Page 25 of An Outlaw’s Desire

The rock Pitt was pushing aside stopped abruptly. “Come on,” he muttered. The moon would soon be free of the clouds, and he wanted to be in the long barrow by then.

The wind buffeted him and hissed over the ground, and with a grunt, he pushed harder to finally shift the rock. With enough cleared to reveal the opening, he squeezed inside.

A scuffling noise came from the blackness; likely an animal.

Reaching into the bag at his hip, Pitt took out the flint and small reed torch he’d brought. He lit the torch. Careful of the low ceiling, he crawled farther inside. At the rear of the chamber, he shoved the reed into a gap between rocks and set to work on another heap of stones, until he’d uncovered a square-shaped wooden board.

Pitt moved the board aside. Torch in hand, he went down into the narrow tunnel.

He hadn’t been in the underground corridor until now. When he’d found it years ago, he hadn’t explored it. He hadn’t been brave enough. When he’d nervously told Lord Montgomery about the find, his lordship had said a previous ruler of the castle had wanted a secret way to escape the fortress if needed. He’d hired men to dig the tunnel that connected to hidden passageways already established inside the keep.

Stones lined each side of the below ground tunnel that had been built many centuries later than the long barrow. Cobwebs and dangling roots brushed against Pitt, some burning away with a brief sputter of flame as he walked.

Ahead, Pitt saw a door.

His pulse quickening, he reached out and pushed down the handle.

Locked.

He searched the surrounding area but couldn’t find a key. Reaching into his bag again, he withdrew a handful of nails of different lengths that he’d picked up from the ground. Sometimes, he could sell the nails to craftsmen and earn a bit of coin.

Anchoring the torch in the wall, he slid a long, thin nail into the iron lock and twisted, wiggled, and turned.

Click.

Beyond was an unlit passageway of mortared stone. This entrance into the castle was just wide enough and high enough for two men to walk side by side. After retrieving the torch, he followed the tunnel to an uneven flight of steps and went up.

In places, light shone in through gaps in the mortar. Hearing voices, he stopped to peer through one gap. In the room beyond, three men-at-arms were drinking and wagering on a game of dice. In the next chamber he peered into, a maidservant washed a little boy’s grubby face. The area of the keep seemed familiar.

He soon reached passageways he recognized; he’d traversed them when he’d been a squire. If the lady he’d met at the stone circle resided in the fortress, she’d be in the part of the keep reserved for Lord Montgomery, his family, wards, and guests. Pitt knew how to get there—as long as the tunnels hadn’t been blocked off or walled in. Not only would he locate the lady, but for the siege, he’d learn if any of the corridors were inaccessible.

He headed for the tunnel he remembered ended in a door. People were talking in the room beyond.

Pitt pressed his ear to the door and strained to hear.

“…but ye weren’t ’ere,” a woman said.

“I went for a walk.” a different female said: the lady from the stone circle. “I will go to Clarine. Just let me put on my robe.”

Pitt peered through a knot hole in the wood.

Blackness.

An object in the chamber covered the door: a tapestry, or even a piece of furniture. If the woman left the room, he’d try to open the door.

He had to.

He needed to know for certain who the woman was.

He’d take a quick look about her chamber. ’Twould would be worth the risk, to determine if she was his Blythe or not. Moreover, the torch he’d brought was almost burned out, and he’d need one for the journey back to the long barrow. He didn’t want to get lost or fall down a hole. He’d never forget the stories he’d heard years ago of folk who had become disoriented and perished in the tunnels.

Pitt waited until he heard no further noise from the room. The reed torch had burned down to a small flame. Moving quickly so he wasn’t left in darkness, he set the torch by the wall, took out the nails again, and tried one in the door.

The lock didn’t release.

He switched to a larger nail. Then another.

Finally, with a rasped click, the lock gave.