“I’ll no’ stop trying to escape.”
“Then I’ll no’ leave ye alone.”
Actually he liked the notion. He perked at the thought. No more worrying about what she was up to or fearing Margot would get to her. Aye, while he waited for a response from Dougall, he’d be Alana’s shadow.
***
Tremors still ran through her body as Alana concentrated on drawing in breaths. Sweet Mary, she’d been close, too close, to death. Ach, if only she’d been more careful and checked how long the sheets were. In desperation, she’d started to descend, unable to see the bottom in the dark. And then she’d become stuck. Without enough strength to climb she had just hung there. Then Morgann had scaled the walls.
But he was well. Her desperate attempt at escape had nearly got them both killed but thank the Lord neither of them had fallen. Unfortunately Morgann now looked ready to throw her back out the window. Brow furrowed, muscles flexing, nostrils flaring. Alana suspected she was in grave trouble. Mayhap she should fling herself out the window.
Should she fight him? If he remained by her side during her captivity then she would never find another chance to escape and she had little time. Before long, her father would be at the castle walls, threatening war and calling Morgann out.
She skimmed her gaze over the muscles that pulled his linen shirt taut. If her father went up against Morgann death was surely inevitable. And if by some chance of fate her da was victorious, Morgann would be harmed. As much as she didn’t wish to be his prisoner, she certainly did not want him dead.
Settling on a softer approach, Alana inched forward and laid a hand tentatively on his forearm. He flinched, the darkness in his eyes increasing.
“Ye dinnae need to do this, Morgann. Release me and we can forget this ever happened.”
Morgann snorted. “Ye’d forget me so easily?”
“What is yer meaning? I’ve never forgotten ye.”
“Ye forgot me well enough eight summers ago.”
Anger surged up inside her at his petulant tone. Forget him? Never. She’d spent many months worrying for him, wishing things were different. Wishing she had shown some strength and stopped her father.
“I never forgot ye! Never, ye hear me, Morgann MacRae.”
Not even when her da accused him of theft and had him dragged away to be branded as a thief. A shudder ran through her as she recalled watching her clansmen haul him to the blacksmiths.
Morgann stared at her, shoulders dropping and Alana saw the fury slowly leave him.
She chewed on her lip, gaze burning into his as she forced herself to speak softly. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I wish… I wish I could have stopped him. Or come after ye.” To her dismay her lip wobbled as she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I wish I’d had more courage.”
There. She’d said it. For too long, she had longed to see him and apologise. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d begged harder or defended Morgann more vehemently mayhap her father would have let him be.
Morgann stepped forward and tapped a finger to her chin, coaxing her to look at him. “Ye couldnae done a thing, lass. I’d no’ have wanted ye to come to harm and my father would surely have used ye as some form of revenge for me.”
“Like yer using me now then?” Her lips tilted.
“I dinnae use ye for revenge, m'eudail. ‘Tis justice I seek.” Finger still resting under her chin, he stroked it leisurely down the arch of her neck, sweeping briefly over the pulse point there. “I couldnae use ye. Ye have such courage as I have ever seen.”
Her mouth grew dry as his fingertip grazed her skin. The sound of her breaths amplified in her ears as she attempted to keep her voice light. “Ach, ye flatter me, Morgann. But I do regret all that befell ye that day and everything since.”
“Everything?”
“Aye, everything. I cannae be glad I am with ye again under such circumstances. Not when ye invite war with yer actions. I’ve no wish to see ye or my da killed.”
“So ye do care for my welfare?” He moved up to trace the line of her jaw.
“Of course I care for ye. Yer my friend. I always cared for ye. I didnae speak to Da for four sennights after what he did to ye!” She grinned at the memory.
Morgann’s lips turned reluctantly upwards. “See? Ye have great courage, lass. Yer da is a fearsome man.”
Her smile flickered as her heart twinged. “Was. Was a fearsome man,” she corrected. “He is aged. Morgann, if ye go up against him, he will surely die.”
Morgann dropped his hand from her face and she immediately felt the loss. The desire to snatch and bury her cheek against it was almost overwhelming. How was it a man who used to be no more than a close friend and was now her imprisoner had her so captivated?