Falling for the Highlander

  Clucking under her tongue, Murine lifted her foot again, this time feeling around with her toes until she found a bit of floor to step on. Dougall must be lying on his back directly across the threshold of the door, she decided as she tiptoed over him. She had to take a large step to get past him. Sighing her relief once she'd managed the task, Murine moved cautiously toward where she thought the top step was. She moved with her hands stretched out before her in search of the railing, and her toes leading the way, feeling for floor before she stepped. Fortunately, she managed to find the top of the stairs without incident.

  Breathing out a little sigh of relief then, she moved cautiously down the steps, her gaze seeking out the men stretched out on the main floor. Conran, Geordie and Niels had the bed, Conran and Geordie sleeping with their heads at one end and Niels in the middle with his head at the other end to make room for them all. Rory was curled up on furs on one of the trestle tables and Alick had done the same on another. It seemed none of them had been eager to sleep on the cold stone floor. She couldn't blame them when there were no rushes to keep the cold from creeping into the bones. At least the floor upstairs where Acair and Dougall were sleeping was wood and not stone.

  Murine made it down the stairs without incident and was fetching herself some cider from the fresh casket the boys had brought back with them when she thought she heard something outside. She stilled briefly and then straightened, peering toward the shuttered windows as she listened. A moment passed and she was about to return to her chore when the nearer shutters crashed open and something afire flew into the room and smashed on the stone floor by the trestle tables, fire splashing outward like liquid from a spilled drink.

  Even as Murine sucked in a startled breath, two more missiles flew through the window, one landing in front of the fireplace, the other extremely close to the bed. Dropping the half-full mug of cider, Murine shrieked, "Fire!" at the top of her lungs.

  Rory was on the table nearest her and sat up as if she'd stabbed him. He took one wild-eyed look around, and then bounded into action, tossing aside his furs and rolling to the floor. But even as she breathed her relief at that, she was noting that no one else had moved at all.

  The first ball of fire had crashed under Alick's table and spilled outward beneath it, but the man was still sleeping, a sausage roasting over the pit. Murine rushed to the end of the table where the fire had not reached and grabbed his ankles, shaking him violently. "Wake up! Alick! Wake up!"

  "Get out of here, Murine," Rory barked, pulling her away from the table and pushing her toward the door. "I'll get him."

  Murine didn't argue, she merely rushed to the bed that was starting to catch fire, and slapped at Geordie's face, shouting at him to wake up. When he didn't stir, she leaned over and slapped Conran next.

  "They've been dosed with something," Rory growled, suddenly beside her. She glanced around to see that Alick was off the table and the cottage door was open. Rory must have got his youngest brother out and come back, she realized.

  "See if ye can wake Dougall and Acair," Rory ordered, dragging Conran off the bed.

  Nodding, Murine whirled and rushed for the stairs. She hadn't gone there first because the three men in the bed had been in more peril, but now she raced up the stairs. Panic was making her heart race, and she couldn't help noticing that she was feeling none of the exhaustion that just walking up these same steps hours ago had raised in her.

  The fire spreading below added a lot of light to the situation, and this time, Murine had no trouble making out who was who and where the men lay. Dougall had fallen asleep in front of the door. Acair was a couple feet to the left of him on the landing. She tried to wake Dougall first, slapping him viciously several times, but then gave up to do the same to his uncle. Much to her relief, while Dougall hadn't stirred at all, Acair opened his eyes and mumbled with confusion.

  "Wake up," she ordered, tugging on the man's hand. If she could get him up, he could help her with Dougall, she thought, pulling at him in an effort to get him to sit up.

  "What's about, lass?" he slurred, his eyes trying to drift shut.

  "Ye ha'e to get up," she growled, and reached out to twist his ear, hoping the pain would help. It seemed to. At least he let out a roar and sat up abruptly at the action.

  "Damn, woman, what the devil?" He was still slurring, but was at least, somewhat alert now so Murine continued to pull at him.

  "Ye ha'e to get up. Fire!" she added, shrieking it into his face.

  "Fire?" Acair started to struggle to his feet, and managed to do so with her help, but he had to lean on her heavily to remain upright. There was no way he was going to be any help with Dougall, she realized unhappily, but ushered him to the stairs. She then paused, staring at the room below with dismay.

  In the few minutes she'd been above stairs, the fire had spread below. Flames were licking at the bottom of the stairs now, and the trestle tables were both pyres burning brightly, as were the chairs by the fire and even the bed. The bed was empty now though, she saw with relief. Rory must have got his brothers out.

  Murine barely had the thought when Dougall's brother dashed back in through the cottage door and came to a dead halt as he peered at the burning stairs and then up at her. A struggle took place on his face, and then he shook his head and moved along the floor below the stairs until he was past the part that was burning.

  "Leave him and jump, Murine. I'll catch ye," he ordered, a wealth of emotions in his voice. She heard grief, regret and determination in the tone. He was making the only sensible choice. Trying to save the only one he thought he could.

  Well, to hell with that, she thought grimly and didn't even take the time to think about it, but stepped out from under Acair Buchanan's arm and gave him a shove that sent him tumbling.

  Much to her relief, the man crumpled and rolled down the stairs like a Shrovetide football before unrolling and coming to a halt on his back just past the fire at the base of the stairs. Murine couldn't see any obvious injuries on him. There were no limbs at odd angles, or bloody wounds on his head, but he was definitely not conscious anymore.

  "Get him out o' here," she yelled at Rory as he rushed to his uncle. "I'll get Dougall out the bedchamber window."

  Not waiting for a response, she rushed back to Dougall then. He and Acair had brought up furs to sleep on. Murine bent to grab hold of his now by the end by his feet. She then dragged his legs away from the wall and toward the stairs, turning his body so that his head slid toward the door. As she straightened from the effort, Murine glanced toward the stairs and briefly considered sending him down the stairs on his fur. But in the short few moments it had taken her to shift him around, the fire had moved fast, reaching halfway up the stairs. She didn't want to risk his stopping and getting caught in the fire.

  Mouth tightening, she hurried around to his head and grabbed the fur there to start dragging Dougall into the bedchamber. The wooden slats were hot under her feet, warmed by the fire below. They didn't have much time, she realized a bit frantically, and drew on her reserves of energy to move more quickly as she dragged Dougall across the floor to the window.

  It was only once there that she considered the problem of how to get him out the window. Dougall was a big man with wide shoulders and lots of heavy muscles. Before this she'd appreciated that about him, but in that moment she would have been happier were he smaller like Alick, who hadn't quite grown into manhood yet.

  Straightening her shoulders, she opened the shutters and peered out into the darkness. If Rory was there, she couldn't see him. Leaving the shutters open, she hurried back to Dougall's feet and grabbed the edge of the fur there again, to turn him so that he faced the window feet first. She then dropped his feet and raced back to kneel by his head.

  Leaning forward, Murine pressed her hands to his shoulders and pushed forward, moving his upper body toward the window now, and forcing his legs to bend. His knees started out rising, as his butt moved forward, but then fell to the side so that he
lay somewhat twisted at the waist, his back and shoulders flat on the floor, his hips and legs turned to the side in a bent position.

  Murine straightened then and moved over to grab him about the knees and lift his legs up onto the window ledge. They were much heavier than she'd expected. Still she managed to hook his legs over the ledge, so that his feet dangled out the window. Murine then paused to consider her next move. She'd thought to get herself behind him, raise his shoulders to lean against her chest and then force him up and out the window, but she was having serious doubts over being able to manage that. Unfortunately, she didn't have any other ideas and there was precious little time to come up with one.

  Gritting her teeth, she knelt behind his head, scooted forward until her knees were on either side of his ears, then lifted his head with her hands and quickly closed her knees beneath it. She then started easing forward on her knees, lifting his shoulders onto them as she went, which forced his head upward against her stomach. She continued doing that until she had the man folded like linen cloth, his chest pressed against his upper legs where they hung down from the ledge, and his head lolling back on her shoulder.

  She'd rather hoped that his butt would be off the ground at this point and she'd be able to push him up and out of the window, but his legs were long and his behind was still on the floor, which was almost unbearably hot now. She was beginning to feel like meat in a skillet.

  Forcing herself to calm down and consider the situation, Murine eyed the window and Dougall's position. She needed leverage to get him up to the ledge. Alternately, she needed enough weight on the other side to pull him over and out, and she needed one or the other quickly.

  The idea when it came was a mad one, she was sure. However, it was also the only one she had . . . and she needed material to do it. Murine glanced back toward the bed and the linens there and sighed to herself. She'd just wasted several minutes getting Dougall to this position and now was going to have let him lie flat again. But there was nothing else for it.

  Grinding her teeth, she scuttled back from him and eased his head back to the floor, then rushed over to the bed. A glance out the door as she tore the linens off the bed showed her that the flames had reached the top of the stairs.

  The room was also filling with smoke, she noted, and rushed over to slam the door closed, before hurrying to the window again. The air was better there, fresh air coming in to push back the smoke. Dropping the bottom linen on the floor, Murine stepped on it to give her feet a break from the rising heat of the wood, and began to rip the top linen into strips the length of the linen and a good six inches wide that she quickly tied together. The swath of makeshift rope it created was much longer than she thought she'd need, so she stopped then and quickly tied one end of the linen rope around Dougall's chest under his arms. She then glanced to the shutters. Both looked sturdy enough, but Murine gave each a tug just to test them. When the one on the right shifted a bit at her tug, she turned her attention to the shutter on the left and slung the free end of the linen over it.

  Murine didn't stop to think about what she was doing then. She was too afraid she'd talk herself out of it. So, she climbed up on the ledge, pulled the free end of the makeshift rope under the shutter and tied that end around her chest under her arms.

  Murine then turned to peer at Dougall, sent up a silent prayer that this would work and stepped back off the ledge. She fell easily at first, then felt a slight jerk around her chest as the rope pulled tight. She continued to fall then though, her momentum dragging Dougall up off the floor of the bed chamber and toward the top of the shutter. She saw him pulled out of the window and up the shutter to the top and then they both jerked to a halt and she cried out in pain as the makeshift rope cinched around her chest and dug into the skin under her arms.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Murine glanced down to see how far she was from the ground. Her eyes widened with dismay, though, when she saw that it wasn't ground beneath her, but water. How had she failed to make note of the fact that there was a moat around the damned hunting lodge when she'd looked out the window earlier? she wondered. But knew the answer. She hadn't looked out at all during daylight other than to note that the sky was gray and threatening. She'd never looked down. And it had been too dark to make out anything from the window when she'd peered out moments ago.

  Had she known there was water . . . Well, she hadn't had a choice, she would have done the exact same thing. But at least then she would have been aware that getting Dougall out the window was not the only obstacle. Now she had to worry about dragging his unconscious body out of the water. If they ever actually got into the water and didn't just dangle there from the shutters like--

  Her thoughts died as she heard a cracking sound from above, and then the shutter tore away from the wall, and she was falling again.

  Murine glanced up as she hit the water and immediately recognized her next problem; Dougall was going to land on top of her. He was hurtling toward her feet first.

  Dougall turned on his back, and stretched then yawned mightily as he began to shake off the claws of sleep that seemed to be cloying at him.

  "Finally."

  Dougall blinked his eyes open and stared blankly at his elder brother Aulay as several realizations struck him. First, while he'd gone to sleep on a hard bed of furs on the floor in the hall at the hunting lodge, he was waking in a bed. Second, it was his own bed in his own bedchamber at Buchanan.

  "What the hell!" he muttered, sitting up, then glanced sharply to Aulay. "Murine?"

  "She's fine," his brother assured him quickly. "She's sleeping in Saidh's room. Rory's watching over her."

  Dougall relaxed a little at this knowledge, but then asked with confusion, "What happened? How did we get here?"

  "Ye drank poisoned cider," Aulay said dryly and when Dougall just peered at him blankly, asked, "Ye recall the cider the lads brought to the lodge with the supplies?"

  "Aye," Dougall said slowly. "We forgot to unload it. We all went out and grabbed something. The casket of cider was left behind though. I saw it as I turned away, but assumed someone else had grabbed it when I got done carrying the chest o' gowns upstairs fer Murine. Apparently no one had though. When the original casket we'd brought with us the first day ran out, we realized no one had fetched in the casket and Geordie went out to get it."

  "Aye, well someone dosed it with something between the lads' arrival and when Geordie fetched the cider in," Aulay announced. "At least, that's what Rory thinks. He said he and Murine were the only ones who didn't drink from it?"

  "Aye, ye ken he does no' like cider, and Murine was nursing a cider from the first casket all day. She didn't care for the tincture I mixed in it, but was determined to get it down."

  "Aye, well, her not liking the tincture saved all yer lives," Aulay said solemnly. "Murine was awake when the fire pots came flying through the lower windows. She woke Rory, but they couldn't wake any o' the rest o' ye. Rory had to cart Alick, Geordie, Niels and Conran out. Then she got Uncle Acair down the stairs and he carted him out as well."

  "Got me down the stairs?"

  Dougall glanced to the door at that amused question to see his uncle limping into the room.

  "The way I hear it, she tossed me down the stairs like a sack o' potatoes," Acair said on a laugh.

  Dougall raised his eyebrows. "Ye don't sound too upset about it."

  "Aye, well, she saved me life, did she no'?" Acair said solemnly, settling on the edge of his bed. "Rory came running in from getting yer brothers out, saw Murine standing at the top o' the burning stairs with me hanging off her like a drunk on Sunday and ye unconscious on the floor. He says he knew he could no' save us all and told her to leave us both and jump over the rail and he'd catch her. But she would no' leave us. He says she sent me flying down the stairs, and left him to get me out while she dragged yer sorry arse out o' the hall, and across the bedchamber to the window."

  "And Rory climbed in through the window to pull me out," Dougall guesse
d.

  Acair snorted at the suggestion. "The hell he did. She got ye out herself," he announced and then nodded firmly when Dougall's eyes widened in surprise. "Made rope out of a bed linen, used the shutter to set up a pulley affair, tied one end o' her rope to you, and one end to herself, then jumped out the window like a bride on the eve of an unwanted wedding. Her weight pulled ye up and out the window and then ye both crashed into the moat when the shutter gave way. Damned near killed her when ye landed on top o' her too," he added grimly. "Fortunately, Rory had finished getting me out by then and rushed around the moat, getting there just in time to help get ye both out o' the water."

  "Damn," Dougall breathed.

  "Aye," Acair nodded solemnly. "Ye've got yerself a fine woman there, Dougall Buchanan. Smart as a whip, that one. Brave too. And if ye don't get her before a priest ere her brother catches up with her, I think I just might ha'e to beat ye senseless." His mouth tightened. "Right after I kill that wastrel brother of hers."

  Nodding, Dougall tossed aside the furs covering him and got up out of the bed, only to pause and ask, "How did we get here though?"

  "Murine and Rory piled the lot o' ye in the supply cart and brought ye back to Buchanan," Aulay answered, standing as well. He shook his head and added, "After all she'd been through I worried she'd reopened her wound, but Rory says while she split a couple stitches she came out much better than she should. He said this won't set her back much in healing."

  "Thank God," Dougall growled and headed for the door, announcing, "We can no' risk staying here."

  "Nay. Danvries could return," Aulay agreed. "But ye can no' stay at the lodge. Rory says 'tis ruined."

  Dougall was frowning over that news as he stepped into the hall.

  Following, Aulay added, "I sent a couple men to MacDonnell this morning, with instructions to return the minute Danvries leaves. I'm thinking ye should head there when they return and have the priest at MacDonnell marry ye. The sooner that's done, the better all the way around."

  Dougall paused in the hallway and turned to his brother. "Ye think he drugged the cider and set the fire?"