"What is it?" he called back up.
Morag's heart burned like a hearth, and the warmth flooded her whole body. "I love ye, too."
She couldn't see Christopher, but she heard the smile in his voice.
"I ken. Stay strong, me love."
Then he was gone. Morag closed the shutters and took a deep breath. A strange calm flooded through her, and she nodded to herself.
Yes. She could stay strong.
And soon, she'd be free.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Christopher was intensely on edge as he skulked through the hallways of the castle over the next few hours. He'd gathered everything that he found essential from his rooms already, hiding his bag close to the tower room where he'd go to fetch Morag.
Most of the castle staff were asleep, and the laird himself had long since retired to his rooms. With Ian and his men gone, Christopher could move much more freely throughout the castle, but his stomach still clenched at the thought of Ian being gone.
He was nervous about the secret mission that Campbell had sent his heir on, not able to even begin to understand what it might have been. As well, part of him squirmed with guilt as he remembered his time at the stables bonding with his brother. It almost felt like he was abandoning him all over again.
It didn't matter. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stop thinking about it. Murdoch was long gone, and Christopher knew that if Morag was in danger, there was no way he could concentrate. So he'd take her and any information he could get and run. It might be a bit awkward at first with Elsie, but heknew his sister would understand once they explained. Aila and Lachlan would take her in and protect her, and then…
Hope for what was ahead of him flared within him despite the threat that the Kincaids, the Murrays, and all of their allies still faced. It was hard to see the threat that was ahead of them as anything other than a temporary fear when a future with Morag at his side was so tantalizingly close. Knowing that made him feel like he could overcome anything.
Christopher was still thinking hard about this when he noticed a door slightly ajar ahead of him. He froze, unable to believe his luck as he realized where he was. This was the main Campbell armory, the secure room where the best weapons for the most elite soldiers were kept safe. Though Christopher had gained free access to most of the castle, this had remained one of the places that had been off-limits to him. He wasn't sure why there were no guards and why the door was open, but he wasn't going to pass up the chance to do some damage.
He darted into the room, closing the door behind him. Shining silver weapons lined the walls, shields stacked on central shelves and swords laid out on display. He hesitated for a moment, wondering what would be more worth taking and the best way to sabotage the rest. How could he damage such well-made weapons with no tools of his own and without making too much noise? He'd use them against each other, but figuring out where to start rooted him to the ground for a moment. His eyes landed on a warhammer in the corner, leaning against a shadowed table displaying a selection of knives, and a small smile flickered across his face.
Just as Christopher moved toward the hammer, though, the door creaked. Panic shot through Christopher and he didn't have time to think. He dashed toward the table, falling to the ground and skidding under it, concealing himself in the shadows as much as he possibly could. His heart raced, pounding in his earsso hard that he could barely focus, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. He didn't make a sound, afraid to even breathe, as footsteps pounded into the room.
"Why was the door unlocked, ye eejit?" a deep voice demanded.
Christopher's blood ran cold as he recognized Ian's brute, Macbain.
"Bad enough the master left me here, never mind with the likes ofye,Jock."
The other man, Jock, scoffed. "At least me arm's broken. He just left ye because of yer continuedfailure," he snarled back. "What does it matter if the door was unlocked? Who'd be in here? Grab what ye need, ye fool, so we can go."
There was a thump and a groan, and Christopher saw Jock's shadow stumble as Macbain presumably punched him. "Shut yer mouth," Macbain ordered. "Dinnae forget who I am. His lairdship said we all need tae be in the Grand Hall tae welcome the master back. Everyone's gatherin' there."
"Did he succeed, then?" Jock asked, and there was a scrape of metal on wood as he picked a sword from the row. "M’Laird will be thrilled. And with nae help fromye."
Christopher shivered. The two men continued to bicker as they chose weapons then left the room. He waited a few breaths of silence before he crawled out from under the table, his mind whirring.
Ian was back, and something was happening in the Grand Hall. If everyone was gathering there now, then it was the perfect time to go and get Morag, Beatha, and Splendor and flee this place for good. But…
He knew he couldn't leave. Not now. Not without knowing what happened.
He whispered an apology to thin air and, darting out of the room into the thankfully empty corridor, rushed towardthe Great Hall. He'd just stay long enough to listen—only long enough to learn the truth—then he'd go. He still had time before dawn, and he knew that Morag would wait for him.
Just a little longer.
"Ah, me son,"Alistair Campbell said grandly as soon as Christopher entered the hall and pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Come, sit with me. See what your brother has achieved."
The hall was packed with almost everyone, from visitors to soldiers to even servants who were watching the raised dais with bated breath. Alistair sat at the center, the seats on both sides empty, his advisors and several clan chieftains in a row fanning out from him. Robert Caindach was there, too, nothing about him indicated the horror he was putting his own daughter through.
Trying to quash his fear and anger, Christopher took his customary seat by Alistair's side, trying to look as nonchalant as he could with his heart in his throat.
