Blane paced back and forth across the small cell, his head bowed to allow for the low ceiling. The sun was near to rising this day. That meant soon she would come.
Each day just before the sun rose, Catriona appeared outside the little window, various tidbits of food hidden in her cloak.
He appreciated the victuals she brought, but in all honesty it was the woman herself he’d grown anxious to see each day, more so than the food she brought.
Colin slept, curled up for warmth, his face to the wall.
Perhaps it was his warrior’s training, to grab his rest whenever and wherever he could. Blane wasn’t sure. He knew only that his young cousin had mastered the talent.
“Laird MacKiernan?” The hushed whisper floated through the open window.
Blane reached the opening in an instant, smiling as the angel standing outside dropped the cloak from her head and looked up at him.
“Did I no ask you to call me by my given name?” His hand itched to touch her skin, to feel the warmth of her cheeks as they turned pink in response to his question.
“Aye, that you did. Blane,” she added shyly as she lifted the little bundle she carried to him.
Their fingers touched in the exchange and he grasped her hand, not wanting to let go right away.
“Is something wrong?” she questioned, but made no attempt to remove her fingers from his grasp.
He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her question. Everything was wrong, starting with his being inside this filthy cave of a room, locked away from the most interesting woman he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.
And yet when he looked down into her gentle eyes, he could only return her smile and shake his head. “No, my lady. Nothing is wrong.”
“Is your cousin healing? I was so frightened for his health when I saw him last.”
“He is better now.” Amazingly enough. Once again, the recuperative powers of their Fae ancestry played into Colin’s recovery.
“Is there anything I can bring you on the morrow?” She asked the same question each day though they both knew she was limited in what she could slip to them.
“The key,” Colin muttered from his spot in the corner. “Tell her the damned key to this cell would be a nice enough gift to bring.”
Perhaps his young cousin had only mastered the art of appearing to sleep.
“I canna…. I’m so very sorry, Blane.” Catriona clutched her hand to her heart. “I canna bring the key. Food, perhaps a blanket I could manage. But no the means to yer escape. Austyn would never forgive me.”
And therein lay the problem.
Blane had already learned much about the lady. She’d been widowed at an early age and had spent the last twenty years living in her family’s castle under her brother’s authority. Though she seemed appalled by his actions, and fearful of the man himself, she also felt indebted to him.
She would never assist in their escape.
And he would never ask it of her.
He was about to tell her so when he heard the other voice outside.
“Lady Baxter? What are you doing out here?”
Blane drew back from the opening. If someone discovered Catriona communicating with the prisoners, there was no telling what might happen to her.
“I…I was simply out here to…” Her voice paused and Blane’s stomach rolled.
The woman was unable to lie, even to save herself.
“I’m afraid I must insist you accompany me back inside now, Lady Baxter.”
“You dinna understand, Sim. I couldna allow the laird and his cousin to starve. Please dinna tell Austyn.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand, Aunt. Now you’ll come with me, aye? I’ve no wish to haul you in over my shoulder, but I will if you defy me. It’s no safe for you to be out here.”
“You were much more agreeable as a child, Simeon.”
Blane pressed his back against the wall of his prison, rage and helplessness warring for control of his heart.
“Dinna fash yerself over this, Cousin. She’ll be well.” Colin sat in his corner staring over at him. “She is Wodeford’s sister, after all. He’d no bring her to any harm over a few crumbs of food.”
Blane nodded blindly. She’d best be well. Or any who brought her harm would have to answer to him.