Page 43 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

There is no going back now. If I return empty-handed, Adaria and the laird will be even more harsh with me than if I bring their son back.

She hoped that Eiric’s rescue would be enough to spare her the yelling and the lectures that the two of them were bound to give her.

Once Marion had taken a few deep, steadying breaths, she studied the camp. She was still afraid, her hands still shaking and her mind buzzing with dozens of thoughts, but at least she could concentrate enough to analyse her surroundings.

There were a few guards posted outside a tent, which Marion could only assume was the place where they were keeping Eiric. There were also some men around the fire, talking loudly and laughing obnoxiously, and then yet another three walking around.

There may be even more in those tents. A dozen or so at least.

None of them seemed to be taking notice of anything outside their camp though. They were all busy in their little conversations, trying to pass the time, and that gave Marion an advantage.

Sooner or later, the two guards who were posted outside the tent were bound to move or become distracted, and once they did, Marion would be ready to slip inside. The meat that they were roasting over the fire, that made Marion’s mouth water, was indication enough that they would soon be having their lunch, and cocky as they were, she doubted that anyone would stay by Eiric’s tent.

And so, Marion waited, crouched down by the bushes. She observed them all carefully, her mind coming up with possible escape routes as she did. Even if they left the tent, she realised, it was still too close to the fire, where everyone was bound to be gathered while eating, for her to slip by unnoticed.

But then, she saw it. It wasn’t the best plan, and there was a chance that it wouldn’t work out well for her, but it was the best thing she could think of.

The men had their horses tied up, two per tree, near the back of the camp. Marion began to creep around the perimeter, slowly getting closer and closer to the horses as quietly as she could, trying her best to not step on any crunchy leaves that were scattered on the ground.

Once she reached them, she pulled out her sword and cut one of the horses loose, before giving it a smack in the flank. It was all that the horse needed to neigh and flee, the commotion alerting the guards to the fact that they were losing one of their horses.

“Stop it!” one of the guards shouted, as all the men sprang to their feet, going after the horse in a flurry of limbs and a chorus of shouts.

That will keep them occupied for a while.

Just like that, the camp was empty, though Marion didn’t rule out the possibility that someone was still there, in one of the tents.

No sooner had Marion had that thought than a man poked his head out of the very tent where she knew they were keeping Eiric, a frown on his face.

“Men?” he shouted, and when there was no answer, he stepped out of the tent in search of them.

It didn’t take him long to realise where they had all gone, their shouts and the horse’s neighing still loud enough for him to piece two and two together. Soon, he too was gone, running after his men and the horse, and Eiric was left all alone.

Marion sighed in relief. She had gotten lucky.

Chapter Nineteen

Eiric could have been in that camp for mere hours or for days. He had lost track of time, going in and out of consciousness as Lynton tortured him, trying to get answers from him that Eiric would never give to anyone.

He figured he would die in that tent, sooner or later, though he would much rather die sooner. The aches and pains in his body were quickly becoming unbearable, and though he tried to slip into unconsciousness to lessen his torture, Lynton would always bring him back.

He feared that if he died, Lynton would still find a way to bring him to the world of the living.

He was under no delusions that the English were done with him when Lynton left the tent. Perhaps it was lunch time, he thought, as even in his disoriented state, he could still smell the scent of meat that wafted through the air. Perhaps torturing him had given him a mighty appetite.

At least now he could go back to fainting, Eiric thought as he closed his eyes. He hated the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, hated how his stomach churned every time he swallowed, pushing more and more blood in his stomach. He hated himself for having been caught, and he hated thinking about his parents, who would be devastated to learn that their only son and heir had perished.

And what about Marion? What will she think when she finds out?

Eiric wished that he had confessed his feelings to her. In that moment, it seemed to him more important than ever that Marion knew how he felt about her, and it didn’t matter to him if she wouldn’t return his affections. All that mattered was that she knew, and he hoped that someone would tell her; Edan perhaps, as he was the only person who truly knew about his feelings.

He didn’t want her to grieve for him, though. He didn’t want his death to sadden her like he knew it would, and it was that knowledge that still kept some fighting spirit in him. If he survived, then Marion and his parents wouldn’t have to grieve him; they wouldn’t have to be sad or broken. And for that, Eiric was willing to endure the pain, no matter how unbearable it was.

What was the worst thing that Lynton could do to him, after all? He had already punched him, kicked him, slashed his skin with a blade. There were worse things he could do, much worse, but he didn’t seem like the creative type to Eiric. He would either try to keep him alive and coherent enough, hoping that he would tell him his plans, or he would give up and kill him on the spot.

It was better than the fate of many prisoners. He didn’t want to hang like them. It seemed like a terrible way to go.

As he was lost in his thoughts, Eiric was distantly aware of someone calling his name. There we go again . . . Lynton’s back and wants his answers.