“There where?”
“I’m not sure, but keep your voice down.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs. He took a longer step. Reluctantly, she let her hands slide from him. It was unquestionably safer to have greater space between them, yet…
Dragging in a breath, she reached out, and found more stone walls. They were in a tiny chamber, barely wider than the stairway. She couldn’t tell how much farther it went, but she sensed the answer was not far. The atmosphere was different, the air cool, damp rather than dusty; although she still stood on stone, the smell of earth and leaf mold was strong.
“There’s another door here.”
She could sense Charles reaching about, examining the walls.
“The lock’s an old one, but our luck’s held-the key’s in it.”
She heard him working it. After a moment, he muttered, “This isn’t going to be easy.”
A good many minutes and a number of muffled curses later, the lock finally groaned and surrendered.
Charles lifted the latch, set his shoulder to the door’s edge, and eased it open. In the end, he had to exert considerable force to push it open enough to see out. He looked, tried to place the spot.
Penny stepped nearer. He gave ground so she could look out. “It’s the side courtyard, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Her voice was full of wonder. She reached through the narrow gap, caught and turned a leaf dangling beside the door. “This is the ivy covering the west wall.”
She tried to push the door farther open. It didn’t budge. She looked down as did he; the door was blocked across its base by earth and leaves piled outside. He sighed. “Step back.”
Ten minutes and considerable effort later, she slipped past him and escaped into the bright sunshine. “Stay close,” he hissed as she pushed past.
Eventually, he widened the gap enough to follow her.
Gratefully inhaling fresh air, he walked the few paces to where she waited and turned; side by side, they studied the wall and the door. Even ajar and with the accumulated detritus of decades banked before it, the door was difficult to see, screened by the thick curtain of broad-leafed ivy.
“It’s built into the outer wall, isn’t it? I never knew it was there.”
“If we smooth out the leaves and earth, then rearrange the ivy, there’s no reason anyone would guess.”
Returning to the door, he retrieved the key, pushed the door closed, locked it, and pocketed the key, then kicked back the disturbed earth and leaves enough to disguise their passage. Stepping back, he studied the ivy; a touch here, a trailing branch untangled there, and the door had disappeared.
He walked back to where Penny stood, still staring.
“Amazing. I wonder if Granville ever knew of it.”
He glanced back at the now innocent wall. “I doubt it. Those locks hadn’t been used in years.”
She looked up at the corner of the building. The master bedchamber didn’t have a window facing the courtyard; only lesser bedchambers overlooked it. “I wonder if Nicholas is still up there?”
He’d followed her gaze. “Regardless, I believe we should pay him a visit.”
“Hmm…I’ve been thinking.”
“You’ve told him the outline of your mission. He didn’t want me staying at the Abbey, where I’d be talking to you, even though until then he’d been perfectly happy for me to leave him alone here. So perhaps we ought to prod him a bit.”
“How?”
“If you want to investigate the smugglers along this coast, a set of excellent maps would be particularly helpful, don’t you think?”
“As you know perfectly well, I know this stretch of coast rather better than the back of my hand-I don’t need any maps.”
She smiled. “Nicholas doesn’t know that.”
He considered. “Not a bad idea. What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Well, obviously, staying with you, we’ve been chatting over the breakfast cups and, keen to help with your mission, I’ve volunteered a set of detailed maps Papa had in his library. We’ve come to fetch them.”
“Excellent.” He meant it; he could see just how to make the scene play out to put, not just the wind but a definitely chilly gale, up Nicholas.
Penny nodded. “Let’s go.” She spun on her heel.
“Wait.” When she turned back, he simply said, “Cobwebs.”
She blinked, then her gaze trailed over him. “Oh-I didn’t notice.”
Stepping nearer, she reached up and plucked cobwebby lace from his shoulder, then, scanning up and down, she circled him. He felt her fingers plucking here and there. He waited patiently until she’d worked her way back to stand before him, close, face-to-face, but not focusing on his eyes.
She picked cobwebby bits from the hair framing his face, then rapidly scanned his features. “There. You’re done.”
“Now for you.”
Her eyes flashed up to his. Widened. “If you find a spider anywhere on me, I’ll never follow you anywhere again.”
He laughed. Plucked a long tendril of soft gray from above her left ear. Briefly met her eyes. “If I find one, I won’t tell you.” He started to circle her, fingers lightly touching, brushing to free the fine wisps from the velvet of her riding habit. “What is it about spiders and females anyway? They’re only tiny insects much smaller than you.”
“They have eight legs.”
An unarguable fact. He debated asking the obvious, but doubted he’d learn anything. Removing the clinging webs from her skirts took time; she stood silent and still while he bent to the task.
Penny concentrated on breathing, on trying to ignore the way heat seemed to flare wherever he touched. It was nonsense; she couldn’t truly feel his fingers through the layers of velvet and linen, just the fleeting pressure, yet…every time his fingertips brushed, she felt it to her bones.
Witless, wanton nonsense. Even if he did still desire her, that was one road she definitely wasn’t following him down. The price would be high, far too high for her to contemplate. Her misguided senses would just have to grow inured. Deadened.
His fingers brushed her shoulder, once, twice. Sensation streaked down her arm, across her chest. Tightened her already tight lungs.
Clearly her senses weren’t deadened yet.
She glanced at him, watched him peel a long trailing web down off her shoulder. And farther, off the velvet covering the side of her breast.
The thought of him touching, brushing there, flashed into her mind. She quivered, felt her flesh react-closed her eyes and prayed he’d put it down to her fear of spiders.
When she lifted her lids again, he’d circled to face her; she could read nothing beyond concentration in his face as he picked fine wisps from lower on her jacket, then crouched, scanning her skirts.
At last, he rose. She exhaled in relief-then sucked in a breath as his gaze fixed on her face.
“Hold still.”
She did, frozen as he raised one hand to the side of her face, fingers lightly tracing as he teased a thread of cobweb from the fine hair at her temple. Then his eyes tracked across her face. With his other hand, he delicately untangled a last fine strand from beside her ear.
His eyes locked with hers. Midnight blue, his gaze was sharp, sure. His hands were still raised; if he moved both an inch inward, he’d be cradling her face.
After a moment, he murmured, “That’s it, for now.”
Lowering his hands, he stepped back.
She breathed in, quickly turning away to conceal how desperate she was for air. “If we go around to the garden door, it’ll look like we’ve just arrived.” She started off as she spoke, embarrassed that after all these years, she still couldn’t control her reaction to him, her wayward senses.
He prowled beside her, blessedly silent.
