Page 20 of Halloween Knight (A Knights Through Time Romance #17)

Unable to sit still, Lucy paced back and forth, stopping halfway across the room each time, craning her neck to peer out the small window to see what the guards were up to.

It sounded like they were gambling, their voices louder and louder as they shouted insults at each other.

The smell of wine filled the corridors, wafting into the room, making Lucy smirk.

Agnes was away, so the mercenaries figured they could slack off.

It seemed like she’d been waiting for days when Lucy heard the faint sound of metal on metal.

When it stopped, she went up on her tiptoes and peered out the small window in the door.

“Callan?”

She heard him curse, then the sound of ripping fabric.

“Keep an eye out for the guards, lass.”

The torchlight cast shadows on the stone walls, so she figured she’d see shadows if the men came down the corridor.

“Okay. ”

She saw him push what looked like a long strip of linen tied to make a circle. Oh, right, he was trying to grab hold of the handle to pull it up and slide it over.

The mercenaries were getting louder, which was good since Callan was swearing up a storm.

After what she guessed was about an hour, Lucy heard a muffled, “ Pòg mo thòin, ye wee bastard.”

“What did you say?”

He made a Scottish noise in the back of his throat. “I was tellin’ the door to kiss my arse.”

A small laugh escaped before Lucy could hold it in. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

“Dinna fash, lass. I’ll have us free in no time.”

But he didn’t. The fabric wasn’t strong enough to lift the heavy bar.

“Hello? Hello? Anybody there?” She called out.

The sounds of laughter died down as one of the men spoke to the others. Over the years, she’d picked up enough Norman French to understand the basics, so she knew they were not pleased to have to deal with her. The scraping of a wooden stool across the stone floor made her grin.

“Lass, give me time.”

Lucy shook her head, tired of her own stench. “Just let me try,” she whispered as the guard with the missing pinky finger stumbled down the corridor.

The man glared at her. “What?”

“You took the chamber pot.” She made a show of hopping from one foot to the other. “I need to go.”

The man belched, showing off one missing tooth. “Wait until morning.” He turned to leave when Lucy stomped her foot.

“Fine.”

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“But one of you will catch hell when Agnes comes back.”

She scowled.

“I bet she’ll make you clean it up.”

With what she thought of as her super sweet fake grin, Lucy added even as her face flamed, “I’ll make sure to leave you several piles of poo, maybe I’ll even write my name on the wall with it, so be careful where you step.”

Quite a few rude curses ensued, along with low laughter from the thief, Callan.

The sound of the metal bar sliding made Lucy flex her knees.

The guard opened the door, glaring at her. “I do not clean, ’tis women’s work.” The disgust in his voice had her holding in laughter. “Go outside and make it fast.”

She stepped out of the cell, looking to the room across from hers where the highlander was peering out. With a quick motion, Lucy made a hold signal, hoping he understand she had a rough plan.

As the guard followed her, he muttered under his breath about vexing wenches.

If he hadn’t been so drunk, there was no way he would have let her out.

But as young Albin had started saying, ‘the fates favor the bold’.

Lucy should probably regret all the sayings she’d introduced, but she figured it wouldn’t change history, so did it really matter?

As they passed the other three men, one looked up blearily while the other two were asleep, one leaning back, his face red and splotchy, head against the wall, the other rested his head on his arms on the table, snoring softly. Her jailer slurped down another cup of wine, then motioned her forward.

When he opened the door, Lucy shivered. The man took a step back .

“Go, see to your needs. But right where I can see you.” He glared at her. “If you run, I will give you to the men until my mistress returns.”

“I’ll be quick.” She made a show of looking for a spot to go to the restroom when, in reality, she was looking for anything to use as a weapon. When she lifted her skirts to her knees, she looked over her shoulder at him. He was leaning against the wall inside, the door partway open.

Lucy threw her hands up. “Turn around. I am Lady Blackford and you will respect me.”

The man rolled his eyes but turned around, then feeling the breeze, he took a few steps further away from the open door and the wind.

Quietly humming the respect song under her breath, Lucy bent over, and in one smooth motion, picked up a rock and hid it in the folds of her skirts.

Once she was in the doorway out of the wind, Lucy stayed in the shadows as she called out.

“Oh no, my dress is caught on something. Please, big strong mercenary, I need your help.”

More muttered cursing ensued as the man swayed back and forth, one hand on the wall to keep his balance.

“Where?”

She gave a little wiggle, slightly raising her dress. “Here by my foot.”

When he bent over to look, she raised the rock up high and brought it down hard on his head. He went down without a sound, keys skidding across the floor, the thud of his body hitting the stone seeming to echo down the corridor.

Breath held, Lucy waited precious minutes, and when no one came to see what made the noise, she snatched up the keys, hid them in her pocket, and hurried down the corridor .

The men were fast asleep. The snores of the man with his head back against the wall were loud as she paused, seeing the spots. He had the pox. Good.

Her dagger was on the table under one of the men’s arms. William had given her that dagger. No way was this horrible man keeping it.

Lucy took a breath, held it and carefully pushed the dagger out from under the man’s arm, catching it by the hilt as it fell off the table before it hit his leg.

Not knowing how much time she had before they woke, she ran down the corridor.

Callan was ready. “Hurry, lass.”

The first key didn’t fit, but thankfully the second did. The click in the lock was loud, the bar screeching across metal as she pulled it back.

“Gracious, you’re tall.” Lucy stood back as the Scot stepped out, looking down the empty corridor.

He looked like a wild man from the stories the boy’s nanny liked to tell about highlanders come to plunder with his dark hair, matted like hers, heavy beard, and piercing green eyes that for one heart-stopping moment brought William’s face to mind.

He arched a brow at her. “Did ye kill him, then?”

“What? No.” She left the key in the lock. “I hit him over the head with a rock. The others are passed out drunk. Come on.”

He put a hand out. “Will ye let me go first? If they wake, let them see me.”

Lucy shrugged. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

“I know not, this ‘whatever’.” Callan moved like the shadows down the corridor while she simply tried not to make too much noise. And, of course, Lucy tripped over a bone and stubbed her toe.

“Bloody hell, that hurt. ”

He made a sound between a cough and a laugh as she narrowed her eyes at Callan’s back.

He held up a hand, but it was so dark that Lucy couldn’t see and ran into his back, but at least she managed to keep quiet this time.

The guards were still asleep. The cup of wine she’d knocked over when she reached for the dagger, was dripping onto the stone floor. Callan took the weapons he could reach without waking them, but didn’t risk the rest.

When they rounded the corner, the guard she’d hit on the head was up, leaning against the wall, eyes closed, singing about wenches and gold.

The man never saw the blow coming. Callan knocked him on the head with a dagger that he’d pulled from the man’s belt, her other dagger, to be precise.

“Hey, that’s mine.”

He handed it to her as he quickly took the rest of the weapons from the man, handing her another dagger, which she promptly put in the special pocket in her cloak.

As long as she lived, Lucy swore she’d always be armed to the teeth. Now she understood why William and the men were armed at all times, even inside the walls of Blackford.

Together, Lucy and Callan crept from the storehouse into the black of night, but it seemed no one was on patrol.

While the cat’s away, the mice will play. She smiled to herself, inhaling lungfuls of cold air.

In the distance, she spotted the small stable at the same time Callan motioned her in that direction.

They stealthily approached the stable, where Lucy could hear the horses shuffling in their stalls.

Callan leaned close, the smell of unwashed male making her eyes water as he whispered, “Stay in the shadows and wait for my signal.”

Instead of answering, Lucy patted his arm. He melted into the darkness. And try as she might, Lucy couldn’t hear a single sound. The man would have made a great spy.

Lucy pressed herself into the darkness behind a wagon and, as the clouds shifted, the moon illuminated the ground. Heart pounding, she watched as Callan picked up a rock and hurled it onto the stable roof. It landed with a resounding thump, startling the horses inside.

Moments later, two young stable boys came running out, fearfully looking around. “What was that?” One of the boys asked nervously. “Was it a demon?”

“Don’t be daft. Probably just a tree branch,” said the other. “Come on, let’s have a look.”

The boys walked around the corner of the stable, scanning the dark trees overhead. As soon as they were out of sight, Callan waved urgently to Lucy.

She sprinted to the stable door, the scent of her own unwashed body making her wrinkle her nose.

There were four horses inside, happily munching hay in their stalls.

Within minutes, they had two of the horses saddled and ready.

“Let’s away, lass,” Callan said, helping Lucy up on her horse and then swinging up onto his mount. Heart pounding, they galloped off into the night as the boys called out, “stop! horse thieves!”

But it was no use. The guards were all drunk and passed out. The caw of a raven made Lucy look up, but she didn’t see the enormous bird.

“Thank you,” she whispered as they rode into the night.

By the time they stopped by a stream to let the horses drink and rest, it was almost dawn.

Icy cold flooded through her body as Lucy drank, then ripped a strip off the bottom of her chemise which she used to wash her face and the other bits she could reach without giving Callan a show.

She glanced over at him, not totally sure why she’d brought him with her, only that he’d been willing to help her escape.

“We have to keep moving. Once the guards wake and find us gone, they’ll come after us.”

A snort escaped. “The lads will wake them, but they will be slow, their wits addled from too much wine.” The moon lit his face as a savage grin spread across it. “Remind me never to turn my back on ye, lass.”

It wasn’t until the next day when Lucy heard the sound she’d been dreading, hoofbeats approaching from behind.

Lucy’s heart dropped. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder and saw five of Agnes’ men pounding after them, no doubt looking for retribution for their escape.

“They’ve been riding all night.” Callan nodded to her.

“Their horses are tired. We can outrun them.” The forest flew past in a blur as they fled their pursuers.

After several miles, the sound of the men faded into the wind as Lucy and Callan slowed the horses. Now she knew why she’d brought him with her, because it wasn’t safe for a woman to travel alone.

“Do you think we lost them?” Lucy panted, sweat dripping down her neck.

Callan nodded, scanning the empty road behind them. “Aye, we?— ”

He broke off as an arrow whizzed past his head, embedding itself into a tree to Callan’s right.

Three of the men were riding hard, closing the distance.

Apparently they hadn’t lost them all.

“Go, go.” Callan yelled.

Lucy clung to her horse’s mane as they rode through the forest, ducking low-hanging branches and jumping over brush.

The forest went quiet as the men crashed through the underbrush after them.

Up ahead, Lucy spotted a clearing, but as she raised a hand to point, the horse stumbled on the uneven ground.

As she struggled to keep her seat, her stomach clenched at the sight of a fallen tree blocking the path ahead.

Jumping was not something she was very good at, it made her nervous, which in turn made her horse nervous.

“Dinna stop, lass. We must jump,” Callan bellowed, as his horse cleared the tree.

The horse’s muscles rippled under her as Lucy closed her eyes and hoped the horse knew what it was doing. When she felt them leave the ground, she swallowed but didn’t open her eyes until the horse’s hooves hit solid ground.

There was a creak and when she risked a glance over her shoulder, it was in time to see a leaning tree fall the rest of the way over, fully blocking the path.

“Yes!” Lucy shook her fist in the air as the mercenaries halted.

“The fates are smiling upon us.” Callan laughed, his eyes bright with the excitement of the chase, while the best Lucy could manage was a shaky smile.