Authors: Adrienne Basso

His Wicked Embrace (28 page)

BOOK: His Wicked Embrace

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Time passed slowly, the silence and darkness becoming even more oppressive. Isabella placed the back of her hand over her eyes as a cold chill ran up her spine. She felt as if she was suffocating. She had never been overly fond of closed spaces, and with each passing moment it felt as though the walls and ceiling were closing in on her. It was difficult to remain calm and rational when all she really wanted was to break through the wall and breathe some clean, fresh air.

Isabella blinked hard several times, trying to shake the atmosphere of unreality. She felt cold to the very heart, yet she clung stubbornly to the belief that Damien would rescue them. Soon. Ian was a bright boy. Although he was distraught, he would somehow find his way back. She must have faith. Cradling the trembling Catherine in her lap, Isabella's lips began moving in silent prayer.

Ian burst into the earl's study, running as if the very hounds of hell were chasing him. Damien rose to his feet in confusion and watched his son race across the room.

“Father!” Ian launched himself at the earl. Damien caught the little boy in his arms. “Oh, Father, you must come at once! Something awful has happened to Catherine and Miss Browning!”

A rush of anxiety filled Damien. Crouching down on his knees, he grasped Ian's shoulders tightly. The little boy's face crumpled in misery and tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Don't fret, son,” Damien whispered, his gut wrenching with worry. “Tell me what has happened.”

But Ian was too upset to speak. He threw his arms around Damien's neck, lowered his forehead to the earl's shoulder, and sobbed pitifully. The anxiety in Damien's chest increased tenfold. He had never seen the child so distraught.

Ian had latched onto his father with an iron grip. With difficulty, Damien gently released the boy's hold from around his neck. He held Ian's trembling hands reassuringly in his own moist palms.

“Tell me what has happened,” Damien repeated, wiping away a trickling tear with one finger.

Ian took a shuddering breath and began speaking. “They are in the wall. Catherine and Miss Browning. I tried to open it, I really tried, but I could not. Miss Browning told me I must find you. She said you would be able to help them. You will save them, wouldn't you, Father?”

“You are not making any sense, Ian,” Damien said with frustration. “How can Catherine and Miss Browning be inside a wall?”

“We were having an adventure, looking for Lady Anne's treasure. We climbed up lots of steps, and Miss Browning opened a big door that made noise. It smelled funny, and then Catherine found a pretty room. I touched the wall and it moved. Catherine called it a secret passage, and Miss Browning said to stop, but Catherine did not. She walked inside the wall. Then Miss Browning walked inside the wall too, and it shut closed. And Catherine screamed and screamed. And Miss Browning told me I must open the wall. But I couldn't Father ... I couldn't.”

Damien drew Ian's shivering body close against his chest and wrapped his arms about him.

“Do not cry, Ian. We will find them,” Damien said softly, trying to think straight. Ian's bizarre tale was far from logical, but it did make some sense. And clearly the boy knew where his sister and governess were trapped. “You must show me where Catherine and Miss Browning are, so we can properly rescue them.”

Ian pulled out of Damien's hold. The earl tenderly framed the child's small face with his hands. Tears still brightened the little boy's eyes, and he tried to bravely blink them away.

“I remember the way, Father,” Ian whispered.

Damien's throat closed with emotion. “Good boy. Let's hurry.” Hoping to ease the fear etched in the child's eyes, Damien added, “Every gentleman knows it is bad form to keep a lady waiting.”

Hand in hand, father and son rushed from the room.

Damien tried not to dwell on the gruesome possibilities as Ian led the way. Were Catherine or Isabella hurt? Was that the real reason they couldn't exit from this “secret passage,” as Ian called it? As a young boy Damien had searched many of the rooms in the old fortress and had never stumbled upon any hidden passageways. It was, however, quite possible that a room such as Ian described did exist, constructed long ago, perhaps during Cromwell's time to hide Royalists. That theory certainly fit nicely with Lady Anne's inclination for supporting and spying for King Charles.

“This is the room, Father.”

Damien blinked with surprise when he stepped inside and beheld the rose-tinted room. He was certain he had never seen it before since he knew he would not easily have forgotten such an striking effect.

“Here is where the wall moves,” Ian said.

Damien knelt where his son indicated and carefully examined the wall. He saw nothing unusual in the intricately carved paneling. Cupping his hands on either side of his mouth, he shouted loudly at the wall, “Isabella, Catherine, can you hear me?”

“Damien, is that you?”

The words were faint, but distinguishable. Damien smiled weakly as relief shot through him. He had found them.

“Ian brought me here, Isabella. Are you injured? Is Catherine with you?”

“I am here, Father,” Catherine wailed.

“We are fine,” Isabella said. “A bit anxious to get out, however. Ian originally found the latch that releases the panel. It must be fairly low to the ground.”

With renewed determination, Damien continued poking and probing the panel, following Isabella's advice to search the lower half of the wall. Suddenly, his fingers found a small latch hidden within the carving of a thorny rose stem. Excited, Damien pulled on it and the panel miraculously popped open.

“You did it!” Ian cried with delight.

“Help me, son.” The little boy moved forward and they pushed together on one side of the panel. It swung inward and Catherine and Isabella literally tumbled out with a shriek of alarm.

“Thank God,” Damien murmured as he assisted them to their feet.

“Oh, Father, I was so scared.” Catherine wrapped her arms about Damien's waist and squeezed tightly enough to crack a rib.

Damien hugged his daughter fiercely. Over her head, he fixed his gray eyes directly on Isabella's pale face, dirt-smudged cheek, and untidy hair. Damien smiled broadly. She had never looked more beautiful. He offered her his hand and she grasped it without hesitation. An aching tenderness filled his soul, and he was stunned by the feelings that swelled in his chest. He loved her. With all his heart.
God help him.

Chapter Twenty-three

“Catherine has fallen into an exhausted sleep and Ian will soon follow,” Damien said. “I asked Maggie to sit with them. I don't want the children awakening from their naps and finding themselves alone. They might become frightened.”

Damien spoke from the doorway of Isabella's bedchamber. He had stayed with his children until a peaceful sleep had claimed his daughter, her small hand clutched tightly in his own. The earl had slipped away when she was fully slumbering, after holding his son for several minutes in a warm, comforting hug.

“I pray Catherine and Ian will not have any lingering nightmares from the incident,” Isabella replied in a small voice. Damien watched the swift play of emotions that crossed her face. Tears sparkled in her eyes, and she wiped them with the dusty sleeve of her gown. “It was all my fault, Damien. I should have been more careful. I'm so very sorry.”

“You must not blame yourself, Isabella. If anyone is to be held responsible, it is I,” Damien insisted. “I should never have told the children those preposterous stories about Lady Anne's treasure. Naturally they were curious.”

Damien moved forward, feeling awkward as he approached Isabella. The unexpected discovery a few hours ago that he was in love with her was nearly paralyzing him. He did not feel at ease with these new emotions. Damien was stunned and slightly overwhelmed at the enormity of the love and protectiveness he felt for Isabella. These strange, unexpected feelings made him uncertain. He felt vulnerable and slightly out of control.

Damien decided this must be the difficult, unpleasant side of love. Yet this same emotion had the power to make his heart, nay his very soul, leap with gladness just to be near Isabella. She brought forth the tenderness and joy buried deep within him. She brought lightness and laughter into his life.

Damien longed to reveal his heart to Isabella, but he was unsure. He stared at her in silence, this woman he loved, and wondered if this was the right moment to speak. She was clearly still shaken by the occurrences of the morning. In fact, the past twenty-four hours of Isabella's life had been nothing but turmoil. She had discovered the identity of her father, gotten drunk on a bottle of his best claret for the first and probably last time in her life, and been locked away in a damp, musty passage with a nearly hysterical child.

How would she react to his declaration? Would she welcome it or, God forbid, be embarrassed by it? Damien knew how important love was to Isabella. He remembered vividly her passionate speech the morning after their first intimate encounter. She had refused his marriage proposal because he did not love her. Would she now accept him? Would he finally have a chance at the life he had never before known he wanted?

Deciding he could not stand the uncertainty, Damien took action. He swung his foot and slammed Isabella's bedchamber door shut. He wanted complete privacy for this intimate moment.

Isabella jumped, clearly startled by his action. “Please don't,” she whispered hoarsely. Crossing the room quickly, she reopened the door. “I find myself suddenly averse to closed spaces of any kind.”

“Ah, sweet,” he murmured. He reached out and drew her to him. “It pains me deeply to know you suffered.”

Isabella gave a small cry of anguish, crushed her face to Damien's chest, and sobbed quietly.

“I was so frightened. It was cramped and dark, and Catherine, poor mite, was terrified. I knew you would come, DamienâI never doubted that for a moment. But it was so hard waiting.”

Isabella's pain touched him, sending a wave of tenderness surging through him. Her blind trust that he would come to her rescue was a humbling thought. She was an independent, self-reliant woman, yet she turned to him for solace and strength. It was a good sign.

“I am going to send Jenkins with a crew of men to the east wing this afternoon and instruct them to seal off that panel,” Damien said. “I do not want anyone else ever subjected to the torment you and Catherine endured today.”

“You mustn't do that.” Isabella's violet eyes were troubled. She took a deep, bracing breath. “I'm sure you will think me mad, Damien, but I believe there is something in that passageway.”

“What!” Damien felt his stomach clench in shock. “What is it? What did you see?”

Isabella chewed briefly on her lower lip. “I didn't really see anything; it was far too dark. But something in there rendered Catherine motionless with fright. At first I thought it was just her imagination, but the longer we were trapped inside, the more I began to feel it too. Toward the end it became unbearably intense.”

Damien sighed with relief. “I'm sure it was merely a reaction to being confined in such a small, dark place.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. Isabella turned from him and twisted her fingers nervously. “As much as it pains me to suggest it, I think we need to go back inside the passageway and investigate.”

Damien's brow rose. He found Isabella's request oddly disturbing. He was hoping to put the unfortunate incident behind them. He had never dreamed Isabella would want to return to the place that had brought her such distress.

“If you feel it is so important, Jenkins and I will do as you suggest,” Damien said, not relishing the notion of entering the tomblike passage.

“Good.” Isabella turned back to him and smiled sheepishly. “I'll only need a few moments to change into a fresh gown. I know it's rather foolish, since I will probably get all dusty and dirty again, but I would feel better if I cleaned up a bit. Of course, the best thing for me to wear would be breeches.”

“Absolutely not.”

Isabella's smile broadened. “I was only teasing, Damien. Naturally I will not be donning breeches. Where would I ever find a pair to fit me?”

“Isabella, there is no reason for you to come with us,” Damien said, deliberately ignoring her quip. “You cannot tolerate a closed bedchamber door, how will you fare inside that passageway? Jenkins and I are perfectly capable of exploring it on our own.”

“You don't understand. I don't really
want
to go, I
have
to go. I swear I will never have a decent night's sleep if I don't see with my own eyes what is or is not hidden inside that chamber.”

Damien heard the edge of fear in Isabella's voice, but he also saw the glint of determination in her eye. And he knew from past experience that she would not be denied.

Damien heaved an ungracious sigh of defeat and forced himself to consider the one positive aspect of the situation. At least he would be with Isabella. He could protect her from any harm, real or imagined, and if he judged the situation too upsetting for her, he would abruptly end it. If she could not see to her own best interests, then he most certainly would.

Damien narrowed his gaze. “I'm going to gather the supplies we'll need and locate Jenkins. I will await you in my study. I'll expect you there in twenty minutes.”

Damien turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, deciding that being in love with an impetuous, willful woman like Isabella was going to age him quickly.

Fifteen minutes later, Isabella breathlessly arrived at the earl's study. She had changed into her oldest gown in record time, not wanting to give Damien any opportunity to change his mind about taking her along. Holding her arm against the stitch that cramped her side from running, she watched in quiet fascination as Damien packed a cloth sack.

Neatly spread out before him were three lanterns, four candles, a light box, a considerable length of heavy rope, a long-bladed knife, and several large stones. Isabella was surprised when she realized the earl meant to take all these items with him.

“My goodness, Damien, we are only going to explore one rather small chamber. We are not about to embark on a trip to India.” Isabella fingered a foot-long gray stone in puzzlement. “Rocks?”

“For propping the panel door open,” Damien explained. He continued filling his sack as if Isabella had not spoken. “There must be a release mechanism on the inside of the wall, but I have no intention of placing myself in the disadvantaged position of being forced to locate it in order to exit the passageway.”

“A sound idea.” Isabella nodded her approval. “But are all these other items necessary? Would not a few candles suffice?”

“I am preparing for any eventuality,” Damien replied. “Ah, here is Jenkins. I hope he has packed our lunch.”

“Lunch!” Isabella exclaimed. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and Damien burst out laughing.

After a moment's hesitation, Isabella joined in. She supposed she deserved that. Lord knew she certainly didn't need her female instincts to tell her that Damien would prefer she not accompany him this afternoon. Given the earl's autocratic nature, Isabella was sure he did not appreciate her questioning his choice of supplies.

Damien finished packing the satchel and tossed the cumbersome bag easily over his shoulder. Isabella could not help but admire the way the strong muscles of his forearms rippled beneath his snug-fitting coat. She had always found his taut, muscular physique appealing, but the sight of his powerful body filled her with a sense of confidence. Damien was physically strong and mentally alert. Her fear of their forthcoming expedition lessened. At all costs, Isabella knew, the earl would keep her safe.

“Are we ready?” Damien asked. “Jenkins, Isabella, come along.”

Isabella obligingly fell in step with Jenkins as Damien led the way. While crossing the great hall, the trio unexpectedly bumped into Lord Poole. Isabella could tell from the contemptuous glare Damien cast at Lord Poole that he was annoyed by the interruption.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Lord Poole asked.

“This doesn't concern you, Poole,” Damien said without breaking stride.

“If it involves Isabella, then it most definitely concerns me,” Lord Poole retorted, stepping forward to block Isabella's progress.

Everyone stopped. Isabella lowered her eyes, avoiding the probing look Lord Poole sent her way. She said nothing. Risking a glance beneath her lashes, she saw Damien's expression darkening. She sighed loudly. Clearly both men were going to continue to make her the focus of their ongoing feud. Isabella felt as though she were a prized toy being fought over by two young lads.

This constant battle between Damien and Thomas for her undivided loyalty must cease. Isabella forced herself to stop twisting the folds of her gown between her fingers. It was high time she put her foot down. Lifting her chin, she spoke to her half brother.

“We are going to explore a hidden passageway the children and I discovered this morning. Would you care to join us, Thomas?”

Lord Poole appeared confounded by Isabella's invitation, but he readily accepted. Damien was silent for a long moment, and Isabella feared he would cancel the proposed expedition. Instead he gave her a level look, then began climbing the staircase.

Relieved at avoiding a scene, Isabella accepted Lord Poole's arm and they trailed behind Damien and Jenkins. Seeking a distraction from the palpable tension, Isabella began relating the morning's startling events to Lord Poole. When she discovered he had no prior knowledge of Lady Anne's treasure, Isabella launched into a spirited rendition of the fascinating tale.

“Egad, Saunders,” Lord Poole taunted, “ 'tis hard to imagine you've had the solution to your endless financial problems buried in this old relic for over a century.”

Damien neglected to rise to the bait. He flashed Lord Poole the lethal smile that usually sent the faint of heart running for cover. Isabella felt a twinge of sisterly pride when Thomas returned the look measure for measure.

“This is it,” Damien announced when they reached the proper room.

Everyone followed the earl solemnly into the chamber.

He strode directly to the correct wall panel and pressed the latch hidden in the molding. The panel clicked open.

“Fascinating,” Jenkins said.

“Simply amazing,” Lord Poole agreed. He moved forward, reached into his breast coat pocket, and drew out a quizzing glass attached to a black silk ribbon. Holding the magnifying glass up to his eye, Lord Poole peered intently at the panel door. “It is so simple, yet so ingenious.”

“Easy enough for a child to find,” Damien said with a rueful grin. “Help me with these things, Jenkins.”

The two men spread the contents of the sack upon the floor.

“I want a lantern too,” Isabella declared as she observed the valet lighting the wicks and carefully positioning the glass.

“You cannot mean to say you are going traipsing around in that tunnel, Isabella?” Thomas straightened up and gazed at her with acute alarm. “I expressly forbid it.”

“For once we are in agreement,” Damien said. “Isabella, you will wait here with Poole while Jenkins and I go inside.”

“No. It is my decision to make.” Straightening her shoulders, she announced calmly, “I'm going too.”

BOOK: His Wicked Embrace

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