Page 12 of The Outlaw's Bride
“Please save yer questions for later,” she replied, her tone sharpening. “I must concentrate now.”
Lachlann’s smile turned hard. He would indeed, for he had plenty of them. She and her protector had been cagey upon letting him out of the cell, but it was clear to Lachlann that the maid was high-born. She spoke and dressed like a lady. He knew that MacLeod had three daughters. Two were wed apparently, but the youngest was not.
Lachlann’s gaze settled upon the girl’s slender shoulders. He'd wager that this was Malcolm MacLeod's youngest daughter. He didn't recall her name, but he’d discover it soon enough.
Eventually the passageway became so low they were virtually crawling through it. It was difficult going, for the girl insisted on carrying the torch with her. Lachlann’s back was beginning to ache when they came to a rusted iron grate, much like the ones that covered the cells.
The girl sat back on her heels and looked Lachlann’s way for the first time since leaving her companion. She had a shy, hesitant gaze, although he noted the lines of determination on her face. Curiosity gnawed at Lachlann. He wanted to know why this young woman was fleeing in the dead of night and enlistinghishelp to do so.
“This is the way out,” she announced. “Can ye open the grate and climb down. I’ll hand ye the torch.”
Lachlann nodded, grabbing hold of the grate and pulling it upward. It wasn’t that heavy and, fortunately, the grate wasn’t locked, although the bars were covered with rust—almost entirely corroded in places. Lachlann wagered no one had come this way in a very long while.
A hidden passage under Dunvegan … a secret well worth knowing.
He climbed down, his boots hitting iron rungs, and took the torch the girl handed him. Moments later she was climbing down the ladder. Halfway down, she paused.
“Wait … I need to close the grate.”
He huffed. “Is there any point?”
Her tone was clipped when she replied. “I’d rather leave no evidence of our passing.”
Lachlann’s mouth quirked. She might appear as meek as a mouse, but the lass had a spine. He shouldn't be surprised, for a coward wouldn't have chosen such a daring escape as this.
Down in the passageway, Lachlann kept hold of the torch. The roles were reversed now. He would lead the way, and she would follow.
Nonetheless, he turned to her. “Straight ahead?”
The lass nodded. “This tunnel is long … but it eventually comes to a dead-end.” She paused here, her brow furrowing. “It’s been years since I’ve been down here, but I remember there was an iron grate in the roof … and I saw daylight through it.”
Lachlann nodded. “Was it locked?”
Her face tensed. “I can’t remember.”
Lachlann loosed a sigh. “Come on then … let’s hope it isn’t.”
The tunnel was small and cramped, with wet stone walls and the ever-persistent sound of dripping water. It was an unpleasant space, but nothing compared to the festering cell Lachlann had left behind. He’d happily endure this place if it promised freedom. He longed for fresh air and daylight, things he would never take for granted again.
As the girl had warned, they spent a long while in the tunnel. Shortly after beginning their journey, they ceased to speak. Instead, they shuffled along, bent double, step after step, toward freedom.
By the time they reached the end of it, the torch was starting to die. Lachlann dropped it to the ground and craned his neck to the grate above them. No light of any kind shone through it.
He cut his companion a glance. Her face, lit by the guttering torch on the ground, appeared strained. “I can’t see a lock,” she murmured, her face tilted up, her gaze narrowed as she peered at their escape route.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Lachlann replied. Climbing up the ladder, he grabbed hold of the iron bars. It wasn't easy to budge. At first he suspected the grate really was locked. But then after a moment he realized that it was merely a bit stuck; it was covered with rotting leaves and what smelt like pine needles. He gave a hard shove, and with a groan of metal, the grate shifted.
They were through.
Lachlann pushed the grate aside and climbed up and out of the tunnel. Rising to his full height for the first time in what felt like hours, Lachlann massaged his aching back. He stood amongst a growth of pines. Moonlight filtered through the trees, and he breathed in the pungent scent of sap.
Freedom had never smelled so good.
“Are ye going to help me out?” An irritated female voice intruded.
Lachlann turned. He'd almost forgotten the woman; they weren’t off to a good start.
Reaching down, Lachlann grasped a small, warm hand and pulled the lass up out of the tunnel. The touch of her skin caused a frisson of heat to ripple up his arm. Lachlann caught his breath, his fingers tightening around hers.
