Page 69 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

Arne rose but stayed in a crouch. “Come on, ‘tis safe now,” he said, helping her up, “but stay low.” Raven’s heart was in her throat, expecting the guards to reappear at any moment as she and Arne crept forward and then threw themselves behind the buttress.

“Here it is,” she whispered, brushing her hands across the mossy stone at the base. She tried to lift it herself, but it was too heavy, so Arne helped her.

“Seems like this entrance has nae been used fer quite some time,” he said as they grappled with it and eventually managed to shift it, to reveal the iron grille which Raven had described beneath. Raven cringed as its hinges squealed horribly as they lifted it. The top of a rickety ladder was visible at the top.

“How will we see where we’re goin’” Arne asked.

Raven opened her mouth to speak when a hard, masculine voice from behind them said, “Ye neednae worry about that fer ye’re nae goin’ down there. Ye’re comin’ with us instead. Get up, and let me see yer faces, the both of ye, now!”

Raven heart sank as she exchanged a glance with Arne. It was not the end of the world that they had been caught by her brother’s patrol, but it might make concealing their presence at the castle that little bit harder. They stood up and turned around as instructed.

It was the two guards from before. They stood pointing swords at Arne and Raven; their expressions grim. “MacDonald spies, I’ve nae doubt,” the elder of the two men said, giving them a flinty look from beneath his helmet. “Thought ye could sneak in a dae some mischief, did ye?”

“We’re nae spies,” Raven spoke up boldly, pulling off her cap so that her long hair cascaded down her back. “Dae I look like a spy tae ye?”

“Silence!” the older guard snapped. He eyed Arne’s weapons. “I’ll have that sword and dirk off ye. Unbuckle yer belt and throw it down there.” He gestured to the ground by his colleague’s feet. “And be quick about it.”

Arne did as he was told, and the younger man picked up his belt and slung it over his shoulder, with the scabbard dangling.

“I asked ye a question,” Raven said. “Dae I look like a spy?” The guards hesitated as they looked at her with doubt mixed with suspicion. Already frustrated by the failure of their plan to enter the castle undetected, she put on her most imperious voice as she said, “I’m Lady Raven MacNeil MacDonald, and I’m the sister of yer laird. This is me partner, Arne MacLeod, braither tae Haldor MacLeod, Viking Laird of Harris.”

“How d’ye dae, lads?” Arne said, giving the guards a friendly nod.

“We’ve come a long way and braved many dangers tae see me braithers, and I demand that ye take us tae them at once.”

The older guard spat on the ground. “Is that why ye were tryin’ tae sneak intae the place? And why ye’re disguised as a lad, I suppose? What a load of nonsense! Ye think ye can fool us by spinnin’ us some yarn about ye bein’ the laird’s sister? I’m nae a babe in arms, ye ken? Ye’re spies fer that dog MacDonald, as sure as eggs is eggs. Ye’re comin’ with us tae the dungeons. Ye can think up some more lies while ye’re waitin’ fer the laird tae come and question ye,” the guard told them angrily.

“Well, that went well,” Arne said short while later as he looked up at Raven from his seat on a bed of rotten straw. She was standing on tiptoes, hanging onto the iron bars of the grille set high up in the door of the locked cell, yelling repeatedly, “I’m tellin’ ye, I’m the laird’s sister. Now will ye go and tell him I’m here?!” and variations on that theme. She had been trying to convince the guards she was telling the truth the entire time they had marched her and Arne down to the dungeons, shoved them roughly into the stinking cell, and locked them in.

To no avail.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Finally, Raven gave up and went to sit next to Arne, shivering from the cold. He put his arms around her. “Why will they nae believe me enough tae go and tell me braithers I’m here?” she asked with frustration.

“Dinnae worry. Any hint of a spy about the place and yer braithers will be told about it right away,” Arne said.

“So why does Everard nae come then?”

“Because they think we’re spies for their enemy. They want tae make us stew in this stinkin’ hole fer a while tae soften us up fer when they interrogate us.”

“So, how long d’ye ye think they’ll leave us down here?” she asked uneasily.

He shrugged. “I dunno. A few hours? A night or two, maybe.”

She reared away from him, horrified. “A night or two? Are ye jokin’ me?!”

“Nae. But if they suspect we’re MacDonald spies, I’m guessin’ it’ll be sooner rather than later because they’ll want tae interrogate us as soon as possible. And also, they will catch wind that ye said ye were their sister and they’ll be curious.”

“Och, dear God,” she sighed, collapsing back against him, deflated and shivering.

“But remember,” Arne went on, “we dinnae even ken if yer braithers are here. They could be out somewhere, scoutin’ or somethin’. We might be here fer days or even weeks.”

“Weeks!” she shrieked. “I’ll die of cold by then.”

“Well, let’s just hope ’tis the former rather than the latter,” he said, pulling her onto his lap, holding her close. Grateful, she snuggled into his warmth.

“Well, however long it turns out tae be, I’m glad we’re together,” she told him.

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