And when her orgasm crashed over her, it was like being made whole.
The two of them lay for a long time, tangled in the thoroughly rumpled bedding, breathing hard as they regained composure. His long limbs were wrapped around hers, the slight sheen of sweat glowing beautiful in the firelight, and he pressed a sleepy kiss to her cheek, his eyes half-lidded as the exhaustion and satisfaction of their lovemaking swept over them both. Scarlet felt like she was half-asleep, too, and as they settled into the bed together, she waited for sleep to claim her.
But it didn't. Before long, Kieran's chest was rising and falling rhythmically, and the slight fluttering of his eyelids revealed that he was fast asleep. And while the afterglow of the orgasm still held her in a dazed, sleepy thrall, Scarlet realized she was wide awake, with a focus and a clarity in her mind that she rarely experienced. And into that alert space began to creep the old habitual worries, sharpened by the quiet and the solitude into new, vicious edges.
First, pregnancy. Absolutely no regard had been given, she realized belatedly, to the question of contraception. She barely knew what kind of contraception was even available in these times — herbs, presumably? Pulling out? Just hoping like hell that you didn't get unlucky? Her mind racing suddenly, she thought back, trying to work out how long she'd been here, and how long it had been since she'd gotten her regular hormone injection that kept her infertile. Even her doctor had advised her that the injection wasn't failsafe, and it was best to use a barrier method in conjunction with the shots just in case — an icy, worried hand clenched around her heart, dispelling a great deal of the sleepy satisfaction of their lovemaking. How could she have been so stupid? How had he lulled her into such a sense of security, of safety, that it didn't even occur to her what an utter catastrophe falling pregnant in the medieval era could be?
And in that moment, she knew, clear as a bell, that she had to get the hell out of here as fast as possible.
Chapter 26
With that new clarity, the next few steps were obvious. She lay still a little while longer, suddenly patient as a cat stalking its prey, ensuring that Kieran was as fast asleep as it was possible to be. Then, inch by inch, she extracted her body from his embrace. Her heart was pounding, but it was an exhilarating feeling, now — like breaking into a well-guarded building. Or, in this case, breaking out. She extracted herself without waking him, then set about slipping on the layers of clothing that had been scattered willy-nilly around the room, her teeth gritted with the effort of remaining absolutely silent.
Fully dressed, she let herself give him one last lingering look where he lay, the sheet only half-covering his powerful, muscular chest… and then she hardened her heart and turned to the door. That was more than enough time spent distracted from what really mattered. She needed to get out of there. She needed to stop letting men tell her what to do for once in her life.
As she hastened down the quiet hallways, she let a little frustration with herself slip through. Yet again — despite all her bad experiences — she'd let some handsome stranger get behind her guard and tangle up her priorities. Yes, he was gorgeous. Yes, he was sweet, and kind, and much better in bed than anyone she'd been with before, hands down. Yes, part of her was very, very fond of him indeed, fond enough to give up on her own priorities for a little while… but that was the problem, wasn't it? He'd muddied her mind, stopped her from focusing for a few weeks there. She couldn't be having that. She had to figure out what she was doing here, how she'd gotten here and how to get back. She needed her life back.
It was time to stop playing other people's games and start playing her own.
Step one — get to her ill-gotten gains. She headed to her room and closed the door with barely a click. Then she dug her stolen rucksack out of the cupboard and packed her scant few belongings into it — the clothes she'd been wearing when she arrived, the bits and pieces she'd stolen from Weatherby's manor, and her thick dark cloak, along with the bag of coins Audrina had given her.
It was late, and the castle was all but abandoned — still, she moved cautiously as she stole through the deserted corridors. If anyone challenged her, she might have to make a run for it… there weren't many excuses for carrying a rucksack out of the castle, were there? She wasn't a prisoner — not technically, anyway — but still, she didn't fancy any altercations. Thankfully, she made it to the castle's front door without encountering anyone, and she slipped out into the dark, feeling it embrace her like a welcome shroud.
Now. Getting out of the gates. On her way, she'd considered how useful it would be to take a horse with her… but the only way of getting a horse out of the keep was to ride it through the gates, and they were never unguarded. If she wanted a head start, she needed for nobody to know she was missing, at least for a little while. So she turned away from the stables, shaking her head ruefully. It was going to be a long walk to Weatherby Manor. But she'd done it before, and she could do it again. She had food — dried meat, some hard cheeses she'd idly stockpiled in her room with the notion that she might fancy a midnight snack one of these days… or had she? Had some part of her been preparing for this inevitable flight from the castle, the day she'd finally snap and refuse to be kept any longer as a polite little captive?
She turned on her heel and slipped around the wall of the castle, mindful of where the shadows lay, of the eyelines of the guards up on the wall. There was a blind spot directly below the walls… and she knew for a fact that there were a few passages that led through the great walls and out into the surrounding countryside. She found one now, grinning to herself at how well-hidden it was. Escape routes, she assumed — sneaky ways in and out of the castle, probably useful during sieges and the like. She'd wanted to ask Kieran or one of the other women about them when she'd found them on her wanderings… but something had stopped her. Something had told her it would be best if people didn't know that she knew a few ways out of the castle.
God, how long had she been planning this escape in her subconscious? Ever since she came here, she thought, feeling an exhilarated grin spreading across her face. They should have known better than to think they could tame her. And with that, she slipped through the castle wall and into the darkness beyond.
The exhilaration of her escape fueled her for hours. She trekked across the grass until she rejoined the road that led from the castle to the village, glancing warily over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed by some curious guard — but the castle was just a few points of light in the distance, and even if the guards could see her from the walls, they'd have no way of knowing who she was. Just a traveler, she told herself firmly, pulling the hood of the cloak up to cover her face. Just an anonymous traveler on the road… heading for Lord Weatherby's manor. The fork in the road looked different in the dark, but she remembered well enough which direction she needed to head in, and she set off down the road, fighting a bizarre urge to whoop for joy.
It felt so good to be by herself, going where she knew she needed to go. The night wore on and on as she walked, much faster than she had the first time, long strides settling into a comfortable rhythm in the darkness. There wasn't a soul on the road — the closest thing she got to encountering another human being was passing a few farmhouses with lights or lanterns on in the windows, but she hastened past, mindful of being spotted or stopped.
Dawn broke when she was still on the road, and she paused for just a moment to enjoy the sight of the morning sun over the moors. She'd never been much of an outdoorsy type, or an appreciator of nature… but God, she had to admit, standing here… it was exquisite. The fresh air in her lungs, the warm glow of her muscles working hard to carry her along the road, the endorphins surging through her, the joy of finally being free of that stultifying, oppressive castle… it all brought tears of joy to her eyes, and she carried on after a moment's pause, gratitude burning in her like a torch.
The weariness didn't set in until afternoon, and even then, it was easily managed — she slowed her pace,
knowing she was making good time on the road. There were more and more travelers passing her, many on horseback, a few on foot like her — she gave them brusque nods, keeping her eyes down, using every trick of body language she knew to keep herself an uninteresting target. That was her only fear — being robbed on the road by another thief. But to her relief, nobody seemed interested in bothering her. No highwaymen, no brigands… she supposed she had the castle watch to thank for that, the presence of the MacClarans in this region keeping the peace.
That was the first pang of regret she felt — the knowledge that Kieran had probably realized that she was missing by now. Would he blame himself? she wondered. Would he think she'd fled because of their lovemaking? She should have left a note to clarify, she thought, biting her lip. She'd hate him to think that having sex with him had been anything other than wonderful. That was just the problem, in fact. She couldn't let the comfort and ease of being with him distract her from what she needed to do. She had to get to the bottom of the mystery with her ancestor's death, once and for all.
Because if she solved that mystery… maybe she could solve the mystery of how to get home.
She hadn't expected to reach Weatherby's manor until after dark, but to her surprise it was mid-afternoon when she began to recognize the trees that she was walking through — and sure enough, the manor itself was on the horizon before she knew it. She slipped off the road and into the trees, the mental map she'd drawn of the manor reasserting itself as she sought out a hiding spot to hole up in until she'd concreted her plan of how to get into the manor. She wasn't going to risk climbing the wall in the light, not this time — it needed to be pitch dark before she slipped inside.
And this time, she wouldn't let some portrait distract her and get her caught. She was going to haunt the manor like a troublesome ghost. She knew how big it was, how many empty rooms there were in the place, how easy it would be to set up camp there… and that was exactly what she planned to do. If she had to be in there for days, or even weeks, she'd do it. Rob the kitchens when she needed to eat, nap in dusty, abandoned guest quarters, take advantage of all the hiding spots she'd noticed when she was casing the joint… and all the while, listen intently to every conversation she could overhear.
One way or another, she would find out the truth of what had happened to Emily. She'd put the woman's soul to rest, if that was even how it worked — and more to the point, she'd put her own curiosity to bed. That was what was important. Maybe one day, she'd tell Kieran what she learned… if he ever wanted to see her again after she'd defied his every instruction, broken her promise to lay low in the castle with him… another pang of regret, stronger than the first.
But she wasn't going back. Not now. It was far too late for that. And besides… he should have known better than to expect a woman like her to stay in the castle like a caged bird. Hadn't he mentioned a dozen times how much he admired her spirit, her fire? Well, this was what you got when you took up with a spirited woman, Kieran. Too bad if that's not something you can handle.
Such were the thoughts that wandered through her mind as she holed up by a fallen tree, settling in with her cloak wrapped around her to wait for darkness to fall. She finished the last of the food she'd brought with her, reasoning that there'd be ample scraps to steal from the kitchens of the manor — Weatherby didn't seem like the kind of man who would notice if food went missing, if his extravagant clothing and spending habits were anything to go by. Maybe she'd even befriend some of the kitchen staff… a man like Weatherby didn't seem like he'd be that popular among the help. Maybe she could become a kind of pet to them… that was if she couldn't avoid detection altogether.
She dozed a little, by the fallen tree, waiting for nightfall, and when her eyes slid open again, the cold night had closed in around her, and even her thick cloak wasn't keeping out the chill completely. She tucked her rucksack safe and sound under the fallen log, making a quiet pledge not to return to it until she had concrete answers about what had happened to Emily MacClaran. Then she rose to her feet and headed for the manor, grinning a little to herself in anticipation of the break-in. This was what she'd been born to do. Not hanging around a castle, twiddling her thumbs. Maybe Kieran would never forgive her for breaking his trust again… and yes, that thought was painful. But in the end, she knew that if he couldn't handle her like this, then he wasn't right for her.
Gritting her teeth, she lingered in the treeline, waiting for the last pair of guards to disappear from view on their patrol around the wall. It had been long enough since her last break-in that she didn't think Weatherby would have any extra guards on — besides, who'd be bold enough to break into the manor of a family who was actively hunting her down? Scarlet goddamn Adams that was who.
Scarlet grinned into the darkness, gathered herself, then sprinted straight at the wall, her cloak flapping behind her and her body pulsing with adrenaline. Finally, she was doing what she loved again.
Chapter 27
She all but flew up the wall, effortlessly scrabbling to its top and slipping over and into the garden beyond. She landed almost soundlessly, dropping and rolling to absorb the momentum of her fall, the soft grass at the foot of the wall cushioning her fall, then hopped to her feet, scanning the garden quickly to make sure she was alone. Sure enough, under the thin light of the half-moon that glinted through the clouds above, she could tell that the garden was completely deserted. Typical, she thought with a grin. The man had had a break-in only a month ago, and yet hadn't even bothered posting guards on the interior? The whole garden was empty, as was the patio area outside of the great doors that lead into the manor… she stole up toward it, making sure to keep trees and hedges between her and the house as much as possible in case a resident happened to be glancing through a window. But she'd picked the right time to break in. Most of the windows were pitch dark, and she could already tell by how quiet the manor was that the majority of its occupants were tucked up safe in bed.
Good. That gave her time to scope the place out.
She slipped in through one of the doors, oddly familiar despite how long it had been since she'd been here. Once she'd cased a joint thoroughly, she rarely forgot it… sure enough, her mental map was proving accurate as she slipped through the house. First things first — find a home base, somewhere to camp out, somewhere to hole up when she needed rest or if suspicions were raised that she was in the house. She went through the kitchen first to stockpile some resources, filling the pockets of her cloak with bread rolls, lumps of cheese, any bits and pieces of food she could find, making sure never to empty a container or basket. With at least a couple of meals' worth stolen, she turned and headed for the stairs. A guest room, that would be ideal… a small one, rarely used, ideally toward the back of the house…
She found something even better. At the end of one of the second-story hallways, she found a little room that had clearly once been a guest room, but now was filled with what seemed to be infrequently-used bedding — she sniffed at a few of the heavy bundles, wrinkling her nose at the scent of dust and age. This was a storeroom, alright — and that made it perfect for her to hide in it. She headed for the back of the room, behind the unused bed that was piled high with more spare bedding. Here stood a tall wardrobe, big enough to hide a person. She opened it, finding yet more bundles of blankets and clothes, and grinned in quiet satisfaction. A hidey hole. It was the work of a moment to empty it out, then she leapt into it, tugging the doors shut after her. Perfect — they closed from the inside, and opened again, too. It was important to have a bolt hole.
All that done, she settled onto the floor behind the bed and ate a little of her stolen feast. And with that, she felt weariness crash over her like a wave. She curled up on the floor after checking that her spot wasn't immediately visible from the door — if someone happened to barge into this storeroom, she could hide under the bed or even bolt through a window if she needed to. But she had a suspicion that this place hadn't been disturbed in months. She w
as safe.
She hadn't slept so well in weeks… and when the morning sun crept through the window to wake her in the morning, Scarlet sat up, rubbing her eyes, and already looking forward to the rest of the day. She'd come up with a few schemes before she went to sleep… and one of them would be her first port of call. That first time she'd broken in here, she'd quietly taken note of what the servants wore — and she had a suspicion that this storeroom she was camped out in just might have a few spares. Sure enough, she was quickly able to find an apron and a drab brown cotton dress. Her face was the really noticeable thing, of course, but she had a suspicion she could rely on Weatherby not to look too closely into the faces of his servants. Besides, she didn't want to get too close to anyone. The idea of the disguise was to withstand a passing glance, no more.
Once she was dressed, she took a random armful of sheets and bustled out into the hallway. First things first — find out where this so-called Arabella was sleeping. It didn't take long. The manor had a couple of rather elaborate suites — one, of course, was occupied by Lord Weatherby, and the other had been set aside for his sister. Scarlet loitered outside the open door for a moment, checking that it was empty — sure enough, it seemed that Arabella had already gone down to breakfast, and the busy sounds from downstairs seemed to back up that theory.
Highlander Guarded: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 10) Page 18