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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?"
