Chapter Twenty-Six

Kirk stared into the flames of the weak, rain-beaten fire, hypnotized by their orange dance and his own fatigue.

A peal of thunder dragged him from his torpor. The storm was worsening. He was mostly dry under the abbey’s sagging roof. Hopefully Lillian was not getting too soaked.

How long had it been since she’d left? He cursed his own exhausted mind for not paying better attention. She’d certainly been gone long enough to see to nature’s call, but she’d claimed to be dealing with a woman’s issue.

He rose to his feet slowly. Unease prickled down his spine. Mayhap her ankle was bothering her more than he’d realized, and she was stuck out there in the storm somewhere, hurting and in trouble.

Or mayhap this was like Inverness all over again, when she’d used his distraction to escape.

The thought of binding her hands and feet to keep her from fleeing again had turned his stomach. Her hurt ankle had relieved him of having to tie her, for she moved so slowly that she was in no danger of slipping away from him.

But she’d twisted it a fortnight past. He needed to keep a closer eye on her, especially now that they sat nigh on top of the border with England. The closer they drew to the Compound, the more likely she was to grow desperate—especially because Kirk still had not come up with a plan to save her from the fate he was delivering her to.

Stepping into the driving rain, he let his gaze sweep the darkened woods around the abbey.

“Lillian!” he called into the gloom, but another clap of thunder swallowed his voice.

The roan still stood tethered nearby, ears twitching and eyes wide from the storm. Kirk approached the skittish animal slowly, speaking nonsense in a low, soothing voice. As he saddled the horse, his unease deepened. He called again, but the only answer was the hiss of the swiftly falling rain against the thinning leaves overhead.

In one fluid motion, he mounted the horse and reined him to the left. He’d last seen her stepping into the cover of the trees on the east side of the abbey. Spurring the horse forward, he plunged into the dark, dripping forest.

****

Lillian’s frayed, bedraggled house slippers sank into the mud and fallen leaves underfoot. She squinted into the clouds above the wind-whipped trees, but light from the rising moon did not penetrate. She could only hope that she was still heading due east.

From her time living in the Borderlands, Lillian knew that many roads ran north-south from England to Scotland. Though such roads were perilous what with the still-high tensions between the two countries, at least she stood a chance of finding help on one—and possibly someone willing to take her to the nearest town.

Besides that ill-fated trip to Inverness, Kirk had kept them far from any road or village. But if Lillian just kept going east, she was sure to run across a road eventually— if she was actually still going east.

When her burning legs could take no more and her lungs begged for mercy, she stopped running, but she forced herself onward. Branches snagged at Kirk’s overlarge cloak, slowing her. Despite how much better her ankle had been feeling, it throbbed now with the strain she was putting it under.

Lightning momentarily illuminated the dark woods. Naught but tangled ferns and twisting branches lay ahead. Lillian shuddered, pulling the cloak closed at the front against the stinging rain. The wool was heavy with moisture. Kirk’s scent, of smoke and pine and his own clean male skin, clung to it, sending a dull ache into her chest.

A gust of wind whipped at her garments, making the trees overhead groan.

Lillian froze, her ears straining. Had it just been the rustle of dead leaves? The sound came again.

Nay . It was faint and muted by the driving rain, but she was not mistaken.

Kirk called her name in the distance.

Her stomach pulled into a painful knot. He was somewhere behind her in the woods. Searching for her. Hunting her.

Her head whipped around, scanning the black forest wildly, but only shadows loomed. Heart in her throat, she plunged forward, forcing her legs into a sprint once more.

With adrenaline surging through her, she didn’t notice at first that she was climbing up a rise. She pushed herself onward though her legs screamed in protest.

She dared a look behind her. Just as her gaze landed on the dark outline of a man on horseback, her toe caught a fallen branch and she tumbled forward.

She landed with a squelch on the wet ground. Muddy and waterlogged, she dragged herself up and staggered forward once more, climbing higher up the sloping hillside.

“Lillian!”

This time there was no mistaking Kirk’s voice. He’d gained on her. She didn’t dare another look back, but judging from the urgent edge to his tone, he’d spotted her.

Panting, she crested the hill at last. But instead of a gradual slope back down the other side, the hill sheared away at a sharp angle in front of her. Far below, a wide river curled between the hills.

Heavy rains like the downpour currently driving from the sky must have made the hillside’s face slide off, leaving a steep, muddy incline.

“Lillian, stop!”

At the base of the hill behind her, Kirk hunched low over the roan. He kicked the horse, urging it upward after her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lillian planted her bottom on the edge of the hillside and shoved herself forward.

Her momentum and the steep angle pulled her down with terrifying speed. A shriek of fear tore from her throat as she bumped and slid down the muddy escarpment.

By the time she skidded to a halt at the bottom of the ridge, her body ached and her heart hammered erratically. If she’d slid another few feet, she would have been launched straight into the mud-churned river.

She glanced back up at the top of the hill. Right at that moment, Kirk and his horse reached the edge. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and the roan reared, clearly refusing to go down the muddy cliff.

But as darkness once again fell, Lillian could make out Kirk’s black silhouette dismounting and stepping to the edge to follow down after her.

She darted a glance up one bank of the river and down the other. Thick clumps of bracken lined both banks. They would slow her down if she tried to plow through them.

It looked as though she was going in the river after all. As she fumbled with the cloak’s ties at her neck, she watched the dark water. The river was swollen from the heavy rains, but the current was slow. Lillian was a good swimmer. Mayhap Kirk would not follow her into the water.

She let the cloak fall away, but she had no time to remove her waterlogged woolen dress, for she could hear Kirk sliding down the hill behind her. Without thinking, she leapt into the swirling waters.

Her skirts immediately tangled in her legs, the wool dragging her down. She fought to keep her head up, but as she was pulled toward the river’s center, she realized she’d misjudged the strength of the current.

She stroked hard for the far bank, but the water kept sucking her back to the middle as it rushed southward. She kicked fiercely, but her fatigued legs had little strength left to give.

Suddenly an arm latched around her waist like a band of steel. She screamed and thrashed, but her struggles were as useless against Kirk as they had been against the river.

Kirk grunted when her elbow connected with his ribs, but even with only one arm free, he kept stroking powerfully toward the bank where she’d leapt in.

His progress was slow, and by the time they made it to the bank, he was breathing hard. Nevertheless, his arm around her waist didn’t loosen until he hoisted her out of the water.

Lillian sprawled on the muddy bank, every last ounce of energy spent. Her body ached, her limbs trembled with fatigue, and her mind numbed with reality.

She’d failed. Her last hope of escape withered and died. Surely now Kirk would not let her out of his sight until he delivered her to her husband’s killers—he might even bind her like the captive she was.

Kirk hauled himself onto the bank beside her, his breath ragged.

“What the bloody hell were ye thinking?” he bellowed over another crash of thunder.

Lillian lifted a quaking hand to her face and dragged away the wet tendrils of hair plastered to her skin. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a low moan of desolation.

“Ye could have been killed!” Kirk shouted, his shadowy form looming over her.

The last spark of resistance inside her fanned to life at that. “I will be killed anyway!” she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation.

At the sound of her own words, her will finally snapped. A shuddering sob slipped from her throat. “I will be killed anyway,” she whispered again. Her whole body began to shake as the tears of fear and sadness she’d kept at bay for so long broke free .

Kirk rose next to her and lifted her to her feet by the elbows. But her legs were completely spent, and her knees buckled underneath her.

Kirk’s strong arms suddenly looped around her, scooping her up and cradling her against his chest. Without a word, he began making his way back to where she’d flung herself into the river. He paused to bend and retrieve the cloak she’d discarded, then continued trudging along the muddy bank around the base of the sheer hillside.

Without the strength to care, Lillian let her head loll against Kirk’s shoulder as the tears came hard and fast.