Page 13 of The Laird's Dangerous Prize
"Aye, it's been quite a night fer ye." Elspeth gestured to the four-poster bed. "Different from what ye're used tae?"
Isolde hesitated, wondering if something she said might give away her clan. But then decided some truth served better than lies. "We once had fine things. Now we make dae with what remains."
"Hard times fall on many clans these days." Elspeth’s eyes were kind but shrewd. "War and weather take their toll on even the proudest houses. Here, let me help ye out of that gown."
"I can manage, thank ye. And ye? Has Castle MacCraith always been so..." Isolde gestured at the opulent chamber.
"Prosperous?" Elspeth shook her head. "When the laird's faither died, we struggled. But the young laird—he rebuilt everything. Made smart alliances. Protected our borders." Pride colored her voice. "He's a good man, though he hides it well behind that scowl."
Isolde thought of his gentle hands tending her wounds, the way his eyes had softened when she'd winced. "Perhaps."
"Rest now. I'll return at day break."
Isolde took a sip of the thick broth. It was delicious with a soothing aroma, but she was in no mood for food.
Exhaustion claimed her almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, dreams of masked dances and forest pursuits tangling in her mind. In what felt like moments later, she woke with a start, the castle eerily quiet in the predawn stillness.
This is me chance.The perfect time tae escape.
She slipped from the bed, thinking Sorcha's gown would have to do as long as she slipped in discreetly enough to change before any apart from her sisters noticed. The knife she'd taken from the desk disappeared into her sleeve. Moving silently, she eased the door open and slipped into the corridor.
The great hall was empty, the fire banked for the night. No servants stirred yet in the kitchens. She made her way outside to the courtyard, keeping to the shadows, guessing where the stables would be, based on the direction the stable boy had gone with Ciaran's stallion. After two wrong turns, the neigh of a horse told her she was close.
Inside, the familiar scent of hay and horses greeted her, but her relief vanished at the sight of a stable boy slumped against the door, snoring softly.
"Blast ye, Ciaran MacCraith," she muttered. The insufferable man had anticipated her escape.
Isolde crept forward, careful to avoid the patches of straw that might crunch beneath her feet. The stable boy couldn't be more than fourteen, his lanky frame folded awkwardly against the stalldoor, head lolled to one side. Her mare nickered softly at her approach.
"Shh, girl," Isolde whispered, reaching out to stroke the horse's muzzle.
The boy stirred at the sound, his eyes fluttering open. When he spotted Isolde, he jerked upright, nearly toppling over in his haste.
"M'lady!" He scrambled to his feet, wiping drool from his chin.
"I'm just checking on me horse," Isolde replied smoothly. "Go back tae sleep, lad."
"Cannae dae that, m'lady." The boy planted himself more firmly before the stall, though his voice trembled slightly. "The laird said ye might try tae leave. Said I wasnae tae let ye near yer horse, on pain of—" he swallowed hard, "on pain of mucking the stables fer a month."
"Did he now?" Isolde arched an eyebrow. "And what if I offered ye something better than that threat? I could make it worth yer while tae look the other way."
The boy's eyes widened, temptation flashing across his face before loyalty reasserted itself. "The laird would ken who helped ye. He kens everything that happens in his castle."
As if summoned by the words, the stable door creaked open. Both Isolde and the boy whirled toward the sound. Another stable hand stood in the doorway, lantern raised high.
"Hamish! Ye better come quick! The laird's men are returning early, and they're wounded!"
The boy—Hamish—looked torn, glancing between Isolde and the door.
"Go," Isolde urged. "I'll stay right here."
The moment both boys disappeared, Isolde moved swiftly. She'd have only seconds to act. Without a saddle or bridle, she'd have to ride bareback. She lifted the latch on her mare's stall, murmuring soothing words as she led the animal out.
"Good girl. Easy now."
She was just leading the mare toward the stable entrance when a deep voice stopped her cold.
"Going somewhere, lass?"
