Page 7 of Highlander's Escaped Prisoner
“I suppose I will not be allowed any sleep ’til you have told your story,” she remarked wearily. “So say what you have to say, but forgive me if I fall asleep while you tell your tale.”
“It is not atale,” he replied angrily. “I am not making this up. It is the truth.”
Nessa threw herself onto another pile of hay and glared at him. It was too dark for either of them to see the other’s face, but Bryce could almost hear her scowling.
“Go on,” she prompted, yawning. She had told him that she was tired, but that was a falsehood. The farthest thing from her mind was sleep. In spite of her dagger and his tied hands, Bryce’s sheer size frightened her, and she knew that the darkness before dawn would be spent watching him closely in case he managed to untie his bonds and assault her. Besides, her father had already told her the entire story from his own point of view, but now she wanted to hear it from Bryce’s side.
“As I have told you, I am not guilty of the crime,” he went on. “But I cannot prove it, since I do not know who the real killer is. I can assure you that when I find him, I will either kill him or turn him over to you so that you can do as you please with him. Anyone who kills a defenseless man—especially in such abarbaric manner—does not deserve to live.” His voice was bitter, and he took a deep breath before he went on. “I only came on the scene of the attack a few moments after the killer had ridden away, and it was when I was bending over him to see if I could help him that I was caught.”
“I know all that,” Nessa said impatiently. “But did you see the murderer?”
“I did not see him committing the crime,” he answered. “But I saw him riding away.”
“Can you describe him?” Despite herself, Nessa was becoming enthralled by his account.
“He was too far away by the time I got there,” he replied, frowning, “and the light was already fading. I could only see the color of his horse. It was chestnut, but chestnut is a fairly common color for horses. The rider was wearing a helm, so I could not see his hair.”
“What happened then?” she asked curiously.
“Four soldiers from the Guthrie clan came and surrounded me so that I could not run away, then a fifth rider came to see what had happened. I later discovered it was Laird Guthrie. The guards had obviously thought the injured man was dead since they made no effort to help him, but the laird knelt down beside him and discovered that he was still alive.
He ordered two of the riders to take a message to the castle to order a cart to take him back. The other two tied me between their horses and dragged me back too, but I was thrown straight into the dungeon when we arrived. I was interrogated as soon as I got back there by masked men who seemed to enjoy inflicting pain. They wanted to know who my accomplices were and howI knew where Gerald Guthrie would be. I could not tell them anything, of course, because I knew nothing, but in attempting to make me talk, they whipped me so hard that they almost flayed the skin from my back. I can show you the scars.” He looked at her hopefully, perhaps expecting a little sympathy, but Nessa shook her head.
“I can hardly see my hand in front of me,” she answered in a tone of flat indifference. “I may look in the morning if I feel like it. What happened next?”
“When the men that interrogated me failed to get any information from me, the laird ordered that my food ration be halved, and God knows there was little enough of it to start with. I was weak with hunger, and I might have died of starvation had the laird not moved me to the town jail. They thought that I looked big enough and strong enough to work for them, so I have been breaking rocks for seven years, but at least I eat well.”
“Do not worry,” Nessa assured him. “You will be breaking rocks again soon enough when I take you back to prison. You have not persuaded me of your innocence. Why were you moved?”
“He said that the dead man was very well-loved by the inhabitants of the estate,” he replied. “And that he could not guarantee my safety.”
“More likely, he could not stand the sight of you,” Nessa remarked angrily, “because it hurt him too much to look at you.”
“What if I can prove that I am innocent?” he challenged her.
“You were caught leaning over the injured man!” Nessa answered. “I think that is quite bloody evidence.”
“No, I was led there,” Bryce protested. “I saw a guard dressed in the Guthrie livery riding on our land, so I followed him, hoping to chase him away. I think Guthrie’s body was already on the ground by the time I got there. He had done the deed earlier. It was someone who knows me; I am certain of it.”
Nessa thought for a moment. “If you are as innocent as you say you are, then surely your clan could have interceded for you?”
“My father tried again and again, but your clan would not believe him,” he said bitterly. “Nothing he could do or say would convince them, and the Guthrie family is convinced that I am a cold-blooded killer.”
“I see,” Nessa said thoughtfully. “I will have to think about what you have said, but first, you should know one thing. My name is Nessa Guthrie, and I am the daughter of Laird Roy Guthrie. The murdered man, Laird Gerald Guthrie, was my uncle. My father is the man who caught you and put you in his dungeon. If your story is true, he was responsible for the brutal treatment you received, but I can tell you with certainty that my father is not that kind of man. He hates cruelty in all forms.”
“I have never heard of you,” Bryce said, astonished. “I was not even aware of your existence, but now that I am, I beg you to help me. Your clan lost the disputed lands during the last battle. If I help you to settle our feud, which you must admit is harming both our families, will you help me to find the real killer of your uncle?”
“And how do I know I can trust you?” Nessa demanded. “You have just invented a completely false story about my father torturing you. Why should I believe a word you say?”
“Because it is the truth!” Bryce cried, and for the first time, something about the desperation in his voice made a crack in her wall of certainty. She still could not trust him since he had given her no hard evidence to back up his claims of innocence, but he had sown the seeds of doubt in her mind. She wanted to believe him.
Sensing his advantage, Bryce knelt down on the floor beside her. “If you help me, then I will help you.” His deep voice was gentle. “I will swear on my life.”
Nessa was completely confused. How did she know that he would do as he had promised? Words were cheap and easily denied, especially when there were no witnesses. However, if she helped him, and it transpired that he was innocent, and if he aided her in solving the border dispute, then her father and Logan would perhaps not treat her with such condescension. They might have more regard for her ability to wield a weapon and defend herself and her family.
“Then go ahead,” she urged. “But whatever I agree to tonight, your hands will still be tied, and I will have my bow and arrow at the ready.”
“I swear on my life that I will do my best to help you to bring peace between our families,” he promised. “I can do nothing about the other conditions, so I will accept them.”
