Page 65 of Rogue of the Greenwood
He was moving again, pulling her along, but going slowly enough that neither of them tripped on the narrow steps. As they wound their way, she began tobe aware of light. Somewhere up ahead light was coming into their secret passage. She worried—could there be a door up ahead and was the sheriff waiting there for them?
“The church is surrounded,” she whispered. “How will we get out?”
“This passage connects with a tunnel,” he replied softly. “Just ahead.”
“What is that light?”
Very soon she could see for herself. They rounded the last turn and their narrow staircase opened into a sort of tiny room. A light hung in a sconce on the wall and the packet of her clothing sat directly below it. She could see no door leaving this room, but surely there must be. Probably there was another stone panel as she had seen above. This ancient church was just filled with secrets!
Adding to her amazement, Robert knelt over an iron grate built into the floor. He grasped the iron ring welded into it and with one tug he managed to pull the grate up and shift it to the side. There was just enough light to make out another, even narrower and entirely too treacherous, set of steps.
“You cannot expect me to go down there!” she gasped.
“Or you could go back into the church and greet your dear friend, Mr. Gisborn.”
“But Mr. Fraytuck indicated there was a secret entrance that would connect with the vicarage and he would show me the way out via that. Surely this is not what he meant!”
“No, everyone knows about that secret passage. He will, no doubt, send the sheriff and Gisborn off following it. We, however, will take this route.”
“And where will this lead?”
“To the caves.”
“The caves?”
“Under Castle Rock.”
“Good heavens!”
“I suppose you can hide there while I find you something a bit more, er, presentable for walking home.”
“I have my own clothes, thank you very much,” she said, hoisting her packet and waving it for him. “I’m not entirely thick, you know. I didn’t just arrive here at the church dressed this way.”
He didn’t seem to appreciate her cleverness. In fact, he appeared rather scandalized.
“You did not ask poor Fraytuck to help dress you!”
“Of course I did not. Good heavens, what do you take me for? I’m perfectly capable of contriving my own costume. Now, if this is the way we must leave here, then by all means, let’s go.”
It was beyond mortifying to stand here discussing her dressing habits with him. Her face was burning again and she was eager to do anything but stand here in the flickering light and gaze into his dark azure eyes. She found it too hard to breathe when his eyes fell on hers and held them with such determination and purpose.
What a relief, then, when he broke off that gaze and turned his focus onto the sconce. He was able to remove the light and carry it, so at least this time they would not be moving in total darkness. Cautiously, he started down the hole. When he determined it was safe, he turned to help her down. She adjusted her quiver, took a deep breath, and joined him on the ancient carved steps.
His body was very close to her as he reached to pull the grate closed overhead. She held very still, pressed against the damp wall until he finished the task. His face was uncomfortably near hers and he grinned when he noticed her discomfort.
“My, what interesting places we meet, Miss Maidland.”
“I thought you said we were in a hurry,” she snapped.
He laughed. “Very well. No time for conversation.”
She breathed easier as he moved slightly away. Together, they began their decent.
His fingers were warm as they encircled hers. She held his hand tightly and moved slowly down, stepping timidly on the damp, worn stone steps. He smiled encouragingly at her and she stumbled a bit. Heavens, but the man’s smile was just as disconcerting as his azure eyes.
Carefully, she followed, clutching his hand for support and clinging to her packet of clothes. The steps spiraled down for what seemed an endless depth, then abruptly ended in a long, narrow passage. There was nothing to do but continue forward.
She was aware of a network of sandstone caves that ran throughout the city. Carved by human hands hundreds of years ago, they had been used as prisons, chapels, storage areas, tanneries, breweries, and secret lairs for soldiers, refugees, and criminals alike. Where this particular passage led or what it had been used for, she could only guess.
