She strained to hear but silence greeted her efforts.
Had she imagined the noise in the hope that someone had come to rescue her? She sighed and her shoulders sagged with the weight of her troubled thoughts. She had been taught to keep hope alive forever in her heart, but what hope was there of escape?
It would take days for Magnus to learn of her abduction and by then . . .
She shuddered at the thought of the torture she would suffer. But if she could survive, would Magnus arrive in time to free her? Her father had told her that Magnus was not only his best student but also a true friend who could be trusted. Through the years, he had always been there, watching over her, making certain she remained free of danger and Decimus’s discovery. Magnus was a good, caring man, though many thought him a warrior to be feared.
She turned her head sharply, certain this time she had heard a sound.
Footsteps?
She remained quiet in her thoughts, listening and hoping.
Seconds crawled by yet she remained vigilant. She could only detect a faint crackle from the torches lining the narrow hall to the dungeon’s entrance.
Then a distinct sound interrupted the heavy silence.
The cell door is opening.
Slowly the wooden door moved, and with each precious movement Mary prayed for deliverance from her confinement.
A faint light drifted in. The door continued to widen and bid her freedom. But she cautiously waited; her captors could be tormenting her and laying a trap. She kept her silence and watched, her heart thudding wildly in her chest as the door came to a half-open halt.
She heard the hint of a shuffle and moved deeper into the protective arms of the darkness.
Mary watched, her eyes straining as a dark figure filled the partially open doorway. The faint light framed his silhouette. There was a slight hunch to his form, yet preciseness in his movement. He was shrouded completely in black, a hood draped over his head concealed his face, black gloves covered his hands that lay pressed together against his stomach, and his black robe covered all but the tip of one black boot.
“Your father sent me,” he said in a harsh grating voice and held out his gloved hand.
Mary was too stunned to move. The message was from Magnus, the very words they had agreed upon if someone other than himself should come for her. The words guaranteed her safety.
“We have little time.”
She attempted to stand but stumbled, her body having yet to heal from the punches and kicks her captors had enjoyed inflicting on her.
The dark figure reached out to her and she recoiled, his shrouded appearance intimidating. She quickly regretted her reaction and eased forward to offer an apology.
“I—I—” Her hand grabbed at her throat, the intense pain rushing tears to pool in her eyes. She shook her head to let him know speech was not possible.
“They have injured you?”
She nodded.
“You cannot speak?”
She shook her head, and was prepared to escape.
This time he would not give her a chance to recoil for he swept her up into his arms. She tensed at being held with such familiarity in a stranger’s arms.
“You will be safe shortly.”
His harsh voice sent a shiver through her. She could only hope he spoke the truth for she had no choice but to trust him.
Chapter 2
After what seemed like an eternity moving through unlit, dank corridors, a risky flight up a stone staircase, and a chilling journey through a secret, narrow passageway, they finally made their escape. The dark night greeted the couple as they left Decimus’s stronghold. Mary breathed deeply of the fresh air in an attempt to rid her nostrils of the dungeon’s stench, then lowered her head near to the stranger’s chest as they entered the woods to keep her face from being hit by leaves and tree branches.
With darkness as their ally, they fled in silence, his footfalls barely detectable. He was a shadow among shadows blending with his surroundings. She wondered over their destination. Though her rescuer’s familiar words should have reassured her, she remained concerned for her safety.
She grew tired, her battered body not having time to fully recover. Her eyes began to drift closed, she forced them open. She had to remain alert and prepared to walk no matter how painful her legs.
“Sleep.”
His harsh whisper sent a shiver through her, causing him to hug her tightly. Could she expect to be carried much farther?—she was not a small woman, gentle in curves with fullness to her breasts and hips. And she was more than capable of taking care of herself.
“Sleep. We have a distance to travel and you need rest.”
His words were a faint rumble in his throat, but she clearly heard them. They blended with the steady rhythm of his heart, which had not faltered or sped up in fear. He was confident and comfortable in his task as though assured of success.
She thought to tell him to put her down so that she could walk on her own, but that would not be a wise decision. She needed to rest and grow strong so that, when the time came, she could keep pace with this shrouded stranger.
She did not recall her eyes closing. His whispers woke her and she saw that dawn had peaked on the horizon. They had come upon a dilapidated building long abandoned by people and animals but embraced by the woods surrounding it. Vines and brush had claimed the sorry structure, closing it off from the world as if in protection.
He bowed his head to clear the doorway and his warm breath fanned her face. She detected a hint of a familiar scent. What was it? Her weary mind needed rest; perhaps then she would be able to distinguish the scent.
“Can you stand for a moment?”
She nodded, wanting to test her aching legs.
He lowered her feet to the ground and tenderly braced her against the wall. “Give me a moment and I will have a pallet for you to rest upon.”
She wanted to tell him that this was not necessary, the hard earth floor would serve her well enough, but her painful throat would not allow her to speak. She reached out, her hand grabbing his arm as he turned away.
He turned back, her hand dropped. She almost cringed but stopped herself. His dark garb was ominous, not an ounce of flesh showed and she wondered what he was hiding.
“Your injured throat needs healing, you should not speak. I will have you to safety shortly and when you heal, we can talk.”
He walked away, gathering dried brush that lay scattered over the floor and piling it in a shadowed, secluded corner. He then left the structure.
A quick glance confirmed her suspicion that this place was no cottage; it lacked a fireplace for warmth, which meant it was a storage shed at one time. She wished to explore the small space if only to see if she was strong enough to walk, but her instincts warned her against it.
He returned with an armful of fresh brush and laid it on top of the dry brush. He then walked over and reached out to lift her in his arms.
She held her hand up and shook her head, instead placing her hand on his arm for support to let him know she wished to walk with his assistance.
He obliged her, though after taking two steps he slipped his arm around her waist for further support.
He lowered her gently, then joined her on the pallet and slowly moved closer.
She tensed.
“We will need each other’s warmth for the night will grow more chilled.”
He was right. Her meager tunic and shift were not sufficient garments against the cool spring air. She shifted her body nearer so that their sides would touch. That was all she could bring herself to do, for lying more intimately with a stranger would not be appropriate.