The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,86
enough to unwrap the rest of the way and explore this dark, cold hell. “The more ye move, the warmer ye’ll be,” she promised aloud, then caught the sheet between her teeth and yanked until the movement pained her more than she could stand.
She twisted and hit her injured shoulder. Even in the bleak blackness of her prison, she saw stars from that agony. Sagging back onto whatever she had been laid upon, she groaned. “Shite, shite, shite!”
Wouldn’t Sutherland be shocked? She closed her eyes and almost gave in to tears. No. He would not be shocked. Her beloved man would shout obscenities right along with her. “I know ye’ll find me,” she whispered into the darkness. A faint scraping echoed from somewhere far off, in the direction her feet were pointed.
Vermin scurried. Snakes slithered. Men trod. The scraping repeated itself, sounding closer this time. She knew that sound. From her childhood, when she and Mama had pretended to be smugglers hiding in the passages honeycombing the keep. The scraping was stone against stone, the opening and closing of the tunnels. That’s where she was. Someone had hidden her somewhere between the walls of the castle.
She frowned, trying to sort through the last few hours so hard it made her head throb fiercer. Only a select few knew the entire passage system. Even Da didn’t know the whole of the maze. He had once remarked it would take a lifetime to walk them all and remember where each hidden hallway started and ended. A lifetime. That thought made her heart pound so hard she felt it knot in her throat. God help me.
How would Sutherland ever find her? Who had brought her here, and where in the grand scheme of all the escape tunnels had they placed her? All she could remember was her own bed. Warmth. Comfort. A caring touch. How had she gotten here without knowing it?
A long strip of light appeared in the darkness just past her feet. The glowing column slowly widened with the sound of stone grinding against stone. With her unblinking gaze locked on the light, Sorcha swallowed hard and held her breath. Whoever held the light would either be executioner or savior. She prayed it was the latter.
“Sorcie!”
The tenseness of her body released so quickly, she nearly wet herself. She held out her freed hand. “Heckie! Thank God above ye found me. I canna tell ye how happy I am to see ye.”
Dearest Heckie, brother by bond if not by blood, rushed to her and knelt at her side. He took her hand and held it. “How are ye, my Sorcie? I was afeared when next I saw ye. I was afeared ye might surely be dead.”
“I’m grander than grand now that ye’re here, my hero.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s just like when we were wee ones. Ye would always find me no matter where I hid.”
Heckie smiled down at her, his happy look rivaling the brightness of the lantern he held. “I know every tunnel. Every single way to match the doorways. Ye know that.” He kissed her forehead. “I shall always keep ye safe. Ye will never be in danger with me around.” Setting the lantern on the floor, he removed his cloak and covered her with it. “It’s cold in here, but ’twill warm soon enough. Spring’s a coming for sure now. Soon, summer’ll keep this side of the keep heated up just fine without a fire.” He untied a cloth sack from his belt and pulled out a crust of bread. “I brought ye food to break yer fast. I’ve got some water here for ye, too, if ye thirst. The bag’ll always be on the table with the rest. Thought a bag be better than a crock to keep ye from drinking down too many bugs.” He made a face. “Lots a bugs down here. Fearsome lots.”
The more he talked, the more ill at ease Sorcha became. Heckie had been known to have spells of strangeness where he wouldn’t make sense, but nothing as odd as this. Jenny had once confided that she had witnessed him fly into a rage that had frightened her for her life. At the time, she had figured it to be one of Jenny’s exaggerations. The lass loved to tell stories that could sometimes be larger than life. But now, she wondered if Jenny’s stories about Heckie had been mild compared to the truth.