“Keep quiet,” Toran ordered.
“I’ll not.”
Toran pushed his cousin against the wall beneath a torch so Archie could see his eyes. Manhandling his cousin appeared to be the only way to get his attention. He gripped the front of Archie’s shirt and leaned in close to whisper. “I’m getting ye out of here. A task that will cost us both our lives if ye dinna shut your mouth and listen.”
Archie’s one working eye widened, and then he nodded in understanding.
Toran dragged him up a set of dark stairs, pausing to listen every half dozen or so, and then hurrying his cousin as much as possible considering the shackles. At the top of the stairs, he tossed his cousin over his shoulder—not an easy feat since Archie was nearly as tall and easily just as full of muscle. He whispered prayers up to a God he wasn’t certain would listen, given his many sins.
But at last he found the door he was looking for, one that led to nowhere.
“This will hurt,” Toran cautioned. “We’re at least fifteen feet in the air, and once we land, they’ll be able to smell us for miles.”
“What?” Archie didn’t sound convinced by his plan.
“There’s no time. ’Tis the only way. Are ye ready?”
“Aye.”
Toran didn’t hesitate but leapt, arms around his cousin, into the rubbish pile below. They landed with a thud and a disturbing squish.
Archie groaned. Toran ignored the jolt of pain in his back from the landing. “Come on, we’ve not much time before Boyd tries to find out where we’ve gone. He’ll send out every man with a pistol he’s got to shoot us on sight.”
Archie rose to his knees, gagging at the scent.
“There’s no time to retch. We’ve got to run.” His hands under his cousin’s arms, Toran hauled him to standing, thanking the heavens the men had not been shackled at the ankles.
“Have ye a key for these?” Archie asked, holding out his hands.
“Nay, and I’ve had to leave my horse behind. Damned fine horse, too.” Thankfully anything incriminating he always kept on his person, sewn into the lining of his waistcoat—close to his heart, rather than with his mount.
“Thank ye, Cousin.”
“Thank me later. Now run.”
Grabbing hold of Archie’s elbow, he dragged him out of the muck. They ran without looking back, keeping to the woods and hiding behind boulders to catch their breath. Toran had learned over his years of espionage that looking back only got a man killed. They ran for a mile or two following a familiar path, one Toran often took from the garrison to Fraser lands. Any other night he would have been glad for the fullness of the moon to light the way. But tonight he knew it gave them away, two hunched figures running for their lives.
Archie stumbled over pebbles, roots, his own feet, often falling to his knees, and Toran continued to lift him up.
“I canna, Cousin. Go on without me.” Archie sank to the ground, defeated.
“I didna save ye from the English only to let ye die on the road.” Toran scanned the moors, waiting for the shadows of their pursuers to make themselves known. “We’ve got to get this muck off us. Boyd’s dogs will be following the scent.”
Archie lifted his head. “Ye’re no’ going to leave me?”
“Of course no’. Where’s your Fraser ballocks? Come on.”
Archie mustered the strength to stand, but they weren’t going to be moving very fast. Thankfully, the sound of rushing water filtered from ahead. “Hurry, we’re close to the river.”
Less than five minutes later, they were at the river’s edge. The glossy black depths reflected the moon and a sprinkle of stars. Holding onto Archie’s arm, Toran pulled him into the chilly water.
“Ye didna drag me all this way just to see me drown, did ye?” Archie asked.
Toran chuckled, feeling the weight of his kilt increase as water soaked into the wool. The river bottom sucked at his boots, but he waded in until they were waist deep. That was where the river bottom went out beneath them, and he had to swim the rest of the way across with his cousin in his grasp. “I’d not have risked my own arse only to drown ye in a river.”
Once on the other side, Toran wrung out their kilts and shirts, dumped the water from their boots, and used the sharp tip of his sgian dubh to fiddle with the locks on the shackles, but the small dagger wasn’t narrow enough to fit.
He pulled the pin from his neckerchief and despite the dark was able to use it to free his cousin from the chains, which he tossed into the water.
Archie’s teeth chattered. “I dinna know how much further I can go.”
“Only a little more,” Toran said.
He had no idea where to take his cousin, but he did know staying this close to Boyd was a death sentence.
Dressed again, they continued on their way. Though it was summer, the night air was cool, chilling their sodden clothes and shoes. Another thirty minutes or so passed while Archie’s gait continued to slow. Toran led his cousin to a good hiding spot behind a thick boulder that shielded them from view.
“We’ll rest here a mo—” But he cut himself off at the sound of a stick breaking.
Toran jerked around. Suddenly, figures melted out from the shadows. Scots, but in the dark and dressed as they were, he couldn’t make out what clan they hailed from. At the center of the five men stood a lass. Aye, she wore trews and had her hair up under a cap, wisps of golden strands peeking through, but there was no hiding the curves beneath her shirt and waistcoat. In the moonlight filtering through the trees, she looked bonnie—high, arching cheekbones, a mouth that puckered into a frown. But what struck him most was the spark of fire in her gaze. Her eyes reflected the light of the moon, almost making her look like she was glowing.
And the muzzle of her pistol was pointed right at him. Outlaws… Of all the bloody luck. He reached for his own pistol tucked into his belt.
“Dinna move,” the lass said. Her voice was throaty, sensual. “Else I put a bullet through your heart.”
A slow grin formed on Toran’s face. “What’s to say I won’t put a bullet in yours first?”
The lass looked down at Archie and then flicked her gaze back to his. “Ye’re outnumbered. Let’s say ye were willing to pull your weapon before I took my shot, and then ye were to waste your bullet, there’d be five more cutting through ye before ye were able to see the result.” Again, she looked at Archie. “And your friend doesna seem like he will be much help.”
“We’re verra close to the English garrison, lass. Any shot ye make will be a beacon to the dragoons lurking about. And trust me, there are hundreds of them headed this way as we speak.”