Highland Escape - Cathy MacRae Page 0,98
in the afterlife.
She listened for the guard to react to the sounds of their thrashing about, but realized he likely believed his laird to be simply enjoying himself—vigorously. Dismissing the thought with a snarl of disgust, she rechecked the room for clothing, finding none. Left with no option, she took the laird’s. Dressed in a leine that stank of him, Anna forced the revulsion out of her mind as she put on his kilt, buckling his broad leather belt about her much smaller waist, and more importantly, snatched his sgian dubh.
Looking closely, she recognized the small blade Duncan had given her with the MacGregor crest. No doubt MacNairn had considered her dirk a sort of trophy. She shoved her feet into his boots, but they were much too large, more of a hindrance than help, and she kicked them aside.
Calming herself for the next part, she made sure MacNairn’s body lay hidden by the bed. Lifting the bar from the door, she opened it only a crack. Dagger drawn, she crouched behind the portal.
The guard stole a look into the room. “Laird?” he called tentatively. Placing a hand on his dirk, he stepped into the room and took a sudden step toward the bed before he halted. Springing from behind the door, Anna kicked the back of his leg, driving one knee to the floor. A quick draw of her dagger across his throat sent him sprawling, bleeding his life out into the rotted reeds. She shut the door and barred it, kneeling to unbuckle the guard’s belt and collect his weapons. In addition to his sgian dubh, he carried a bollock dirk almost as long as her short swords, and a broadsword of questionable quality.
Out of breath from exertion and weak from fever and lack of food and water, she fought a wave of dizziness as she wiped sweat from her brow. With the immediate danger eliminated, she attempted a deep, calming breath, but the pain in her ribs cut like a blade. She hissed through the agony and waited for it to pass, then strapped on every weapon, feeling more confident now that she was armed.
She glanced out the window as the noise outside rose. From the distance to the ground, she appeared to be on the second level of a three-level tower with a wood-and-beam structure above her. Searching the guard’s sporran, she withdrew a large flask of whisky.
After opening the shutters on the window to allow more air, Anna piled the small wooden table and two chairs atop the bed. She used the whisky to soak an old tapestry hanging on one wall. The top of the moth-eaten fabric reached high enough for flames to ignite the floor above. She emptied the rest of the contents of the flask on the heather-stuffed mattress, first lighting the tapestry, then the mattress, with the candle before exiting the room.
Checking the hallway, she inched her way to the stair, sword and dagger in hand, each step feeling as though a knife pressed deep into her side. Closing her mind to the pain, Anna stopped in an alcove to listen for footfalls and voices. Nothing within the keep made a sound. All noise came from outside. The stairs ended in a large hall filled with tables, benches and a large hearth. She found it empty.
The double doors stood ajar, allowing the sounds of battle at the walls inside. A glance around the bailey showed no activity, though the top of the walls were thick with MacNairn warriors armed with bows, most concentrating on the main gate. She scanned the wall and spotted a small postern gate unguarded from below. Only two men stood above it.
Needing an additional diversion and way out, Anna silently made her way to the stables, sticking to the shadows along the way. She had to move quickly, as the fire in the tower would soon alert the men. Her muscles protested, echoing the pain in her side and head. Dizziness threatened to take over, but she willed it back. Slipping through a side door, she entered the stables.
The horses stamped their nervousness, sensing the tension in the air from the battle raging outside. Stalking the length of the stables, she spotted a young man of no more than ten and two summers on duty, his attention on the window. Not wanting to seriously injure him, she quietly approached from behind.
She struck a blow to the side of his neck with the flat edge of her hand,