Page 5 of Highlander’s Escaped Prisoner (Highlands’ Partners in Crime #7)

N essa stood over Bryce, looking down on the squirming figure on the ground whose face was once more screwed up in pain.

She had heard many stories from her father about the evil man who had killed her uncle but faced with the reality, she found that her hatred was tempered with compassion.

This man was not the monster she had expected.

He was tired, filthy, injured, and in no condition to hurt anyone.

Could she be wrong about him? Perhaps he really was as innocent as he claimed to be.

She dithered for a few more moments, then she hardened her heart.

“Do you think that telling me about how badly you were treated in prison will change my mind?” she asked scornfully.

“Of course you are guilty, and this show of wretchedness is nothing more than an act designed to elicit my sympathy and trick me into thinking that you are less dangerous than you are. You are a murderer, someone who has snuffed out the life of another person, and you deserve every ounce of pain that has been meted out to you—and more!”

Nessa had worked herself into a fury. She put one booted foot on Bryce’s stomach to stop him from standing up, then looked up into the sky again. It was beginning to rain in earnest, and she knew that they would have to find shelter before they were both thoroughly drenched.

“Get up!” she snapped, and reached down to help Bryce to his feet, keeping the dagger between them as she did so.

“We are going to a place of shelter, and if you make a sound on our way there, I will cut you...not deep enough to kill you, but deep enough to cause you a world of pain. Do you understand?”

Bryce sighed irritably, his dejection giving way to anger. “I am not an idiot, whatever else you might think of me,” he answered. “Of course I do.”

Nessa mounted Jo then gathered up the remainder of the rope she had used to bind his hands and tied it to the saddle, then urged the horse forward. She had no wish for any more delay, so she kept Jo at a pace which was within Bryce’s ability to keep up with her.

“It is not far,” she told him, “but please do not fall, or I will have to drag you.”

“I will not,” he promised.

A short while later, they arrived at their destination, a small farmhouse on the very edge of the forest that marked the boundary of the Guthrie land.

She had no idea whether it was occupied or not but decided not to take the chance of alerting the householders to their presence.

There was a tiny outbuilding fifty yards from it that housed farm implements and hay, and there Nessa dismounted and led Bryce inside.

“We will have to wait here until morning,” she told him. She pointed to a pile of hay in the corner. “Sleep there, and remember what I said.” Nessa took a step closer to him. “I am quite sure an injury, even a flesh wound, would sting like blazes.”

“I know it would,” he agreed, “and I have suffered much worse, but I have to talk to you before you rest.” Bryce’s voice was desperate.

“I suppose I will not be allowed any sleep ’til you have told your story,” she remarked wearily. “So say what you have to say, but forgive me if I fall asleep while you tell your tale.”

“It is not a tale, ” he replied angrily. “I am not making this up. It is the truth.”

Nessa threw herself onto another pile of hay and glared at him. It was too dark for either of them to see the other’s face, but Bryce could almost hear her scowling.

“Go on,” she prompted, yawning. She had told him that she was tired, but that was a falsehood.

The farthest thing from her mind was sleep.

In spite of her dagger and his tied hands, Bryce’s sheer size frightened her, and she knew that the darkness before dawn would be spent watching him closely in case he managed to untie his bonds and assault her.

Besides, her father had already told her the entire story from his own point of view, but now she wanted to hear it from Bryce’s side.

“As I have told you, I am not guilty of the crime,” he went on.

“But I cannot prove it, since I do not know who the real killer is. I can assure you that when I find him, I will either kill him or turn him over to you so that you can do as you please with him. Anyone who kills a defenseless man—especially in such a barbaric manner—does not deserve to live.” His voice was bitter, and he took a deep breath before he went on.

“I only came on the scene of the attack a few moments after the killer had ridden away, and it was when I was bending over him to see if I could help him that I was caught.”

“I know all that,” Nessa said impatiently. “But did you see the murderer?”

“I did not see him committing the crime,” he answered. “But I saw him riding away.”

“Can you describe him?” Despite herself, Nessa was becoming enthralled by his account.

“He was too far away by the time I got there,” he replied, frowning, “and the light was already fading. I could only see the color of his horse. It was chestnut, but chestnut is a fairly common color for horses. The rider was wearing a helm, so I could not see his hair.”

“What happened then?” she asked curiously.

“Four soldiers from the Guthrie clan came and surrounded me so that I could not run away, then a fifth rider came to see what had happened.

I later discovered it was Laird Guthrie.

The guards had obviously thought the injured man was dead since they made no effort to help him, but the laird knelt down beside him and discovered that he was still alive.

He ordered two of the riders to take a message to the castle to order a cart to take him back.

The other two tied me between their horses and dragged me back too, but I was thrown straight into the dungeon when we arrived.

I was interrogated as soon as I got back there by masked men who seemed to enjoy inflicting pain.

They wanted to know who my accomplices were and how I knew where Gerald Guthrie would be.

I could not tell them anything, of course, because I knew nothing, but in attempting to make me talk, they whipped me so hard that they almost flayed the skin from my back.

I can show you the scars.” He looked at her hopefully, perhaps expecting a little sympathy, but Nessa shook her head.

“I can hardly see my hand in front of me,” she answered in a tone of flat indifference. “I may look in the morning if I feel like it. What happened next?”

“When the men that interrogated me failed to get any information from me, the laird ordered that my food ration be halved, and God knows there was little enough of it to start with. I was weak with hunger, and I might have died of starvation had the laird not moved me to the town jail. They thought that I looked big enough and strong enough to work for them, so I have been breaking rocks for seven years, but at least I eat well.”

“Do not worry,” Nessa assured him. “You will be breaking rocks again soon enough when I take you back to prison. You have not persuaded me of your innocence. Why were you moved?”

“He said that the dead man was very well-loved by the inhabitants of the estate,” he replied. “And that he could not guarantee my safety.”

“More likely, he could not stand the sight of you,” Nessa remarked angrily, “because it hurt him too much to look at you.”

“What if I can prove that I am innocent?” he challenged her.

“You were caught leaning over the injured man!” Nessa answered. “I think that is quite bloody evidence.”

“No, I was led there,” Bryce protested. “I saw a guard dressed in the Guthrie livery riding on our land, so I followed him, hoping to chase him away. I think Guthrie’s body was already on the ground by the time I got there.

He had done the deed earlier. It was someone who knows me; I am certain of it. ”

Nessa thought for a moment. “If you are as innocent as you say you are, then surely your clan could have interceded for you?”

“My father tried again and again, but your clan would not believe him,” he said bitterly. “Nothing he could do or say would convince them, and the Guthrie family is convinced that I am a cold-blooded killer.”

“I see,” Nessa said thoughtfully. “I will have to think about what you have said, but first, you should know one thing. My name is Nessa Guthrie, and I am the daughter of Laird Roy Guthrie. The murdered man, Laird Gerald Guthrie, was my uncle. My father is the man who caught you and put you in his dungeon. If your story is true, he was responsible for the brutal treatment you received, but I can tell you with certainty that my father is not that kind of man. He hates cruelty in all forms.”

“I have never heard of you,” Bryce said, astonished.

“I was not even aware of your existence, but now that I am, I beg you to help me. Your clan lost the disputed lands during the last battle. If I help you to settle our feud, which you must admit is harming both our families, will you help me to find the real killer of your uncle?”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” Nessa demanded. “You have just invented a completely false story about my father torturing you. Why should I believe a word you say?”

“Because it is the truth!” Bryce cried, and for the first time, something about the desperation in his voice made a crack in her wall of certainty.

She still could not trust him since he had given her no hard evidence to back up his claims of innocence, but he had sown the seeds of doubt in her mind. She wanted to believe him.

Sensing his advantage, Bryce knelt down on the floor beside her. “If you help me, then I will help you.” His deep voice was gentle. “I will swear on my life.”

Nessa was completely confused. How did she know that he would do as he had promised?

Words were cheap and easily denied, especially when there were no witnesses.

However, if she helped him, and it transpired that he was innocent, and if he aided her in solving the border dispute, then her father and Logan would perhaps not treat her with such condescension.

They might have more regard for her ability to wield a weapon and defend herself and her family.

“Then go ahead,” she urged. “But whatever I agree to tonight, your hands will still be tied, and I will have my bow and arrow at the ready.”

“I swear on my life that I will do my best to help you to bring peace between our families,” he promised. “I can do nothing about the other conditions, so I will accept them.”

“I will make a vow too,” she said grimly. “If you break your oath, I will hunt you down and kill you, no matter how long it takes.”

Bryce could not see her in the darkness, but he was sure that Nessa’s eyes would look as hard as flint. He was beginning to realize that she was not a typical gentle maiden of the upper class but a woman of determination and purpose.

“Very well,” he replied politely. “Mistress, may I ask one more favor?”

“If you must,” Nessa sighed. “Only please let this be the last.”

“May I wash in the burn outside?” he asked.

“Now that is one favor I am happy to grant,” she answered promptly, laughing. “I have smelled more fragrant pigsties!”