Page 71 of Much Ado about a Widow

Rob opened the door, bent on a quick escape until Jemmy’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder. “Jemmy, for God’s sake,” he hissed.

“Bon chance, my friend.” The grip on his shoulder tightened. “Bring my sister back your marchioness or it will be between you and me.”

Rob nodded. “Understood. Thank you.”

A final thump on his shoulder, and Jemmy strode back into the room to join the conversation. “Emma was well married also, my lady, although not quite so high as Mary, a sore spot between the two to be sure.”

Slipping out the door, Rob took off for the nearby servants’ stairs. Running swiftly down them he cursed the timing that had made it necessary for them to wait until this morning to sail. Had they been able to leave yesterday, they’d have gotten away with Blackham none the wiser until he and Georgie had returned, man and wife. Still, if they could reach the Justine without detection, they could sail away and not look back. None of the others would reveal where they had gone, and, by the time Blackham realized they were missing, it would be too late to stop them. Traveling by carriage to Portpatrick would take the marquess weeks. If their luck held, they’d be married in five days. Then Georgie’s father would be helpless.

He rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and started down the dim corridor toward the kitchens. The larder door was there on the left—but no Georgie. Skidding to a stop, Rob peered around. Had she made a wrong turn? If he had to go find her, they were never going to make it to the ship.

“Thank goodness, it’s the prince.”

Rob whirled around to find Georgie climbing out of a chest used to store pots. “What are you doing in there?” Then he shook his head. “Did you just call me a prince?”

“A figure of speech only. Here, give me your hand.” She grasped it and carefully stepped out of the box. “I thought it wouldn’t do for me to just stand around here, looking suspicious, so instead I hid and waited to see who appeared first, the prince or the ogre.” Grinning widely at him, she handed him a large black cooking pot from a pile at the end of the chest. “Aren’t you glad I dubbed you the prince? You’re certainly not ogre-like in the least.” She grasped another pot and deposited it in the chest. “Aren’t you going to help me? This will go much quicker if you do.”

He dropped the pot into the chest and pushed the top down. It crashed with a loud clatter that reverberated along the corridor. The distant chatter from the kitchen paused.

“Shhh. Rob, you’ll give us away.”

He grabbed her hand. “Come with me now if you want to marry me.”

“Well, of course I do, but don’t you think we should put the pots—”

“I have servants who will do that. We need to go before someone else comes along here.” He pulled the larder door open and was met by complete darkness. “Damn. I forgot a candle. Wait here. Don’t move.” He raced back up the corridor to the staircase. The area was always dim, so they kept a candle burning in a sconce there. He lifted the entire sconce from its holder and raced back toward the larder door.

When he arrived, Georgie was bent over the open chest, apparently rearranging the pots to make room for more.

“Georgie!”

She jumped and straightened up, her hands stuck behind her. “You’re back. That was rather quick of you.”

“Come on.” God knew he loved her, because he hadn’t strangled her yet. He grabbed her hand again, then led them through the larder door and closed it with a sharp pull. “Watch your step.” The steep wooden staircase led straight down to a large, cool room of rough stone where all the dry goods for the castle were stored. The torch flickered as he hurried along the curved wall toward a smooth patch of stone.

“It’s getting colder.” Georgie leaned closer, rubbing her arm against him.

“It’ll get colder still as we go deeper, and the wind will be icy once we get outside.” He raised her hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry you don’t have your pelisse. You’ll have to make do with whatever is on the ship, perhaps an old jacket of one of the sailors.”

“I’ll be fine as long as I’m with you.” She smiled up at him, sending his heart racing. “I can always depend on you to find a way to keep me warm.”

The image of them in bed, her naked beneath him as he covered her, made him pause as his shaft sprang to life, despite the cold.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I’ll explain later.” Shaking his head to dispel the image, he ran his hand along the side of the smooth stone. There was a loud click, and the stone panel opened.

“Lord, it is colder here.” Georgie peered into the dark opening. “What is this place?”

“Part of the smugglers’ tunnel, but it also leads to the dungeon.” Rob pulled the panel shut behind them and continued forward. The smooth stone beneath their feet sloped downward. Rob held the candle high to give them more light.

“You have a dungeon too?” The admiration in her voice made him chuckle.

“I promise you, it was here long before I was born. The castle dates back to the Middle Ages, when prisoners were held for ransom on a regular basis.” They had reached another doorway, and Rob switched the candle to his left hand. With a mighty push, he thrust down the huge lever on the door, and it swung inward into the pitch black. “Hold my hand. Don’t be afraid.”

“Be afraid of what?” The alarm in Georgie’s voice tugged at his heart.

“The smugglers had a rather crude sense of humor, it seems. And one a young boy could also appreciate.” He stepped into the dungeon, and led her past cells with iron bars, now well rusted, running from the rock ceiling into the rock floor below. In the middle cell, a skeleton in the ragged remains of clothing gleamed white in the flickering light, its bony fingers wrapped around the iron bars.