He was just about to pass her hiding place when all of a sudden he came to a halt and shot a hard look at the door of the Weapon Room.
Anna didn’t dare breathe.
His boots shifted.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that Lord Dunbar’s ancient ancestor was stout enough to protect her from the marquess’s prying eyes.
Silence.
Surely he must hear the hammering of her heart. It was loud enough to wake the dead knight, wherever his bones might be resting.
Leather scuffed against wood as Devlin started to move away. He paused at the corner, and then to her surprise, turned down the corridor that led to the most ancient part of the castle, which held nothing of interest to any houseguest.
Anna made herself wait several moments before crawling out from behind the armor. Repressing a wince, she picked a cobweb out of her hair. Crouching in a cramped space was deucedly uncomfortable.
“Thank goodness Emmalina is a hardier soul than I am,” she murmured, shaking the dust from the hem of her wrapper. Otherwise her intrepid heroine would long since have succumbed to the evil machinations of the villainous Lord Malatesta.
Villain. What in the world was Lord Davenport doing creeping into a part of the castle that held only the earl’s most ancient art collections? Anna drew a deep breath, knowing she should ignore the question and head back to bed. And yet…
Tiptoeing to the corner, she darted a look around and then followed after him.
The passageway narrowed and wound up and down several sets of roughhewn stairs. There were few windows, so Anna could barely see more than several yards ahead. More than once, she hesitated, knowing she was asking for trouble by acting on impulse.
But the sound of the marquess’s footsteps echoing further off assured her there was little danger of being caught.
So some inner demon impelled her to go on.
Suddenly the steps ahead stopped. A raspy clang of metal against metal rang out.
Inching forward to the next turn, Anna ventured a peek around the corner.
Davenport’s back was to her. He had just finished unlatching the last of three massive bolts and was pushing up an iron-banded oak door. After striking a flint to the lantern he had unhooked from the wall, he disappeared through the opening.
What…
Anna was about to creep forward, when all at once reason reasserted itself. The realization that he might return at any moment spurred her to gather her wits and make a quick retreat. Picking up her pace, she hurried back through the twists and turns, giving thanks as she made it to her own rooms that no one had spotted her.
Closing the door, Anna slumped against the paneled oak and felt her limbs go a little limp.
So much for the peace and quiet of the country. Perhaps she should have gone to Baden-Baden after all.
Rat-a-tat-tat. Anna awoke to a downpour pelting against the windows. The skies were a sullen gray, and the dark clouds hanging low over the moors looked heavy as Scottish granite.
“Nay, miss, the storm looks te be a stubborn one,” said the young chambermaid who scuttled in to light a fire in her hearth. “I dunna think it will blow over today.”
“What filthy weather,” groused Josette, as she entered with a freshly pressed gown for the evening’s supper. “No wonder the Scots all drink whisky instead of wine. You need a potent fire to warm the chill from your bones.”
Anna shivered as a damp gust rattled the windowpanes. “Lady Dunbar assures me that it’s quite warm when the sun shines.”
“Hmmph.” Throwing open the armoire, her maid began to rearrange the various items of clothing. “Mon Dieu! Speaking of filthy, what has happened to your wrapper, mademoiselle? I am quite sure I would never have hung it in here looking as if the cat had dragged it in from a mousehole.”
“The fault is mine,” apologized Anna. “I couldn’t sleep and went down to fetch a book from the library.”
“A book?” The maid eyed the two stacks of novels and travel guides piled on the desk.
“Yes, well, I was hoping to find something boring, like an essay on agriculture, to help put me to sleep.”
“Ah, oui.” Josette nodded. “It’s true—a novel can be so entertaining that it keeps you up all night.” She made a clucking sound as she surveyed Anna’s face. “And you, mademoiselle, ought to be sure to have an early evening. You are looking—how do you say it in English—a bit mountained.”