Page 27 of A Hellion for the Highland Hawk
“I saw what ye were doin’,” Jack replied, his mouth twisting. “I heard what ye said.”
He looked down into the crib, and even Nancy knew that, by 1710 standards, this didn’t look good for her. Freya seemed to be drawing breath again, but the swelling hadn’t stopped, and the hives must have been terribly itchy, which only made the child writhe and whimper more.
“I promise, I was just trying to help,” Nancy rambled.
Jack grabbed her by the wrist. “Ye’ll nae harm anyone in this castle, lass. I kent ye couldnae be what ye said ye were, for who would want the position that ye took? Nay one answered the summons. Nay one but ye.” He shook his head, his eyes blazing with fury. “And a day before our men were ambushed, too.That’s nae a coincidence, lass. Och, IkentMacLeach regretted it! I kent he wouldnae just let Hunter have her!”
With a fierce grip that made her wince, he dragged her away from Freya and out of the room.
“The baby! We have to take her! She needs help! She’s allergic, and she needs help!” Nancy yelled, drawing the attention of a maid who came running down the hallway.
Jack glared at the maid. “Take the bairn to the Laird and tell him to send word for a healer. Quickly.” He paused, baring his teeth. “Tell him a witch has done somethin’ to his daughter, and that witch is goin’ where she belongs: the dungeons.”
CHAPTER 11
That brute whowouldn’t listen had made sure that Nancy didn’t receive the grand suite in the dungeons. The interrogation room had been practically luxurious compared to the cold and drafty cell where she now shivered, not daring to wrap a blanket around herself in case a rat or a spider scuttled out of the pile of moldy fabric. She wouldn’t even acknowledge the bucket in the corner.
What did Jack mean about that MacLeach person? Is Freya all right? Someone would’ve come already if she were, or maybe they’re still trying to help her?
It had been hours. She had nothing to confirm that, with her bag and phone still in the nursery, but her body knew it: the gnaw of hunger, the parch of thirst, the bone-deep cold that had begun to feel warm, the weight of her eyelids.
And here in the dungeons, distractions were in short supply.
She’d been going through the events over and over, driving herself to the point of madness. She’d replayed it all, imagining all of the things she could have done to prevent this. It soothed her temporarily to think that she’d fallen asleep beside the baby, that this was all a dream, and that shehadclosed the window after showing Freya the sheep and nothing bad had happened.
If they kill me here, do I get an automatic reset in my world?
A dark, grim laugh bubbled up her throat as she pictured herself respawning in the museum in North Carolina like a video game character. If she ever got back to the twenty-first century, it wasn’t a game she would play again, that was for sure.
Just then, the main door to the dungeons shrieked open on its rusty hinges. Nancy jumped up and, with stiff legs, shambled toward the metal bars of her cell.
Let it be some good news about Freya… and maybe something to eat.
She’d never regretted skipping breakfast more than she did that morning.
Her breath lodged in her throat as Hunter’s tall and imposing figure stepped into view, his expression terrifyingly unreadable. No warm smile to let her know everything was fine, no particularly furious scowl to let her know everything was about to get even more unpleasant, and certainly no hungry gleam in his eyes.
“How is she?” she blurted out as he slotted a key in the door and turned it.
He opened the door wide. “What happened?”
“Didn’t Jack tell you? I explained it to him, but he wasn’t in a listening mood,” she replied hastily. “There was a bee. The window was open, and it came in and… stung your daughter. She had a reaction to it. I helped.”
He came into the cell, his imposing presence in the small space prompting her to press herself against the bars.
“How is she?” she asked urgently. “Please, tell me that she’s all right.”
Hunter slid the key into a fold of his belted plaid and ran a hand through his long, dark hair. He looked tired. Pale.
“She’ll recover,” he replied after a moment, his eyes creasing at the corners as though he were in some pain. “The healer confirmed what ye said about the bee. She says that whatever ye did helped me daughter, and that she wants to meet ye.”
Nancy’s gaze flitted to the open cell door. Did this mean she was allowed to walk through it? Was she free?
“I’d be… um… happy to meet her,” she said, her heart beating a strange rhythm.
She made a move to leave the dank cell, but Hunter moved faster, blocking the doorway with his powerful bulk. His breathing was erratic, his hand gripping the bar that formed the jamb, his eyes suddenly filled with a gleam, not quite hunger but certainly something intense.
“The healer says ye saved her,” he told her thickly. “Said if ye hadnae, me daughter would likely be dead. But whatdidye do?”
