peek,
instead looking away.
Clearing his throat, he said, “These
tunnels will lead us inside the estate.”
He walked a few paces, but when
she didn’t follow, he returned. Lightning filled the air and cast an eerie glow
on Brigitta’s pale features. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and red streaks
covered her face. She gazed at him and his heart skipped a beat.
“What if I do not wish to return?”
He frowned. “Why would you not?”
“I have my reasons.” She turned
her back to him and made to exit.
“What if I go inside to murder
the baron? Would you return to protect him?” asked Luke.
She whirled around, her finger
shaking before his face like a reprimanding governess. “The baron, y-your
brother, keeps me locked in my room like a prisoner. Why should I care what
happens to him?”
“That is a strong accusation.”
“Perhaps, but it is the truth.”
“Why would the baron do such a
thing? He is a kind and considerate man.” The lie tasted bitter on his lips.
“Is this why you go to kill him?”
she asked.
“I didn’t say I was to kill him,
I asked what you would do if I was set on such a course.”
“Now you know. If you will excuse
me.”
The extent of Chadwick’s
duplicity had grown so dire, the woman before him didn’t care whether he lived
or died. Luke and Chadwick had had their differences in the past. They weren’t
close, and they agreed on very little, but they were family.
Brigitta took a step back. A
downpour from the house’s gutter sluiced over her and a crack of lightning
struck the ground. Sparks flew. Startled, Luke rushed forward, wrapped his arms
around her middle, yanked her backward, and swung her out of danger as the
splintered tree slammed to the ground and blocked the exit.
She twisted, and buried her face
in his chest. Sobbing, she said, “I can’t go back there. I just can’t. He never
lets me out. No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. I always dress wrong
or fix my hair wrong or say the wrong thing. Livered footmen wait outside my
door and only escort me out for a tour.”
The sobbing increased, and Luke
wrapped his arms around her and patted her back. Heat from their two bodies
consumed him, and he bit his lip to keep from tilting her chin and planting a
kiss on her rosy lips.
Finally, tears spent, she said, “I’m
sorry.” In the darkness she grabbed for his greatcoat lapels, but in missing,
she pinched his chest. He grunted and she said, “Sorry.” She sniffed and added,
“You must promise never to repeat a word of this to anyone.”
“But—”
She didn’t release her painful
grip. “Please, promise me. If the baron believes I speak ill of him…”
The words trailed off. Red hot
anger surged inside him. “Explain.” His tone brooked no argument.
But Brigitta didn’t elaborate.
Instead she sighed and said, “Lead me inside.”
The morose, defeated quality of
her voice caused a tinge in his conscience, but yet he felt along the tunnel
wall and enacted her bidding.
Chapter Eight
Brigitta bent, felt around, and
grabbed a rock. As her brother-in-law led her through the tunnels she scraped
the rock lightly against the wall, hopefully leaving a mark she could follow
later.
If only she could have escaped
through the window and been given time to find the garden’s exit. She gnawed
her lip. The baron’s brother? Why, when she braved an escape, had she fallen
into the clutches of a relative?
The only way to free herself was
to go along with him for now. Having an intimate knowledge of the estate’s
tunnel system could come in handy later.
“Are we under the west wing?”
asked Brigitta.
“Yes, how did you know?”
She ignored his question. “What
are these tunnels for?”
“They were intended as a means of
escape if the estate was ever under siege.”
“So that is why your father built
the west wing over the castle ruins.” She had meant to say the words in her
head but his gasp filling the air alerted her to her
instead looking away.
Clearing his throat, he said, “These
tunnels will lead us inside the estate.”
He walked a few paces, but when
she didn’t follow, he returned. Lightning filled the air and cast an eerie glow
on Brigitta’s pale features. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and red streaks
covered her face. She gazed at him and his heart skipped a beat.
“What if I do not wish to return?”
He frowned. “Why would you not?”
“I have my reasons.” She turned
her back to him and made to exit.
“What if I go inside to murder
the baron? Would you return to protect him?” asked Luke.
She whirled around, her finger
shaking before his face like a reprimanding governess. “The baron, y-your
brother, keeps me locked in my room like a prisoner. Why should I care what
happens to him?”
“That is a strong accusation.”
“Perhaps, but it is the truth.”
“Why would the baron do such a
thing? He is a kind and considerate man.” The lie tasted bitter on his lips.
“Is this why you go to kill him?”
she asked.
“I didn’t say I was to kill him,
I asked what you would do if I was set on such a course.”
“Now you know. If you will excuse
me.”
The extent of Chadwick’s
duplicity had grown so dire, the woman before him didn’t care whether he lived
or died. Luke and Chadwick had had their differences in the past. They weren’t
close, and they agreed on very little, but they were family.
Brigitta took a step back. A
downpour from the house’s gutter sluiced over her and a crack of lightning
struck the ground. Sparks flew. Startled, Luke rushed forward, wrapped his arms
around her middle, yanked her backward, and swung her out of danger as the
splintered tree slammed to the ground and blocked the exit.
She twisted, and buried her face
in his chest. Sobbing, she said, “I can’t go back there. I just can’t. He never
lets me out. No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. I always dress wrong
or fix my hair wrong or say the wrong thing. Livered footmen wait outside my
door and only escort me out for a tour.”
The sobbing increased, and Luke
wrapped his arms around her and patted her back. Heat from their two bodies
consumed him, and he bit his lip to keep from tilting her chin and planting a
kiss on her rosy lips.
Finally, tears spent, she said, “I’m
sorry.” In the darkness she grabbed for his greatcoat lapels, but in missing,
she pinched his chest. He grunted and she said, “Sorry.” She sniffed and added,
“You must promise never to repeat a word of this to anyone.”
“But—”
She didn’t release her painful
grip. “Please, promise me. If the baron believes I speak ill of him…”
The words trailed off. Red hot
anger surged inside him. “Explain.” His tone brooked no argument.
But Brigitta didn’t elaborate.
Instead she sighed and said, “Lead me inside.”
The morose, defeated quality of
her voice caused a tinge in his conscience, but yet he felt along the tunnel
wall and enacted her bidding.
Chapter Eight
Brigitta bent, felt around, and
grabbed a rock. As her brother-in-law led her through the tunnels she scraped
the rock lightly against the wall, hopefully leaving a mark she could follow
later.
If only she could have escaped
through the window and been given time to find the garden’s exit. She gnawed
her lip. The baron’s brother? Why, when she braved an escape, had she fallen
into the clutches of a relative?
The only way to free herself was
to go along with him for now. Having an intimate knowledge of the estate’s
tunnel system could come in handy later.
“Are we under the west wing?”
asked Brigitta.
“Yes, how did you know?”
She ignored his question. “What
are these tunnels for?”
“They were intended as a means of
escape if the estate was ever under siege.”
“So that is why your father built
the west wing over the castle ruins.” She had meant to say the words in her
head but his gasp filling the air alerted her to her
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