“What is it?” She fumbled at the stopper.
“Fine brandy.” He gestured at her. “Drink up. I mean it. I won’t have you succumbing to hypothermia on my watch.”
The tendons in her neck worked with her first swallow. She ended up coughing and then wiping her streaming eyes. “This is horrible.”
“You mock, Miss Wickham.” He chuckled at her reaction. “I stole that vintage from my father’s personal stash in his office. Money cannot buy better, unless it’s from the King of France himself.” He nodded. “Take another swig. It’s an acquired taste.”
With a sigh, she drank again, and when finished, she ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip, much to his discomfort. “Better, though I doubt I shall ever become accustomed to the taste of liquor.”
“Perhaps that’s a good thing.” He took the flask when she offered and then downed his own portion before replacing it back into the slot designed for the container. “The interior of the leg also holds a dagger for emergencies.”
“That’s smart.” She smiled. “Do you realize how interesting you are as a person?”
He snorted. “That is debatable.” But her praise warmed him. He began the task of strapping the limb back to the remainder of his leg.
“It’s true, but even with that knowledge, we are trapped here, and sooner or later the lantern will burn out.” A trace of fear lingered in her voice.
“No, love, we are not.” Once finished with the many buckles, Jonathan levered himself against the wall and stood. He tested his weight on the leg and finding it comfortable, he lowered the trouser fabric into place. “I’ve learned enough from Archewyne and his wife to know there are always alternative ways out of any place, especially in underground warrens.”
“I don’t see how.” She glanced about with another frown.
“Hand me my boot and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
Instead, she knelt again in the brackish water and held the boot at the ready. Meeting his gaze, she nodded. “It’s the least I can do.”
His chest tightened, but he slipped his foot into the boot. “Thank you.” He walked about the perimeter of the well. “Take the chalice. We are searching for a hidden door along the lines of the one you found that led us down here.”
“The walls are smooth. There are no levers or anything else to indicate a latch.”
“Appearances, even here, are deceiving. An ancient builder, wishing to hide something or someplace, wouldn’t make an entrance obvious.” He pulled her close, and at her sharp inhalation, he smiled as he thrust his hand into one of the pockets of his greatcoat and withdrew his pistol. “You know, Miss Wickham, you are the best of all companions to have on this adventure.”
When she beamed, his world felt complete once more. “It’s been quite the experience, and one I wouldn’t mind repeating.” She splashed over and picked up the chalice and shoved it into a pocket of the greatcoat.
For one brief second, he entertained the thought of having her with him for longer than the space of their mission. Then just as quickly he dismissed the notion. She could do much better than him. He had to remember that, for he’d destroyed her chances too much already. “We haven’t survived this one fully yet,” he cautioned and grabbed the lantern. “Now, let’s begin our search, shall we?”
For an exit from their prison, or for something else? He wasn’t quite sure.
Chapter Seventeen
There was nothing for it. The viscount was insane.
“Jonathan, hold. We’ve been searching this blasted well for two hours. There is no clandestine door. There is no secret exit. We must make peace with the fact this will be our final resting place and make the best of it.” Sophia rested the lantern on the chest and slumped backward against the wall. The rumbling of her stomach echoed through the small space.
Never did I think I would expire in a horrid well.
“I am not yet convinced. There must be something we’ve missed.” He continued to explored each and every stone with his fingers, the tips of which were bruised, cracked and bloody because hers were the same. “Take a brief rest if you must. I will search again.” His pistol rested in the waistband of his trousers at his back.
“It’s pointless to continue.” She dove a hand into one of the pockets of his greatcoat that she still wore and retrieved one of the oranges she saved from the library.
“Consider the alternative and then keep trying,” was his answer. But he shot a mischievous glance at her. “I’m well aware I might die early. However, I can assure you it will not be here no matter that you have given up on us.”
When he turned away, Sophia stuck out her tongue at him. “At the moment, I shall assuage my hunger. Then I’ll take up the challenge once more.” She methodically removed the peel from the fruit and let the rinds fall into the water. They decorated the dark surface like little boats of cheerful hope. As she ate, she contented herself with observing the viscount while her mind went wool-gathering.
Despite the fact she was wet and shivering even with his greatcoat, remembering the kisses she’d shared with him sent warmth spiraling through her. She had no idea what it had cost him to tell her of his false leg or of his lost love, but he had, and emotion had ravaged his voice. She’d spied it in his eyes, and the only thing she’d done to comfort him was massaged his tight muscles or touched his face to smooth out the lines on his brow.
And through it all, she’d lost another piece of her heart to him. There was no use denying it now. She was in love with the man. No matter that she’d attempted to fight this very thing from happening, it had with a slow slide at each new revelation he gave her. The viscount was a battered warrior, a man with a bruised heart that she sorely wished he’d allow her to mend.
He moved close to the section of wall where she rested, and she offered him a segment of orange. “Eat, Jonathan. You must be hungry.”
“I’m not—” At his protest, she popped the bit of fruit into his mouth, and he reluctantly chewed. Once he’d swallowed, he sighed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” At least he hadn’t growled at her. When she offered him another segment, he dipped his head and took the piece. He closed his lips around two of her fingers despite the lack of cleanliness, and when he ever so slowly pulled off, she shuddered at the unexpected eroticism of the act. Her mind skittered into dark territory where he’d employ those sensuous lips on other more sensitive portions of her body.
“Let’s crack on, shall we?” He winked and continued to search every stone along that section of the wall.
Wordlessly, she nodded, and with heat blazing in her cheeks, she quickly finished her snack and then wiped her hands on a relatively unmarred section of her dress. It was silly, this feeling of romance she had for him when he hadn’t done anything to indicate he returned that emotion. The viscount wasn’t a marriage-minded lord. He’d said so himself. His total devotion belonged to the Crown and to keeping England safe from threats at home and abroad. Worse, he’d thanked her for her friendship. It might have been a death knell. And he’d not treated her any differently than he would any companion with him on adventure.
Except for the kisses they’d shared and that one blissful moment in the library when she’d given him all that she was.
Sophia glanced at him again as he worked. He carefully felt every dashed stone and brick, traced the masonry with his much abused fingertips, went so far as to blow at the wall to clear away dust and filth while holding the lantern aloft to examine the grime-infused prison. Her heart trembled at his dedication, and then it went into free fall. Of course he wished for an escape. He’d promised to return her to England and release her from the engagement that bound them.
A bittersweet ache swept over her and she gave into another shiver. When she’d first met the viscount, she couldn’t wait to rid herself of him and chase her own freedom. Now, she would fiercely mourn the loss of him. Would she carry around the pain of that parting as he’d done with the memories
of his dead Lavinia?
Quickly, she turned away lest he spy the confliction in her expression or know how smitten with him she was. It was imperative he never have an inkling of her regard, for she refused to guilt him into keeping their bond out of obligation or pity. A union should never begin on such a shaky foundation, and she wouldn’t want or respect him if that’s the only reason he wished to be with her.
Straightening her spine, Sophia took a deep breath and began her own examination of another portion of the wall, even though she’d done it twice before.
Many frustrated minutes later, she uttered a curse, and forgetting she stood in four inches of nasty black water, stamped her foot. Droplets of the sludge flew around her. A few splattered onto her face. “This is the epitome of ridiculous.”
“Perhaps, but what would you have me do, Sophia? Sit here and wait until dehydration or starvation takes us?” He shook his head, and in the flickering light from the lantern, shadows haunted his eyes. “I’ve seen men die, watched as their lives drained out of them. That experience doesn’t go away; you don’t forget it.” His gaze bored into hers. “I won’t allow that to happen to either of us.”
On impulse, she grabbed his free hand. She brought it to her lips and kissed his middle knuckle that was covered with dirt, grime and dried blood. “You’re a good man, and if I have to die, I’m glad it’ll be with you.” Most men would complain about their circumstances or whine that it had happened to them, rail at the heavens. Jonathan took everything in stride… or he internalized it. Either way, he stood strong and she appreciated that.
“We will not die here. I will work twice as hard merely to prove you wrong.” He gently pulled from her hold to cup her cheek. “There will be a future for you, Sophia. I shall see to it.”
I’m not certain I want it if you are not in it. She couldn’t say that aloud, so instead, she nodded. “I shall continue the search.”
“Good girl.” He lightly patted her cheek. “In the Banshire tradition, we shall stare into the face of death and laugh, for it has no power over us.”
Was there any wonder why she’d fallen for him? He might be a rogue used to charming his way through the hearts and beds of women throughout London, but she’d seen sides to him she doubted the rest of society even knew existed. He was as vulnerable as anyone else, and only just becoming aware of it—of healing. That was why she adored the man.
“Jonathan?” She frowned at the same section of stones she’d pored over for the last few minutes.
“Hmm?” He now worked on her other side.
The lantern light flickered more furiously. Soon the oil would give out completely and they’d be plunged into absolute darkness. A shiver rippled up her spine at the prospect.
“If there is a lever or some mechanism that will activate a secret door, what if it’s under the water, hidden from us this whole time? It’s the next logical step since we’ve scrutinized every inch available to us.”
He swept his gaze along the brackish surface. “I hadn’t thought along those lines, but perhaps it makes sense. This water has to have a source. If it was left over from ancient times—and it’s not fresh obviously—it would have dried up, but it had to come from somewhere.” He knelt on his good leg while handing her the lantern. “How I adore that sharp mind of yours.”
It wasn’t a declaration or even an indication of if he felt anything beyond affectionate friendship for her, but it was enough for the moment. Warmth infused her from his praise. When words didn’t come, she set the lantern on the chalice’s chest and dropped to her knees beside him.
Her hands shook from the cold and the wet. How wonderful it would be if they ever found a way out of the water. And the dark. She guided her fingers around the rim of the well, following the flooring in the hopes that something—anything—would reveal itself. Near the spot where Jonathan worked, a jagged sharpness scraped against her little finger. “Ouch.” Sophia drew up her hand to examine it. A red scratch marred her skin.
“What is it?” He turned with a hopeful expression.
“I’m not sure, but it didn’t feel like the other stones.” Once more she delved her hands beneath the water in the attempt to locate that out-of-the-ordinary object. “Here it is.” She smoothed her fingers over it, feeling the piece in an effort to puzzle out its origin. “Perhaps four inches in length. Only an inch or so wide. It’s…” What was it exactly? Again she swept her fingers over it. “Honestly, it feels like a pedal of some sort. Petrified wood or even stone.” Excitement climbed her spine. This is it. I just know it.
“Can you pull it or push it?” He edged closer and their fingers brushed beneath the water.
“No, but let me press down on it.” She looked at him as she did so. Nothing happened. The lever didn’t move. “Damn and blast.”
“Try again. It’s the biggest lead we’ve found, so don’t give up until we’ve exhausted every possibility.” He covered her hand with one of his and together, they funneled their strength into making the lever move.
When it finally gave, Sophia lost her balance and nearly smashed her forehead into the wall, but Jonathan jerked her away at the last second. She frowned at the stones and then at him. “Nothing happened.” Cold disappointment welled in her belly. “I was certain it was our salvation.”
“Do it again.” Quiet command wove through his voice.
“All right.” She plunged her hands beneath the dark surface and pressed the lever with both of them, being sure it went all the way down to the floor.
“Hold it for a few seconds. Perhaps that’s the key.”
She nodded, and with all of her strength, she held the device flush to the floor.
The ground shook. Deep inside the earth, or perhaps on the other side of the walls, a rumbling began. Jonathan scrambled to his feet and grabbed the lantern. Rock grated against stone. An ominous groan of metal echoed through the chamber and slowly, ever so slowly, a slim portion of the wall behind him creaked open. When the two-foot panel it hit a forty-five-degree angle, it simply ceased moving and no amount of pressing on the pedal continued its course.
Before she could utter a protest, the viscount applied force with his shoulder. Upon his second thrust, the panel opened wider. A maw of darkness loomed behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Stay here. I’m going in and when it’s safe, I’ll return for you.”
“Please don’t leave me in the dark.” Sophia stood as panic climbed her throat. “You promised you wouldn’t.”
“I did. Thank you for reminding me. I was merely attempting to keep you safe.”
“Safe while you meet danger head-on? I’ll protect you.” She’d do what she could, for her life wasn’t any more valuable than his.
“Of that I have no doubts.” When he extended his free hand, she grabbed it as if it were a lifeline. “At times, there is no better option.” As he smiled, the shadows twisted his face into a macabre mask. “We’ll go together, the same as we’ve done this whole mission.”
“Yes.” Though her breath caught as he squeezed his frame through the narrow opening and entered the dark passageway beyond. Sophia needn’t have worried. He never released her hand nor did he allow his grip to slack as she slipped after him. “Oh, I’m so happy to be out of that blasted well.”
“As am I.” Jonathan laughed and the rich sound echoed all around them and relieved some of her unease at being surrounded by bigger and more pressing darkness. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a fire right about now.” He tugged her to him and wrapped his arms about her while the light from the lantern bounced wildly around what appeared to be smooth walls of a cavern. “You performed admirably. I’m grateful you aren’t given to hysterics.”
She snorted but allowed herself the brief moment of gratitude to borrow from his strength. “It’s not logical to do so. Such behavior doesn’t help anyone.”
“So bold and straightforward. I depend upon that.” He pressed his lips into her hair. “You are calm when I am
not.”
“At times.” As she clung to him, silly tears clogged her throat. As elated as she was to be free of the well and to explore again, sudden fear gripped her and mixed with the urge to cry out her heart against his chest. Their adventure was nearly over. Soon they’d discover a way back to the surface and return to their rooms in Barcelona and from there book a trip to England.
Too bad she’d only found out how wonderful it was to actually live life instead of wishing for it to begin. Not to mention her time with him would expire, and that was perhaps the hardest truth of all to swallow.
Jonathan stirred and she quickly pulled from his embrace. “Well, let’s see about escaping from the realm of the dead, shall we? I rather hanker to see the sun once more before I leave this mortal coil.”
“Of course.” She cleared her throat and prayed he wouldn’t hear the lingering emotion in her voice. “Human beings were never meant to exist below ground.”
“Indeed.” He hefted the lantern high, and the skittering light caused the shadows to grow long and eerie against the subterranean passageway. “We should cover as much ground as we can before the oil gives. Once it’s gone, I shudder to think what we’ll do.”
“I don’t wish to think about it.” Sophia grabbed his free hand and held tight. For the moment, he was hers. “If we are very fortunate, perhaps the way out won’t be far.”
“Then we’ll convince someone to make us a veritable feast and keep that stomach of yours at bay,” he said as they started forward and their steps no longer splashed as the water dried up when the passage slightly slanted upward.
She managed a small smile. “And dry clothes.”
“And a fire to warm our feet.” He hooted with apparent glee. “And enough brandy to chase away this damned chill in my bones.”
What the Stubborn Viscount Desires Page 20