“I spent countless hours of my childhood here. I’m familiar with every crack and cranny,” he replied.

“Is there a way out from the ancient tower, other than windows?”

“Yes,” said McClellan without hesitation. “There’s a secret tunnel that branches off to several exits within the walled grounds. But—”

“How many?” interrupted Devlin. “Verdemont and his cohort have taken Anna as a hostage to ensure their escape.”

Caro sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s Josette, isn’t it?”

“How did you guess?” he asked.

“The chocolate she brought to Anna’s room—it was drugged. I drank it instead.”

“I found Miss Caro slumped in a chair in the parlor and was able to rouse her. Otherwise I’d be waiting for you by the stables,” explained the baron. “What happened?”

“Never mind that now. Again, how many exits are there?”

“Two—no, three,” responded McClellan.

“Damn,” swore Devlin. He had to make a decision, and quickly. Grabbing the baron’s arm, he gave him a small shove. “Pick the two most likely and let us fly.”

“I—I’m c-coming with you,” cried Caro, though her knees nearly buckled as she tried to match their stride.

He turned. “I applaud your pluck, but you’ll only slow us down.”

“If you truly wish to help,” interrupted McClellan, “hurry and find Lord Dunbar. Tell him to take some men to the stone cistern by the rose garden. Explain what’s happened—”

“That’s too dangerous,” protested Devlin. “The maid must be taken by surprise. Or…or Anna may come to harm.”

“Scotland is a rough land, Davenport, with many feuds that bubble up into violence.” He signaled Caro to be off, adding, “Dunbar will know how to take them by surprise if they come out there.”

“Let us pray so,” muttered Devlin as he watched Anna’s sister lift her skirts and hurry off as fast as her wobbly legs would allow.

“Prayers are all very well. But action speaks louder than words.” The baron drew a pistol from inside his coat. “Follow me.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The vicomte was right on her heels, his impatience to be out of the cramped tunnel evident in his jumpy step. Steeling her nerve and her body, Anna stopped abruptly on the edge of the stair and let him slam into her. A twist of her hip knocked him further off balance, and a shove sent him pitching forward.

An oath echoed off the jagged stone, punctuated by the thud of colliding flesh and the clang of the brass lantern hitting the treads.

Then all went black.

Anna knew she would have only moment or two to seize the advantage. Bracing her hands against the walls to keep from falling, she rushed down the steps, scuffing over tangled limbs and skirts.

Had Josette lost hold of the pistol?

Dropping to her hands and knees, Anna began a frantic search of the ground below the shallow stairs. The lantern…bits of broken glass…a pool of wax still hot to the touch…

Thank God. Her fingers curled around the butt of the weapon.

Scrambling out of reach of her still-thrashing captors, Anna cocked the hammer, taking heart from the loud metallic click. “Don’t move,” she ordered. Unfortunately, her voice didn’t sound quite as intimidating as pistol’s sound.

“Clever,” came Josette’s reply from out of the gloom. “But you have been reading too many novels. Miss Sloane. You have one bullet and there are two of us.”

“I have a knife,” lied Anna. “I shall shoot your uncle and take my chances with you, Josette.”

A laugh, more amused than angry. “And you would use it?”

Tags: Cara Elliott Hellions of High Street Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net