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Victor’s face twisted into an expression of disgust. “And ye say thatI’mthe one who has changed? What sort of wretch do ye think I am? I wouldnae do any of those things. Aye, ye willnae be allowed to wander as ye please, and ye’ll have an escort with ye at all times, but ye’ll be free enough. The more ye obey and accept yer new life, the more privileges ye’ll receive.”
“Free enough?” Edwina snorted. “If ye say that to a caged bird, do ye think that makes a jot of difference to how far they can fly?”
“Daenae be dramatic, Edwina, it doesnae suit ye.”
She laughed stiffly. “Och, ye want dramatic? As soon as we get to this castle of yers, I’m goin’ to start spreadin’ rumors that ye’re addled in yer mind and stage a coup to overthrow ye. I daenae care who gets yer title, so long as it’s nae ye. Then, I’ll have ye thrown in yer own dungeons, and I’ll repeat those words—free enough—to ye, so ye’ll ken how foolish they are.”
“If ye cannae hold yer tongue, I’ll put that gag back in place,” Victor threatened, but Edwina felt no fear as the sharp tone of his voice grated up and down her spine. It did nothing but serve to sharpen her determination to get away from him, as soon as possible.
Still, she knew when to be silent, and she needed to conserve her strength for when she finallydiddecide to make her escape. She had never been to Reindell Castle, but she was aware of how far away it was. At least two days’ ride from Castle Moore. That meant Victor would have to stop now and again, just as he had been doing, or his horse would falter.
And upon one of those occasions, when Victor was at his most confident that he had succeeded, she would seize her opportunity. All she had to do now was wait for it to come, for if no one was coming to rescue her, then she would rescue herself.
* * *
An eternity later, her body stiff and cold from the lengthy ride, Edwina’s first opportunity presented itself.
The landscape had shifted and changed countless times, blending out of dense forest and into rolling fields and barren moors, before shrouding itself in thick woodland once more. They had passed a few small villages, but it seemed that Victor was eager to stay away from any place where there might be people, always veering away from the welcoming sight.
As evening drew in, however, he turned the horse up a winding path that cut through wild moorland. A few skeletal trees stood guard over the sparse sheep that grazed, but there was nothing else for miles around, apart from one large farmhouse that loomed at the end of the faint path. Lights glowed in the windows, beacons for weary travelers, but in their illumination, Edwina saw only possibility.
I must be discreet, and I must be clever,she told herself, trying to conjure up a swift plan.
She thought about writing a note, asking for help, but if the residents of the farmhouse were illiterate, she realized that would not work. Perhaps, she would whisper it to the woman of the house, who would surely inform her husband of the situation. Then again, if Victor overheard, he could easily throw her back on the horse and ride away.
I’ll wait until he’s asleep,she decided, noting the lazy sway in Victor’s body. He had been yawning loudly for the past hour at least, and if he was seeking out shelter for the night, it stood to reason that he planned to sleep soon.
However, all of her plans unraveled as Victor halted the horse outside the farmhouse gate. He slipped down from the saddle without a word and lashed the reins to the gatepost. It did not look like much of a barrier to freedom, but it felt as high and impassable as a mountain from where she sat, still bound and tied to the saddle.
“Daenae think of screamin’ again, as it willnae do ye any good,” Victor warned, as he opened the gate. “I ken these people. They’re old friends of my faither. Even if ye were beaten and bloody, they wouldnae ask any questions, and they certainly willnae help ye to run from me.”
It proved to be a devastating blow to Edwina, who had not yet allowed her courage and strength to abandon her. But she was cold and tired and sore and devastated, and even the strongest woman had to admit when a task seemed impossible. She had not given up, of course, but she was on the verge of tears, angry at the cruelty of it all.
“I was happy,” she whispered to the cloudy evening sky that grew darker by the minute. “I was happy, Papa. For the first time since ye left me, I was… at peace.”
It seemed absurd that she had been warm and comfortable in her marital bed, just that morning, her limbs relaxed from a night of wondrous pleasures. Now, her teeth chattered, and she craved more garments than she had on. Victor had given her a cloak to keep out the chill, but it did not do much against the fearsome Scottish winds that cut with particular viciousness across the moors.
“I just wanted to make him breakfast,” she continued, more to steel her resolve than anything else. “I wanted to please him, and return to his arms, so we could spend the day together as husband and wife for the first time. I want to go back, Papa. Please, help me get back to him.”
But the sky continued to darken, and so did Edwina’s spirits. If her father had been guiding her toward a happy future from Heaven, he must have had the reins taken away from him. Dropping her gaze down, she missed him more than ever.
Just then, a black cat with a white stripe down the center of its chest prowled up to the gate and leaped gracefully onto the drystone wall. It perched there for a moment, licking its paw and staring at Edwina. She did not understand the language of cats, but there was something in the creature’s eyes that she recognized.
She could not be sure if it was a sign from her father or if it was mere coincidence, but it was precisely the jolt she needed to get out of her wallowing pit.
“Iwillget back to ye, Felix. I swear it.” Brimming with a renewed courage, she spied the sharp edge of a stone, sticking out of the wall.
Nudging the horse with her thigh, the beast moved closer to the rudimentary blade. With a breath, Edwina leaned out as far as she could, pulling the ropes that bound until they were so rigid that they could have been plucked like a fiddle string. Then, she began to saw, putting what remained of her strength into dragging the rope up and down the stone’s sharp edge.
All the while, she kept her gaze upon the farmhouse door, terrified that Victor might emerge before she could free herself.
Sawing harder and harder, until her wrists burned from the friction, she gasped in delight as the rope began to fray. The single fibers tore and unraveled, until nothing remained but a thin bridge of hemp between the two sides of the rope.
Come on, come on!she urged, as shadows moved behind the farmhouse windows, and muffled voices drifted out into the yard.
All of a sudden, the last piece of rope snapped, toppling her off balance for a moment. It took a moment longer for her to realize that she was free. True, her wrists were still bound together, but as long as she could hold the reins, liberty was within her grasp.
Desperately, she shuffled herself over the back edge of the saddle and into the main dip of the seat… only to remember that Victor had tied the reins to the gatepost.
