Page 55 of The Beast of the Highlands
“And your soldiers will presumably aid Laird Dunn in this endeavor?” she prompted, hoping he would continue to be loose with his tongue.
Laird Dunn’s soldiers are still inside MacLennan Castle!
Fear drilled through her. It seemed hopeless, but she knew she had to get back to the castle to warn Flynn, before he found himself in a battle he might not win. Especially if he was slow to act because of the letter she had left him.
Philip nodded. “Naturally. That’s the protection part.”
“So, your marriage to Flynn was nothing but a ruse?” Autumn directed her livid glare upon Keira. “It was merely your way to get your father’s men through the gates. Would that be correct? After all, who would suspect that their own future father-in-law would be conspiring against them?”
Keira grinned. “Precisely.”
“And why, pray tell, are you allowing me to know of all this?” Autumn already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear Keira admit it.
The wretched woman finally bent down, until she was almost nose to nose with Autumn. “Because ye’ll be dead come mornin’, and dead lasses cannae breathe a word.” She chuckled. “Och, and I wanted to see the look on yer face when ye found out. I wish I could have it painted and framed.”
That is what you think. Come morning, I will have found my way out of here, and the death knell will be tolling for you.
At least, that was Autumn’s wish. But the reality was much more brutal. Flynn was oblivious in his castle, with the enemy already inside the gates. And he had no one to warn him of the fatal trick that had been played upon him.
33
Alone and frozen to the bone, on the cold dirt floor of an empty tent on the outskirts of the encampment, Autumn had slumped into a depression. She had endured every possible emotion in the handful of hours since she had discovered Keira’s true intentions; rage, desperation, determination, guilt, despair, sorrow, fury, and then… numbness.
I cannot free myself. Even if I could, I fear it would be too late.
Neither Keira nor Philip had detailed when they might attack Flynn, but it seemed likely that Autumn’s demise would be the spark to light the black powder, so to speak. Keira had wanted Flynn weakened, and Autumn had done the dirty work for her. And she could not take it back.
“He needs you,” she told herself sternly, as she tugged and strained against her ropes for the thousandth time. But they would not loosen at all. Instead, they seemed to be digging deeper into her wrists.
I cannot give up. I must not. If anything were to happen to Flynn, I would never forgive myself.
Desperation urged her to fight harder against her constraints. Tugging and pulling and twisting and turning, she battled with all the strength she had left. In a moment of inspiration, she even dragged herself to the corner of the tent, where someone had left a ragged length of wood. However, that only served to leave her with splinters in her hands.
She was about to attempt to break her wrist, in order to loosen one of the constraints, when the tent flap opened, and a soldier walked in. Evidently, her execution had come, and she was to be escorted to the proverbial gallows.
With a cloak concealing half of his face, he looked unremarkable. At least he was not wearing one of those haunting executioner’s masks.
“Do I not get a priest first?” she said acerbically.
A soft, surprisingly warm chuckle greeted her remark. “Why would you need a priest, Sister? You are in no danger of dying today. Not if I can help it.”
Autumn’s head snapped up. “Orwell?”
“I told you I would come for you whenever you were in need.” He peeled back his hood. “Although, I must say, I did not expect to see you here. It appears the fates are smiling on us.”
Autumn frowned. “I do not understand. I thought you were fighting on the Continent. Why are you here? Not that I am not grateful. Do not mistake me.”
He knelt before her and set to work on her bindings as he spoke. “I was sent here by the King’s inner court as a spy. They feared there was some corruption taking place across the border, and I was commissioned to seek it out, and report back.” He smiled. “It is wonderful to see you, Sweet Sister. I only wish it were in better circumstances.”
“Are you quite certain I am not dreaming?” She stared up at him.
He chuckled softly. “You are not. I saw you earlier, when you were taken in to see Officer Johnson, but I stayed back so I would not draw unwanted attention and risk losing the chance to free you.” He unfastened her wrists and moved on to her ankles. “They do not know me, you see. As far as this battalion are aware, my name is Lieutenant Robert Moore.”
“Orwell Montgomery suits you better,” she teased, as the feeling returned to her hands.
“We must hurry,” he urged. “Officer Johnson wanted someone to kill you and dispose of the body. I volunteered just in time, though there were some vile brutes who desired the task.”
She nodded and allowed him to help her to her feet. “Did you overhear what was said in the tent?”
