Page 54 of This Laird of Mine

He bent down beside Claire. “I beg you to stay here with Penelope while David and I go inside.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed his finger against it.

A frisson of sensation tingled along his finger at the intimate touch. “Just this once, do as I ask?”

Her eyes went wide as though she’d felt it too—that odd sensation. She nodded.

Jules stood, then reached inside his boot and set a dagger on the ground next to her. “Just in case,” he said, then he and David disappeared through the gate of the mausoleum.

Claire moved Penelope into a sitting position, then palmed the dagger and stood. She offered her other hand to the young woman. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” Penelope struggled to her feet.

“What happened?” Claire asked, looking around them in the hazy light. She swallowed. Why had she never noticed before that moss growing on the sides of stone looked like rivulets of blood in the darkness?

Penelope reached for her head and rubbed the back of it gingerly. “I think something hit me.” She pulled her fingers away to reveal a smear of blood.

“You are certain your hand is okay?” Claire asked.

Penelope looked down at her bandaged finger. The pristine white linen fairly glowed beneath the silver moonlight. “Not my hand. Something else.”

“Something or someone?” Either way, they were not alone. Whoever hit Penelope could very well be waiting for David and Jules inside that tomb.

She knew Jules would not be happy with her if she followed them inside, but she couldn’t simply wait outside either if she could do something to alert them to the danger ahead. “Come on, Penelope, we are going after them.” She didn’t wait for an answer but pulled Penelope along with her into the gated opening. “We have to hurry,” she said breathlessly.

She showed her lantern into the dark mausoleum ahead. For a moment she couldn’t see anything in the fetid darkness until her eyes adjusted to the low light. In the inky darkness, she saw two sarcophagi positioned in the center of the chamber. And beyond that another chamber.

“I don’t like this place,” Penelope whispered.

“I know. We will be out of here soon, and you can put the memories behind you,” Claire said in her most reassuring voice.

Penelope nodded as they stepped into a broad hall-like antechamber. Claire held up the lantern. There were three openings in the chamber, tunnels, apparently, that led in different directions.

“Do you remember which one of these you came through?” Claire asked as she studied the tunnels uncertainly. Which way had the men gone?

“I don’t remember.” Penelope’s gaze shifted from one tunnel to the next.

“That’s all right,” Claire reassured her. “We will follow each one until it takes us to the men or the girls. With any luck, both.” She moved toward the opening on the far left. She came to steps and proceeded down them, following the tunnel as it veered to the right. Except for the light from the lantern, they were in total darkness. They went on, inching their way forward as the walls grew narrower and the roof lower.

“Do you remember any of this?” Claire asked.

“I think I do,” Penelope said, in a stronger voice.

Encouraged by the information, Claire pushed forward, probing the darkness with the light from the lantern. She came to a step, then another, and put her hand against the wall to help guide her way. How deep into the earth did this tunnel go? Perhaps she had chosen the wrong opening to explore. Common sense told her to turn around and go back.

Then she heard a noise. It was low, rumbling, like the sound of voices. She signaled Penelope to be silent and set the lantern down. It would not do for the light to give them away. Scarcely daring to breathe, she crept forward. In one hand she gripped Penelope’s injured hand. In the other she clutched the dagger.

“Are you afraid?” Penelope whispered.

Claire swallowed. “Of course, but fear cannot stop us. We must press on and find the girls.” And Jules. She sent up a silent prayer that nothing would happen to Jules or to David.

In the inky light, Claire crept toward the sound. Suddenly, without warning, the floor slanted sharply down. Claire cried out, slipping and sliding into the void. The last thing she heard was Penelope’s scream. Then her vision went black.

A woman’s scream echoed through the tunnel. Sheer terror tore through Jules.

“Penelope.” David breathed beside him.

They both started running, lanterns swinging, painting the black walls with a kaleidoscope of orange and yellow. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the tunnel, matching the beat of Jules’s heart. Why did the sound of Penelope’s voice come from below them when the girls were aboveground? Unless . . .