Shana willed back the tears the woman’s words inspired. “I did not wish for that to happen, for harm to come to anyone under this roof. Please. I know what I must do, but ye must free me. I will go. I shall offer myself to them. But I need ye to free me. Please.”
She began pulling her hand through the shackle, crying out as the iron dug into her skin and instantly began to tear it. “Please!” she wept, tears of pain and panic blurring her vision. Yet she continued to struggle.
There was so little time. She had to escape. She had to get out of the castle, somehow, and show herself to the Stuart men before they attacked.
William would fight for her, fool that he was. He might even die.
And she loved him. In spite of everything, there was no denying how the thought of him dying because of her—even though she’d done nothing to deserve Jacob Stuart’s ire—caused her chest to clench painfully and her throat to tighten so, she could barely breathe.
He was everything. The entire world. And he was going to fight for her.
Or, he believed he was. She would do everything in her power to stop it.
“What do ye think you’re doing?” the old woman bellowed as she rushed to the cell.
“I’m trying to get out of here so that I might turn myself over to Jacob Stuart. Do you not understand me? If you wish to spare your men a battle, you will help me. I do not have much time.”
The old woman’s mouth all but disappeared when she pressed her lips together in a thin line. “He will not be pleased.”
“He will be pleased when he does not have to fight for me. I know the laird wants nothing to do with this. I would not have brought this on any of your heads, this I vow. Now. Please. I beg you.”
They exchanged a long look.
The woman pulled out a ring of keys. “I hope I dinna regret this later,” she murmured as she went through her collection. “I truly do.”
“I shall worry about the Stuarts,” Shana assured her. “You need not pay another moment’s thought to me. And if the laird—or Captain Blackheath—ask why you freed me, tell them I would not allow the guard or anyone living in the castle to suffer. This is what I must do.”
In spite of these assurances, the woman looked none too pleased at having to open the door. She then unlocked the shackles. “I suppose we’re all fortunate that I keep a key to everything in the keep,” she muttered as she worked the locks.
“I need a weapon. Anything.” Shana rubbed her chafed wrists, red and raw from her struggles. When the women looked at her with doubt, she gritted her teeth. “They might wish to take me, but I will not allow them to do so without taking one or two of them along with me, if you ken.”
The young woman who’d first answered her questions handed over a small hatchet. “God bless ye,” she murmured in a voice thick with tears.
Shana gave her a short, tight hug before gathering her skirts and running up the stairs.
When she reached the top, she remembered one important thing, she had no idea how to escape.
Cries rose up all around her, both inside and outside the keep. Hold your positions! Man the walls! Archers at the ready! She pressed herself into a corner, deep in shadow, her eyes moving up and down the corridor. They would have closed the gates, would they not?
How could she find her way beyond the castle walls with men manning them, watching every move of everything on either side?
Perhaps if she begged one of them to let her out?
With the hatchet held up against her midriff—better than hanging at her side, she decided—she tiptoed down the corridor, watching all the while as men hurried to and from the courtyard and through the entry hall. None of them noticed her, either because she remained in the shadows or because they were too absorbed to pay her any mind.
The door was open, but the gate was closed as she had expected. What was she to do?
“Have any of the men gone down to check the cells?”
William’s voice. She looked about in greater panic than ever when she heard him approach.
“Nay, Captain.”
“I ordered a handful of men down there to protect the women!” There was such force, such power. She had never heard him sound so, even when they’d fought.
It would hardly do to have him discover her. He would lock her up again.
Rather than wait for him to find her, then, she ducked into the nearest room and hid behind the door before he passed. Once he had, she looked around to find where she had hidden herself.
“The bastards!”
She jumped at William’s shout, which was followed by further shouts which she took to mean Jacob Stuart had not kept his word and waited a full hour.
They flanked us! Approached from the north and west! Breaching the walls!
Breaching the walls! They were coming in? How was it possible? Feet pounded down the length of the corridor as voices overlapped—furious, frantic voices.
Shana panicked, looking around again. A pile of furs in one corner brought to mind memories of hiding in Drew’s wagon. It was better than waiting out in the open. She ran to them, digging her way inside and pulling them about herself, leaving only a small space through which to see. The door was still partway open, giving her a view of the entry hall and part of the open front door.
Chaos, pure and simple. Men running to and fro, shouting orders, spilling out into the courtyard where—she gasped at the sight of men not wearing the same green sashes worn by Richard’s guard pouring in from elsewhere. They must have scaled the walls somehow, lowered themselves over the side opposite the gate. Now they dashed about, brandishing pistols and waving swords, shouting.
She held her breath as this unfolded, clasping her hands in prayer while still holding the hatchet. Oh, please, please, let them be victorious. Please, let him live, keep him safe. I beg you…
Men ran into the keep, one of them falling almost instantly as one of Richard’s guard skewered him with a sword. Another leapt over him and soon met the same fate, gurgling and choking on his own blood. Smoke filled the air as pistols were fired, and the ear-splitting cracks were followed by screams and groans.
She wanted to close her eyes and cover her ears to keep all of it out, keep it far away, pretend it wasn’t happening—yet if she did, there would be no knowing what happened to William, and he was all she cared about. Only his life.
Which made the entrance of Jacob Stuart nearly stop her heart.
“Blackheath!” he bellowed, a snarl twisting his features as he strode into the entry hall with a dirk in each hand. “I want Blackheath!”
She was a breath away from leaping from the furs and announcing her presence when William’s cry of rage split the air and froze her. The two men clashed just outside the door to the room in which she hid, growling and spitting curses.
William slashed at him with his dirk, while Jacob jumped back with ease before lunging forward with both blades aimed at William’s stomach. He sidestepped this, slamming his elbow into the back of Jacob’s neck.
Jacob fell to one knee but was quick with the dirk nearest William. He brought it upward in one quick, violent motion, and Shana barely held back a scream as the shining blade disappeared into William’s side.
He staggered back, blood appearing on his tunic and already spreading. Yet he did not stop, moving forward again, this time swinging the dirk in a wide arc which caught Jacob’s arm and tore it open from shoulder to elbow.
Jacob cried out, dropping the bloody dirk which he’d used to stab William, though there was still one in the other hand. He curled his free hand into a fist, driving it into the side of William’s face while slashing at him with the dirk. He was a man possessed, determined to have his vengeance.
Yet William would not fall, responding to each blow with one of his own.
Until Jacob punched William squarely in the place where he’d been stabbed.
William let out a strangled cry, dropping to his knees. Jacob drove a foot into his back, sending hi
m sprawling. He held him down with that foot, grinning triumphantly through a mouthful of blood and broken teeth.
His eyes were crazed, his face bruised and bloodied. He raised his dirk.
William did not move. His eyes were only half-open. Would he not stop this before it was too late?
“Jacob Stuart!”
Shana hardly recognized her own voice as she threw off the furs. She sounded like a warrior. Fear turned to rage, and it raced through her veins like fire. “I am here! Take me if you have the courage to do so!”
She raised the hatchet high, marching across the room toward the open door. He might try to kill her, but she would make certain he joined her.
His eyes widened, gleaming as he recognized her. His tongue even darted over his lips as though the thought of a new challenge delighted him.
He took one step, then stopped when William’s dirk slid into his side.
Shana watched as the man’s eyes widened further still, his face frozen in a mask of surprise and then agony. He dropped his weapon, his hands skittering about on his back as though to swat away a fly.
He fell to his knees, then face-first on the floor. He moved no more.
William rolled onto his back, panting, groaning, his blood still pooling beside him. Shana stepped over Jacob’s body—barely stopping herself from spitting on him, and knelt beside William.
“Ah, my dear, my dear.” She took his face in her hands. “Look at me, please.”
“Wh—what are ye doin’ here?” he whispered, his green eyes unfocused as he searched her face. “What did ye think ye were doin’?”
“I could not let you do this for me.” She kissed him again and again. “Please, please, stay with me. Do not leave me now.”
The battle was slowing, the worst of it now over, and the stench of blood and smoke filled the air. Several of Richard’s men noticed them there, calling for help, kneeling beside their captain and tending to him in ways she could not.
Yet she would not leave his side. Not ever again.
27
“It seems the men charged with patrolling the western and northern sides of the castle were captured and bound while Stuart sat here, drinking my wine and lying to my face.” Richard stood at the foot of William’s bed, his eyes flashing. “The bastard had no intention of waiting.”
“Men such as himself could only win by cheating,” William mused. “He got what he deserved.”
“Not before nearly taking your life.” The lass’s hand tightened around his. She’d been by his side from the moment he ended the life of that worthless, cheating, lying man. No one, not even old Maggie—who seemed to have taken a liking to her—could convince her to leave, even while the healer treated and stitched his wounds.
“But he did not,” William reminded her with a gentle smile. “Remember, he did not. Thanks to ye.”
“A good thing ye convinced the women to release ye from the cell,” Richard observed, lifting a brow. “How ye did it is a mystery, as neither Maggie nor any of the others will say.”
She shrugged. “It was hardly witchcraft or anything of the kind. I told them I wanted to spare their men. Nothing more.”
“How we ye intending to do that?”
A guilty look to William. She swallowed hard. “I was going to offer myself to Jacob Stuart.”
“Ye were going to do nothing of the kind!” William bellowed before the pain in his side reminded him of what he’d just sustained.
Her chest puffed out. “Do not tell me, William Blackheath, what I did or did not intend to do!”
“Enough,” Richard announced, holding up both hands and looking decidedly tired. “Ye can fight about it all ye like after I’ve gone. I’ve heard enough fighting today, thank ye kindly. But lass—” His brow furrowed when he looked upon her. “How could ye imagine ye would be successful? That ye would even manage to get out of the castle?”
“I… admit, I did not think clearly. I was far too concerned over what was about to happen. I wanted to stop the fighting before it began, and that was the only way I could imagine doing so. I did not wish for anyone here to fight on my behalf.”
“That was not your decision.”
“Why not, when the fighting was over me? It was the only way I could see to make things right.”
William clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Och, lass, it would not have been right if it meant ye surrendering to him.”
“That is my decision, whether or not the two of you agree.” She looked at him, then at Richard. “It is still my life.”
“We shall have to agree to disagree,” Richard decided. “I would merely like to know why my orders seem to make no difference.”
“It all ended well enough,” she reasoned, brightening. “You lost none of your men, thanks to the training they’ve received from the captain of your guard.”
“Ye dinna need to praise him,” Richard chuckled. “I know how fine a job he’s done.”
“I never mind being praised,” William grinned.
“Aye, I would not want ye to think too highly of yourself. Ye might demand a home of your own or something of the sort.” Was it his imagination, or did Richard glance at her before stepping away from the bed? “I have quite a lot to manage now, as ye can imagine.”
Such as what to do with the bodies of the men who’d died. Intruders, all, who deserved no better than to be thrown in a pit and burned for all William was concerned. They had traveled across Scotland, and this was all they had to show for their efforts. Good riddance.
When they were alone for the first time since it happened. Now he had the chance to see her, not merely to look upon her, and what he found disturbed him. “Ye are filthy.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Perhaps because I was in a filthy cell for much of the day.”
“That was a mistake. I should never have allowed Richard—”
“Hush.” She covered his mouth with her fingers. “No more. ‘Tis in the past. I am here now, no longer locked away, and all is well.”
“Is it? Truly?”
“Is it not? Jacob Stuart is no longer, and you are safe and alive. What else is there to fear?”
“Perhaps not fear, but… your family was captured. Ye ought to know that.”
Her eyes darkened, turning nearly black. “Aye. The time had to come, did it not? Manfri—my brother, I suppose there is no harm in telling you that now—took too many chances. He wanted to prove how clever he was, how the law could never catch on to him. I suppose he liked to thumb his nose at the men who never cared to come to our aid when we needed them.”
She sighed, lowering her head, and he knew she was much more deeply affected by this than she let on. “They are your kin. ‘Tis only natural for ye to be upset or saddened for them.”
“I am, at that,” she murmured, eyes downcast. “I only wish there was something I could do for them, though I know it can never be. I would only be taken to jail along with the rest of them, simply because I was one of them. Do you… do you believe me to be in the wrong? Does it make me a terrible person?”
“A terrible person? Look at me.” He took her chin in one hand, raising her head. “Lass, ye only just minutes ago confessed that ye were about to give yourself up to a man ye knew would kill ye, all to save the lives of everyone here. Ye would make that sacrifice—I’ve no doubt that had the gates been open, ye would have run out without a second thought. It would have pained me beyond measure, ye ken, as I am pained to merely imagine it.”
“I would have. I wanted to—well, I did not truly want to,” she whispered with a shaky, nervous laugh. “But I would have, for the thought of what might come of a battle was much worse.”
“Bravery does not mean walking into battle without fear,” he explained. “It means knowing what might come of it, wishing it did not have to be so, but walking into battle nonetheless. I dinna know a single man who did not feel at least a bit of regret that he had to fight at all. No one would rather fight than not. And then, to reveal yours
elf to Jacob Stuart, all to stop him from killing me.”
He shook his head with a sigh. “How can ye ask whether ye are a good person or nay? Ye are the best person I know. The fiercest and the bravest.”
She sniffled, wiping stray tears away with both hands. His words had provided comfort, which served as comfort to him as well. If he could only always comfort her, his life would be complete.
Yes, he knew that now. Hearing her call out Jacob’s name, announcing that she was there, ready for him, knowing in that one brief moment that she might die. That he might lose her forever. He’d already been in terrible, blinding pain and had already lost enough blood to leave him weakened, but the sound of her voice had granted him the strength to deliver the final blow.
He could do anything so long as it meant keeping her safe, making her happy.
“Might I ask a favor of ye? If it isn’t too much?”
“Anything,” she beamed.
“What is your true name?”
She burst out laughing. “You do not approve of calling me Tara, then?”
“Not if it isn’t your name. I wish to know ye, truly. Who ye really are.” He took her hand, winding his fingers through hers. “I wish to know everything there is to know about ye. Now and always.”
She raised his hand to her lips, brushing them over the backs of his knuckles. “If you insist. My name is Shana. Shana Invermore.”
“Shana Invermore,” he murmured, sounding the words out slowly. Testing them on his tongue. “It reminds me of music.”
“You are only saying that.”
“I mean it. How many times have ye heard me say something I didna believe?”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I suppose you have a point.”
He squeezed her hand, wishing he had the strength to do much more. “Shana Invermore. Thank you for saving my life.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Och, but ye did. He had me dead to rights—I can admit it, though it pains me to do so. It would have been a matter of moments before the wretch sank his sword into me. If ye had not cried out when ye did, he would have done just that. How can I thank ye enough for taking such a chance?”
Highland Temptations: Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 36
