Page 51 of An Outlaw’s Desire

“Equal,” he snapped. “I heard.”

Men’s voices carried down the stairwell. He and Blythe needed to hurry.

“I know of another way out of this level of the keep,” she said in hushed tones.

“Tell me.”

“Of course. Once—”

“Fine! You are my equal,” he bit out. “For now.”

She smiled, and her arm shifted in his grasp as she opened the book. Flipping the pages, she stopped at an ink sketch: a map of the keep’s two lower levels. “The tunnels.” She tipped her chin toward part of the map. “According to this, there’s a way in”—her gaze shifted past Pitt—“behind that wall hanging.”

He’d seen the large tapestry, bearing his lordship’s coat of arms, when the guards had escorted him into the dungeon. Several shields were stacked below it.

Pitt pulled Blythe over to the tapestry. After propping his sword against the wall, he moved the shields, revealing a threshold and the bottom of a wooden door.

As he drew aside the tapestry, she said: “’Tis probably locked.”

“One of these keys might work.” Pitt tried one. It went only partway in. He tried another, and then another. “Bloody hell!”

“Try this.” She handed him a hairpin.

He tossed the keys aside and set to work with the pin. With a muffled thud, the door unlocked. Easier than he’d imagined, for a lock that likely hadn’t been used in a long while.

He snatched a burning reed from the wall and handed it to her then motioned for her to enter the passageway. He stepped in after her, taking the largest shield with him. Once he’d pulled the door shut, he used the shield to jam the handle, making it difficult if not impossible for anyone to get in.

The torch crackled as he took it from Blythe. Her gaze roamed the stone walls of the passageway that would only just allow them to stand side by side. Cobwebs drifted from the low ceiling and clung to her hair.

“Shall I go first?” she asked.

“Let me, in case we encounter trouble.”

She nodded and turned sideways to make room. Their bodies brushed together for the space of two heartbeats, long enough for him to catch the almond oil scent of her and yearn to steal a kiss. But first, he needed to get them both to a safe place.

He got past her and, using the sword, gestured to the book. “What is the fastest way out?”

“Straight ahead. We should come to a fork in the passageway. We want to go right.”

Holding the torch aloft, Pitt headed down the corridor. The air smelled musty and dank. Stairs emerged in the shadows ahead, and he went up, glancing back several times to ensure Blythe followed close behind him.

“We should come to the fork soon,” she said.

The steps widened slightly. One tunnel went to the left, and another to the right. But, as he turned into the right one, he had to side-step to avoid a stone the size of his hand that must have recently fallen from the wall. The stone looked odd, though; flattened on one side—as though it had been sheared.

As he toed the stone to the side of the passageway, his gaze found the spot where it had come loose. Crouching, he moved the torch closer. “How odd,” he murmured.

“What do you see?” Blythe stopped beside him.

He squinted up at her. “What is in this area of the keep?”

“Chambers for storing grain, ale, and wine. Why do you ask?”

“Hold on.” Pitt slowly moved the torch over the wall until, at a spot near his right calf, he found what he sought. “Well, now….”

“Please tell me what you have found?”

“I will show you. Hold this.” He handed her the torch.