“I suppose she got that from you,” he said to someone next to him. “Bloody hell, no wonder you let me go first.” She heard another voice, but he told him to shut up and wait. He looked back down at her. “Are you all right, lass?”

“I am now. Or will be in a few minutes.”

“Where is she, damn it?”

Joan gasped, recognizing the voice. A moment later a second face appeared beside MacLeod’s. Alex? But how?

My God.

“I thought I told you to wait outside with the others until I brought her up,” MacLeod said angrily.

Alex let out a string of curse words that would have done a pirate proud, and in no uncertain terms told MacLeod exactly what he thought about that. If Joan wasn’t already in deep shock, she would have been—she’d never heard Alex speak like that to anyone, let alone the fierce chief of the Highland Guard.

“God, you even sound like him,” MacLeod said. “I knew you weren’t going to be reasonable.”

Apparently Alex was done with talking. A rope was thrown down, and in what seemed like a heartbeat he was pulling her into his arms with a groan of relief. “God, I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you.”

Still half in disbelief that he was really there—with her brethren, no less—she collapsed in his arms. Her strength had given out.

“God, sweetheart, forgive me. Please, forgive me. God, what did they do to you? You are so thin.”

She looked up in the semidarkness at the handsome face that had always seemed like a beacon in the night. “You’re here. It’s really you. But I don’t understand.”

He smiled. “Aye, it’s really me. I’ll explain everything once we get you away from here.”

He swung her up in his arms like a bairn and carried her to the rope. He made a loop for her to sit in. Doing her best not to wince against the pain in her ribs, she held on tightly as MacLeod and Lachlan—she could make out her stepfather now—pulled her up.

Both men took one look at her and swore.

She touched her face self-consciously. Apparently her cuts and bruises weren’t as healed as she thought. “Is it that bad?”

“Who beat you?” Lachlan demanded.

From the shivery tone of his voice she could guess why he was asking.

Alex had come up behind her. His expression darkened to something decidedly terrifying when he took in her appearance. “He’s mine, MacRuairi. I’m going to tear the bastard to pieces.”

MacLeod swore again. “Neither of you are going to do anything right now. We have to get out of here. They aren’t far behind us.”