Return of the Highlander (23 page)

He passed the torch to Larena and stepped forward to move a wooden barrel out of the corner. It was too heavy, so he waved Larena’s father over. “Help me with this.”

Together they inched the barrel along the wall, then Darach knelt down to run his hands over the stones. He slid the knife out of his boot and jimmied a large block out of the wall. It came loose and he gently lowered it to the ground. He slid the knife back into his boot and pulled a second block out of the wall, then a third, just below it. “It’ll be a tight squeeze but we can all fit, one at a time.”

He slid through first and peered out at them from the other side. “Come now. You next, Larena. Pass me the torch.”

She handed it to him, then climbed through to the dark space beyond. She rose to her feet but remained hunched over because the height of the space was no more than four or five feet.

She looked ahead at a low, narrow tunnel dug into the earth. “We’ll have to crawl out on our hands and knees, I suppose.”

“Aye. I hope you don’t mind tight spaces.”

“Not if it means we all get to live.”

Darach peered back out at her father who was still waiting in the storage chamber. “Your turn, Fitzroy. Once you are through, we’ll have to replace the stone blocks so no one sees where we went. There’s not much we can do about that barrel except to hope no one notices it was moved.”

Larena waited for her father to slink through the hole and close it up behind him. When they’d sealed the entrance, her father rose to his feet in a hunched position and regarded Darach suspiciously. “How did you know about this?”

“We’ll explain later,” Larena whispered, laying a hand on her father’s arm. “First we have to get you out of here.”

Darach gestured toward the smaller tunnel. “After you.”

They studied each other’s eyes for an intense moment until Larena tugged at her father’s sleeve. “Come on.”

She dropped to her hands and knees and proceeded to crawl into the tight channel. “It’s dark in here. I can’t see a thing.”

“Just follow your nose,” Darach said. “It’s not far. You’ll see the moonlight on the lake in a minute or two, and I’ll be right behind you with the torch.”

“If it’s a conduit to our freedom,” she replied, “I’m more than happy to lead the way.” Putting one hand in front of the other, she felt her way along the cold, damp floor while bits of dirt rained down on her head. “This must be what a worm feels like.”

“Who dug this?” her father asked, crawling behind her.

“My brothers and I,” Darach replied. “It was our punishment for picking on each other and half the other lads in the clan when we were younger.”

“Do you mean the
Campbell
clan?” her father asked with surprise.

“Aye.”

“Are you telling me that you’re a Campbell, not a MacDonald?”

“That’s right,” Darach replied. “Though I’ve lived at Kinloch most of my life.”

While listening to their conversation behind her and dreading the moment the whole truth would come out, Larena continued to lead the way through the tunnel, still searching for the moonlight Darach had promised.

“Does Angus the Lion know you’re a Campbell?” her father asked.

“Nay. No one knows except for my brother and your daughter. Now you.”

Larena spotted a flicker of light up ahead, beyond a curtain of tree roots and vines. “We’re almost there,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s not much farther.” Crawling faster, she reached the exit, pushed the stubborn branches aside and looked down over the edge at the rocky beach below. “This looks treacherous.”

“It’s steep but not deadly,” Darach told her. “Roll down like a log if you have to. You may tumble a bit, but you’ll survive.”

Bracing herself, she climbed out face first, then turned her body and slid down the rocky incline on her behind. Her father tumbled out behind her.

Feeling a bit bruised and chafed in places, she rose to her feet and looked up to see Darach putting out the flame of the torch and leaving it behind before he launched himself out of the hole. He skidded down the bank and landed on his feet on the beach in a surprisingly graceful maneuver.

“Everyone all right?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“We’re fine,” Larena whispered in reply.

“Who knows about this breach in the castle wall?” her father asked, looking back up at the hole in the mountainside, camouflaged by foliage.

Darach shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you that. I haven’t been back here in fifteen years. But I’m surprised
you
didn’t know about it. Our father made us keep it secret when we were digging it, but he said it was for us and all the future lairds of Leathan and their children. This seemed a good time to use it.”

“Who the devil is your father?” Fitzroy asked with dismay.

Darach hesitated a moment, then squared his shoulders and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. When he finally spoke, there was pride and self-assurance in his voice. “Ronald James Campbell. Your former laird.”

They regarded each other with heated intensity on the moonlit beach, while Larena glanced around uneasily, worrying about Redcoats coming after them. “There’s no time for this now.”

“All of Ronald Campbell’s sons were killed at Sheriffmuir,” her father argued, completely ignoring her concern. “He had no living heirs when he died.”

“My younger brother and I survived that battle,” Darach replied, offering no more information than that.

“But why did you not come home?” her father asked. “Did you disgrace yourself on the battlefield? And why did you join the MacDonalds? Are you a traitor to your family, boy?”

Larena stepped forward. “Please, Father. We have to get away from here.”

“And you want me to follow
this
man?”

“Aye,” she replied desperately. “You must trust me.”

He breathed heavily with agitation. “Fine. Which way are we going?”

Darach led the way. “My horse is up the beach in this direction, tethered in the woods.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, boy, because this whole area is crawling with Redcoats.”

“We’ll do our best to avoid them,” Larena replied, breaking into a run.

* * *

“You should have planned this better,” Fitzroy said, less than an hour later. “We won’t get far with only one horse.”

“I would have had to steal them,” Darach explained, leading Miller by the reins while Larena rode in the saddle. “It would have been too risky and there wasn’t time.”

“There would have been time if you’d put together a proper plan of escape,” Fitzroy said, walking on the other side of Miller. “Why didn’t you just return to the castle through the main gate instead of sneaking in through that hole? Larena could have gotten us horses somehow, maybe even enlisted the help of a few loyal clansmen.”

Darach was about to defend his actions when Larena interrupted. “There’s no point arguing about it now. We got away and we’re out of range. They probably haven’t even noticed that you’re missing yet.”

“When they do, they’ll sound the alarm and we’ll be worse off than three rabbits running from a pack of hungry hounds. This was a foolhardy plan. What were you thinking, Larena?”

“I was thinking of
you
,” she replied from high in the saddle.

“You shouldn’t have. I don’t care about myself. I was as good as dead anyway. I’d accepted that. But
you
…. You had a chance. You could have married Colonel Chatham and remained at Leathan Castle with the clan. I know he’s my enemy, but at least you would have had position and security.”

“But I don’t love him. And the clan is all gone.”

“
Ach
! What is wrong with you, lass? You cannot base your decisions on the fickle whims of your silly heart. Beside, you only just met Chatham yesterday. How do you know you wouldn’t love him in time?”

Gritting his teeth together in irritation, Darach worked hard to stay silent, for this was a touchy issue, better left alone for the time being.

“I won’t ever love him,” Larena replied. “I would have been miserable.”

“Ah, I see now,” Fitzroy replied. “You’ve taken a fancy to this traitor here. Is that it? When did that happen? What did he do to turn your head?”

“It doesn’t matter, Father. I’ve made my choice and we rescued you from the Tolbooth. What happens next is up to us. At least we’re all alive, together and free.”

“Free? To do what?” Fitzroy demanded to know. “Are we to disguise ourselves as MacDonalds and live out the rest of our lives as cowards, a disgrace to our clan, like this man here?”

He gestured toward Darach who bit back the urge to draw his sword and demand an apology from Fitzroy—for the man had touched on a raw nerve.

Darach would also like to demand that Fitzroy explain what he knew about his former chief’s death. Ever since Darach had locked eyes with Fitzroy in the prison, that question had been burning a hole in his mind.

Did you murder my father?

Darach fought to temper his rage, but only out of respect for Larena.

“Quiet, both of you,” Darach said. “Redcoats could be anywhere.”

“He’s right,” Larena replied. “Let’s keep going. We’ll figure everything out later.”

Darach led them to a shallow burn where they could walk in the water for some distance and leave no trail.

* * *

They steered clear of the main roads and ventured deep into the forest, traveling the next hour without stopping. They encountered no one, and with every mile gained, Darach breathed a little easier.

Just before dawn, when the birds began to chirp in the treetops and the sky grew a shade or two lighter, Larena asked if they could stop and rest awhile. Understanding how fatigued she must be, Darach found a spot near a babbling brook and helped her dismount.

“We cannot linger long,” he quietly told her when her feet touched the ground. “They’ll be searching for us by now.”

At the stroke of her hand on his arm, he loathed how powerless he felt, thrust into a situation he did not wish to be in—not with her. All he’d ever wanted to do was protect her, keep her safe.
Love her
. Yet here they stood, on the run from the English army with a known fugitive, a traitor to the English Crown. Possibly his own father’s killer.

“I understand,” she replied. “Do you have anything to eat? He wouldn’t say anything, but I’ve never seen my father look so frail. I’m worried about him, Darach. You don’t know what he looked like before. He’s so thin now. I almost didn’t recognize him when I first saw him.”

“He may be thin,” Darach replied, glancing over his shoulder at Fitzroy, who was sinking down to the ground to sit with his back against a tree, “but he’s still a brawny giant of a Highlander.” Darach faced Larena again. “I packed supplies before I left the castle last night. I’ll dig something out for all of us.”

“Thank you.” She gestured toward a grove of evergreens a short distance away. “I’ll just be a moment. But first….” Larena glanced at her father to make sure he wasn’t looking, then she kissed Darach lightly on the lips. “I need you to know that I have no regrets about escaping with you. I don’t care what happens. Even if we die trying, I’d rather die with you than spend the rest of my life married to another man, wishing I could have one more moment with you. And don’t listen to my father. He’ll come around. I promise. I just need time to talk to him and convince him that you are the man who will make me happy. No one else. He’ll understand once he gets to know you. I’m certain of it.”

Darach raised her hand to his lips and laid a kiss on her knuckles. “But what about your clan? They have no leader now, except for Chatham, and you know he’ll come after you. He won’t rest.”

“We’ll just have to stay one step ahead of him,” she replied. “And my clan will survive, as they always have. Maybe some other ambitious Campbell lassie will step up to marry Gregory.”

As Darach watched her disappear into the grove, he felt lost in some kind of trance, completely besotted.

Snapping himself back to the present, he dug into the saddle bags for sustenance, for they had a long journey ahead of them.

He intended to take them north, to cross over the Great Glen, then continue traveling until they found shelter where they could hide out over the long winter. Whether or not they would ever return to Leathan or Kinloch remained an unknown factor at present. At least they would have plenty of time to consider their options.

Darach was about to withdraw a loaf of bread from the bag when suddenly his sword and dirk were pulled from their sheaths and he found himself being strangled in a chokehold.

Darach struggled against Fitzroy’s grip, but the sharp blade of his own dirk was pressing into his jugular. Fitzroy tossed the heavy sword into the bushes.

“Don’t give me a reason to slice your throat,” Fitzroy said as he dragged Darach across the forest floor toward the creek, “because you know I want to.”

A burst of shock and adrenaline lit in Darach’s veins. This was not what he wanted, not what he’d hoped for.

“Like you sliced my father’s throat?” he ground out.

“Aye. He was a foul rotter, that one. The clan deserved better. But I didn’t slice his throat. I did that with my own bare hands, shoved him into a ravine. It was a fair fight before that, I’ll have you know.”