Page 65 of Never Kiss a Scot
“Then I’m not going. We’ll find a way out together. We—”
He dragged her to him for one brief, hard kiss before he pushed her back and thrust the rope into her hands.
“You’ll go because you might very well be carrying our child. Do you hear me? The life we might have created between us. I’ll not have you destroying that because you want to die with me.”
Her lips quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. “But I love you, Brock.” She almost whispered the words.
“And it is on that love you must obey me now. You ken?” He dragged her to the window’s edge, wound the rope around his arms, and braced himself.
“Climb.Now.”
Her gaze met his as she climbed over the edge of the window. “Find a way out. Do you hear me? I will not bury you,” she shouted at him as she climbed down the rope. Pain tore through his back as he held the rope in place while she climbed down. When the pressure finally eased, he moved to the edge of the window and peered down. She was on the ground, looking up at him, her face lit with the glow of the fire coming from behind him and the castle roof far above.
“Brock!” she screamed. He left the window, carrying the rope to the bed, and he tried to tie it around a bedpost. The knot held, but he couldn’t drag the heavy four-poster bed closer to the window with his injured back. He couldn’t even climb part of the way and jump, because the distance was too high. Defeat smothered him like smoke, choking him as he slumped down by the window ledge.
Smoke now started to fill the room, slowly choking him. His only comfort was knowing he would be dead before the fire ever reached him. He closed his eyes, picturing only Joanna’s face. Then something nudged his leg, and his eyes jerked open. Freya was by his ankle, the badger whining softly and nudging him with her striped snout.
“Ach, I’m sorry, wee one.” He chanced being bitten by her and lifted the badger up into his arms. The door to his chamber cracked and groaned as flames exploded into the room. He buried his face in the badger’s fur, holding on as he closed his eyes again. The smoke thickened, and his head grew cloudy. His thoughts scattered as the heat climbed around him. A soft humming began to grow in his head, like music, the notes of a long-forgotten melody, one his mother used to sing to him.
Do you trust me?
Her voice, that question, one she’d asked so often when he’d been a wee lad and she tended to a skinned knee or a splinter in his finger.
“Aye, Mother.” Even now, facing death, he trusted the phantom memory of her in his head.
Then jump.
“Jump?”
Go… Now!
He opened his eyes, seeing only fire, not the ghost he longed to see. Death was coming, and he could not stay to burn. He faced the window, clutching the badger. He could see nothing below him, only smoke and flames. If he jumped, perhaps death would be swift. Freya shifted in his arms, and he knew that if he landed on his back, he might at least save her life.
“Hold on, my sweet.” He took a few steps and leapt through the open window. The smoke swallowed him up as he fell into darkness.
24
The moment Joanna realized Brock would not be able to get out, she screamed his name. Duncan found her trying to claw her way back up the stone walls. The heat of the blaze was fierce, and the castle seemed to swell with the heat beneath her hands, but it didn’t stop her. Her husband was going to die if she couldn’t find a way to save him.
“My lady! Be careful!” Duncan shouted. Pieces of wood and stone fell from the battlements, landing with heavy thuds on the grass around her.
“Duncan! Thank God! Brock is trapped up there. We must find a way to save him!”
“How? We canna get back inside.” Duncan stared up at the cloud of smoke billowing out from the window above them, his face ashen. Joanna watched the flames lick along the stones in terror. She’d never thought stones could burn, but the amount of timber inside the castle was feeding the fire.
If only they hadn’t run out of rope. If only he’d been able to get out the window and jump. But it was too high. If only… A sudden burst of inspiration hit, and she grabbed Duncan’s arm, pulling his focus back to her.
“The wagon! Get the hay wagon from the stables! He might be able to jump into it.”
“Aye. I’ll be back.” The lad sprinted into the darkness.
Joanna searched the smoky haze for the window to Brock’s chambers. Smoke billowed out so thick now, and it mixed with the building storm clouds that were swallowing up the moon and stars overhead.
“Brock! Hold on!” she called out, hoping he could hear her. Duncan came barreling around the edge of the farthest tower of the castle, driving a pair of horses and pulling a wagon brimming with hay.
“Beneath the window!” She pointed to where she wanted it, and he halted the wagon just below.
“What now, my lady?” Duncan asked.
