Page 78 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
“Me lady…Keir is right,” said Layla. “If word comes out, even with the entire castle protectin’ ye, this place will be dangerous.”
It was more than that, River thought, but she didn’t share that with Layla and Finlay. Danger was not the only thing making the castle uninhabitable for her. Archer’s behavior was something that was driving her away, too, and she didn’t want to be there for a second longer.
“Perhaps I should visit me brother,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I would take ye and the bairns with me of course, but I think it would be best for me to be there.”
Finlay snorted, the sound full of venom. “Aye run away,” he said. “First ye let that bastard in yer bed and now ye think ye can run away from all this until it fixes itself.”
It was as if River had been struck in the face. She had never expected these words from Finlay, let alone hear them spoken with such bitterness. Her cheeks burned at the implication, embarrassment flooding her body, and for a moment, she stammered, not knowing what to say.
What could she ever say to this? She had never expected him to say something so cruel.
“That isnae very nice,” said Layla, and it was the first time River had heard her speak so sternly, all gentleness and sweetness gone from her voice. She sounded older, almost, something motherly coming through her tone. “There’s naethin’ wrong with a woman sharin’ her bed with her husband. What is the matter with ye, accusin’ her in such a way?”
River was thankful for Layla defending her, as she didn’t think she could have done it on her own, not when the shock of Finlay speaking to her like this was still so fresh. But she didn’t blame him. He was clearly in a terrible mood, and whatever he was saying was just because of that. He didn’t truly mean it.
With a huff, Finlay pushed himself off the chair once more, For a moment, he stood there, motionless, staring at River as if he was looking at someone else, someone he hadn’t raised himself, someone he didn’t know. That stare chilled her to her core, and she froze, unable to say a single thing.
Then, he turned that hateful stare to Layla. “Daenae presume to speak to me like this. Ye’re naethin’ but a servant.”
Before either River or Layla could respond to him, Finlay was gone from the room, slamming the door behind him, and River was left to stare at the void he had left behind, a shadow clinging to the room.
27
River didn’t know what woke her, though she also didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. The room around her was dark, so dark that she could hardly see before her. Only a small candle flame remained in the room, bathing the space around it in golden light, and River blinked a few times to try and clear her vision.
The first thing she saw was a shadow.
It lurked there, in the corner, near the candle, and it took her a few moments to realize the flame was floating—because the shadow itself was holding the candle. She made to sit up on the bed, but she soon found out she couldn’t. Her wrists were restrained, each one tied to each post of the bed near the headboard, and instantly, panic rose up River’s chest.
She was confused, disoriented. The darkness in the room only heightened those sensations, and the nausea that seemed to accompany her in every single moment of her day now was returning with a vengeance. At first, she was frightened by theshadow, her heartbeat racing in her chest, but then she told herself it was nothing—only a dream or perhaps a late-night hallucination, one of those that came with waking up abruptly from a deep sleep. But then she soon realized she was wrong when the shadow moved, and didn’t fade away no matter how awake she was.
“Who are ye?” she cried, her voice catching in her throat. That panic returned, threatening to immobilise her more than her bonds ever could. That panic returned, threatening to immobilise her more than her bonds ever could. The skin around her wrists was already rubbed raw as she tried to move, to escape the rope. No matter how much she tried, though, the rope held fast, keeping her in place.
The shadow didn’t speak. It only moved around the room, and for a moment, River could have sworn whoever it was was looking straight at her, though she could hardly see. The stranger wore a hood pulled low over the face, and try as she did, she couldn’t see a single identifying feature.
But she knew it, deep in her heart, that this was the very same man who had been attacking Archer.
Who else could it be? Who else had a reason to tie her like this and threaten her? Surely, this attack was related. Anything else would be too much of a coincidence.
“Who are ye?” River asked again, her voice coming out in a shriek. And just as she trailed off, she heard the blood-curdlingsound of another shriek—this one belonging to a much younger voice.
Arya! Colby!
“What have ye done to them?” River demanded, now working furiously against the rope that held her. “Ye beast! What have ye done to them? They’re only bairns! They havenae done anythin’!”
The figure didn’t respond. It only stared at her for a moment longer before it approached the window and slowly brought the candle closer, setting the curtain and the tapestry next to it on fire. The flames caught immediately, the room lighting up, the fire reaching up to the ceiling before River could even realize what was happening. In her panic, she didn’t manage to get a good look at the figure, but she doubted it would have done her much good if she had. With that hood drawn over the attacker’s head, there was no hope of ever identifying him.
How did he even tie me down? How did I nae realize in me sleep?
She had never been that much of a heavy sleeper to not know there was someone in the room with her. But even if she had been,, she doubted that anyone could have tied her down without her knowing.
Then it hit her—the tea she had drank the previous night had quickly made her drowsy, and she had retired to her chambers to sleep. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she rememberedthe bitter taste of the concoction, the fact that she had found it odd.
Who had brought it to her? She couldn’t remember, not in that moment. It hadn’t been Layla, she was certain of that. It had to have been another maid, as Layla hadn’t left the room all evening.
She was lucky to have woken up at all before the man in the room had set it on fire.
She watched as the figure fled out of the door, the footsteps heavy and vaguely familiar to her. The moment the figure was gone, there was only one thing in River’s mind—getting out of that room and find the children. She could still hear their screams, and she knew they were coming from somewhere nearby. They were not in their chambers—the stone and the heavy wooden doors would have dampened the sound of their screams too much for her to hear them. No, they had to be closer, perhaps even in her own sitting room.
