The Runaway Highlander (The Highland Renegades Book 2) (7 page)

“The oubliette is here at the far end of the dungeon,” the old man said. On the far side of the room, a cluster of guards leaned on their spears and watched them. Andrew slowed to allow Anne to walk at his side, though he stayed near to the cells. The first cell they passed, Anne saw a movement out of the corner of her eye.

She could have sworn that she saw Andrew deliver something into a hand that had suddenly extended from the cell as they passed. With a quick glance to the soldiers, she held her breath, waiting for their response. But they either hadn’t seen the gesture or hadn’t seen the object. Either way, they continued to mumble to one another and occasionally glance at other cells.

The next cell, the same action. She didn’t dare
to look at Andrew’s face. He hadn’t prepared her for this. Somehow, she’d assumed that the keys would be secretly distributed. Not handed out in front of a retinue of guards.

Anne’s palms itched. She must be sweating. It would only be right, given her nerves. Instead, she tried to engage the jailer, hoping to draw attention away from Andrew.

“Who are all these men?”

Andrew winced as she spoke, and she realized why. Suddenly, all eyes were on her, which meant that they were more attuned to them both. All the guards stared at her as though they’d just seen her. The jailer laughed.

“They’ve been sent to the dungeon, my lady. That makes them criminals.”

Only by English law
. She thankfully held her tongue, as she could only imagine the ire that would draw. She realized for the first time that Andrew was probably also dreading the possibility that they would recognize her accent. As she replayed her words in her head, they were much rougher accented than Andrew’s and Finlay’s had been. She wasn’t sure if Lady Rebecca Langston was a real person, and if so, how Scottish she was, really.

“That makes your cousin a criminal, as well.” The jailer chuckled again. “But then, given your actions of the day, I guess we can say that everyone down here is in need of some absolution.”

Anne straightened her back, certain the soldiers had heard his every word. They looked her up and down, leering, which certainly meant they’d heard him. And were undoubtedly imagining just what those actions might have been.

Her skin might have crawled right off her bones if it weren’t attached. Were all men debauched at heart?

Another cell went by and Andrew’s key drop seemed to go unnoticed again. Perhaps it helped this time that they were staring at her, because they were fully engrossed in her. This much direct attention would have normally made her uncomfortable and as it was, she had to resort to praying that she wouldn’t give away the whole ruse.

She wasn’t completely certain of the plan once all the keys had been distributed, so she tried to slow the increased beating of her heart with
measured breaths, as she’d always taught Elena. Calm in, fear out. Calm in, fear out.

It worked for her sister.

They reached the small door at the end of the walk and the soldiers were so close, Anne could hear their comments. Their English was very precise, much more the speech of native Northerners than of the Lowland Scots, even those who now spoke English only.

Perhaps they were English soldiers.

She consoled herself with that as the jailer opened the small door in the ground. Below them was apparently another dungeon, although a look down inside told her it wasn’t very large. Deep, for William was standing, but barely wide enough for three men to stand at sides.

Perhaps not even large enough for William to lie down. What unique torture.

His face was dirtier and bloodier than she remembered, but he still wore the now-stained-and-bloody uniform she’d found for him in the store room. His side, where his wound would still be, was soaked in blood and he leaned back against the rock wall against his other side, as though favoring the wounded one.

In keeping with her character, Anne gasped at the sight of him and knelt in front of the tiny door.

“William, oh, William. Do you recognize me? It’s your cousin Rebecca.” She grasped the sides of her wimple and offered a fake sob. “Oh, William. What have you done to deserve such a punishment?”

Before William could answer, Anne heard Finlay’s voice call out across the giant dungeon. Once everyone had their focus on him, he gestured for them to follow and the soldiers all jumped to attention, fumbling with their spears.

The soldiers clambered along the opposite side of the pit from Finlay and as he waited for them, Anne heard distinctively unique sounds.

Keys turning in locks.

Suddenly, the cell doors along the left side, where they’d just passed, all burst open. Men poured out of them, toward Finlay, and the soldiers on the opposite side all froze. There was no way for them to escape without having to pass through their captives.

The jailer
reached for his sword, but Andrew had clapped him on the back of the head before the fighting even began. The captives had no weapons but the chains they’d freed themselves from, and only the healthiest of them stepped forward to fight at first.

Beside her, Andrew produced a rope from inside his sleeve that he lowered to William and then grasped. He must have had it tied around his waist, for the weight of William’s ascent seemed to be anchored at his middle, pulling him and him leaning back against the force of it.

Once they had William out of the oubliette, Andrew cut the rope with his sword and left William with Anne in order to storm the guards from the other side.

If they could finish this within the next five minutes, according to the plan, the next shift would just be arriving when they dispatched the first of the guards and they could lie in wait for the change of the guard.

Anne smiled at William. “It’s Anne de Cheyne. Do you remember me?”

He groaned and bent at the waist. “My lady.” His acknowledgement came at great pain, it sounded, and she looked around for Andrew or another healthy man to help. She certainly couldn’t carry William in this state. He was much worse than he had been two days previous.

“I can’t carry you, William. Can you walk?”

“I can try.” He leaned heavily against the wall as he made slow progress behind Andrew, who had just killed the last of the guards.

Men with keys hurried around the pit, passing Anne and William, and opened the last of the cells, unlocking chains as men emerged.

A low hum of noise began to echo through the vaulted ceilinged room. Andrew raised his arms wide.

“Quiet, everyone. You all know the plan.”

A constant thrum of whispered conversations continued as men embraced each other, assisted one another into the open, and looked around at their fellow prisoners.

One of the nearby men, obviously a highlander from the tongue of his language, called out to Andrew. “What about the men here who are not with us?”

“They will have a choice, as we discussed.” Andrew’s voice boomed across the expanse. “They may come with us
and join us, or go about their way. I expect…” At the escalation of the murmuring, Andrew raised his voice. “I expect… that there will be a cease to their criminal activities. But we will not leave any behind except those who wish to stay.”

Another man yelled. “None of us will wish to stay.”

“Then you can choose to join our cause, or you can be about your own business. But today, you have been given a gift. I expect you to honor it and put it to good use.”

“Assuming we get out of the castle,” said another.

“And past the guards,” yelled another.

“Quiet.” Finlay’s voice boomed. “The guard will be changing soon and once we’ve dispatched this group, we must leave at once in order to fulfill our plans.”

He stepped away from the door and faced the men. “I will take the charge, and Andrew will keep the rear. Any man lagging will be left. We cannot afford to slow our speed.”

“Anne!” came a booming voice from her right. A few men down the line, Anne at last saw the familiar face she’d been hoping to see all these days.

Broccin Sinclair was more of a man than she remembered—she had not seen him since he was seventeen and he had become quite a fine man. Taller than she had guessed, and more handsome, even with his matted beard and dirty face.

One of his arms supported an older man with dark brown hair, flecked with silver.
Broccin strained his head to see her, as though he wanted to cross the room, but the man’s presence anchored him. Similarly, Anne could not leave William with no one, and he was fading fast.

Tears slid down her cheeks as relief flooded her. He was alive, he was safe, and she would see him freed.

“I will find you,” she said as Finlay signaled for quiet. The men nearest the entrance had confiscated the dead soldiers’ weapons and other men were stripping those soldiers of their uniforms.

Anne signaled for Andrew, who’d become embroiled in a near conversation about there being an extra regiment on duty today at the gate. He held up his hand to the complaining youth and went straight to Anne’s side.

“What can I do for you, my lady?”

“
I’m not certain I can support his entire weight.” Anne grunted under William’s weight and Andrew took his arm from around her shoulders, putting it on his own.

“You shouldn’t be supporting anyone, Lady de Cheyne. Our plan is nearly complete and all I need from you is a promise that you’ll stay by my side until I can return you to your room.”

She nodded and Andrew signaled for two nearby young men to help with William. Once free of the heft of his weight, Andrew took Anne’s elbow again, as he had before.

“We must stay in the rear to see everyone to safety and keep you away from the fighting.” Andrew motioned to Broccin to join them and
Broc began to make his way through the crowd with the weak man at his side.

“Brother.” Andrew embraced Broccin, each with one free arm, and Broc’s deep brown eyes shimmered with tears.

“Brother.” Broc held his friend’s gaze for a long time. They were more than friends, of course, Anne knew. Broc had nearly died for Andrew in the Battle of Carslile. That made men brothers.

“Broccin,” she whispered. Finlay, across the room, was calling for quiet again. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“And I you, Miss Anne.”

“Please.” She waved him off. “No need for those formalities. When you’ve been engaged most of your life, I think even titles can be done away with.”

“As you wish.” The smile he gave her was distant, melancholic. The man at his side appeared to be nearly as far gone as William. There were many men around the room who were being carried or supported by their more strapping counterparts.

This was going to be a miracle.

Finlay’s hand was in the air and the guards suddenly appeared inside the entryway. Once they saw the back of the room, they began to run in the opposite direction. Finlay and several of the men followed, and then the true escape began.

Men ran into the tiny hallway, only able to fit one across, and so awaiting the progress of the men in front of them. Anne worried they would trample each other, but the fighting in the lead must have stopped the quick
escape.

The movement of the crowd toward the exit was slower and more methodical than some of the men seemed to want. But as soon as they began to push at their companions, Andrew would call them out. None of them would survive if they didn’t allow each man his turn to escape.

The slow progress eventually led them around and formed the end. But just as they were about to enter the hallway, the line stopped. Andrew called forward for a status report.

Broccin leaned down to Anne. “How did you come to be here? When we saw William come down two days ago, we thought the plan had been ruined. It wasn’t until we saw the jailer bring you back that we knew it would continue as planned. Those days of waiting.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “When we have so much to return to, a day of waiting can be a lifetime.”

“My mother brought me here.”
To wed the fat pig of a Sheriff who tried to make me his wife already
. She paused. No. “I have so much to tell you, but it can wait. When I heard you were here. I had to help you.”

Broc’s smile still carried the sad note, even as the line began to move again. “I am grateful, Anne.”

They moved through the long, narrow hallway with excruciating slowness. Broccin had to turn to the side to bring his compatriot and Anne took the man’s other arm and helped Broccin navigate the passage.

When they got to the end, all of the men had piled into the respectively small guard room and spilled through the open doorway out into the vestibule.

Andrew hushed the men again. “We are all out, Finlay. We must proceed with extreme haste. From here on out, you must all follow the plan. And do not fall behind.”

“What is the plan?” Anne whispered to Broc.

“They were going to secure wagons to take us out of the city.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“Ahhh, but we will be with the crowd from mass. Andrew is confident we won’t be stopped. Not with soldiers driving the wagons.”

That was a lot of trust in some very stupid men at the city’s wall gate. They had been stopped on their way into the city. But that may have been partly because her mother had been so agitated
during a fight with Anne that she rocked the carriage with her ranting.