Nineteen
The water surrounding Trethway Island was so deathly cold that it was all William could do to concentrate on forcing his body to cooperate and swim the distance from the woods to the hill that Ada had instructed them to scale. He’d known the water would be colder than he could have imagined possible, for Brodee had told him of the numbing temperature when he’d swum these waters. Ice chunks floated around him, and every few strokes, William would hit one with his hand or kick one with his foot, and the ice would slice into his skin. His motions were slow, dangerously so, as if at any moment his body would simply not do what he asked. He breathed as Brodee had told him he’d done, and William conjured up an image of Ada—whom he had to survive for.
Her image floated before him, teasing and tantalizing, as well as encouraging, and he continued to thrust his hands through the water. He could see nothing around him, the night was so black, but the faint swish of Grant swimming beside him assured him Grant was still there.
After what seemed like an eternity, his foot brushed the ground beneath the water as he kicked, and he stood, knowing they were now close to shore. Beside him, Grant stood, as well, and though he could still not see the man, William whispered, “Now we scale the hill.”
“Aye,” Grant replied, his tone low.
Silent and intent, they moved as one out of the water, and with footsteps slowed by the lingering numbness of the cold, they trudged toward the hillside. William touched a hand to his only weapon, his dagger, and wished he had not needed to leave his sword in the woods. But to swim with it would have slowed him greatly.
“Straight up?” William asked. Ada had not said the direction to climb.
“Aye,” Grant replied. “Seems as good a direction as any.”
And so together, they began the climb. The hill was steep and the rocks sharp. They moved slowly in the beginning, but as William scaled the cliffside, his body warmed and thoughts of reuniting with his brother sped his progress. Rock cut into his skin as he found purchase, hand over hand, but the pain was nothing compared to what gripped him when he contemplated not rescuing Bram. He had no notion if they were even close to the top until he reached up a hand to grasp the next rock and suddenly felt a flat surface. Relief flooded him as he hauled himself over the ledge, then lay on the ground for a moment, listening. Complete silence greeted him. Wherever the guards on this island were, they were not standing here, expecting someone to appear over the cliffside from the frigid waters below.
He thanked Ada in his mind, and at that moment, Grant said, “I do believe we owe our lives to yer wife.”
“Aye,” William said low, the mere thought of her making him yearn to be back at her side. He pushed the thought of her to the recesses of his mind. Distraction killed. He came to his feet, as did Grant, and sweeping his gaze through the consuming blackness, he saw a flicker of a torch. His hand immediately went to his dagger, and he withdrew it, expecting trouble. But after a breath, he realized the light was not moving as it would be if someone had been carrying a torch. This one was still, as if in a holder. And upon further inspection, he counted eight such torches, which seemed to form—
“A path!” Grant exclaimed, elbowing William. “Do ye see it?”
William grinned. “I do.”
“I do believe I’ve just fallen in love with yer wife,” Grant said.
The words were meant to be teasing, William knew, but they stirred something in him, some emotion that he could not face. Not at this moment.
“Come,” he urged. “We need to find Bram and leave this place behind before daylight steals the chance from us. He moved toward the torches, then simply followed them down the twisting path. With each step he took, the surety that he would soon find Bram increased. The light from the torches illuminated the area enough that he could see they were winding along a path that twisted close to the edge of the cliff, and ahead, he saw a lone stone cave that seemed to jut out above the water. In front of the cave, sitting on the ground with his arms and legs crossed and his chin resting on his chest, was a guard. He was snoring loudly.
William motioned to the guard’s sword, which lay by his leg, and Grant nodded. As Grant moved toward the sword, William advanced upon the guard. When he stood above the man, he raised his dagger, and just as he brought its hilt near the guard’s head, the man jerked awake. But it was too late. William knocked the man on the head, hard enough to put him back to sleep but not so hard that he’d killed him. The guard slumped sideways to the ground, and William made quick work of relieving the man of the key secured to a rope on his waist. He then used the rope to tie the man’s hands to his feet, and just as he was stuffing a piece of fabric torn from the man’s plaid into his mouth, the guard woke with a moan.
Together, William and Grant dragged the man well away from the door and to the side of the cave that was cast in darkness. Then in silence, they moved to the entrance and William unlocked the door. It creaked open. Grant stood behind him, now holding a torch, and when they entered the cave, William could see that the back of it was open to the water below. He felt his mouth slip open at how accurate Ada’s feeling had been thus far.
In the corner, a man lay on the floor. He stirred, not sitting up but seeming to shift positions, and then he said, “Ye’re early for my morning beating.” Bram’s amused tone made William smile. It was so like his brother to have kept his sense of humor, even in this situation. Before William could respond, Bram spoke once more. “I dunnae yet see daylight. Either ye’re confused or stupid, as I’ve been telling ye.”
Swallowing the lump in this throat, William said, “I’m nae stupid, just damned sorry that I did nae have faith in ye and Da.”
Bram’s head jerked up, and then he was scrambling to his feet, the speed of the movement letting William know his brother had not been so injured that he could no longer move properly. Relief nearly choked William as Bram stood there, gaping at him. For a moment, silence stretched, and William let it, simply staring at Bram. He was thinner than last William had seen him, and one eye was swollen shut. Bram’s left hand had a swath of ragged material wrapped around it.
“William? Am I dreaming?”
“Nay,” William said, his throat tightening painfully with the emotion he was restraining. He closed the distance between him and his brother and gripped him in a hard hug. “I ken everything about ye and Da,” he said as Bram hugged him back. “The king told me everything.”
Bram nodded, and they separated. “How did ye—”
“I wed Ada MacQuerrie,” William interrupted, knowing they had to flee soon. “Ye ken about her gift.”
“Oh aye,” Bram replied. “Is it really true, then?”
“Aye, she is the reason we’re here. She told us exactly what to do to save ye.”
Shock swept Bram’s face, followed by acknowledgment, and then he looked toward Grant. “It’s good to see ye, Grant.”
“Same to ye, Bram,” Grant replied, grinning. “But this little reunion has to wait. We need to get ye out of here. Seems ye’re the key to keeping the king on the throne, according to Ada.”
William half expected Bram to declare that he didn’t know what Grant was talking about. Instead, his brother nodded. “I was writing a message to the king about what I discovered when I went with Brothwell to the Steward’s home for a meeting, but I never got to finish it. That was the day Brothwell imprisoned me.”
