Page 11 of The Outlaw's Bride
“Come,” she murmured. “He's sworn to me; we can't wait any longer.”
Taran gave a curt nod, rose to his feet, and took hold of a wooden ladder that was resting against the wall. He lowered it into the cell. “Climb up,” he ordered curtly.
Moments later the scuff of boots on the wooden rungs echoed through the dungeon. And then a tousled head appeared.
Adaira stared at the prisoner, momentarily transfixed. This was her first proper look at him. She'd seen Lachlann Fraser from afar when they’d brought him in unconscious. But then she’d just caught a flash of his bright auburn hair and little else.
He was a few years older than her. Wild red hair framed a handsome, if pale, face. He had eyes the color of moss and beautifully drawn features that were set in a fierce expression. A dark auburn shadow of stubble covered a strong jaw. Adaira stared, mesmerized.
Even stinking and disheveled, he was the most attractive man she’d ever seen.
Likewise, the prisoner stared at her. His expression grew shrewd, those green eyes narrowing as he observed her. Then he drew a slow breath and inclined his head. “Evening, Lady …?”
“Ye don't need to know her name,” Taran growled. “There will be time enough for that later.”
Holding his torch aloft, Taran stepped back to allow the prisoner to climb from the cell.
Lachlann Fraser did so. He stretched his long body, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the torchlight. He was dressed in braies and a loose léine. Both were filthy.
Fraser’s gaze settled upon Adaira once more, unsettlingly direct. “Which direction is it then?”
Adaira’s breathing quickened under his scrutiny, before she tore her attention from the prisoner and focused on Taran.
Her brother-in-law was watching her, concern in his eyes. “Do ye remember the way?”
She nodded her head, although her heart started to hammer against her ribs. It had finally come to this; she was escaping. “Aye,” she murmured. “Go back now, and thank ye. I'll never forget this.” She was careful not to use Taran’s name or to mention her sister’s. Once they were far from here, her escort would learn her name and identity. But not yet. Taran was right to be cautious.
Taran nodded and stepped back. Yet he didn’t move away just yet. Instead, he turned his attention to Lachlann Fraser. The two men stared at each other for a heartbeat. Taran’s face was as hard as hewn granite. “If any harm comes to her … if ye fail to uphold yer end of the bargain, I'll come looking for ye, Fraser,” he growled. “I’ll hunt ye down to the ends of the earth. That’s a promise.”
The ferocity of his words shocked Adaira; she stared at Taran, struck speechless.
Lachlann Fraser sneered. “Don’t threaten me,Scar-face,” he growled.
Tension rippled through the air. Taran’s jaw clenched, and he took a step toward Lachlann. Panic trembled inside Adaira as she realized the pair might come to blows.
Without thinking, she stepped in between them, craning her neck to meet Taran’s eye. “We’re going now,” she said, her voice brittle with nerves. She then cast a glance over her shoulder at where Lachlann Fraser wore a murderous expression. “Follow me.”
Lachlann couldn't believe it.
He was free. Just like that. He’d been huddled in a corner of the cell, wondering how much longer he’d be able to keep his wits in this endless darkness, when he’d heard a man calling to him from above.
That scar-faced warrior had looked as if he wanted to throw him back down the ladder into the cell and slam the grate shut. And he probably would have, if the choice had been his to make.
But thanks to this young woman leading him down a series of increasingly small passageways, it wasn’t.
The girl was quite lovely. She'd been the first thing he'd seen when he'd emerged from the cell. A mane of walnut-colored hair framed a pert face that contained the loveliest pair of hazel eyes he’d ever seen. She was small, her curves hidden by the heavy woolen mantle she wore. Across her front the young woman carried a bulging satchel. She looked like someone about to set out on a long journey.
And I am to be her escort.
A grim smile spread across Lachlann’s face. He’d have gladly made a pact with the devil himself if it meant escape from that putrid cell.
“How did ye manage to get past the guards,” he asked casually. “Did yer scar-faced friend kill them?”
“They’re drugged,” she replied, an edge to her voice. “They shouldn’t awaken for a long while.”
Drugged.Disappointment flooded through Lachlann. For an instant, he was tempted to leave the lass here and go find those two. He had unfinished business with them both. However, freedom was more important to him right now than petty vengeance. He’d not risk it for the pleasure of killing two lack-wits.
“A hidden passage, eh?” he murmured as they entered another corridor, this one so low they both had to stoop to avoid hitting their heads. “How did ye learn of it?”
