A bubble of yellowish light spread through the cellar, and she glanced briefly over to see Janson approaching, candle in hand, flanked by a handful of armed men. Their faces were grim and set.
When she looked back, his face was smooth and composed once again.
“Get ready,” she informed him briefly.
Struan grunted and jerked his head but said nothing.
It seemedto take a long time to get Struan ready to head above ground. Janson was clearly on edge, and so were the others. They tied Struan up and then untied him again when Una pointed out that he had to climb the steps.
Struan, for his part, stood there, calm and motionless. However, when they began to climb the steps, she was sure that she saw something glint in his eyes. Hope, maybe?
Aye, hope that he’ll be able to escape,Una thought grimly.
When they reached the ground floor of the convent, he blinked in the light, squinting and lifting a hand to shield his eyes. When he moved, the soldiers all flinched forward, hands flying towards their swords.
Struan did not seem to notice.
“Listen to me,” Una spoke up, relieved that her voice did not wobble when she spoke. “There is nowhere ye can go. There are soldiers around the perimeter of this place. There are archers on the roof. There are all of us here to watch ye. Weak as ye are, do ye think that ye can outrun us?”
Struan’s cool blue gaze swiveled towards her, and his eyes narrowed. He said nothing, however.
“So long as that’s understood,” Una muttered. “Run if ye like, but Finnegan here has an arrow trained on ye, and he won’t shoot to kill. Ye will be wounded again, and back in the cellar. Do ye want that?”
It could have been her imagination, or maybe even a trick of the light, but Una was sure that she saw a flash of fear cross Struan’s face.
“I’d rather not go back down there,” he muttered so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him. “So, tell me. How come ye are calling the shots here?”
Una breathed in, lifting her chin. “Because I am responsible for ye.”
He blinked, seemingly taken aback. “Nobody is responsible for me.”
Una shrugged. “If ye like. Well, let’s go outside, eh? Ye have chores to do.”
“Chores?”
“Oh, aye. We’re picking herbs.”
She paused, half expecting Struan to complain or simply refuse outright. Instead, he only shrugged and nodded.
“Very well.”
They moved in a tight group towards the exit, following a wide, airy hallway that led towards the doors that opened onto the gardens. The halls were notably empty—no nuns or anybody else there. Una assumed that they’d been warned that Struan was going to be around, and the halls were cleared. That was wise.
They reached the doorway, and Struan paused, tipping his head back to let the sunshine play over his face. He closed his eyes, long dark lashes resting on his cheek. Una flinched, suddenly aware that she was staring, and turned away.
“How long do I have above ground?” Struan asked, his voice low.
“One hour. Maybe a wee bit longer if ye behave.”
He grunted.
Before anything else could be said, a strangled cry broke out across the gardens. Una glanced over to find a Grahame soldier storming towards them, seething.
“Ye let him out?” he screamed. “Ye lethim out?”
“Looks like we’re getting a wee bit of excitement already,” Struan murmured, and there was a smile in his voice. “At last.”
Chapter 4
