Page 40 of The Beast of the Highlands
She did not believe him, but it comforted her somewhat to think that Flynn had spoken to his closest men and had been trying to come up with a solution. It showed he was not willing to give up on her. That, in return, sparked her own determination to keep his love, and to live her life with him, for as long as she was able.
“It’s for Master Leighton, an’ all,” Desmond added. “He was a bristlin’ ball of anger and revenge before ye came to the castle, and barely spoke to a soul. Now, he’s softened, and he’s kind, and he’s generous to his people, and he’s disciplined. That’s all yerdoin’.”
Autumn blushed. “I cannot be praised for so much, Desmond. I am quite certain he would have found his way out of that rage on his own, if I had not come here.”
“He wouldnae.” Desmond shook his head. “I’ve seen revenge eat up a lad, until there wasnae anythin’ left but bitterness and resentment. It would’ve been the same for Master Leighton without ye to temper him.”
Autumn shrugged. “I like to believe people find their own path, eventually.”
“Aye, but they daenae always walk a righteous one.”
With food for thought, Autumn concentrated on the darkness up ahead, wondering how Desmond was able to see through the gloom. She would have been quite blind without him leading her by the arm.
There could be anyone hiding in these trees, and I would not know.
The sudden notion made the back of her neck prickle, as if she were truly being watched. Indeed, it heightened her senses, making her heart pound with nerves. Every rustle of the leaves, snap of a twig, and abrupt sprint of unseen creatures made her grip tighter to Desmond’s arm, wishing it were Flynn’s.
“Is it much further?” she whispered, after fifteen terrifying minutes had passed by.
Desmond shook his head. “It’ll nae be far now, Miss.”
True to his word, not five minutes later, Autumn finally saw the heartening glow of candlelight, flickering in front of a window up ahead. A beacon of hope to soothe her hammering heart and the rush of anxiety that flooded her veins.
“Are you… um… going to stand guard?” Autumn wondered aloud, feeling mortified by the idea. For if she and Flynn were to enjoy one another, as they had done a week ago, she did not want his man-at-arms hearing her passionate gasps.
Desmond laughed. “I am, Miss, but I’ll keep me distance.”
Somehow, that admission mortified her more. Clearly, he had more information about her and Flynn’s relationship than he was willing to say outright.
As they approached what appeared to be a large wooden hut, surrounded by dense pines that made the structure blend into the forest, Autumn could no longer hold back. Breaking away from Desmond, she raced the rest of the way to the hut’s front door.
“Wait!” Desmond called after her, but she was already throwing the door open, so she might rush into the arms of her beloved.
Crossing the threshold, horror took the wind out of her lungs, and the steadiness out of her legs, sending her stumbling into the nearest chair. She clung to it desperately, her eyes fixed on the terrible vision in front of her.
“Flynn…” she murmured, pushing herself away from the chair and staggering the last few paces toward him.
A trail of dried blood patches led to his slumped figure, sitting up against the farthest wall. His arms were bound behind his back, and his ankles were tied together. His beautiful face bore the purple and red blooms of fresh bruises; his lip cut and swollen, his nose trickling a stream of crusted blood, and his eyes closed as though he were dead.
Desmond exploded into the hut a moment later, and as Autumn turned, she saw that his eyes were wide with panic. “There are torches comin’, Miss. I have to get ye away from—” He paused, seeing Flynn. “Damn me eyes!”
“We have to help him, Desmond,” Autumn urged, twisting back to look at her beloved. Remembering a book she had read about anatomy, she pressed two fingers to the side of his bruised neck, feeling for the thud of his pulse. A slight flicker of relief sparked in her chest as a soft, steady tapping met her fingertips.
He is alive… He is alive, but only for now.
And if there were torches coming, and those torches were wielded by the men who had done this, Autumn knew it was likely that none of them would be alive for long.
26
Flynn awoke to pitch darkness and the musty scent of dust and earth. For a disoriented moment, he wondered if he was dead, and lying in his casket. But the pounding bursts of pain in his skull would be too cruel for a dead man to have to bear, and the stabbing pulses across his chest and stomach seemed very real.
“Where am—?” He tried to speak, only to feel a hand clamp over his mouth.
“You must be quiet, my love,” a familiar, sweet voice whispered. “Our lives depend on it.”
Flynn frowned and reached his aching hand up to the one that covered his mouth. He only had to curl his fingers around the smaller, daintier hand, to know that it was Autumn. And, as he did so, his memories came rushing back.
He had been preparing the hunting hut for his beloved’s arrival, arranging candles and furs and lighting a fire so she would be warm. He had even set out a veritable feast upon the table, in case they grew hungry after exploring one another.
