Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 04] - Love's Duet by Patricia Veryan Read Free Book Online Page B

western loop." An arrested look came into
his eyes. "That must be the answer. We shall escort you to 'The Gold
Crown' to meet him. The Toll road will certainly be open by tomorrow,
and—"
    "Stephen's groom, my lord, is most devoted, as is his man. Neither
would allow him to attempt the western loop in such inclement weather.
He will wait at 'The Wooden Leg' until it is safe to cross the bridge.
And, by your leave, I shall await him here." The pucker between those
black brows was deepening, and in a sudden guilty recollection of
Clay's predicament, she said meekly, "Am I an annoyance? I do assure
you that just as soon as my brother arrives, we will no longer burden
you with our presence."
    For a moment, he was quiet, then murmured a bored "How fortunate…"
    Sophia tensed, rage flaring anew at this insufferable rudeness.
    "… that I was able to show you some of Cancrizans before your…
imminent departure," he added smoothly, and with a graceful wave of his
quizzing glass, ushered her to the stairs.
    Sophia had assumed the tour finished, but when they reached the
Great Hall, he took up a branch of candles and started toward the north
wing. "You will certainly wish to see our famous catacombs, ma'am?" He
smiled unpleasantly. "Not afraid of the dark, are you?"
    She had, in fact, been thinking how horribly black and eerie that
corridor seemed, but the mockery in his voice so irritated her that she
tossed up her chin and followed.
    How many times Whitthurst had teased her because of her fears of
darkness. She would overcome her weakness! And he would be so proud.
Only… it was so
very
dark, and, again, there was that
horrible feeling that something crouched in wait. The air began to
smell musty and stale, and the occasional creak of a board beneath
their feet set her heart beating faster. She hastened her steps so that
she was very close behind Damon.
    They came to the last door in that interminable corridor, and she
was appalled to discover that it opened onto a winding stair, the stone
steps worn away by age and possessed of an icy coldness that penetrated
the soles of her dainty slippers. The wretched Marquis was all outward
consideration, holding the candles aloft and requiring that she hold
his hand as well as the iron railing. If he was aware of the chill of
that little hand and how it trembled in his own, he gave no sign,
merely commenting in a casual fashion that they were coming now to the
oldest part of the Priory. The lowest level, he said, dated to the
thirteenth century and had been the dungeons and torture chambers of
the keep wherein many helpless victims had met a horrid death. He waxed
so eloquent on the subject, detailing the horrendous punishments meted
out for such vile crimes as the theft of an apple or some tardily
completed task, that Sophia's dread of the place mounted. His voice
seemed to become positively sepulchral as they reached the foot of the
steps. Walls and floor were dank and chill, sloping ever downward. To
either side were even older doors than on the preceding level, with
tiny barred slits for windows, through which she could imagine some
agonized victim stretching imploring hands while begging in vain for
mercy.
    He pushed open one of those frowning doors and, stooping, entered.
She made herself follow despite the onset of a smothering need to
escape. This blackness seemed a velvet curtain hung directly before her
eyes. The candles dipped lower, and she realised that Damon was
starting down the last flight of steps that wound into stygian gloom.
She did not move.
    Her palms were wet now, her breathing rapid and uneven Damon glanced back and held out one hand, but she shook her head mutely.
    "Whatever is it?" His cynical sneer enraged her. "You do not believe in ghosts, surely?"
    Her rage fled. "G-Ghosts…?"
    "Nonsense tales spread by peasants and witless bumpkins. They say
that one of the monks, long ago when this place was a Priory, loved a
village maid. He smuggled her down here one