Chapter 22
The night dragged on. The damp ground soaked through William’s trews, and a heavy gruel with a rancid odor had been delivered unceremoniously to their cell, which neither William nor Reid had bothered tasting.
Not that any of it mattered.
Thoughts of Kinsey settled on his chest like a stone with such weight that it hurt to breathe.
A door banged in the distance and echoed through the dungeon, followed by footsteps. William leapt to his feet and cast a glance at Reid, who remained stony-faced as he stood.
It was impossible to determine in their windowless dungeon if it was already morn. Had the sun already begun to rise?
If so, then it was time.
Mayhap whoever came for him could give him news about Kinsey. Mayhap she might be able to live.
Such hopes were dashed when the familiar tall, dark-haired Scotsman appeared in front of the iron bars. The man looked left and right as if confirming no one else was nearby.
William’s stomach dropped. It was the kind of thing soldiers did when they wanted to take care of prisoners on their own, with no witnesses. William remained toward the back of the cell. If the man were going to kill him, William would not make it easy.
The traitor stopped at the bars, looked in and beckoned William closer. William folded his arms over his chest and didn’t move.
“Do ye want to know about Kinsey?” The man asked in an impatient whisper.
Damn it.
If William were going to be taken down by this bastard, at least it would be in the pursuit of doing everything he could for the woman he loved. William pushed off the wall and approached the bars. Though they were both unarmed, Reid took his customary place at William’s right, ready to fight.
“What of her?” William asked, his voice quiet.
“She’s hurt.” Something flashed in the man’s eyes, and his jaw clenched. “Verra badly.”
The breath heaved from William’s lungs in a wounded rasp, wishing her pain were his own to bear instead. “Ye did that to her,” William said bitterly.
Was it just his imagination, or did the man flinch?
“Do ye love her?” The Scotsman asked.
Anguish screamed inside William’s chest. “Do ye seek to use that love against me?”
“Do ye love her?”
“Aye.” William held a hand over his heart. “I love her.” The declaration echoed off the dungeon walls, reverberating all around them, resounding the truth of his words over and over again.
Those dark eyes narrowed. “She’s on the third floor of the castle, first door on the left from the stairwell.”
The information was so unexpected, William took a cautious step back. “Why would ye share that with me?”
The man put his hand slowly through the bars and unfurled his fingers. A thick metal key sat in the palm of his hand.
“What are ye on about?” Reid asked in a rumbling growl.
The traitor stretched his arm, extending the key to them. “This is the key to her room. Save her.”
Reid looked to William, uncertain of what to do.
William hesitated.
Enemies didn’t free the men they’d captured. They certainly didn’t offer them keys with which to escape.
This was a trick. It had to be.
And yet if it wasn’t…
William snatched the key. He curled it in his fist until it jabbed into his palm, proof that it existed. Assuming it was the correct key.
“Will ye save her?” The man asked, impatience edging into his otherwise calm voice.
This time, William did not hesitate. “Aye.”
The traitor pulled a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked their cell. The door groaned as it swung open on its aging hinges.
William’s body fired with a rush of energy, the same as before charging into battle. Even if this were a trap, it would be a chance to find Kinsey somehow, to save her.
Or, if nothing else, to say goodbye.
The man extended a dagger to William first—the ruby studded one his father had given him all those years ago—then Reid’s dagger to him.
“We could kill ye,” Reid said, accepting the weapon.
The man lifted a shoulder, his expression bland with indifference. “Ye could.”
“Who are ye?” William asked. “Why no’ see to her yerself?”
“Ye’re wasting time.” Without another word, the man walked away, putting his back to them.
It would be effortless to attack him from behind. But it would be without purpose when he had aided them in their escape.
Why had he helped them?
Reid cast William a skeptical look, clearly also uneasy with the scenario. They crept down the long hallway together and paused at the door. On the other side, there might be an army waiting to attack them.
But why would the Scotsman set up a ruse for them to think they were free and attack them, when they would just simply hang the next day?
William pushed the door, every nerve in his body on high alert. Nobody waited outside.
They followed the man’s direction, climbing up three flights of stairs and stopping at the first door on the left.
“Fire,” someone shouted from outside.
A distraction. Now William knew why the man hadn’t seen to Kinsey himself.
There wouldn’t be much time. He unlocked the door and entered the room. A still figure lay on the bed, with her bright red curls streaming over the linens.
Kinsey.
His heart caught in his chest, and he rushed to her side. He hadn’t thought ever to see her again. “Kinsey.”
Her eyes blinked open, squinting as though in pain, then widened. “William.”
“We’re escaping, my love.” He pulled at her shoulder to help her up.
Someone had put her in a kirtle, one of simple blue linen that was rough against his fingertips. Kinsey winced as she struggled to sit, her breath labored.
A tight band squeezed at William’s chest at the realization of her pain. She was tough, aye, but there was something delicate and precious about her that made him want to keep her protected. If given a choice, he would gladly assume her agony.
Once upright, she swayed, and her lashes fluttered as though she was near fainting.
She would need help to walk.
William looped one of her arms around his shoulders. “Reid, get her other side.”
Reid rushed to comply, his actions swift but gentle. Even still, Kinsey flinched.
More shouts rose from outside as a fire was apparently being addressed.
William had wanted to ask Kinsey who the man was who had freed them from the dungeon, but now was not the time. Not when they had to rush. Not when they had to stay quiet and avoid being seen.
Together, Reid and William helped Kinsey down two flights of stairs to the main entrance of the castle where the stone floors were still tinged red from the blood of the battle. The cries of alarm came from somewhere in the rear of the castle.
They would be free to escape without notice.
“Stop,” a voice bellowed.
William and Reid both began to run. Kinsey’s body had gone limp between them. Surely, the pain had been great enough to make her lose awareness. At least that much was a blessing. William would not allow himself to think of any other option that would cause her to go so still.
An arrow skittered over the stone.
“Close the portcullis,” another voice cried.
William increased his pace along with Reid, charging toward the portcullis as it began to fall closed. They had to make it. If they didn’t, they would all be hanged.
Mayhap tortured.
A death cry came from the side of the portcullis where an English guard manned the lever. He slid to the floor, unmoving as the portcullis caught and held halfway down its track. The man who had freed William and Reid from the dungeon stepped from the shadows, his blade dripping with blood.
“Go,” he shouted.
All at once, more guards appeared. The man didn’t seem to notice as he charged into the Englishmen with his sword raised.
“There’s too many.” Reid eased Kinsey from his shoulders. “Go.”
William hesitated in horror at what his friend was suggesting, even as he gathered Kinsey in his arms to keep her from sliding to the ground. “Nay.”
“Damn it, William, save her.” Reid snatched up a sword from the soldier who had fallen by the portcullis lever.
“Meet me at the inn,” William said.
Reid gave a solemn nod, as if he were accepting an order that he would be able to follow.
They both knew the truth. There were too many English guards and only two men to stop them.
A band of tension squeezed at William’s throat. Leaving his lifelong friend, his comrade in arms, went against everything inside his very soul. But he knew if he didn’t go, Kinsey would die.
And Reid’s sacrifice would be in vain.
William couldn’t still his mind as he ran with Kinsey in his arms, fueled by the energy roaring through his veins. Reid, the boyhood friend, who’d been a part of his life for as far back as he could remember, would be dead. Slain by the English, as his family had been.
Kinsey was limp as William carried her and remained so a while later when he had to stop to rest his arms and back. He bent over her, panting for breath from his exertions, and found she’d gone pale.
“Kinsey?” he whispered.
She didn’t move. Not so much as the flicker of an eyelash.
“Kinsey?” he said, louder this time, his voice hoarse.
When she did not respond again, he rested a light touch on her chest, confirmed it still rose and fell. However, the action was shallow and did not allay his fear.
She was still alive, aye, but for how long?
Tears filled his eyes, and he didn’t bother to swipe them away. “Kinsey, stay alive, aye?” He cradled her to him despite his tired limbs and buried his face in the silkiness of her hair, breathing in the familiar sweet scent of her, though it made his heart ache.
“I love ye,” he said vehemently. “I dinna want a wife from another clan. I want ye.” He lifted her with arms that trembled with exhaustion and pressed onward on foot, desperate to get her to a healer. To see if she might be saved.
He would not give up. Never. He would do anything to ensure she lived.
Everything hurt.
Kinsey drew in a shallow breath and caught the scent of herbs in the humid air. Her back ached where she lay on a flat surface. She tried to shift her weight and pain sizzled in her lungs.