Page 18 of Highlander’s Escaped Prisoner (Highlands’ Partners in Crime #7)

N essa had not slept well. After her time with Bryce, she thought that they had become friends, and perhaps they would even become lovers one day, but his father’s visit had brought back doubts.

Somehow, he had worked his way into Bryce’s good graces again.

Should she ask Bryce? Would it come between them?

She got out of bed and looked out of the window.

It was another bleak day, with the rain coming down in great fat drops and bruise-colored clouds promising more to come.

Nessa wondered how she was going to get home in such atrocious weather since she did not wish to trespass on the Blairs’ hospitality any longer than was necessary.

She washed and dressed to go down to breakfast, but halfway downstairs, she heard a familiar voice.

Logan.

“I wish to speak to Bryce Blair,” he said in a loud, self-important tone.

A moment later, Bryce came striding down the corridor, looking utterly astonished and furious at seeing Logan. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“To see Nessa,” Logan replied. “I had word that she was here, and she is my betrothed, not yours.”

Bryce folded his arms and took a step closer to Logan, who backed away. “You do realize that you are in my home now, and you are not welcome.”

“The guards let me in,” Logan said sharply.

“The guards will be dealt with.” Bryce’s deep voice sounded like the voice of doom as he towered over Logan. “And somehow, I do not think that Nessa will be your betrothed for much longer.”

“What do you mean by that?” Logan asked suspiciously. “Have you laid your filthy hands on her? Is she still a maiden?”

“I have never laid hands on her,” Bryce growled. “We have not discussed her maidenhead, but if she is not, it is not my doing. She has a free will of her own.”

“If I find out that you have defiled her...” Logan began.

“You will do what, exactly?” Bryce asked, moving even closer to Logan so that their chests were almost touching. “Kill me? Wound me? Beat me senseless? You have tried all of those already, Logan Crosbie.”

Nessa could listen to no more. It should have been flattering to have two men fighting over her, but in reality, it was deeply distressing. She had to leave.

It was raining, and she had only a thin cloak and no weapons to defend herself with, but she still had Jo.

She knew it would be an unpleasant ride—perhaps the worst of her life—but she would get back to Drumblane and throw herself into her father’s arms, then beg his forgiveness for all the tears she had caused him.

She asked a maidservant for a back way down to the stables, and as soon as she got there, an anxious stable lad rushed up to her and cried: “Mistress! Ye cannae go out in this! Ye will be drenched!”

“I can, and I will,” Nessa said grimly. “Please get out of my way.”

The young man took one look at her face and backed away.

Nessa saddled Jo, and they surged out of the castle gates toward Drumblane. In less than a minute, she was soaked to the skin, but she did not care. Once she was drenched, she could not become any wetter, she reasoned, and she would be home soon.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Bryce thundered. “Nessa is not here!”

“Then you will not mind if I search the castle?” Logan asked angrily.

For a moment, there was silence, then Bryce threw back his head and laughed heartily for a full minute.

When he finally stopped, he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

“There are a hundred bedrooms in this building,” he pointed out, “as well as dining rooms, parlors, a huge kitchen, storerooms—would you like me to go on? Even if I let you do such a thing, it would take you days, and you would be shadowed by my best guards.”

Logan stared at the man he hated with his entire soul, wishing that he could grow a foot taller and beat Bryce Blair’s handsome face to a bloody pulp.

“Now please get out before I throw you out,” Bryce growled.

Logan, with one last venomous look at his hated opponent, turned and mounted his horse, then rode out toward Drumblane. The weather was foul, but he hardly noticed it.

Damn, where was Nessa?

Bryce bounded upstairs to Nessa’s room, full of the news about Logan and his ignominious departure, but when he knocked on her door, he received no answer.

“Nessa!” he called. “Nessa, let me in!” Puzzled, he knocked again, then once more, and at last, he turned the handle, surprised to find that the door was unlocked.

He walked inside, but there was no sign of her, although the sheets on the bed were rumpled, meaning that it had obviously been slept in.

He turned and went back downstairs, wondering if she had gone to the dining room for breakfast, but that too was empty.

A dreadful suspicion began to creep over him, and he rushed toward the stables. Jo’s stall was empty!

“Has anyone seen Mistress Guthrie?” he asked loudly. “Her horse is missing.”

“Aye, sir,” Geordie, the lad who had spoken to Nessa, replied.

He was only fifteen and looked terrified as he stood in front of Bryce.

“She left a wee while ago,” he answered timidly.

“She was in an awful hurry, an’ she was angry an’ a.

I told her no’ tae go because o’ the weather, but she wouldnae listen tae me. ”

“Did she say where she was going?” Bryce asked.

Geordie shook his head. “No, sir. She just left as if the hounds o’ hell were chasin’ her.”

“Before or after the man?” Bryce asked grimly.

“Before,” the boy answered. “She looked very angry, sir.”

Bryce thought for a moment. Could she have seen him arguing with Logan? It would not have been difficult; they had not exactly been quiet!

“Thank you, Geordie,” Bryce sighed.

He went to the kitchen, grabbed an armful of food, then bolted it down as he dressed. A few moments later, he was on the road to Drumblane, the second man to pursue Nessa Guthrie in as many hours.

The first person Nessa saw when she got to Castle Drumblane was her father.

Roy Guthrie’s eyes widened in amazement when he saw his daughter, and he opened his arms and pulled her into them as she scrambled from Jo’s back.

He said nothing for a moment since the relief of having his precious child back had rendered him speechless, but Nessa began to weep as she was held in the safety of the arms that had sheltered her since childhood.

“Where have you been?” Roy asked, shaking his head in wonder and disbelief. “Nessa, I thought you were dead!”

“No,” she answered. “No, I was never in any danger either, Father, and I never suffered any hurt. I have been safe and well for the last few days.”

“So where have you been?” he asked, putting her away a little and looking down into her face.

“With Bryce Blair,” she answered, “I—” but before she could go on, Roy let out a thunderous roar of rage.

“He abducted you?” the laird answered. “I knew it! I heard he had escaped from jail.”

“No, Father—let me explain!” Nessa protested. “He is not what you think he is! He is not a murderer—” she began, but she got no further. She had never seen her father so angry as he put his hand up for silence.

Whatever she was going to say next was never uttered as Logan’s big chestnut horse thundered into the courtyard. He leaped from the saddle and immediately went to Nessa and tried to pull her into his embrace, but she resisted and pushed him away as hard as she could. He stumbled backward.

“He has corrupted you!” he cried, pointing at her. “He has twisted your mind so that you believe his lies. He murdered Gerald Guthrie, and you refuse to see it!”

“Indeed, he is a killer!” Roy Guthrie agreed. “And as soon as I find him, he will spend at least a week in my dungeons before he is sent back behind bars where he belongs!” His face was crimson with fury.

Seeing that she could not argue against two powerful men, Nessa took Jo to the stable to settle him down after his ride. When she reemerged into the courtyard, she was just in time to see Bryce’s big gray horse skidding to a halt in the courtyard, sparks shooting from his iron shoes.

He had no sooner dismounted when Logan fell on him, knocking him back to land on the hard flagstones.

As soon as Bryce lay on his back, Logan dived on him, taking advantage of the fact that he was dazed and winded.

He landed a punch on Bryce’s jaw before he shook his head and came to his senses, then managed to grab Logan’s arm before he could strike again.

Such was Bryce’s strength that he scrambled to his feet while holding Logan’s arm in a grip so tight that he was roaring in pain. Bryce had just drawn his arm back to take a swipe at Logan’s cheek, but just then, four hefty guards moved in and dragged them away from each other.

“Enough!” the laird commanded. Such was the ferocity and hatred of the combatants that the two guards who were holding each man had a hard time keeping them apart. They stood snarling and cursing one another for a long while before Roy Guthrie stepped between them.

“You!” He pointed to Bryce, then jerked his thumb backward in the direction of the dungeons.

Bryce did not waste his energy in resistance as the guards hauled him away, and Logan looked after him with a dark, triumphant smile. “Best place for him,” he observed, laughing.

Nessa strode across the courtyard, bunched her hand into a fist, and struck Logan on the point of his jaw.

She knew that the blow had little force compared to that of a man, but it made her feel better to take out her aggression on the man she had begun to hate. She was never going to marry him now.

“Ow!” Logan was more surprised than hurt as he fingered his jawbone. “I did not deserve that!” he complained.

“No,” Nessa responded, dusting her hands off. “You deserved much worse.” She turned and stalked away, then sprinted up to her own room to wash and dress.

“Mistress!” Maudie’s face was transformed with joy as she saw Nessa. For a moment, she seemed rooted to the spot, then she opened her arms and welcomed Nessa into them. “I truly thought ye were deid!” she said, sobbing with relief.

“I am neither dead nor have I been harmed,” Nessa assured her. “But I have a wonderful story to tell you.”

Maudie looked concerned at her gloomy expression. “Ye dinnae look happy, mistress,” she observed.

“I am glad to be back, Maudie,” Nessa said, looking around at her familiar chamber but thinking of Bryce in the dungeon.

“Aye, well, there are two things ye need now!” Maudie said briskly. “A bath an’ yer dinner!” She eyed the filthy gray dress. “An’ that rag is goin’ in the fire!”