Page 122 of Captured by a Laird
As she started to leave, her gaze fell on the pouch tied to Patrick belt. She needed his key to the dungeon in case the picklock did not work on it. She knelt beside the body. Gagging when the dead man’s blood got on her fingers, she removed the key from the pouch. She wiped her hand on her skirts, then stared down at the blood-smeared silk gown.
In these clothes, she would be easily recognized when she crossed the short span of the hall between the Tower stairs and the stairs to the undercroft. After closing the door on Patrick’s corpse, she raced up to the Tower Room, shed her sister’s fine gown and elaborate headdress, and changed into a gown and plain head covering of Flora’s.
She was taking too long!Any moment, Patrick’s body could be discovered.
When she reached the bottom of the Tower stairs, Alison held her breath and peeked into the hall. The room was bustling with activity, which should make a female servant passing through less noticeable. Ducking her head, she scurried across.
Just before she reached the stairs to the undercroft, someone stepped in front of her. She looked up into the face of a Blackadder warrior she recognized. He was one of the young men David had nearly executed and whose life she had begged him to spare.
She saw the surprise in his eyes as he recognized her too. They stared at each other for one heart-stopping moment.
“A favor returned,” he said beneath the noise of the hall. Then he turned and walked away.
Once she was out of sight down the steps to the undercroft, she leaned against the wall, her heart thundering in her chest. If the young warrior had given her away, she and David would both be dead soon.
They needed to escape quickly. As she hurried through the undercroft past the kitchens and storerooms, she prayed David had been able to remove his manacles with the picklock. She did not have a key to those.
When she reached the dungeon, she took the torch from the wall and peered through the gloom on the other side of the iron grate. David was collapsed on the floor against the back wall, and the chains were still on his wrists. Her heart sank as she realized he had been beaten again.
“David!” she called in a whisper as she shoved the key into the door’s lock.
Panic rose in her throat when he did not answer.
How would she ever get him up the stairs? Even if she could, a man that severely injured would surely be noticed when they passed through the hall.
Time was passing. The lock was stiff, and she could not turn the key.
“David,” she called again as she struggled to open it.
Again, he did not answer.Nay, they cannot have killed him. They cannot.
She tried to turn the key in one direction, then the other, again and again.
Her screams echoed off the walls as she was suddenly lifted off her feet and thrown against the iron grate. She fell to her hands and knees, and her ears rang from her head banging against the iron bars.
When her attacker hauled her to her feet, she saw it was Patrick, risen from the dead. He had murder in his eyes, and he slapped her with such force that she tasted blood in her mouth.
“David, help me!” she called as Patrick drew his arm back to hit her again.
The blow made stars dance across her vision. David remained ominously silent.
“You’ve killed him, haven’t you?” she wailed, and blindly pounded her fists against Patrick’s chest. “You’ve killed him! You’ve killed him!”
“He’s not dead,” Patrick said. “Wedderburn! Wake up. I want ye to watch this.”
Holding her with one hand by her hair, he picked up a bucket of water from behind them and flung the water into the cell. A groan came from the back of the cell.
David is still alive.
The iron bars cut into her back as Patrick again pressed her against the dungeon’s door.
“I’m going to fook your wife now,” Patrick called over her shoulder.
Alison bit and kicked at him as he tugged up her skirts. When she clawed his face, he slammed her against the iron bars, banging her head again.
He pressed his forearm against her windpipe, choking her, while he unfastened his breeks with his free hand.
“David! On the floor!” she managed to squeak out. “It’s on the floor!”
