Page 31 of Highlander's Escaped Prisoner
She asked a maidservant for a back way down to the stables, and as soon as she got there, an anxious stable lad rushed up to her and cried: “Mistress! Ye cannae go out in this! Ye will be drenched!”
“I can, and I will,” Nessa said grimly. “Please get out of my way.”
The young man took one look at her face and backed away.
Nessa saddled Jo, and they surged out of the castle gates toward Drumblane. In less than a minute, she was soaked to the skin, but she did not care. Once she was drenched, she could not become any wetter, she reasoned, and she would be home soon.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Bryce thundered. “Nessa is not here!”
“Then you will not mind if I search the castle?” Logan asked angrily.
For a moment, there was silence, then Bryce threw back his head and laughed heartily for a full minute. When he finally stopped, he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “There are a hundred bedrooms in this building,” he pointed out, “as well as dining rooms, parlors, a huge kitchen, storerooms—would you like me to go on? Even if I let you do such a thing, it would take you days, and you would be shadowed by my best guards.”
Logan stared at the man he hated with his entire soul, wishing that he could grow a foot taller and beat Bryce Blair’s handsome face to a bloody pulp.
“Now please get out before I throw you out,” Bryce growled.
Logan, with one last venomous look at his hated opponent, turned and mounted his horse, then rode out toward Drumblane. The weather was foul, but he hardly noticed it.
Damn, where was Nessa?
Bryce bounded upstairs to Nessa’s room, full of the news about Logan and his ignominious departure, but when he knocked on her door, he received no answer.
“Nessa!” he called. “Nessa, let me in!” Puzzled, he knocked again, then once more, and at last, he turned the handle, surprised to find that the door was unlocked. He walked inside, but there was no sign of her, although the sheets on the bed were rumpled, meaning that it had obviously been slept in. He turned and went back downstairs, wondering if she had gone to the dining room for breakfast, but that too was empty.
A dreadful suspicion began to creep over him, and he rushed toward the stables. Jo’s stall was empty!
“Has anyone seen Mistress Guthrie?” he asked loudly. “Her horse is missing.”
“Aye, sir,” Geordie, the lad who had spoken to Nessa, replied. He was only fifteen and looked terrified as he stood in front of Bryce. “She left a wee while ago,” he answered timidly. “She was in an awful hurry, an’ she was angry an’ a. I told her no’ tae go because o’ the weather, but she wouldnae listen tae me.”
“Did she say where she was going?” Bryce asked.
Geordie shook his head. “No, sir. She just left as if the hounds o’ hell were chasin’ her.”
“Before or after the man?” Bryce asked grimly.
“Before,” the boy answered. “She looked very angry, sir.”
Bryce thought for a moment. Could she have seen him arguing with Logan? It would not have been difficult; they had not exactly been quiet!
“Thank you, Geordie,” Bryce sighed.
He went to the kitchen, grabbed an armful of food, then bolted it down as he dressed. A few moments later, he was on the road to Drumblane, the second man to pursue Nessa Guthrie in as many hours.
The first person Nessa saw when she got to Castle Drumblane was her father. Roy Guthrie’s eyes widened in amazement when he saw his daughter, and he opened his arms and pulled her into them as she scrambled from Jo’s back. He said nothing for a moment since the relief of having his precious child back had rendered him speechless, but Nessa began to weep as she was held in the safety of the arms that had sheltered her since childhood.
“Where have you been?” Roy asked, shaking his head in wonder and disbelief. “Nessa, I thought you were dead!”
“No,” she answered. “No, I was never in any danger either, Father, and I never suffered any hurt. I have been safe and well for the last few days.”
“So where have you been?” he asked, putting her away a little and looking down into her face.
“With Bryce Blair,” she answered, “I—” but before she could go on, Roy let out a thunderous roar of rage.
“He abducted you?” the laird answered. “I knew it! I heard he had escaped from jail.”
“No, Father—let me explain!” Nessa protested. “He is not what you think he is! He is not a murderer—” she began, but she got no further. She had never seen her father so angry as he put his hand up for silence.
