“And once we take ye tae Laird MacKenzie,” the first man murmured near her ear, “ye shall finally get what ye deserve.”
The words chilled her more deeply than the steel at his side. They dragged her backward, not toward the main stair, nor toward any passage she knew, but toward a narrow stretch of wall between two ancient hangings. There, to her astonishment, one of them pressed his shoulder against the stone. A concealed door gave way with a dull groan, opening upon a blackness so complete it seemed to swallow the torchlight whole.
Elaina stared, feeling horror rising fast in her throat. She had lived within these walls for weeks and had never known this place existed.
However, there was no further for her to think. They forced her inside. The air within was stuffy and damp, heavy with the smell of earth and age. The passage was so narrow that her shoulder brushed rough stone as they dragged her along it, stumbling again and again over uneven ground. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness. The torch one of them carried sent wild, leaping shadows over the walls, revealing only fragments, alcoves like open mouths in the stone. The farther they went, the moreremote the castle seemed, until all the sounds above were lost to silence.
Duncan.
The thought came with such force that for an instant it nearly undid her. She saw him as he had stood in the observatory, with the sunset on his face and his mother’s ribbon in his hand. She heard again his voice when he had told her he loved her and she felt the tenderness with which he had kissed her only an hour before. It seemed impossible that so little time could have divided that happiness from this terror.
She tried once more to wrench free and the man at her side cursed under his breath, hauling her so roughly that she struck the wall and cried out against the hand still smothering the sound.
“Walk,” he snarled.
She obeyed only because she had no choice. The darkness pressed in around them, and with every twisting of the hidden way, a dreadful certainty began to settle in her heart. She did not know where they were taking her. She did not know whether Duncan would discover what had happened in time, or whether he would search the castle only to find her vanished as though the stone itself had swallowed her whole.
And deep beneath the fear, beneath the pain and the frantic pounding of her heart, there came another thought… what if that was the last time she would ever see him?
The passage sloped downward. A gust of colder air met them from somewhere ahead, carrying with it the scent of wet leaves and river water. There had to be an exit nearby, which meant they were leaving the castle grounds.
Duncan, even now, might still be searching above, or still believing her safely behind a locked door while she was taken farther and farther from him through shadows he did not know existed.
Elaina shut her eyes for one brief instant. Then the hand over her mouth tightened and they dragged her onward into the darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The attack, once engaged, was over with a speed Duncan did not trust.
From the first clash in the outer yard to the last cry in the passage below the western wall, the threat was met and crushed with a swiftness that ought to have brought him relief. His men had held their ground, just as they were supposed to. The intruders, few in number and poorly coordinated, were cut down or captured before they could reach the heart of the castle. Even the smoke that had first caused alarm proved slight, more confusion than destruction.
Duncan lowered his sword only when the last of them had fallen back. Around him, guards hurried to secure the gates and drag the wounded aside, while their voices were rising and falling in short, urgent bursts. Yet beneath all of it, one thought pressed upon him with increasing force.
This was too easy.
He stood very still in the midst of the chaos, feeling every instinct within him tightening. MacKenzie was not a man who spent lives carelessly without purpose. He did not strike merely to be repelled. He did not make noise unless he had an aim and that could mean concealing something else beneath it.
At once Duncan thought of Elaina. A chill, cold and absolute, went through him.
“Iain!” he shouted, turning sharply.
Iain was already crossing the yard toward him, holding his darkened blade. “It is done, me laird.”
“Nay,” Duncan said, with a certainty that made the word feel like a blow. “Nae done. It was too easy.”
Iain’s face changed at once. He needed no fuller explanation.
“Catriona,” Duncan said, already moving. “Go tae her.”
He did not wait to see whether Iain obeyed. He knew he would.
Duncan himself was already running. He crossed the courtyard at such speed that the men nearest the doors drew back to let him pass. His boots struck the stone with punishing force, because each step was driven by a dread that rose higher with every moment. The corridors beyond seemed endless, with the torches guttering as he passed, their light wavering madly against the walls.
He could hear his own breathing, which was harsh and unsteady. He could hear the hammering of blood in his ears, yet none of it drowned the thought repeating itself with merciless clarity.
Too easy.
He reached the corridor of their chambers and saw at once Elaina was not there. Duncan stopped so abruptly he nearly stumbled.
