Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A s they finished up a meager meal of dried meat, cheese, crusty bread and a paltry excuse for wine from a skin, the wind howled outside sounding like the voices of the damned set loose upon the earth, filling the small lodge with a bitter cold not even the fire Magnus had built in the hearth seemed to cut through. They sat side by side wrapped in furs, not quite huddled together, but close enough to draw body heat from one another. It felt like hours since the last word had been spoken between them and Ciara was bored. And angry. And frustrated.

She wasn’t a girl who did well in prolonged silence and enjoyed conversation. Elspeth had always been wonderful at carrying on a conversation, often making Ciara laugh until her sides hurt. They would often huddle together beneath furs in her room on cold nights, regaling each other with stories and bawdy jokes that, had her father heard them, would have likely earned her a striping. Sitting there listening to the wind howling made her miss Elspeth desperately.

Magnus, on the other hand, seemed like a man well used to brooding silences, who enjoyed his own company more than that of other people. He was not a very keen conversationalist, which was making a long, cold night infinitely longer and more miserable. Ciara turned to him and frowned.

“Ye’re nae much of a people person, are ye?” she grunted.

“Ye’re the one who keeps sayin’ there’s nothin’ fer us tae be talkin’ about.”

“Well, since we’re stuck in here with each another, how about ye finally tell me what this is all about then, eh?” she asked. “Why are ye draggin’ me across the Highlands tae God kens where?”

Magnus frowned and looked down at his hands, seeming to be debating with himself. He let out a long breath and nodded then turned to her.

“How about ye tell me why ye turned traitor?” he asked.

She cocked her head and looked at him. “Turned traitor? What in the bleedin’ hell are ye goin’ on about then?”

“What did the English offer ye tae get ye tae work fer them?” he asked. “What did they give ye tae make ye betray yer own countrymen?”

“I’ve got nae idea what ye’re goin’ on about.”

He gave her a long, level look and Ciara could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. That he’d already decided she was a traitor. She had no idea where he’d gotten that idea. No idea why he’d fixated on her as being this person he was looking for. But he very clearly believed it.

“Magnus, I’m bein’ honest with ye. I’ve got nay idea what ye’re talkin’ about,” she said. “I’m nay traitor and I’m nae workin’ with the English. I never would. I’m nay friend tae them. In fact, I hate them as much as ye seem tae.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Fine. But I’m nay traitor.”

“Aye. So ye say,” he replied. “’Tis what we need tae find out.”

“So, that’s yer plan. Ye’re goin’ tae torture me?—”

“Nobody said anythin’ about torturin’ ye.”

Ciara looked at him incredulously. “Ahh. So, we’re just goin’ tae have a pleasant conversation over a cup of tea then, eh?”

The man’s face hardened. “Me braither ain’t a monster.”

“But maybe the fact that ye’re draggin’ me across the damned Highlands trussed up like a stuffed pig means ye are, which doesnae give me much hope fer how the rest of yer family is goin’ tae treat me.”

“We’re nae monsters,” he growled.

“Aye, so ye keep tellin’ me.”

Ciara grinned to herself, enjoying the fact that she got to throw his words back in his face. His face darkened and he opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it and swallowed down whatever barb sat on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he got to his feet and walked across the lodge as if trying to put as much physical distance between them as he could. Which, in a lodge that small, wasn’t much. He sat down in the chair at the table and folded his arms over his chest, turning away from her.

Ciara studied his profile and couldn’t deny he was a strikingly handsome man. And despite what she’d said, she didn’t believe he was a monster. He could have treated her roughly, but the binds around her wrists aside, he’d been relatively gentle. He’d made sure she was warm beneath the furs and had had enough to eat. He hadn’t behaved like the sort of rogue she’d imagined would kidnap a woman. He’d behaved more like a gentleman.

Ciara wanted to hate him for binding her and dragging her across the Highlands. For trapping her in a small lodge in the middle of a snowstorm with him. For not letting her go when she asked. And for believing, apparently, that she was some sort of traitor. But as she searched her heart, Ciara couldn’t find any hate for him within it. She was surprised by it given the fact that he had abducted her, but she didn’t get the sense that he was a wicked man.

“So, are ye and yer braither goin’ tae torture and kill me?”

“Nobody said anythin’ about torturin’ and killin’ ye?—”

“Ye’ve called me a traitor. I ken what usually happens tae traitors,” she fired back.

Magnus paused for a moment and seemed to take a moment to steady himself. The anger drained from his face and when he turned his eyes back to her, it was with a glimmer of compassion she hadn’t expected to see.

“Ye say ye’re nae workin’ with the English,” he said gently. “If that’s true, Domhnall will see it and ye’ll be fine. We’re nae in the habit of executin’ innocent folk.”

“Just abductin’ them,” she said, unable to resist the urge to needle him.

The wind outside seemed as if it had died down, but the interior of the lodge was growing colder. The flames in the hearth were growing low, unable to beat back the chill. Without the free use of her hands, Ciara couldn’t pull her furs tighter around herself. Perhaps seeing her discomfort, Magnus stood up and walked over, adding another fur then pulling them snugly around her shoulders for her. Their eyes met briefly and Ciara felt an electric charge like lightning crackle through her veins, making her look away quickly.

“Thank ye,” she said grudgingly.

“Ye’re welcome.”

Magnus lingered for just a moment, almost as if he wanted to say something. Ciara’s heart fluttered in her breast, and she turned her face up, looking deeply into his eyes. Warmth blossomed in her belly and spread outward, heating her, almost uncomfortably, from the inside out. She didn’t understand the feeling gripping her. Didn’t understand the desire to kiss him that flowed through her veins. And yet, she felt it all the same.

His face softened and Ciara got the sense he was feeling just as she was—and judging by the expression that painted his features, seemed just as confused by it. And for a brief moment, Ciara thought he might lean forward and kiss her. As insane as it was, what scared her most was that she wasn’t entirely sure she would stop him. Thankfully she didn’t have to make the decision though, because he turned and walked to the other side of the room.

“Seems like the wind has died down,” he said, almost as if talking to himself. “And we need more wood tae get through the night.”

“Ye’re nae goin’ out in that, are ye?”

“We need the wood.”

“’Tis crazy. ‘Tis freezin’ out there.”

“It’ll be freezin’ in here if we dinnae get that fire goin’ again.”

She couldn’t deny what he was saying. It was true. As if he had talked himself into it, Magnus walked over to her and checked her bonds, giving them a firm tug. Not seeing any give in the ropes, he nodded to himself then headed for the door. A blast of frigid air swept in as he held it open and glanced over his shoulder at her, a sly smirk paining his lips.

“Dinnae go anywhere, now,” he said.

“Oh. Ye think ye’re so funny,” she barked.

Laughing to himself, he walked into the freezing night outside and closed the door behind him. Ciara held her breath, listening to the fresh fallen snow crunching beneath his boots as he walked away in search of more wood. She waited until she was certain he was gone then jumped to her feet and began frantically searching the small lodge for something, anything, she could use to cut the ropes off her wrists. He’d been careful about making sure he put his dagger away after cutting their meal with him and Ciara wasn’t finding much else with an edge she could use.

“Bleedin’ hell,” she muttered to herself. “Come on. There has tae be somethin’.”

The precious seconds were ticking by, each one that passed making Ciara feel like she was being stabbed in the heart with a needle. She didn’t know how long he was going to be out there but knowing how cold it was, she didn’t think it would be for long. She needed to find something to break the bindings around her wrists quickly if she hoped to get out before he came back.

Turning to the hearth, Ciara ran her fingers along the edges of the stones. They weren’t sharp, but they weren’t exactly dull either. They would have to do. Getting her hands into the proper position was awkward, but she managed to lay them flat enough so the ropes were set against the edge of the stone and began moving them back and forth in a sawing motion. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead as she moved her hands vigorously.

“Come on, come on,” she grunted through gritted teeth.

She had been at it for what felt like hours and the ropes still hadn’t snapped. Tears of frustration blurred her vision and she kept sawing harder. Faster. Every second was like an eternity and she was terrified that Magnus would be walking through the door before she’d freed herself.

“Bleedin’ hell, come on,” she said with a grimace.

A cry of surprise and exhilaration burst from her mouth when the ropes finally snapped, releasing her hands. Ciara quickly pulled them off her wrists and dropped them to the floor. She jumped to her feet and grabbed her things as swiftly as she could. Swinging her cloak around her shoulders, she fastened it and pulled it tight then rushed to the door.

Clenching her jaw, Ciara cracked open the door, fully expecting to see Magnus standing there with that smug smirk on his face. He wasn’t though. And when she stuck her head outside, she didn’t see him anywhere. His large tracks were in the snow leading away from the cabin, but she saw none coming back.

With a spark of hope in her heart, Ciara bounded away from the lodge, running into the frigid night and the thick fog that had rolled in, making the world around her opaque, determined to put as much distance between her and her captor as she could.