end.”
“The passageway is known to but a few.”
“A few?”
“There is no time for debate.”
“Or treachery.” The lass held his harsh glare. She had brawn, he’d give her that. Seathan nodded. “Lead the way.”
She tried to pull her hand free.
He held tight.
“Release me.”
“Not until we are safe.”
Frustration flashed on her face. “I am helping you escape.”
“Aye, for reasons you withhold.”
She shot him a cold look, then turned and started forward.
The cool breeze melded with the stench of the dungeon, providing a hint of fresh air. But to him it was heaven, cutting through the nausea threatening his every breath. He pushed forward. Adrenaline kept him upright as did his thoughts of revenge.
They kept to the shadows as they moved along the corridor. Errant flickers of torchlight cut through the murky gray, periodically illuminated by another slash of lightning.
They moved past unconscious guards slumped in the narrowed hall, the men’s breathing even, their bodies tangled in haphazard positions. The lass had claimed she’d drugged them. In this, she’d told the truth. Still, a nagging doubt of her intentions persisted. Why did the lass flee the castle in the dark of the night?
Several paces farther she stopped. “Here.”
Sweat covered his body as he braced his legs to steady himself. He scanned the wall. Illuminated by a torch set within a sconce, each crafted stone lay wedged into place with expertise, not a crack or any fault to suggest an entry.
“I see no door.”
At Lord Grey’s gruff claim, Linet laid her hand upon a nondescript stone about waist high. With a slight push, the hidden stone panel swung inward.
Stale air rushed out. The candle she’d left burning inside sputtered in a mad dance. Then the flame steadied and embraced the opening within its soft glow.
A muffled rumble of thunder echoed as she glanced at the earl, whose gaze lay fixed on her with suspicion. As if she expected anything different? Since he’d first seen her, he’d watched her with nothing but predatory doubt.
Except for when he’d kissed her. A subtle edge of arousal had darkened his gaze, an element as basic as the need for air.
Memories of his heated look poured through her, an urgent pull that demanded a response. His dark taste, a sheer male essence that overrode every other thought.
Unnerved, she willed his effect on her away. Lord Grey was too dangerous a man to relax her guard. God forbid if he learned it was her brother who had imprisoned him, tortured him, then sentenced him to hang.
She needed to keep her wits. Though he was weakened from his beatings, his eyes smoldered with intelligence, that of a warrior trained to notice the smallest detail, a man who wielded his mind as deftly as his sword.
She should have anticipated his asking her name. Shaken, she’d given the rebel her real one. Thank God he hadn’t recognized it.
That she attributed to his deteriorated condition. Though a seasoned fighter, several times she’d caught him weaving since they’d departed the cell. The sheen of sweat on his face betrayed the effort of his each step.
After the brutal beatings he’d endured since his arrival at Breac Castle a fortnight past, she was amazed he could stand, much less walk. Another testament to his strength.
And proof the Scot was dangerous.
Had she erred in freeing him to seek revenge against her brother? Aside from not trusting him, with his injuries, he was going to slow her down. No, Fulke’s loss of his valuable prisoner more than compensated for any challenges ahead.
How long before Fulke realized she was behind Lord Grey’s escape? Caught up in his search for the Scot, surely he wouldn’t think of her, nor would her brother notice if she didn’t appear in the morn to break her fast. She’d told her maid that she felt ill, to inform Fulke that she would remain in her chamber to rest, which would buy her more time.
Time enough to be a league away from him and his despicable edicts before morning.
Lord Grey urged her forward. “Go.”
Followed by the Scot, Linet stepped inside the secret tunnel.
The earl closed the door behind him with a soft thud. Candlelight flickered into a steady pulse; his gaze never wavered from hers. Neither did she miss how his body trembled from his effort.
Disgust filled her at Fulke’s cold-hearted abuse. “Can you make it out?”
A breath of a smile touched the earl’s mouth, but there was nothing warm or friendly in his expression. “Aye, with or without your help.”
Anger sliced her. “After all that I have risked, you think I would abandon you?”
Black brows drew into a harsh frown. “Exactly what have you risked, my lady?”
“My life to free you.”
His grip tightened on her hand. “Why? Or should I ask, for whom?”
She angled her jaw. Though an intimidating man, he’d soon learn she was not a woman swayed by threats. “My reasons are my own. Rest assured, I do not plot against you. All I wish to gain is my escape from Breac Castle and to reach my mother’s clan in the Highlands.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. “I will not tell you anything else. If you wish to ask more questions, you will but waste time we can ill afford.”
The Scot watched her as if a hawk appraising its prey. Then, his grip loosened. “Time will reveal if indeed you speak the truth.” His somber words reverberated in the fractured darkness.
A shiver stole through her. He was a man who achieved his goals, regardless of the means. But was he a man who gave with his heart for that which he believed?
A man like her father?
Linet stared at the strong lines of his face framed by the flicker of candlelight and shadows, at the curve of his lips still pressed into a hard line, and at the anger that never quite left his eyes.
Even facing the certainty of a sentence of death, Lord Grey had held his own. He was strong. Powerful. Defiant.
A rebel until the end.
However dangerous his presence, she couldn’t help respecting his self-reliance, his confidence honed from years of facing, and more important, overcoming adversity in his fight to win Scotland’s freedom.
And God help her, neither could she forget her body’s response to his touch, or the utter devastation of his kiss. No, she refused to think of either. Once she escaped Breac Castle, her life would be guided by
