The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,93

playing in the tunnels. “Please let Jenny still be alive,” she whispered as she limped through the passage.

After a bit of walking, her battered body forced her to stop and rest. She leaned back against a wall, ignoring the coolness of the stones sucking the heat from her body. A wicked smile came to her. She had relieved herself right after stepping out of her prison. The thought of Heckie slipping in the warm puddle she had left behind brought her an untold amount of joy. Another painful deep breath, and she forced herself away from the wall. Time to move on. She had to find Sutherland. The urgency to be safe in his arms once more pushed her forward.

Her gait became less steady when the shivering took hold. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. At least the tunnels remained quiet so far. No sound of moving walls or anyone’s footsteps. She had heard a rat or two, but those didn’t worry her. The vermin would keep their distance as long as she had fire in her lantern. Her goal was to make it to one of the intersections. If she could make it that far and find the markings on the floor, she would know for certain exactly where she was in the maze.

“Heckie!” The loud roar echoed through the passages.

Sorcha halted with her breath held, but her heart pounded loudly in answer. That was Sutherland. Her dear one sounded healthy, hale, and infuriated. She snatched the cloth sack out of her sling and slipped it over the lantern, dimming her light. With Sutherland shouting Heckie’s name with such rage, that meant he knew. It also meant Heckie would be on the run and probably a great deal more dangerously insane than before. She had to hurry and find the nearest intersection. If she didn’t, she risked running into Heckie head-on from the sound of it.

Forced forward into a limping run, she kept the lantern muted. There had to be a connecting passage coming up soon. She prayed she didn’t collapse nor run into Heckie before she found it. The slapping sound of leather hitting stone was faint in the distance at first, then gradually grew louder. Even in the darkness, she knew who it was. Only Heckie would run through the tunnels without a light. She had to get to the connecting passage before he reached her.

She forced herself to move faster, running directly toward the sound she feared the most. Trailing her right hand along the wall, she held the bale of the lantern in her left. The weight of the light made her weak side tremble. Ignoring the shaking pain, she increased her speed even more. Just when she had almost given up hope, a passage opened up on her right. She slipped inside it, found the lever, and collapsed on it to seal the tunnel off.

The echo of someone running toward her grew so loud it made her want to scream. She bit her lip and held her breath to keep from giving herself away with her gasping. The harried footsteps passed and started fading in the distance. Sorcha rested her forehead on her hands that were still clasped on top of the lever. “Thank ye, Lord,” she whispered.

Heckie would discover her gone at any moment. With any luck, he had hit the puddle of piss at full speed, slipped, and broken his neck. But she couldn’t count on that. She had to take the shortest route out, and that meant reopening this passage and returning to the one she had just left. From the markings she had felt on the lever, she had a fair idea of where she was now. It would take a bit of walking, but if she hurried, she would soon be standing in the hallway between the kitchens and the great hall.

She crossed herself before activating the lever to reopen the passage. She pushed onward, focusing on Sutherland up ahead. If she kept going, she would be in his arms soon enough, and all this madness would be over. She reached the point where the main passage had been closed off and understood her beloved husband’s shouting.

Even though she knew he wouldn’t be on the other side, the thought of him being near spurred her on, giving her the strength she needed to keep moving. Light shone up ahead. And it wasn’t the flame of a single lantern; it was the bright, cheery light of the