Page 76 of Beguiled By the Highlander
Her stomach pitched and ice spiked her blood as the truth clawed through her.
Someone had opened it.
There could only be one explanation. It was whoever Alan MacGregor had working for him within William’s circle of men.
She needed to relock the door, find Patric, tell him of this passageway and—
Another thought struck. Dear God. Had they opened the gate at the far end of the passage?
Of course they had. Damn it. She spun about. Patric. She needed to find him.
“Sjor.” She glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see her dog disappear into the tunnel. “Sjor. Come.”
An eerie silence was the only response. She gripped the lantern tighter, indecision shredding through her. But only for a moment. She would never leave her beloved Sjor, although God help her, she’d give him a damn good talking to when she got ahold of him.
She stepped into the tunnel and hissed his name once again. This time he responded with an excited bark. Curse him. She strained her eyes, but the only light ahead came from the same obscured arrow slit as last time.
Could it be possible she was overreacting? That somehow the hidden door had swung open of its own accord?
The door has two bolts. And I secured them.
She sped up, even though the path was treacherous and seemed even longer than before. But finally, she saw the door ahead.
It was shut. She very nearly collapsed with relief.
“Sjor, ye wicked creature, come here.”
Sjor whined and scratched at the door. With an impatient sigh, she marched up to him. And stopped dead.
The wild grass had been ripped asunder. The iron bar was propped against the wall, the two bolts drawn back, and the door, far from being shut, was opened a crack.
Ice prickled across her skin and her heart thundered in her ears. She peered through the barred window, but no hostile warriors gathered among the mist-shrouded trees. A small mercy, yet a mighty one. She placed the lantern on the floor and grasped the iron ring, intending to secure the door, but Sjor squeezed through the gap, and she momentarily froze in terror.
Move.
With another quick glance through the window to ensure no danger lurked, she edged out of the gap. The tangled vinesand branches that had obscured this entrance for who knew how many years had been torn aside, the final proof that she’d stumbled upon a plot to infiltrate the castle by covert means.
Sjor was some distance ahead of her by an ancient rowan tree. Had the sacred tree been planted here deliberately, one hundred years ago or more, by the hidden entrance to the castle, to protect its inhabitants from evil? Or was it pure coincidence?
Either way, its presence was surely a good sign that she would prevail, and she stealthily made her way over to her dog who was most certainlynotgoing to receive his nightly treat of sliced apple.
She picked him up, and he swiped a wet tongue across her chin. Before she could reprimand him for being a very bad dog indeed, she heard the distinct sound of someone approaching.
Sjor stiffened in her arms, and she pressed her finger across his muzzle. Was it one of her own men out there? Or the unknown enemy? Since there was no way of telling, she pressed her back against the tree and glanced at the entrance to the secret passage.
From this angle, the door looked as though it was still closed. No one would assume otherwise. But if she moved from the protection of the tree, how likely was it she’d make it back to the safety of the passage before she was seen?
If only she dared to peer around the trunk, to see how far away the intruder was. She gnawed her lip as indecision gripped her. But suppose she did, and he was standingright there?
“So, this is the place,” an unfamiliar male voice said, and fear shivered through her as she tried to disappear into the tree itself. There was more than one man out there. How many?
God help her. She hoped they remained where they were and didn’t plan on entering the passageway. They’d need to walk right by her if so.
“Aye. It leads right into the heart of the castle. They won’t stand a chance.”
She knew that voice. Who was it? But the answer wouldn’t come to her petrified mind.
“I’ll wait at the meeting point for our men.”
