“But ye didn’t.” She shook her head. “And I can’t leave. Not without William and Reid.” The hurt exhaled from her wounded chest.
Drake turned from her.
She reached for him. “Wait, please.”
“I have an idea.” He said it so low, and her head swam with such discomfort, she wondered if she’d heard him correctly.
But before he could elaborate or confirm what she’d heard, he slipped out the door and was gone.
Kinsey turned her face toward the pillow and gave way to the wave of emotion drowning her. Because no matter the outcome, the cost would be far too great.
22
The night dragged on. The damp ground soaked through William’s trews, and a heavy gruel with a rancid odor had been delivered unceremoniously to their cell, which neither William nor Reid had bothered tasting.
Not that any of it mattered.
Thoughts of Kinsey settled on his chest like a stone with such weight that it hurt to breathe.
A door banged in the distance and echoed through the dungeon, followed by footsteps. William leapt to his feet and cast a glance at Reid, who remained stony-faced as he stood.
It was impossible to determine in their windowless dungeon if it was already morn. Had the sun already begun to rise?
If so, then it was time.
Mayhap whoever came for him could give him news about Kinsey. Mayhap she might be able to live.
Such hopes were dashed when the familiar tall, dark-haired Scotsman appeared in front of the iron bars. The man looked left and right as if confirming no one else was nearby.
William’s stomach dropped. It was the kind of thing soldiers did when they wanted to take care of prisoners on their own, with no witnesses. William remained toward the back of the cell. If the man were going to kill him, William would not make it easy.
The traitor stopped at the bars, looked in and beckoned William closer. William folded his arms over his chest and didn’t move.
“Do ye want to know about Kinsey?” The man asked in an impatient whisper.
Damn it.
If William were going to be taken down by this bastard, at least it would be in the pursuit of doing everything he could for the woman he loved. William pushed off the wall and approached the bars. Though they were both unarmed, Reid took his customary place at William’s right, ready to fight.
“What of her?” William asked, his voice quiet.
“She’s hurt.” Something flashed in the man’s eyes, and his jaw clenched. “Verra badly.”
The breath heaved from William’s lungs in a wounded rasp, wishing her pain were his own to bear instead. “Ye did that to her,” William said bitterly.
Was it just his imagination, or did the man flinch?
“Do ye love her?” The Scotsman asked.
Anguish screamed inside William’s chest. “Do ye seek to use that love against me?”
“Do ye love her?”
“Aye.” William held a hand over his heart. “I love her.” The declaration echoed off the dungeon walls, reverberating all around them, resounding the truth of his words over and over again.
Those dark eyes narrowed. “She’s on the third floor of the castle, first door on the left from the stairwell.”
The information was so unexpected, William took a cautious step back. “Why would ye share that with me?”
The man put his hand slowly through the bars and unfurled his fingers. A thick metal key sat in the palm of his hand.
“What are ye on about?” Reid asked in a rumbling growl.
The traitor stretched his arm, extending the key to them. “This is the key to her room. Save her.”
Reid looked to William, uncertain of what to do.
William hesitated.
Enemies didn’t free the men they’d captured. They certainly didn’t offer them keys with which to escape.
This was a trick. It had to be.
And yet if it wasn’t…
William snatched the key. He curled it in his fist until it jabbed into his palm, proof that it existed. Assuming it was the correct key.
“Will ye save her?” The man asked, impatience edging into his otherwise calm voice.
This time, William did not hesitate. “Aye.”
The traitor pulled a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked their cell. The door groaned as it swung open on its aging hinges.
William’s body fired with a rush of energy, the same as before charging into battle. Even if this were a trap, it would be a chance to find Kinsey somehow, to save her.
Or, if nothing else, to say goodbye.
The man extended a dagger to William first—the ruby studded one his father had given him all those years ago—then Reid’s dagger to him.
“We could kill ye,” Reid said, accepting the weapon.
The man lifted a shoulder, his expression bland with indifference. “Ye could.”
“Who are ye?” William asked. “Why no’ see to her yerself?”
“Ye’re wasting time.” Without another word, the man walked away, putting his back to them.
It would be effortless to attack him from behind. But it would be without purpose when he had aided them in their escape.
Why had he helped them?
Reid cast William a skeptical look, clearly also uneasy with the scenario. They crept down the long hallway together and paused at the door. On the other side, there might be an army waiting to attack them.
But why would the Scotsman set up a ruse for them to think they were free and attack them, when they would just simply hang the next day?
William pushed the door, every nerve in his body on high alert. Nobody waited outside.
They followed the man’s direction, climbing up three flights of stairs and stopping at the first door on the left.
“Fire,” someone shouted from outside.
A distraction. Now William knew why the man hadn’t seen to Kinsey himself.
There wouldn’t be much time. He unlocked the door and entered the room. A still figure lay on the bed, with her bright red curls streaming over the linens.
Kinsey.
His heart caught in his chest, and he rushed to her side. He hadn’t thought ever to see her again. “Kinsey.”
Her eyes blinked open, squinting as though in pain, then widened. “William.”
“We’re escaping, my love.” He pulled at her shoulder to help
