Page 74 of The Highlander’s Improper Wife

Caroline tried to shake the grey fog from her brain. She tripped, and he plastered her to his side, forcing her to walk alongside him. The approaching footsteps were too soft to be Taran’s. Patterson appeared from around the bend. Her heart fell. The old butler would be of no help, and Uncle would make good on his threat.

Patterson stopped in front of them and frowned. “Is something wrong, my lady?”

She recalled Etherton’s slap to her face. Was her cheek bruising? Her head throbbed with every beat of her heart.

“My niece is overwrought,” her uncle said. “She wishes to see her husband.”

Patterson’s eyes shifted to him. He seemed uncertain, then gave a slight, deferential incline of his head. “His lordship is still indisposed.” Etherton’s fingers dug into her waist.

“Yes, Patterson,” she burst out. He blinked in surprise and she gave a quick smile. “I am growing concerned. Please, where is the, er—” Her mind froze. Did Patterson know what Taran was up to? Yes, he must, for the way he said indisposed indicating he hadn’t wanted to reveal his master’s whereabouts. “The dungeon, Patterson. He told me that was where he was going.”

“The west tower, my lady,” he replied, his face expressionless. “The entrance is in the alcove directly below the tower. I can show you the way.” He started to turn.

“No need,” her uncle said. “I saw the tower when I arrived. This corridor will lead there if we keep the left. Am I correct?”

“Indeed, sir.”

Etherton nodded. “I will see to my niece. I wish to speak with her husband as well.” “As you wish.” Patterson bowed and continued on his way towards the ballroom.

Uncle started forward. She had to stop him, slow him down somehow, anything to buy Taran time. She also had to know…

“Why did you kill my father?”

His head turned in her direction. “Why do you think?”

Her heart pounded. “What did he know?” He faced forward.

“Bastard,” she hissed.

Caroline twisted in his grasp. He yanked her feet off the carpet and lengthened his stride. Tears sprang to her eyes with the sudden realization that he didn’t intend to kill her and leave her body hidden in some alcove as she’d thought. Instead, he meant to use her against Taran. She began to thrash. Pain ricocheted inside her skull, but she kicked and raked her nails across his cheek.

“God damn you,” he cursed, and backhanded her again, this time harder than the last.

Ringing filled her ears. She felt as if she was going to slip from his grasp. But then he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She gasped for air. They turned a bend and, a moment later, he pushed through a door into a stone passageway. He grabbed the sconce hanging on the wall to the right and continued forward. They passed a window facing the inner courtyard. He pushed through another door and she glimpsed an arched entryway to the left.

Nausea pitched her stomach as he made his way down a narrow staircase. At the bottom, he slipped the sconce into a holder, then lowered her to her feet. Her surroundings swam and she clutched at thin air. He grabbed her waist and opened the door to a well-lit stone corridor. Caroline drew in a breath to scream. He clamped his free hand over her mouth and wrenched her head back against his chest. She grabbed his hand out of reflex, then froze when he pressed his mouth against her ear.

“I will empty my handgun into your skull, then fill your husband full of what I have in the Blunderbuss. He will slowly bleed to death. Very painful, I am told.”

She still gripped the fingers clamped over her mouth as he crept towards the T at the end of the hallway. Her mind raced. He planned to surprise Taran and threaten him with the fact he held a gun to her head. Etherton had yet to pull the Blunderbuss from his waistband, and he didn’t know Lord Edmonds was with Taran. If she screamed, Taran and Lord Edmonds would be alerted that something was wrong. Was that a better advantage than showing up, or would Etherton shoot them when they raced from whatever cell they were in once they heard her scream? What would Uncle do if Taran wasn’t in the dungeon?

Indecision mingled with fear. What would give Taran the best chance of survival? They reached the T and Uncle leaned forward. Five feet to the left, another corridor ran parallel with the one where they stood. He turned left, then left again down the hallway. If she bit down on his fingers and yanked with all her might, she had a chance of dislodging the hand. A wrought iron gate barred an empty cell on the right. A faint murmur sounded from another bend up ahead. Her heart sped up. She couldn’t tell if Taran or Lord Edmonds was speaking. Please, Lord Edmonds, keep quiet.

Uncle crept to the next corridor and peered around the corner. A grated iron door stood open to the middle cell.

“I will ask one more time,” Taran’s voice was soft, but lethal.

Tears burned Caroline’s eyes. Her heart pounded so loudly she wondered that he couldn’t hear it.

“Where were you to meet Etherton?”

Her uncle’s low laugh sounded in her ear.

A slurred response followed from the man in the room.

Blood roared in Caroline’s ears. Had Taran brought a weapon with him? She recalled the pistol he’d pointed at Lord Edmonds when he’d come upon them in the trees. He might have the weapon with him. Would he keep it close? How would she save him? If Lord Edmonds was with Taran, Uncle would have to keep the gun on her in order to manipulate the two men.

Caroline bit down on her uncle’s hand—hard. He stiffened. She ground her teeth against the thick finger. Blood spurted across her tongue. She gagged. Then screamed. He yanked his hand from her mouth. A dark curse burst from him in unison with heavy footfalls on stone. Uncle took two steps backwards and stopped, his back against the wall, and lifted the Blunderbuss to her temple.