Chapter 15

15

Cold air stung at Mary’s lips and hands as she poked her head out of the door to her quarters, making certain that nobody was watching her. After what Archie had told her about the lady’s maids overhearing her dalliance with Kiernan, she was distinctly aware of how exposed she was up here, but she needed to make certain that none of them saw her flight tonight.

It had been the better part of a week since her confrontation with Kiernan, and, ever since, she had been planning her way out of there. She had spent much of her time down at the small pond in the garden, staring into the water, trying to plan what would be best for her in the long run, and, to her surprise, Archie joined her several times, seeming to sense the doubts that were racing through her mind.

“What are ye thinking, lass?” he asked her gently, and she sighed heavily. She knew she likely shouldn’t have been speaking these words out loud, let alone to someone who was so close to the Laird, but she had no other refuge in these trying times. She needed someone, anyone, to help her escape. It was hardly as though she knew the area well enough to flee on her own, and if she took her horse and tried to ride out, she doubted she’d make it far.

“I’m thinking about my family,” she confessed to him, keeping her voice as neutral as she could. She wanted to test the boundaries before she committed to saying anything that could have landed her in trouble. She knew she had to pace around the truth of this as carefully as she could, lest something spill from her lips that she could not take back.

“You wish to see them again?”

She nodded. He leaned a little closer to her, lowering his voice.

“Perhaps I can help ye with that.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised.

“You can?”

“I think so. I… I hate to see a young lass like you trapped in a place like this, with a man who may not treat you as a husband should,” he admitted. Her eyes widened.

“But… but he’s your…”

“I ken that he’s my master,” he replied swiftly. “But I dinnae care to see you so low. Perhaps some time to visit yer kin would do ye good.”

She chewed on her lip. Truth be told, if she found some way to get out of Kiernan’s grasp, she could not see herself returning. Did Archie already know that? He met her gaze steadily, and she could tell, though he was not saying much, that he understood what went unspoken between the two of them in that moment. She nodded.

“Yes,” she replied. “Yes, I think I’d very much like that.”

Glancing around to make certain that nobody was listening in on them, Archie shifted closer to her on the bench, and began to share his plan with her. In the dead of night, she would come from her quarters and meet him at the edge of the Keep; from there, he would whisk her away, to a carriage waiting beyond the river, which would take her back to her family. Her relief was unbounded at the thought of finally getting to see her sister again. She knew she’d have to admit that she was right when she had tried to stop Mary from marrying Kiernan, but that was a small price to pay for her safety, for her freedom.

Now, as she slipped from her room, her heart thudding so hard in her chest she felt it might burst out, she wondered if she was making the right choice. Should she have given Kiernan more time to prove himself as her husband? She felt as though in a near-week since their time together, she had given him plenty of chances to come to her and admit that he had not acted as a loving husband should. All he had done was avoid her. He clearly wanted nothing to do with her. All he had intended was to take her and own her, and now he had her, he had no intention of treating her as a husband should have loved his wife.

She found that a tear had leaked from one of her eyes, and she dashed it away with the back of her hand quickly as she hurried for the stairs that would take her down to where she was meant to be meeting Archie. She was so grateful for his help. It was a relief that she had someone she could call a friend in here, despite all that had happened. She was certain most of those who inhabited the Keep still looked upon her as nothing more than a threat, an infiltrator from the Aitken side.

But she was nothing of the sort. She was just a girl, a woman who had sought freedom from the weight of what her father had wanted to trap her in. And now, she had to flee once more, putting as much distance between herself and the man she had sworn her life and her love to.

She picked her way down the stairs as quickly and as quietly as she could, her ears pricked for any sound that might indicate she was being watched or followed, but none came. Her eyes darted this way and that when she reached the bottom, searching for someone who would stop her. Normally, there were guards patrolling the corridors day and night, and it seemed strange to her, for a moment, that there were none lurking around on this particular evening. Had Archie managed to get rid of them so that she could make her escape without being caught?

She pushed that thought aside and continued her rush to the door of the Keep, finally reaching it and pushing it open. It creaked loudly as she did so, and she winced, praying that it had not roused anyone in the Keep.

But then, she saw Archie standing there, waiting for her, and a flood of relief coursed through her. He offered her a smile when he spotted her, and jerked his head towards the path that led down the hill and out of the Keep.

“Here, lass, and be quick about it!” he hissed at her, and she rushed out to meet him, following him along the path. The air was cold, mist hanging over the hill before her as she made her way behind him. He strode out confidently, as though he knew exactly where he was going.

“How far is the carriage?” she whispered to him as she followed, but he didn’t seem to hear her. He didn’t turn around when she spoke, and she hurried a little further, closing the distance between them. The Keep was starting to grow distant now, and, as they drew close to the river, she scanned the area for sight of the carriage that was meant to be waiting for her.

But there was none. Her footsteps faltered beneath her, and she came to a halt. This time, Archie seemed to notice her reticence, and he came to a halt, too.

“Archie?” she whispered, her voice carrying in the dead air around them. Slowly, he turned to her and the expression on his face was almost as fatal as the dagger he clutched in his hand.

Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw the weapon he was holding. The blade, jagged at the edges, flashed in the moonlight. She tried to scrabble back from him, but she tripped, and he lunged forward, grabbing her before she could fall to her knees.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he murmured to her, and he seemed to mean it. He pressed the blade against her belly, not so hard that it snagged on her clothes, but enough that she could feel the dull pressure of it against her stomach. Sickness twisted inside of her, her mind rushing as she tried to make sense of it.

“What are you doing, Archie?” she pleaded with him. “I thought—I thought you wanted to help me. To help me get back to my family. You said you could not bear to see me trapped in this place…”

“And I meant it,” he replied, flexing his hand around the blade as he tightened his grip on her waist. He was holding her close to him, almost like a lover, but she knew that the blade was the only thing he intended to use upon her.

“I cannae stand to see you trapped here, with Kiernan,” he replied. “Because ye’re an Aitken. An Englishwoman, at that. There was never a chance that you would find a home here, not as long as ye lived. They would never accept a woman like you as their lady, nor would they accept Kiernan as such a weak man to be their Laird.”

Weak? Was that how he saw it? That Kiernan and his care for her were symbolic of his weakness? She could still remember how it felt to be with him in that intimate way, how much she had craved his touch, more than she could make sense of—how strong he had seemed, how masculine, how powerful. Anything but weak.

“They wouldn’t, or you wouldn’t?” she challenged him, daring him to say it to her face. The betrayal she felt in that moment was almost more than she could take. She had thought she had found a friend with Archie, only for him to turn around and treat her like this. It was sick, twisted, so monstrous she could hardly bear it.

“It doesnae matter,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low fury.

“And you think that killing me will end your problems?” she snapped at him. “You think that Arran and Amelia won’t come after you for revenge?—”

“Not if I convince Kiernan that they were the ones who killed ye,” he replied. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest.

“You… you what?”

“Those letters that you sent to yer sister, they show that you were intending to return to them,” he continued, grinning, though it did not reach his eyes. “And when you turn up dead… well, Kiernan will think that they’re the ones who did this. That they couldnae stand to see one of their own with him, and so, they killed her.”

A lump leapt into her throat. It made sense. Too much sense for her to refute. If Kiernan found out that she had been fearful of staying at the Keep, and that she had been planning on leaving, then he would take her death to have come as part of that. The thought made her want to vomit, but, as she felt the pressure of Archie’s blade against her stomach, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent up a prayer to whoever might have been listening in that moment, praying that they would save her from this fate, before the man she had believed to be her friend betrayed her in a way she could never return from.