“Yield,” he demanded, his fist raised in warning.
“Nay.”
Her voice didn’t come out as strong as before. It came out more of a breathy exhalation than anything, and her lips trembled. But she made herself heard.
In the great hall, the murmurs rose, and Duncan’s face swelled, his cheeks purpling until she thought he might well explode.
That shiny boot kicked out, connecting with her body. Her cry of pain was muted by the next blow. Over and over, he kicked, and then he yanked her up and drove his fist into her side.
“Laird, you’ll kill her!”
She was barely conscious. She had no idea who uttered the warning. She hung in his grasp, every breath causing her unbearable pain.
Duncan dropped her in disgust. “Lock her in her chambers. No one is to give her any food or water. Nor that brat of hers. We’ll see how soon it takes her to yield when he starts whining of hunger.”
Again, she was hauled upward with no regard to her injuries. Each step up the stairs was agony as she bounced against the hard stone. The door to her chamber opened, and Finn threw her inside.
She hit the floor, battling for consciousness with every breath.
“Mairin!”
Crispen huddled over her, his little hands gripping her painfully.
“Nay, don’t touch m” she whispered hoarsely. If he touched her, she was sure she’d faint.
“You must get to the bed,” he said desperately. “I’ll help you. Please, Mairin.”
He was near tears, and it was only the thought of how he’d survive in Duncan’s hands if she died that prevented her from closing her eyes and praying for peace.
She roused herself enough to crawl toward the bed, each movement sending a scream down her spine. Crispen bore as much of her weight as he could, and together they managed to haul her over the edge of the bed.
She melted into the straw mattress, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. Breathing hurt. Crispen settled next to her, his warm, sweet body seeking comfort she couldn’t offer.
Instead, his arms went around her, and he hugged her to his little body. “Please don’t die, Mairin,” he begged softly. “I’m scared.”
“Lady. My lady, wake up. You must wake up.”
The urgent whisper roused Mairin from unconsciousness, and as soon as she turned, seeking the annoyance that disturbed her, agony flashed through her body until she gasped for breath.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said anxiously. “I know you’re badly injured, but you must hurry.”
“Hurry?”
Mairin’s voice was slurred, and her brain was a mass of cobwebs. Beside her, Crispen stirred and gave a start of fright when he saw the shadow standing over the bed.
“Aye, hurry,” the impatient voice came again.
“Who are you?” Mairin managed to ask.
“We haven’t time to talk, Lady. The laird is in a drunken sleep. He’ll think you too badly hurt to escape. We have to go now if you are to make it. He plans to kill the child if you don’t yield.”
At the word escape, some of the cobwebs vanished. She tried to sit up but nearly cried out when pain knifed through her side.
“Here, let me help you. You too, lad,” the woman said to Crispen. “Help me with your lady.”
Crispen scrambled over the bed and slid off the edge.
“Why are you doing this?” Mairin asked when they both helped her sit up.
“What he did was a disgrace,” the woman murmured. “To beat a lass as he did you. He’s mad. You’ve been his obsession. I fear for your life no matter whether you yield or not. He’ll kill the boy.”
Mairin squeezed her hand with the little strength she had. “Thank you.”
“We must hurry. There is a bolt-hole in the next chaber. You’ll have to leave alone. I can’t risk taking you. At the end, Fergus waits for you with a horse. He’ll put you and the lad on it. It’ll pain you, aye, but you’ll have to endure. ’Tis your only way out.”
Mairin nodded her acceptance. Escape in agony or die in comfort. Didn’t seem like such a difficult decision.
The serving woman cracked open the door of the chamber, turned back to Mairin, and put a finger to her lips. She motioned to the left to let Mairin know the guard was there.
Crispen slid his hand into hers, and again she squeezed to comfort him. Inch by breathless inch, they crept by the sleeping guard in the darkness of the hall. Mairin held her breath the entire way, afraid if she let out so much as a puff, the guard would wake and alert the keep.
Finally they reached the next chamber. Dust flew and curled around her nose as they stepped within, and she had to squeeze her nostrils to keep from sneezing.
“Over here,” the woman whispered in the darkness.
Mairin followed the sound of her voice until she felt the chill emanating from the stone wall.
“God be with you,” the serving woman said as she ushered Mairin and Crispen into the small tunnel.
Mairin stopped only long enough to squeeze her hand in a quick thank-you, and then she urged Crispen into the narrow passageway.
Each step sent a fresh wave of agony through Mairin. She feared her ribs were broken, but there was naught that could be done about it now.
They hurried through the darkness, Mairin all but dragging Crispen behind her.
“Who goes there?”
Mairin halted at the man’s voice but remembered that the woman had said Fergus awaited them.
“Fergus?” she called softly. “ ’Tis I, Mairin Stuart.”
“Come, Lady,” he urged.
She rushed to the end and stepped onto the cold, damp ground, wincing when her bare feet made contact with rough pebbles. She gazed at their surroundings and saw that the bolt-hole exited the back of the keep where there was only a skirt between the keep and the hillside that jutted skyward.