The ropes fell and she rose, stumbled, but he caught her. Steadied her. “We have to hurry.”
“Yes—please let’s.”
He bent and picked up a poker, then with her hand locked in his, they ran as fast as she was able toward the opening to the passageway he must have come down. She hadn’t seen anything of her prison before; she’d been hooded when they’d carried her down.
They turned into the passage—and glass crashed, smashed, and metal clanged, the sounds coming from somewhere above.
Ryder swore, swept her up in his arms, and charged down the passage.
More curses exploded over their heads. Pounding feet thundered on floorboards.
They burst into another chamber at the end of the passage—just in time to see a rope that had been dangling from a hole high above, along with the lantern swinging wildly from its end, fall with a small crash and a slithering thump to the floor.
Holding her in his arms, Ryder stared up at the hole, then calmly stated, “You bastards will die.”
There was enough icy certainty in his tone to make Mary shiver.
Silence greeted his pronouncement, then she heard a click.
Ryder swore and whirled back into the passage.
Sound exploded behind them; rock shattered and shards flew.
With her clutched in his arms, his body curled over hers, Ryder halted, leaning against the passage wall out of sight of the men above.
Rough laughter fell, echoing in the chamber. “Aint us who’s slated to die, me fine lord. Just you and your missus, too.”
A percussive thud followed hard on the words.
Ryder didn’t need to look to know they’d shut the trapdoor.
Mary wriggled. He straightened and released her legs, allowing her to swing them down and stand, but he kept one arm around her. With her leaning into him and him holding onto her, they leaned back against the tunnel wall and took stock.
The men were still moving around above; Ryder and Mary heard muffled words, then a few seconds later shuffling footsteps, then a solid thump.
The first was followed by others, increasingly muffled.
Mary frowned. “What’s that?”
Ryder realized. Letting his head fall back against the rock wall, he closed his eyes and swore. “Damn!” He listened again, then sighed. “I saw bags of grain or flour by one wall. They’ve shifted the bags over the trapdoor.”
“Why? It’s not as if we were about to climb up and push it open.”
“No, but the bags will hide the trapdoor.” Opening his eyes, he looked down at her.
She frowned back. “But surely those working here will know it’s there.”
He grimaced. “Possibly, but”—he glanced at the empty chambers to either side—“this place is clearly not used for anything, and as I didn’t know it existed, it’s possible few others do.”
He could see her working it out, then she met his eyes. “Does anyone at the abbey know you came here?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know you were here. We’d only just learned Lavinia was in residence and I came to check if anyone here had seen you. I didn’t imagine that you’d been trapped here—I said that after asking here I’d scout through the woods.”
“So if you don’t return, no one will raise the alarm?”
“Probably not until morning.” He pulled a face. “And even then, there’s no reason for anyone to believe I’m here. I left Julius loose—he’ll find his way back to the stables, but there’s nothing to say we parted company here, rather than in the depths of the woods.”
For a long moment, they stood in silence, drawing strength from each other, from simply having the other there, then Mary pulled out of his arms and he let her go.