searching her out but decided to leave her in peace. For now.
Unable to sleep, he sat sprawled out in a chair beside the fire, gazing at the bright orange flames until his eyes hurt.
Hell.
He slammed the goblet he’d been holding onto the table beside him with a curse. The strange disquiet prickling inside him could not be washed away withcuirm. He stood up, paced around his chamber for a few minutes, and decided he’d had enough. Before he could think better of it, he left his room and climbed the two levels to the top of the tower. Standing outside her door, he braced himself, knocked—and heard only silence in response.
Thinking she might well be sleeping, he knocked again, this time louder. A vague uneasy feeling began to take hold of him. His fingers closed around the handle, and slowly he pulled the door open.
The first thing he noticed was the chill. And then the emptiness. The fire had gone out long ago, and the familiar floral scent that seemed to permeate the air had faded. Though the shutters were closed, the lantern from the niche in the corridor outside filled the room with soft light. His gaze fell to the bed. But he already knew. The sinking feeling had penetrated to his gut.
She’d run.
After what had happened this afternoon, he should have anticipated this.
The door to the guard’s room opposite her door opened, revealing Alasdair, who’d obviously just been roused from his bed by the noise.
“Is there a problem, my laird?”
Lachlan tried to control the sudden explosion of rage. Or cold fear, he wasn’t sure which. He clenched his fists to his sides to prevent himself from grabbing the man by his shirt and shaking him. “Yes. Damn it. The lass is not in her room. When did you last check on her?”
The old guardsman’s face paled. “About an hour ago. Before I went to bed, as you ordered.”
His orders. It was his fault she’d escaped. He’d grown too lax. He’d trusted her word. He should never have removed the permanent guard from her door. If anything happened to her, he had only himself to blame. She was headstrong. Willful. And scared. A dangerous combination.
“She couldn’t have gone very far, my laird.”
But Lachlan was already storming down the stairs. He focused on the task at hand, blocking out everything else. His only thought was to find her. The military tactician took over, and his mind immediately went to work analyzing her most likely escape routes, methodically sorting through the possibilities and prioritizing the more likely scenarios. Relying on the skills honed by years of battle. But with the realization that no battle had ever affected him so acutely. Her life might well depend on his ability to think and plan quickly and clearly. There was no room for mistakes.
