Page 48 of Highlander’s Protector

Aware of more and more people stopping to watch the argument between the guards and the lepers, she struggled to turn the thick, heavy key. “David,” she whispered.

“Anna?” She heard him and saw a shadow move between the slits in the planks.

“I’m here, I’m getting ye out…”

The key finally turned with a clank, and she threw the door open. He stood before her, his eyes staring in wonder at her. His hands were still in shackles, but he could run.

“Come on.” Anna made a wide, sweeping gesture for him to come closer.

He rushed to her, whole and alive and so dear. His dark-blond hair was like a crow’s nest over his head. His eyes wet and glistening.

“Guards!” cried someone.

The two guards looked back and gasped. She grabbed David’s hand and they ran…but only three steps. Then a force jerked her back, and David’s hand disappeared from hers.

“Anna!” David cried as they shoved him back into the shed and the door was closed again.

“Leave, ye silly woman!” yelled one of the guards. “Leave before ye’re drowned in the river with yer man!”

“Leave, lass!” cried the lepers. “Run!”

The crowd was pushing her, furious faces flashing. She was numb, her body tingling with fatigue as she ran. And as she untied both horses, climbed her horse, and spurred it forward, with Daisy following them, she felt like an abyss was opening under the horse’s hooves.

But he wasn’t dead yet. And she wouldn’t just give up.

CHAPTER 19

David tore a piece of straw and threw the shredded bits on the dirt-packed floor. The sharp edges of the shackles bit painfully into his wrists. He was grateful they hadn’t put his hands behind his back, at least.

Outside, the village was loud with people’s voices, merchants calling for people to check their goods, dogs barking, horses neighing, children giggling and crying. He slumped to the cold ground, leaning against the wall of the shed, the wood hard against the back of his head.

He’d been so close to escaping. How in the world had Anna pulled off opening the jail door? What a wonderful, beautiful, and resourceful woman. Even after the horrors of the oubliette, she hadn’t run when he was in trouble. She could have left for Stirling, especially knowing the truth about him. She might be thinking the same thing as the rest of the medieval world.

That he was a demon caster. A faerie friend. An outsider.

Well. What had changed? He’d been in a medieval jail for the past three years.

Today, it had just gotten much smaller. It had shrunk to the size of a shed.

This might be it, folks. This might be it. He might very well be dead tomorrow. Dùghlas had warned him about watching his mouth, but he hadn’t paid enough attention, hadn’t taken it seriously.

Story of his life.

He breathed in the dusty, earthy air of the shed, filling his lungs.

If he died tomorrow, his imagined life would go unlived. Even though, he had to admit, his actual life wasn’t that bad. He’d loved playing football, had fun on his high school team back in Chicago. He’d loved his sister, his aunt and uncle and his cousins, despite the problems there.

He even remembered his parents a little. His mom showing him picture books with castles and reading him the fairy tale of Puss in Boots. His dad had done science experiments with him—he remembered how excited he’d been watching dry ice bubble and fill the sink with fog.

He picked up another straw and crumbled it in his hands.

Anna… Just her name, just the thought of her prickled his skin, making his heart beat faster. Perhaps all the hardships and struggles he’d been through were worth it so that he could meet her and get to know her. So that he could have one night with her, skin against skin, in his arms.

Did he have any regrets? Yes. He wished he could see Rogene, Angus, and Paul one last time. Wished he could see Anna again. Tell her he was falling in love with her. That she was the one.

To hell with it, he’d make proper love to her, have his first time with the girl he loved. He wanted to feel himself buried deep within her. Feel her quiver and see her mindless with pleasure. Every one of her orgasms would be his. He wanted all of them, a lifetime of them.

Was his life in this medieval reality so bad?