Page 50 of Bewitching her Highland Savior

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Muriel leaned against the wall as soon as she found an empty corridor, choking back a sob as she finally allowed herself to cry. She wanted to appear strong in front of Liam. She wanted him to know she'd be fine, that she was tough enough to handle whatever Macleod threw at her. She didn't want his last memory of her to be of her sobbing.

But it had been difficult for her to remain calm as she spoke to him. His words tore a hole in her chest, and a part of her desperately wanted to believe him and let him handle everything like he had in the past. That part of her said that he would find a way, a plan.

That part of her was a liar.

Muriel remained in that corridor, hidden in the shadows, until she had wept her eyes dry. She began to walk with purpose after taking a few deep breaths, tracking down the nearest guard and demanding to see her mother.

If there was anyone who could comfort Muriel, it was her.

The guard was a very young man, someone Muriel hadn’t seen before, which could only mean that he had come to the keep in the past few years. He was tall but not quite as bulky as the rest of them, too young to have filled out from years of training and he faltered at Muriel’s demand.

“I am under orders to nae let anyone approach the prisoner,” the man said, as if reciting words from a script.

“That’s too bad,” Muriel said. “I suppose ye’ll have to ignore those orders.”

“I’m afraid I cannae do that,” the man insisted. “The laird—”

“I dinnae care what the laird has said. Take me to me maither noo.”

Muriel's patience was wearing thin as the guard hesitated. She would have let it go if she had asked him the same question just a few weeks ago and he had refused, but she was tired of letting others tell her what she could and couldn't do. She quickly took the knife from her pocket and pushed the guard against the wall by pressing her arm across his chest. The sudden force took him by surprise and he stumbled, his back slamming into the wall just as Muriel brought the blade to his neck.

“Ye’ll take me to me maither,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Or I’ll make sure ye never see yers again.”

Muriel could feel the man gulp under her blade, his eyes searching her face for any hint of bluff. She hoped that she looked serious enough to him. She didn’t have it in her to kill an innocent man but her father had taught her that a little intimidation goes a long way.

The man nodded wordlessly and after a moment, Muriel pulled back to let him lead the way. As he began to walk, she remained close to him; pressing the tip of her knife against his back as a reminder that it was still there. She thanked her luck that he didn’t try to take the knife from her or subdue her. She didn’t know what she would have done if he had.

Instead of taking her to the dungeons, the guard led her to one of the rooms in the east wing. Outside the door, there were two more guards, one of whom she recognized. He was Finley, an older man who had served under her father for many years and knew Muriel well. He had been kind enough to play with her and keep her entertained at dinners and feasts when she was a child.

“Ach, lass!” Finley said, stepping toward her. Muriel tried to hide the blade in her sleeve, but she wasn’t quick enough. Finley spotted it, his eyes narrowing. “What do ye have there?”

“A knife,” Muriel mumbled, cheeks heating at getting caught. There was no point in trying to hide it. She was certain Finley had already seen it.

“A knife!” Finley bellowed, laughing as though it were the most delightful thing he had heard. “Ye’re all grown up noo, hmm? Carryin’ knives and all. Why are ye scarin’ the poor lad?”

Muriel let out a sigh of relief when she realised that Finley wasn’t angry. Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tell her father what had happened.

“I wanted to see me maither,” she said with a shrug. “He wouldnae take me to her.”

Finley’s gaze softened as he looked at Muriel and he came to rest a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle pat. “The lad’s just followin’ yer faither’s orders,” he said, before he turned to address the other two. “Go on, it’s time for yer break.”

“It’s only noon,” the one who had led Muriel said.

“I said it’s time for yer break,” Finley repeated. The two men rushed to leave; withering under Finley’s gaze.

“Does that mean ye’ll let me see her?” Muriel asked.

“Weel… she’s yer maither,” Finley said. “Ye have a right to see her. But before ye go, tell me, are ye weel?”

Muriel drew in a breath, as if she was about to speak, but she couldn't think of anything to say. Finley appeared to understand, as made evident by the way he looked at her, not with pity but with deep understanding. It made Muriel wonder what he had been through in the hands of her father.

“Do me a favour… if anyone asks, ye opened this door by yerself,” Finley said as he let Muriel inside the room.

“Thank ye, Finley. I willnae forget this.”

Muriel gave the man a small smile as she walked inside, closing the door behind her. The room was large but modest, with only a bed and a washbasin but it was surely better than the dungeons. Her mother rushed to her when she walked in, pulling her into her arms.