Craving the Highlander's Touch by Willingham Michelle Page B

quietly. Without waiting for his reply, she led him up the staircase and showed him the chamber where her husband’s weapons were stored. Finian stared at the array of shields and blades, wondering if there was any hope at all of saving the girl. She was hardly more than a baby, not even two years of age.
    Lady Harkirk turned to him, her face tight. “Will you atone for what you did? Or will you turn your back on those who are suffering?”
     
    Hours later, Alys Fitzroy, Lady of Harkirk, fled through the back of the fortress, shivering in the cold. It wasn’t just the frigid air; it was the immense fear spreading through her. An opportunity to to escape her husband had come, and she had to go now, while he was distracted with the invaders. Behind her, dozens of Scots poured into the fortress, battle cries tearing from their throats. The clang of iron swords reverberated amidst the choking sounds of death. Smoke thickened the air, and Alys prayed she could leave without being caught. There was no time for supplies or even a horse—she could only take the clothes she was wearing.
    You won’t succeed, her mind warned. Why even bother trying? All Robert had to do was command his men to search for her, and her escape would end.
    She retreated from the fortress, and when she reached the forest, she walked a few paces more. Over the past four years, her husband had taken countless prisoners. He’d tortured and murdered so many of the Scots. She’d hardly been able to save more than a handful—mostly children.
    Alys sat down upon a large stone. Her body ached with cold, while her heart was swollen with guilt. Finian MacLachor was going to die, no matter that she’d released him. She closed her eyes, knowing that she hadn’t done enough. Not for him. Not for any of her husband’s victims.
    When she’d seen him, whipped and half-freezing, the need to show mercy had overcome her. He’d appeared resigned to his death, as if he were trying to punish himself for his misdeeds. And behind his gray eyes, she’d seen the need for redemption.
    What she hadn’t expected was the stirring of interest within herself. Beneath the pain of loss and punishment, she saw a man who hated himself for his sins. Finian cared nothing for his own life, and wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself for those he loved.
    A tendril of remorse slid over her. She might as well have sent him to his death, telling him to make amends for what he’d done. After being exposed to the freezing weather, the man wouldn’t survive long.
    Alys buried her face in her hands, wondering what to do. You can’t leave now, came the voice of reason. If you abandon them, you are just as responsible for their deaths.
    A rustling noise caught her attention, and she spied Laren MacKinloch, mother of the young child Robert had taken captive. The fury on the woman’s face and her single-minded stride made Alys aware that Laren would venture straight into the battle, regardless of her own safety.
    “Don’t,” she warned. Laren turned back, and Alys tried to make her see reason. “I know you want to go inside the fortress. But the moment you do, my husband will use your life against your husband. He’d be glad to kill both of you.”
    “I won’t let anyone threaten my daughter,” she said. Terror and fury were etched in the woman’s face, and Alys understood her pain though she’d never borne a child of her own.
    Laren wasn’t thinking clearly. She was ready to storm the fortress, without even knowing what she would face.
    “You can’t help her if you’re already dead.” Alys took her by the hand. There was nothing she could say that would make the young woman retreat into the forest, not when her husband and child were in danger. Her mind turned over different ideas, and finally she realized that what Laren needed was to know what was occurring inside the gates. There was a way to let her in without endangering her.
    “If you want to see what’s happening,