Page 9 of Highlander's Escaped Prisoner
The sun was fully risen by the time Nessa arrived back at the hut. The first thing she noticed was the door. The bar on the outside had been broken in half, one half lying on the ground and the other hanging on to the hasp by a few splinters. Now, in the light of day, she could see what she had not been able to see the previous night, that the wood was half-rotten and the door was standing wide open.
“How did he do that?” Nessa said aloud. Then, looking at the splintered wood, she let out a string of very unladylike curses under her breath, ones she had heard the guards using when they thought no one could hear them. They came in very useful now to vent the anger she felt at finding Bryce Blair gone. Most of all, though, she was angry with herself. She should never have left him alone and never been so foolish as to believe the sincerity of his oath.
Nessa fingered the dagger in its scabbard on her hip and began to search around the hut. She knew that she had very little chance of finding Bryce. He could be anywhere and gone in any direction by now. She prowled around the hut for a while, searching for footsteps, but she could find nothing in the deep carpet of pine needles. Nessa was just about to give up when she heard a deep groan just under the trees a few yards away from the bank of the burn.
“Where are you?” she called. “Give yourself up!”
She crept cautiously toward the source of the sound and found Bryce lying facedown in the mud on the edge of the stream. His wrists were bleeding, his eyes were screwed shut in pain, and he was moaning, a long keening sound that sent shivers down Nessa’s spine.
“Ah, there you are!” She gave him a gentle nudge with her foot, wishing that she had not been taught to be charitable because she really would have liked to kick him very hard indeed.
Bryce opened his eyes, which were partially stuck together with mud, and tried to turn his head to look at her. He gave an incoherent mumble.
Nessa knelt down beside him. “I am sorry, but I could not quite make out what you were saying.” Her tone was polite but liberally laced with mockery. “Where are you going?”
Bryce tried to lift his head again, but it flopped onto the muddy ground, covering his cheek with sticky brown clay. “I-I fell,” he managed at last.
“While you were trying to run away?” Nessa asked.
“No,” he grunted. “Trying to drink in the burn.”
She stood over him for another moment. “I see,” she said doubtfully, unsure of whether to believe him. “It must have been a powerful thirst.”
Bryce mumbled again. He was exhausted and hungrier than he had ever been in his life. He had thrown his body backward against the door a dozen times before the bolt gave way, and the effort of walking a distance of fifty yards had tired him out so much that when he tripped over a stone, he had been unable to get to his feet again. He had also sustained a painful bruise on his cheek when he fell to the ground.
“I was choking with thirst,” he croaked at last. “You have never been in prison, so you do not know what real thirst feels like.”
Nessa bent down and helped him to his feet. “I have a sudden urge to drown you!” she growled. “You were not thirsty; youwere trying to escape after you swore to me that you would not.”
“If you say so,” he said wearily. He did not have the strength to argue with her.
Bryce was standing upright, but he was swaying on his feet, and Nessa, afraid that he would topple over, put an arm around his waist and felt the hard, dense mass of his body against her. For a moment, she was truly afraid. If Bryce fell on top of her, she would be crushed; he was the biggest man she had ever seen. Fortunately, he straightened up after a moment, took a deep breath, and wiped his muddy face with his equally muddy hand.
Nessa ignored it; there would be time to clean him up later. “I trusted you,” she said bitterly, glaring at him. “I thought you were a man who would keep your word, but I suppose my father was right. None of the Blairs is worth a farthing. You are all despicable!”
“I am sorry.” Bryce’s voice was weary as he stumbled forward. “I want to make things right between us, but I seem to have gone about everything the wrong way.”
“Yes, you certainly did,” Nessa agreed. “Making a vow and not keeping it is not a good idea if you want someone to trust you. And how far did you think you were going to get with tied hands, a cut leg, and a bruised face? Not to mention the fact that your clothes are in tatters and will not last very much longer. I brought you food, ale, and a blanket to cover yourself with, but I should perhaps give it to someone who deserves it more.”
At that moment, Bryce’s stomach gave an enormous growl, then Nessa laughed, and despite himself, Bryce did too.
“Very well, I will feed you,” Nessa sighed. “Although for the life of me, I do not know why I am doing it. I stole enough food forthree people because somehow I think you need enough for two, and I suspect that food at the prison is somewhat tasteless.”
“Are you sending me back?” he asked in shock.
Nessa stared at him in disbelief. “After you broke your word? Of course I am!”
Bryce could think of nothing to say. How could he convince Nessa of the urgency of his plight? He needed to make things right between them. Damn...what had possessed him to run away?
“I beg you, please do not send me back,” he pleaded. “I truly believe that we can solve both our problems if we work together, but I must be free to do so.”
Nessa looked into his deep amber-brown eyes for a moment. She could not deny that Bryce Blair, in spite of his ragged clothes, matted hair, and filthy face, was the most handsome man she had ever seen, but how could she trust him?
6
Bryce saw the doubt in her eyes and pressed his advantage. “Have you heard the name Andrew Henderson?” he asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
Nessa’s eyes widened with shock. “How do you know him?” she asked cautiously.
