Page 57 of Dark Side of the Laird
I prayed I could survive however long it would take for Emma to open the door in the secret chamber and bring the evidence of my birth to the castle. Prayed that offering up such a treasure in exchange for my life was worth it in James’ eyes. Aye, James had been the one to give it to me. A test. A way to keep me close. But I’d discovered what was in there. Evidence of my birth could be the only thing.
If he wanted it opened upon his death, it could only mean that it was so I could succeed him. And now that he’d had a child born to him, I was of no use, for his line would continue even if it was daughter, and he’d not want to see it taken away from him and his blood by me—the rightful king.
A frustrated growl passed through my lips and I tightened my muscles, wrenching hard at the bindings, wishing I’d the power of the supernatural and could break free with a mere tug. But the tight straps held firm and I only succeeded in further injuring myself.
The door to the dungeon creaked open and the shuffling of feet moved slowly from where it stood ajar and out of my vision. Slow-moving, as though the person were sneaking in. There was no way it could be Emma, my jailor or James.
I wanted to shout, to ask who was there, but doing so would show my fear, my need to know. Instead, I looked up at the ceiling, and listened.
These steps were different than the rest. Slower, less agile.
“My laird,” came the cooing of an older woman. Her voice was scratchy, unearthly.
Gooseflesh rose upon my limbs and I gritted my teeth. The devil’s demons were upon me. He’d sent a witch to torment me and drag me down to hell.
“My laird, dinna fear me,” she crooned.
I kept my teeth clenched so tight the muscle in my jaw started to spasm.
She drew nearer and I waited for the scythe to raise and gut me, but it didn’t come. Instead she set something down and loomed her old, wrinkled face over mine.
“Ye’re still alive, then.”
“Aye,” I ground out. “Have done with it and end me.”
She chuckled and clucked her tongue. “Och, such a brave laird ye are, but stupid nonetheless.”
“What?” I asked, staring into her dark, droopy eyes.
“I’ve not come to kill ye, my laird, but to save ye.”
“Save me?” I was sincerely skeptical. How was an old crone going to save me? Unless she was, in fact, a witch as I’d suspected and she’d laid a sleeping spell on all who remained within the castle.
Before I’d met Emma, I might have raised a brow at such a notion as magic, but as it was, my love had traveled back in time. It was entirely possible witches were a thing of truth.
“Before ye get your hopes up, lad, I canna take ye out now. But I can feed ye and tend your wounds. Ye must remain strong, else there is nothing I can do.”
“How do I know what ye feed me is nay poisoned?”
“Ye dinna. Ye must trust me. I know your secret.” She hissed the last word on a whispered breath, and what was left of the blood in my body seemed to drain to somewhere, or simply evaporate.
And even though she scared the shite out of me, I wanted to trust her. Had no other choice really, for I’d no way of knowing whether or not Emma was going to succeed. If my vision had been real, I believed she would try. But there was that doubt, that it had only been the ravings of a mind gone mad.
“Ye know nothing,” I insisted.
“Aye, my laird, but I do. For ye see, I was a maid to your mother. She oft told me of the two babes swirling in her belly. No one believed her, thought she was crazy, but she could feel each pair of feet. When the childbed called, she bade me hide in the wardrobe, for she was certain something afoul would happen when her two princes were born. She was right. She made me swear never to tell, but to make certain that one did not harm the other.”
I couldn’t respond. My jaw clamped tight. I’d known it was true, having heard so from my brother, my foster mother, but to hear it from a witness was…a blow to the gut. I swallowed and steadied my breath before answering. “Did ye know where they took me?”
She shook her head. “Nay, lad. But when I heard whisperings of ye here, I knew I had to come to ye. We’ve not much time now. Will ye trust me?”
“I trust ye,” I said, knowing I had to do whatever it took to get out of here alive.
“Good. Now open your mouth and lift your head.”
I did as she instructed, and she poured a nasty tasty elixir into my mouth. My immediate reaction was to spit it out. The last time I’d taken a drink from a woman I barely knew I’d ended up nude and unconscious. Well, I was already nude, and barely conscious as it was. What could it hurt?
Noticing my hesitation, she tsk-tsked me until I swallowed.
