Page 48 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Twenty-Five

As soon as the pink, orange light had stretched across the entire sky, and the landscape came into view, Eamon and Lukas sprung from their hiding place. The time had come. He had informed the men of when they must light the fire, and now it was time for he and Lukas to do the same. They took the bit of oil and gunpowder they had brought and sprinkled it about the small room. They found bits of paper and kindling by the fire that they also spread.

Eamon pushed a stick into the ready flames, waiting for it to catch fire before he moved about lighting things that would easily alight. Lukas followed after him with his own stick, and soon the room broke out in a blaze. The heat was making sweat spring upon his brow. “We have to find a new hiding place!” he shouted to Lukas and opened a side door. It opened up to a set of stairs, and he thanked God that he had found them.

He and Lukas began to walk up, their daggers in their hands. Eamon turned back to Lukas. “Once the cry of fire has rung out, we need to hide. The soldiers will be running down this way.”

“But how will we find a way out? We cannot be caught atop the battlements when the soldiers run down or when the flames become too high tae manage.”

Eamon was grim. “Of course, ye are right, lad. How stupid could I have been? I can barely think, I fear so much for my brother. Turn back, turn back before we are caught like a pair of fools.”

He pushed Lukas back down the steps, and they entered the heated room. They had to jump over lines of fire, but they made it to the other door. This time there was a long passage, and they raced down it, searching for their other men or a place to hide. They met up with Dirk and Errol running towards the center room from another corridor. Lukas waved across to them and motioned for them to stop. Footsteps of soldiers were coming their way, and all of them leaned their backs up against the stone wall, praying and hoping that the soldiers would not turn their eyes to the left or to the right.

But when he saw who was in their company, he knew they were wholly focused on the task at hand. Cutler was leading the way to the main stairwell, with a triumphant look on his face. Behind him were three prisoners, and the first one was Isabelle. Eamon nearly sank to his knees at the sight of her dirtied face, still dressed in the male clothes he had asked her to wear before she fled from the MacManus clan.

Behind her was a solemn Donovan, and a tired-looking Sean. So, Gareth is dead. He sent up a prayer for the man who had been so kind, so helpful, and so willing to do anything for The Scots and their leader’s husband. He turned to Lukas, whose eyes were calm and understanding. Eamon knew his friend was comforting him at the sight of this horror, but there wasn’t time to wallow. He had to be strong for those he loved, all of them. Soldiers were on either side of the prisoners, their hands on their elbows, leading them up to their deaths. There was a shorter man walking behind them, not dressed in a soldier’s uniform. Soon, Isabelle was lost to his view as she disappeared up the stairs to the top of the Fort, and then once all were gone, he and Lukas rushed to the other side with Dirk and Errol. “Is yer fire lit?”

“Aye. It is done, and we were close tae the others. Their fire is also lit. Soon, the call will rise up, and hopefully, we can take advantage of their lack of preparation.”

Eamon looked around. “We have little time. The execution will begin soon. What if the call does not come soon enough?”

“Then, we will make it come.”

Eamon nodded. “We will have tae find a redcoat and help him out of his uniform.” He smiled. “Where is the dungeon? Once the call is made, what do ye think they will do with the prisoners? We need someone atop the battlements, ready to watch in case they need tae send an arrow intae the executioner’s heart tae give us a bit more time.” Dirk volunteered.

“I shall go, Eamon.”

Eamon shook his head. “Nae, yer red hair shall give ye away. Lukas, ye will go. Ye have the best aim with yer bow, and ye have dark hair. But first, we need tae find a soldier.”

They waited in the hallway, assuming the crowd would be moving up to view the execution, but the men must have already passed by. They prayed for a soldier on duty to walk by, and they were rewarded. Footsteps were coming their way, and peering around the corner, they could see a lone young soldier holding his musket, pacing back and forth in the room.

Eamon moved to the front of the hallway, waiting for the young man to come within his sphere so that he could reach him before the man cried out. Footsteps neared, and in a flash, Eamon’s arm reached out, grabbed a surprised soldier from behind, and smashed his head against the stone wall, rendering him unconscious. The soldier crumpled to the ground, and the men pulled his body into the hallway, searching for a good place to make the transition.

Dirk and Errol guided them to a tiny room along the passage that they had spotted on their way after lighting the flames. The nearer they got to their original entry point, though, the hotter the fires became. “We shall become cooked if we dinnae hurry.”

They undressed the man, and Lukas stripped-down, preparing himself to be a proper English soldier, simply alerting his leader of the fire in the castle. Once they were finished, the look was effective, but his rough beard would give him away if the soldiers had a moment to think before the fire consumed the castle. “Take the musket with ye, lad. In case they find out yer identity.”

Lukas nodded solemnly. “I cannae say I have ever done anything so brash as this. I cannae tell if it is brilliant or bloody foolhardy.”

Eamon grabbed him by the shoulders. “Ye are a good man, Lukas. We will protect ye. Once the cry for the fire rings out, get lost in the sea of soldiers. Find yer way down and try tae meet up with the others. If they proceed tae lock up the prisoners, while they put out the fire, we will spring them free and follow upstairs for a battle.”

“Aye. I understand.”

“But, remember, we are only battling tae escape and tae end this search for Sean. So the only people who need tae die are those who prevent us or those who were involved with Cutler.”

“And his wealth?” Lukas smiled wryly even as he was heading into the brink of danger.

“If we have the time, grab what ye can, but nae at the expense of yer life. Dinnae be an idiot.”

He smiled at his friend. He prayed to the Almighty that he would not lose him. He had lost too much already, and he couldn’t bear the loss of his best friend as well if they were not to succeed. “Go, Lukas, go! Godspeed, my friend.”

Lukas laid a firm hand on Eamon’s shoulder, and with a quick glance, he was gone, his English musket jangling as he ran upstairs. Dirk, Errol, and Eamon leaned by the window of the small room, straining to hear when the cry of fire came.

Eamon’s heart sped furiously as he heard Cutler describe the crimes of each of the victims. His voice was loud and taunting, and he imagined how angry he would feel like one of those on the man’s execution list. Cutler was far too smug and satisfied with his catch as if the three victims were animals he’d proudly collected in his trap.

“How could a man execute his own child?” he said aloud, but there was no answer, for he could hear Lukas’ loud voice in a very faulty English accent crying out “Fire!” from overhead.

He grinned as he heard the outcry from above, and the three of them slid out of the room, searching for the stairwell to the dungeon. They spotted a stairwell far to the side, and hearing the rumble of soldier’s feet ahead, they slid near to it, ducking behind the main staircase, blending perfectly into the shadows.

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