Free Highlander Avenged by Laurin Wittig - Guardians Of The Targe 02 - Highlander Avenged Page B

and while there was no heat to it this time, there was comfort, understanding, and a peace she had not felt in far too long. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into the warmth of him, resting her cheek against his chest, her ear just over his heart where it thumped a slow, steady beat.
    She did not know how long she stood there, taking comfort from this man who was still a stranger, and yet was not, but eventually she opened her eyes and noticed the moon was setting, just visible through the window at the end of the corridor. She knew they must leave soon, before the sun could rise. She really could put it off no longer.
    “I must get . . . There are things that must come with us for safekeeping,” she said.
    He pressed a kiss to her forehead, the sweetest kiss she had ever received. He opened the door, then took her hand and led her into the room.
    “Where are these things?” he asked.
    Jeanette dared not look at the bed where her mother had been stabbed. She dared not look at anything but Malcolm, who held her gaze as if he knew exactly what she needed of him in this moment. She knew she should not reveal the secrets of this chamber to someone not of the clan, but she did not think she could do this on her own.
    “You must promise to tell no one what I am about to show you—” She stopped. Nay. She might not be the Guardian, but she was no weak lass. She was Jeanette MacAlpin, daughter of Elspet, brought up to be strong, resilient. She would do this on her own.
    And yet her hands were trembling again.
    “I will get whatever it is you require, Jeanette. I will tell no one.”
    “Nay. I will retrieve them, but I must ask you to close your eyes and promise me you will not open them until I say so.”
    “Do you wish me to wait outside?”
    He really was an honorable man. “Nay. I think . . . I need you to stay in here with me, but I will fetch what I came for.” She handed him the lantern.
    He nodded and, without another word, closed his eyes.
    She steadied her breath, drawing strength from his solid form and silent acceptance, then moved to the tapestry that hung between her mother’s bed and the hearth. She drew back one corner of the heavy tapestry, letting it rest over her back, hiding her from the room and the room from her. In the darkness she reached unerringly for the stone she’d removed many, many times. When the heavy block was free, she set it on the ground, then reached into the cavity and pressed a lever. A cleverly disguised narrow door, just high enough for her to step into if she bent nearly double at the waist, swung into what most believed was the tower wall.
    Jeanette knew better. This was where she stored the chronicles, but it was also the entrance to the hidden stair that allowed an escape in a time of need, leading right down to the bolt-hole under the main stair at the bottom of the tower. Once, not long after Rowan had come to live with them, Jeanette had shown this place to her cousin and the two of them had followed the tunnel all the way out into the forest, where the exit was hidden behind a massive boulder.
    When they had returned the same way, they couldn’t get the hidden door open again and had finally, hungry, tired, and a little scared, had to retrace their steps and find their way back to the castle through the forest. It was dark by the time they’d stumbled through the gate and discovered that people had been searching every part of the castle, including the well, looking for them for hours.
    Elspet, Jeanette’s mum, had scolded the girls, forbidding them from ever doing such a thing again, and extracting their tearful promises that they would never tell a soul outside of the family about the tunnel. She then had put them to task mending everything she could find in the castle that had even a tiny rip in it. But she had also showed them the hidden interior latch so that the next time, if there was one, they could let themselves back in.
    Jeanette frowned.