Free The Highlander's Heart by Amanda Forester Page A

to a house of ill repute? Isabelle trembled at the memory of the man’s face on hers, his fingers around her neck. It all reminded her of that horrible night, her wedding night. No, she could not let herself be taken captive. More than just her life was at risk. What must her guard and Marjorie be thinking now?
    She must return at once to England, find her people, and petition the king. Who knew what sort of “situation” Campbell was going to find for her? She must escape now or it would be too late.
    Fearing if she succumbed to rest even for a moment she would sleep all night, Isabelle remained on her feet. The inn was of sturdy construction, stone walls, solid and secure, which in her current predicament provided no comfort.
    Isabelle pulled back the heavy curtains to reveal a window opening in the stone covered by an animal skin screen. Carefully removing the screen she was invigorated by a rush of cool night air. She needed it. She was ready to sleep on her feet. Yet fear was a powerful motivator, and enough to endure sleep deprivation.
    The vantage from the window was not encouraging. Fortunately, her room was in the back of the inn, where no one would see her try to escape. Unfortunately, she was three stories up, with a sheer drop to the kitchen garden below. It was a cool night, cloudless, with a bright moon. A good night to travel. She ignored her body, which screamed in protest. Clothes hung on the line below, a few gowns, and several pairs of tunics and trews.
    Isabelle scanned her surroundings. What she needed was a plan. She could not tramp across the country dressed as she was, but in a lad’s clothes she may raise less attention. Trouble was if she spoke, she’d be known as English before she finished her sentence. Perhaps she could pretend to be mute? Or wrap a strip of white cloth from her chemise around her neck and pretend to be injured. Isabelle smiled; that might work. All she needed to do now was get out of the room.
    The plunge from her window was sobering. This was not going to be easy. She needed a ladder or a rope. She glanced around the room for inspiration. No rope. No ladders. The sheets! She smiled. One sheet rope and she would leave this place behind. She worked quickly, stripping the bed and tying the linens together to form a rope. By the time Campbell or Harry or anyone else realized she was gone, she would be far away.
    She tied one side to the bed and threw the rest out the window. Looking down, the smile faded from her face. Her brilliant sheet rope fell woefully short. The end of her rope only reached midway down the building. She wondered if she could climb down and hold on to the end to drop to the ground.
    Isabelle frowned. It was a long way down. She had never been particularly bothered by heights, but snapping her ankle in a fall wouldn’t serve at all. Along the wall, some of the stones protruded more than others, and sometimes there were small indentations, remnants of the building process.
    A new idea flashed through her mind. Tying the sheet rope around her waist, Isabelle eased herself out of the window, searching for toeholds through her soft leather boots. Outside the window, she held onto the windowsill and paused to reconsider her sanity. What on Earth was she doing?
    She reviewed her current situation. Escape was necessary to prevent being given to a whorehouse and leaving her people at the mercy of her husband. How long would Captain Corbett and Marjorie live before Tynsdale took out his revenge on them?
    Bolstered by these encouraging thoughts, Isabelle searched for handholds and eased herself completely out of the window, clinging to the stone wall. Slowly she climbed across the side of the inn. Her voluminous gown proved a significant hindrance to her progress, and several times she was required to release the wall with one of her hands to pull up her skirts in order to get a toehold. She wished she had the foresight to remove the gown and throw it to the ground,