Page 44 of The Outlaw's Bride
They waited until all sign of him had passed, before Lachlann released Adaira and the pair of them emerged from the shadows. The near miss had put her on edge; her heart still pounded. However, Lachlann’s face, lit by a guttering torch on the wall, was hard and focused.
He then leaned in close to Adaira, his breath tickling her ear. “We’re taking the back way out,” he whispered. “Keep a few paces behind me until the path is clear. The East Gate will be guarded. Whatever happens stay silent. Prepare yerself … things may get bloody.”
Adaira nodded, although her belly now pitched and roiled with nerves. She suddenly needed to pee, but there was no time to find a privy.
Lachlann led the way to the back of the broch. As instructed, Adaira followed in his wake, keeping to the shadows a few feet behind him. They passed under a wide stone arch, and Adaira felt crisp air fan her face. The doorway was before them. Lachlann moved out into a moonlit yard and broke into a light-footed sprint. A high stone wall reared up before them, and a narrow wooden gate lay straight ahead.
Silhouetted by burning torches on the walls, Adaira spied two dark outlines of guards either side of the gate. Adaira covered her mouth with a hand and slowed her pace. Lachlann was running straight for them.
Steel flashed as Lachlann drew his dirk.
A flurry of movement, grunts, thumps, and the scuff of booted feet on dirt followed.
Heart pounding, Adaira crept across the yard. Two prone figures lay on the ground. Lachlann had his back to her as he unbolted the gate.
Adaira stepped over the guards, her legs trembling now. “What did ye do to them?” She’d only whispered the question, but it seemed to echo across the yard.
Lachlann whipped round, gaze narrowed, and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her against him.
“I told ye to keep silent,” he hissed in her ear.
“I know, but the guards … are they—”
“Dead? Aye. Now hold yer tongue. We’re not out of danger yet.”
Lachlann shoved his shoulder against the gate and, with a creak, it opened. Once again, the noise seemed to reverberate in the night’s stillness. There wasn’t even the moan of the wind to disguise it.
Tension thrummed through Adaira. Her senses were stretched so taut that she imagined every soul in Talasgair must have heard. She drew in a sharp breath, bracing herself for shouts and the tattoo of running feet.
But no sounds came.
Lachlann took Adaira by the hand and led her through the gate. The land rose steeply on Talasgair’s eastern side, and the pair were forced to scramble their way up a rocky slope, before they crested the hill.
They’d only traveled a couple of furlongs from the walls when Adaira’s lungs started to protest. Her legs felt weak and clumsy under her. After two moons locked away in the tower, her body wasn’t used to this sudden exertion. She was relieved that Lachlann held her hand, towing her behind him as he broke into a run.
A short while later they approached the ruins of another broch, entering it through the remains of an ancient archway. Stacked stone walls, crumbling with age, rose around them. A star-strewn night sky arched above, for the broch’s roof had fallen into ruin long ago.
“Where are we?” Adaira gasped, struggling to regain her breath.
“This is Dun Sleadale, an old Pict fort,” Lachlann replied. “Come on … we can’t linger here either.”
He led her to the far side of the ruins, where a horse awaited them. Relief kicked within Adaira at the sight of it. She watched Lachlann untether the horse and run a hand down the beast’s neck.
“Ye planned this?” she breathed.
“Aye,” he replied, busying himself with tightening the horse’s girth. “We wouldn’t get far on foot.”
“Why are ye helping me?”
Lachlann stilled before casting a look over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. Ye asked me to, didn’t ye?”
“Aye … and ye refused.”
His expression shuttered, and he turned away. “I … changed my mind.”
Lachlann swung up onto the back of the horse. He then stretched his hand down to her. “Climb up.”
Adaira grasped his hand, slipped her foot into the stirrup, and sprang up, settling herself down behind him. She tried to sit back as far as possible, but the shape of the saddle meant that she slid down toward him, her breasts pressed up against his back. Tensing, Adaira loosely wrapped her arms about his waist.
