Page 23 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

It couldn’t possibly have gotten stuck in the few days since she’d had it open last. Looking out at the main room, she knew that route was hopeless. That window was her only way out. She hurried over to the fireplace, grabbed a piece of wood, and used the log to break the window. She swiped up a thick blanket to clear away the rest of the jagged glass so it wouldn’t cut them.

“Okay, boy. Out you go.”

She wrapped her arms around Rascal’s chest and heaved, but the beast’s feet only came off the floor a few inches.

“Please. I can’t leave you in here. You have to go out the window. Go.” She pointed, but Rascal just sat whining at her.

Panic started creeping in. She couldn’t leave him behind! But how to get him to move?

The fire was licking at the shelves that held her food, but she managed to dart in long enough to grab the cheese.

“Here we go.” She tore off a chunk and held it out, getting his attention. “Go get it,” she said and tossed the piece out the window. Rascal whined and put his paws up on the edge of the window. “That’s it, jump out. Go get the cheese. Go get it.” She tossed another piece and he leaped through the window like a stallion taking a hedge.

She thought she heard cursing and a growl, but a beam came loose from the ceiling just then and crashed into the room. She had to get out now or she’d die.

Scrambling up the wall, she leaned out and fell onto the ground headfirst, then rolled away under a bush where she closed her eyes.

Thank God.

For the second time in a matter of days, she gave in to the darkness.

…

Bryce had no sooner fallen asleep than someone was beating at his door.

He’d lain awake for hours remembering the kiss he’d shared with Dorie. Wondering what had made him do it. He decided it had been fear. His worries over her safety and wanting to win her trust so he could keep her safe. But he knew that wasn’t all it was.

He’d felt something. Something more than just the need to keep her safe. A different need. Not purely physical, but intimate. She’d understood his pain, and he’d needed her closeness. Instead, he’d left.

“What is it?” he grumbled when the pounding came again.

“Your cottage is on fire. Come quick,” Liam called.

For a second, still in a fog from sleep, Bryce pictured his old cottage. The one where he’d lived with Maggie and their little one. But if that home had still existed, he wouldn’t be sleeping in a room at the castle. Yet there was something else important that had him jumping out of bed to get dressed.

Dorie.

He hurried out of his room, still buckling his belt.

Following the other men out the gate, he looked toward the village and saw flames.

“Dorie,” he whispered when he saw the fire. Even from here he could see how far the flames rose from his cottage.

His wife was in that house.

He tore off at a dead run. He hadn’t so much as grabbed a bucket to help put out the fire. He didn’t know what he’d do when he got there, he just needed to get there. He ran the whole way.

“Dorie!” he yelled—a fierce cry that carried over the crackle and hiss of the cottage as it gave in to the flames. Rascal came up to him. His bark was hoarse as he nudged Bryce in the leg with his big head. He barked again and turned toward the back of the house.

When Bryce didn’t move fast enough he came back, barked, and tugged at Bryce’s kilt.

“Where is she?” he asked the dog in desperation.

In answer, Rascal led him over to a bush. Bryce was about to leave him to start searching when the bush moaned.

“Dorie?” he cried, bending down to feel around in the shadows. Sure enough, his wife was under the bush asleep. No, not asleep. Unconscious. She was bleeding at her temple.

“Good boy.” Bryce patted the dog before lifting Dorie into his arms to carry her back to the castle. He left the other men to put out the fire. It was clear there was no hope for saving the cottage.