Highland Lover. Hannah Howell

her very little about himself. In most ways, he was a complete stranger to her, and yet, she felt as if she had known him for years. Each time she felt that hard length pressed against her backside, she wanted to move against it and ached for it to be born of a desire for her, not for some chimera in his dreams or a need to relieve himself. It was utter madness. Worse, she could think of no way to cure herself of this insanity.

      It was past time for the man to devise a plan of escape, she decided, especially since she had not come up with one. Since he had spoken of it the first night she had joined him in the pit, he had never really spoken of it again. The few times she had ventured to mention it, he had said only one thing—patience, lass. Just how patient was she supposed to be? If he had a plan, he could share it with her, and if he did not, why did he not just admit it? She would be disappointed but would not fault him for not being able to find a way out of a very deep hole in the ground.

      “Best ye move to the bed, lass,” Gregor said. “Our meal is arriving.”

      Alana cautiously groped her way toward their rough bed. She doubted she would ever learn to move about in the dark as easily as Gregor did no matter how long she stayed here. Stumbling into the bedding, she quickly sat down and watched as the faint shaft of light appeared overhead.

      “Ready to tell us who ye are?” asked the Gowan man who was lowering down the clean privy bucket.

      “Nay,” replied Alana, proud of how she resisted the growing urge to scream out her full name, give precise directions to her people, and demand to be pulled out of the darkness.

      She frowned a little when Gregor’s response was little more than a grunt of agreement to her words as he exchanged the clean bucket for the soiled one. He stood as he had for the last three days, staring intensely at the rope as the Gowan man raised the privy bucket and then lowered down their food. And again as he exchanged the dirty water for clean water. It puzzled Alana, for he was far too intense in how he watched the whole tedious process. Although she could not see his face, she almost felt his concentration and could see it in the taut stillness of his lean form.

      Their guard left, taking that faint light with him, and Alana shivered with fear as she always did. She fought for calm, but still sighed with relief when Gregor sat down next to her. Each time that light disappeared, her fear of the dark reasserted itself. It embarrassed her that she required Gregor’s presence to harness it again. It seemed so cowardly, yet it was not a fear that could be reasoned with. She could only hope that Gregor was not aware of how deep and strong that fear was, although why that should be important to her Alana did not know.

      “I have a plan now, lass,” Gregor said as he divided the food between them, carefully placing her share in her lap.

      “And just when did ye devise this plan?” she asked calmly, even though her pulse quickened with hope. “Before or after ye assisted in changing the privy bucket?”

      “So sharp for one so wee,” he murmured, grinning. “I was watching the raising and lowering of the buckets.”

      “I noticed that. I cannae see much in that wee flicker of light, but it did seem that ye were most interested in that.”

      “I was studying it all verra closely. It took me a while to decide on the best way to judge it.”

      “Judge what?”

      “The distance up to that hole.”

      “Too far for either of us to reach it.”

      “Aye, but, mayhap, nay too far for the two of us.”

      Alana took a moment to think about that as she finished the bread she had just filled her mouth with. “What do ye mean by the two of us?”

      “How tall are ye, lass?”

      “Five feet.”

      “And I am six feet and a few inches.”

      “How proud ye must be,” she muttered and then sighed out her irritation, “but how does that matter?”

      “Your height added to mine might be enough to get ye up to that opening.”

      “To do what? Gnaw through the thick iron bars?”

      “The grate isnae locked or barred.” He could feel her grow tense even though she was not sitting up against him.

      “Are ye certain of that?”

      “Aye. Why should they bother? ’Tis too high to reach, or so they believe. And these walls cannae be climbed. I tried several times ere ye arrived and got naught for my effort save more bruises. I am a verra good climber, but e’en I need the odd niche or outcrop or so to grab hold of as I climb. The few there are are too far apart and not easily grabbed hold of.”

      “So how do ye plan to get us out of here?”

      “I think that if ye stand upon my shoulders, ye will be able to reach that grate.”

      Alana looked up, envisioning the grate in her mind since it was too dark to see it now. It was made of a very thick iron. Barred shut or not, it would be difficult for her to move it, especially since she would be standing on a man’s shoulders and not on firm, steady ground. She was also not that fond of heights but felt she could overcome that unease if offered the chance to escape. Alana was just not sure this plan gave them much chance.

      “’Tis a heavy thing to try to push up and out of the way,” she murmured.

      “I ken it, and ’twill be a struggle for such a wee lass, but there is no other choice. I cannae stand upon your shoulders.”

      “Quite true. ’Tis worth a try.”

      “’Twill probably take several tries because of the lack of light. ’Tisnae easy to do anything in this dark. We should give it a try after we sup.”

      “Why wait?”

      “If we succeed, ’tis best if we try to leave the keep come nightfall. After the last meal is delivered, we can also be certain no one will be coming down here for hours. If we fail, it will also give us time to hide all possible sign of what we were trying to do. After having come up with a plan, I dinnae want it to fail simply because the Gowans caught us at it and secured the hatchway better.”

      “Should we attempt to hoard a little food?”

      Gregor sighed. “We should, but I still worry o’er attracting the rats.”

      “I certainly dinnae want them for company, but I havenae heard much scratching about within the walls. Mayhap they have given up since ye have been here nearly a week and we havenae left anything out for them.”

      “True. It may also be that, since the Gowans have only recently begun to play this game, the vermin havenae discovered a way in here. We shall give it a try. Mayhap if we wrap it securely in cloth and keep it close they willnae sniff it out and come ahunting for it.”

      The mere thought of rats crawling about their prison made Alana shiver. She loathed the creatures. Unfortunately, she and Gregor did need to at least try to hoard a little food for their escape. If they got free of this place, they would have to move swiftly and stealthily, which would make hunting for any food very difficult. She had little doubt that the Gowans would set out after them. Although she did not believe the Gowans would follow her and Gregor too far, there would probably be several days during which she and Gregor would spend a lot of their time running and hiding. For that they would need food, if only to keep up the strength needed to run fast and hide well.

      “’Tis a shame we willnae be able to get the horses,” she murmured.

      “Aye,” agreed Gregor. “Howbeit, I think e’en these fools would notice if I tried to slip a horse or two past the gates.”

      Alana laughed softly and then frowned as a sudden complication in his plans occurred to her. “If I can get up there and open the hatch, how do we both get through it? Once open, I can pull myself up and out, but I cannae pull ye up after me.”

      “Ah, weel,