His throat tightened.
Take charge, Owen…
He rose and looked around. Clearly, the Highlanders were losing. Each Scot fought two or three English at a time.
He should call “Cruachan!” He should cry out something that would lift their spirits. He should do something to change the situation…
His brother Craig was a leader. His father was. So was his cousin Ian. Owen was a jester who was only good at failing things. His arms hung helplessly.
This was clearly a lost cause. The battle was over.
A female grunt made him look up. The woman was fighting a knight who could crush her under the weight of his full armor. Owen raced towards them, his heart thumping, and met the knight’s sword with his own. He pushed against the man with all his might, and the warrior fell.
The woman glared at him, her nostrils flaring, her full lips pressed tightly. Small droplets of sweat ran down her forehead. She was so pretty and dark and furious, like a goddess of war.
He needed to get her out of here, but how? The secret tunnel! Then he’d come back and help his fellow Scots.
Before the knight could stand up, Owen grabbed the woman’s elbow and tugged her after him. “Come. Quickly.”
She gasped, but the knight was already rising to his feet. Owen shut the door behind him and bolted it. Then he rushed down into the underground storeroom, pulling the strange woman behind him.
Amber fumed as the warrior dragged her down the stairs. Freeing her elbow was impossible, like trying to escape a metal vise. Another man who’d decided to be a hero and take charge of her, as if she couldn’t survive without him.
She’d had the situation under control. How dare he!
As soon as her feet touched the stone floor of the underground storeroom, she jerked her elbow from his grasp. His blond hair glowed golden in the torchlight. They made his handsome face covered in dried blood, bruises, and cuts look devilish. His green gaze pierced her, the intensity in his eyes all-consuming. Standing now among barrels, casks, and chests, she suddenly became aware that he held a bloody sword in his hand and was almost twice as large as she was.
What did he want? Was this a trap?
Damn her curiosity, damn that woman, Sìneag, and damn this guy.
She took a step back. “You try to lay one finger on me, and you’ll be missing it.”
He blinked, his eyebrows snapping together.
“I’m nae going to hurt ye, lass,” he said.
“Why did you drag me in here? What do you want from me?”
His confused frown deepened. “What do I want?” He scoffed. “A little thank ye, mayhap? I just saved yer life. Believe it or nae, I am trying to help ye. Even if me being distracted by ye cost a great warrior his life…”
She gasped. And now he was blaming her for something? “I didn’t need your help.”
His jaw muscles worked under his short, blond stubble. He narrowed his eyes, and fire played in them. Something light and feathery tickled her insides as he stared her down with that intense glare.
“Ye didna need my help, did ye?” He shook his head, marched towards the door at the other side of the room, and opened it. “Quickly now, so that I can return to the battle.”
Her face fell. “Quickly where?”
“There’s a secret tunnel. It’ll lead ye out of the castle.”
There was a pounding on the door of the ground floor. Then loud thumps as though someone was trying to break through. Amber’s heart raced a hundred miles per hour.
“Ye need to go, lass,” the Highlander said. “They’re about to burst in.”
The door above cracked, and the pounding became stronger. He was right, they were about to break through. Just like back in the other Inverlochy—the old ruins of Inverlochy, not this castle that stood undamaged and tall and full of freaking men in armor.
She could try to use the rock… The trouble was, even if all this time travel was true—which, as ludicrous as it sounded, looked insanely real—she couldn’t go back to where she’d come from. On the other side of that rock were men and women in uniform ready to put her in shackles for something she hadn’t done.
What was the lesser evil?
No, she couldn’t go back. She had to take her chances. She wasn’t even sure all this was real.
A loud crash and the sound of many feet came from upstairs. The man grabbed a torch from the wall, took her by the hand, and tugged after him.
“We must hurry!” They went through another heavy door into the back room, where she’d first opened her eyes. The Highlander locked the door behind him.
He ran past the Pictish rock to the end of the cave-like room, towards a small pyramid of casks stacked on top of one another.
“Good man, Kenneth, for blocking the tunnel,” Owen said. “But ’tis our only way out now. Help me remove them.”
He threw the casks off, and Amber helped as steps pounded down the stairs. The last cask revealed a large, flat, round rock. The Highlander hooked his fingers under it and lifted. A dark opening with stairs appeared.
Amber swallowed.
“Go. The tunnel leads to the other side of the moat.”
Amber took the torch from his hand. Was she insane? How was this any safer than using that weird rock? Back in her normal life, she knew she’d end up in prison, possibly even get the death penalty.
Here…who knew?
She was still free and no one was accusing her of anything or calling her a murderer—except this guy who’d blamed her for distracting him. No surprises there. Men were great at pointing fingers at her for their problems.
She stepped down into the tunnel, and a cold, earthy air enveloped her. The English were now at the second door and beat rhythmically against it. Amber walked to the very bottom of the tunnel. It was so low, she had to double over to walk forward. Roots hung from the ceiling and the walls and the floor were a combination of rock and wet soil. Water dripped from somewhere. Breathing here was almost like drinking muddy water.
The Highlander descended after her, and she heard the soft thump of the lid close. The sounds from outside disappeared, and a strange silence reigned.
She didn’t want to think that a whole castle stood above her, several feet of rock and soil.
Foreword
Just like she’d learned in Afghanistan, look ahead and don’t overthink it.
They walked for what felt like an eternity. Her back ached, and her thighs burned. The guy behind her breathed heavily, that and their steps and the crackling of the torch were the only sounds in this tomb.
Finally, Amber saw steps before her.
“This is it?” she said.
“Aye. Must be.”
She nodded and carefully climbed the stairs. She gave him the torch and pushed the lid at the top of the tunnel open until it fell with a loud crash.
Thirty pairs of eyes glared at her. Men in armor stood on all sides, swords pointed at her head. The English.
“Back! Back!” she cried to the guy behind her.
Too late.
The closest man leaned down, grabbed her by the collar, and pulled her up. The guy burst out of the tunnel after her, waving his sword and the torch at the same time.
“Grab them!” said someone with an authoritative voice. “They escaped from the castle.”