Page 57 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
“I have never seen a damned Skulleye on the banks of the loch. Only afield. This wasnae Emma’s doin’.” He nodded at his furious brother. “Fetch the damn keys. I’m goin’ to free her.” Reuben simply stared at him. “Now.”
“I willnae.”
Grant cocked his head and swung his sword. “I apologize, Reuben, if ye think that was a bloody suggestion.Move yer arse.”
Reuben huffed out a breath, and for a moment, Grant thought his brother would not obey him and simply leave the room. But then, Reuben opened a drawer and took out a set of metal keys. Grumbling under his breath in Gaelic, which dredged up unpleasant flashbacks about the previous Laird, he marched out of the study and down the hall.
Finally, after what felt like too long, they were descending into the dungeons. With every step, Grant’s fury and horror rose.
“How long?” he hissed when they reached the bottom.
“Since ye were brought back—three days ago,” Reuben replied, without a smidgen of remorse in his voice. “Ye are welcome, Braither. I looked out for Banrose, and ye?—”
“Dinnae finish that thought,” Grant snapped.
“Grant,” a small, broken voice said suddenly, and he nearly dropped his sword to the floor.
A filthy, disheveled Emma was kneeling on the floor, her arms wrapped around her middle.
“Oh, Grant, you are alive.”
“Get her out, ye bastard,” Grant snarled. “Christ, I should kill ye.”
All he got from Reuben was a scoff as his brother angrily unlocked the door and threw it open. Grant shouldered him aside and hauled Emma up, embracing her, not giving a damn what his brother or anyone thought.
“Where are your shoes? And your shirt?” Emma asked as she pulled back, gazing up at him. “Are you already well enough that you should be out of bed?”
“Aye,” Grant said. “I’m so sorry.”
He did not even need to look back to know that his brother was walking away.
“Reuben,” he barked, his harsh voice ringing with an unquestionable authority. “Apologize.”
A weary sigh echoed down the hall. “I do apologize for the inconvenience, Lady Emma. Perhaps I might be forgiven, since I thought me braither’s illness was because of ye and took the necessary steps?—”
“Reuben.”
“Nay, truly. I erred, Me Lady,” Reuben said, his voice softer and more genuine. “I apologize, and I shall endeavor to make it up to ye.”
Grant thought that Emma would brush it off or tell Reuben that all was well. Instead, she stepped back and cast a cold, haughty look down the hall. Grant glanced back to see his brother lingering in the shadows, halfway to the stairs.
“I look forward to it,” Emma said in a cold voice.
Reuben scoffed, and Grant shot him a glare. His brother held up his hands and vanished up the stairs.
“Are ye all right?”
“All that matters is that you are,” Emma said.
But Grant knew she was lying. Her cheeks were too pale, her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was disheveled. Dirt was caked on her neck and hands, and she was trembling from head to toe.
“I cannae believe him,” he murmured. “We never use this terrible place. I should’ve had it destroyed—never mind.” He went to lift her. “Can ye walk, lass?”
“I can walk,” Emma said quietly.
They left the dungeons, Grant only glancing back once to see the indent in the hay by the corner and the poor excuse for a blanket heaped there. Everything inside him seemed to shake with a fury that tasted of hot copper and cold, rancid guilt.
How could this have happened? How could everyone let Reuben do somethin’ so foolish and wrong?
