Highlander Untamed Read online

  “It’s safe now, Isabel. We must leave the horses here and walk the rest of the way. I’ll return for them later. But now I need your help with Rory.”

  Rory. Isabel leapt off her horse before Alex could offer her assistance and flew to Rory, who was still slumped over his horse. She thought from his position he must have fainted, but at her touch, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

  “Rory, oh God, Rory. Hold on, we’re almost there.” Craving further reassurance that he truly lived, she grabbed him, clasping his arm desperately. Conscious of his injury, she carefully leaned forward around the arrow protruding from his belly and placed her lips on his damp brow. His skin felt so cold. She could smell the metallic scent of blood. Fear unlike anything she had ever experienced strangled her soul. Surely the capricious fates would not be so cruel when they’d only just found each other?

  “Isabel, we must get him to the castle.”

  Wordlessly, she helped Alex slide him from the saddle, trying not to cause him more pain than was necessary. Alex slung an arm over his shoulder, and Isabel supported him as best she could on the other side. Rory moved his feet, but Isabel could tell by the spasms of stiffness that racked his body that each step caused him new agony. Huddled together, they struggled along the treacherously wet path of stone and sand.

  “Where are we?”

  “In an old passageway built long ago by our Norse ancestors. It is rarely used, and few even know of its existence. Only Rory and I know how to find it. And now you.”

  She gulped, honored to have been entrusted with such a secret but all the same wishing she didn’t know. She still felt loyalty to her family and would rather not be forced to lie.

  Exhaustion threatened to crumple her legs; the large physique that she so admired was definitely a detriment at a time like this. Isabel knew by the way he tried to hold himself away from her that he was attempting not to crush her with his weight. With the amount of blood soaking her gown, she feared he would soon lose consciousness—or worse.

  Don’t fall apart, Isabel. He needs you.

  Just when she thought she would not be able to take one more step, Alex stopped.

  “We’re here.”

  She nearly wept with relief. Even in the damp tunnel, sweat beaded on her brow. Wiping it away with her sleeve, she looked around blankly at solid rock.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Look up.”

  In the roof, perhaps a foot above Alex’s head, she noticed a door.

  Alex answered her unspoken question. “I’ll go up first. You’ll need to hold him steady while I try to lift him through the trapdoor. We’ll be at the bottom of a hidden staircase that leads to the kitchens in the old keep.”

  How could that be? She’d been over every inch of that tower. Isabel held her tongue, not wanting Alex to question why she’d felt the need to inspect the castle so closely.

  “What is that smell?” She sniffed. “Almost like roasted meat.”

  “It is roasted meat. A particularly cruel ancestor of mine decided to vent the kitchens into the dungeon to torment the prisoners.”

  “Are we near the dungeon pit?” she asked. The only entry to Dunvegan’s dungeon was located in a small room in the great hall above the kitchens. She repressed a shudder. The dungeon was nothing more than a horrific thirteen-foot-deep hole in the rock where prisoners were tossed and left to die. When she’d first arrived at Dunvegan, she’d had many nightmares about that pit.

  “We are very close to the dungeon in an adjacent tunnel. The kitchens are part of the barrel vault that runs the length of the old keep.”

  “What if we can’t lift him up through the door by ourselves?” she wondered aloud.

  “Rory would not want me to bring anyone else down here, but if there is no other choice, I’ll find help.”

  But somehow they managed. Rory stirred from semi-consciousness only once, when Alex pulled him up through the hidden door, but it provided them much needed timely assistance up the small staircase. At the top, Alex peered through a small hole in the hidden door to make sure no one was about. Carefully, he pushed open the door and pulled them to safety.

  What happened next was lost in the murky haze of confusion that descended when the MacLeods learned that their chief lay dangerously injured. Once Alex checked to make sure no evidence remained of their entry, the cry for help went up and chaos reigned.

  Through it all, Isabel refused to leave Rory’s side. Vaguely, she recalled holding his hand as someone—perhaps Deidre?—dug the arrow from his stomach and stitched the gaping wound closed. She must have blocked the rest from her memory, because after that she could remember nothing.

  Smoky, mist-filtered moonbeams bathed the solar in ghostly semidarkness. Relishing the quiet, Isabel sat patiently at his bedside. Needing to be alone with him, she’d sent everyone else away. Nothing more could be done for him right now; they would have to wait to see whether he survived the fever that was sure to follow such a horrible injury. That he survived an arrow in his gut this long was a miracle in itself, but it had hit in the perfect spot. An inch or two in any direction, and he would already be dead.

  She fidgeted restlessly, trying to find anything to occupy her hands. At a time like this, patience seemed unattainable. He looked so helpless, she thought as she bathed his head with cool water.

  Long dark lashes fluttered, then opened to graze his brow.

  “Where am I?” he groaned weakly, his blue eyes burning with an unnatural brightness.

  The fever had arrived.

  “Our chamber.” She shushed him. “Don’t try to talk. You are safe but need your energy.”

  He tossed his head back and forth against his pillow as if he fought unconsciousness. “Isabel, you must get Alex. I must speak with him, he needs to know—”

  “Shh. Sleep, Rory. You need your rest, you can tell Alex in the morning.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I must speak with him now, he will be the next chief.” His voice took on a fevered urgency.

  The truth hit her hard. He thinks he is going to die.

  “Please, Rory, you must keep calm. If that is what you want, I’ll get him.”

  “Hurry, Isabel. After I talk to Alex, I want to speak with you. I need you to know something.”

  She found Alex asleep before the fire in the hall downstairs. He looked awful. She hated to wake him. From the dark shadows of weariness around his eyes, it looked as though he had only just fallen asleep.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly. “Alex, wake up. Rory wishes to speak with you. Hurry, he’s quite anxious.” Bleary-eyed, a startled Alex followed her up the spiral stairs to Rory’s chamber.

  She motioned him into the room. “I’ll wait outside, he wants to speak with you privately.”

  Alex nodded and closed the door behind him.

  Anxiously, she stood in the hallway, staring at the door. Watching, waiting for any sound that he might need her. She took a few steps closer and frowned. Did Rory know there was a crack between the door and casing that allowed a sliver of light to shine from the room into the hallway?

  The sound of raised voices riled her anger. Didn’t Alex realize how weak his brother was? What could they be arguing about at a time like this? Rory made a loud gasping sound, followed by a gurgled cough. Isabel leapt to the door, peering through the crack to make sure he was all right. Her eyes flew to his face, and she sighed with relief. His breathing was uneven, but there was a fierce, determined glow in his eyes.

  It took her a moment to realize what was happening. Too late, she realized her mistake. She wasn’t supposed to see this.

  “Reach behind the headboard of the bed and twist the wooden knob that you will find there. It looks like part of a carving…. Yes, that’s it. Now reach under the bed and you will find a hidden drawer has opened. The box is in there. Bring it out and place it on the bed. Careful.” Rory’s voice sounded strained but steady.

  Isabel’s heart was