“Realistic,” he countered.
They trekkedonward in silence, and Griffin was just starting to relax when he heard a noise behind them.
It was the scrape and sound of a metal gate closing, followed by a click.
Clare stiffened and tapped him. “That sounds like the gate we passed.”
“No worries, we go forward,” he said, determined not to be derailed. “You have a key.”
“Sure, I know of another way out, but we’llhave to crawl. Our clothes will be a wreck.”
“Especially your beautiful wedding dress.” He roped her in and held her. “Let’s take another selfie to remember this.”
He kissed her cheek and snapped several pictures. She really did look like a fairy princess wearing a tiara and the quartz Heart of Brigid replica over her pale bosom.
They got going and ducked around a grate wherewater dripped through. A howling, whistling sound keened from far above, and the sound of dragging chains clanked below. Was someone imprisoned down there?
Clare slipped crossing over a channel filled with water, but he was close enough to catch her and hold her steady.
“You okay?” he asked. “Maybe we should have gone to the front door and asked the abbess for shelter. Then we couldhave dressed differently.”
“We’re almost there,” Clare said. “Who cares about wedding clothes when we’re about to find your true heart?”
He nuzzled her closer. “Maybe I already have. It’s not made of stone, but flesh and blood—more valuable because it’s alive.”
She didn’t respond, although she softened against him. It was enough to let him know his words affected her.
The last few passageways were so narrow, he was sure his dandy clothes were all scuffed. Her gown was already ripped, the hemline soggy, and her tiara off-center. Her hair was matted and tangled.
She grabbed his phone with the flashlight and pointed it through a cracked wall. “It’s in there.”
“How will we get to it?”
“Watch and learn.” She dropped her pack and pulled outa fishing rod. There was no line attached, but she attached a hook to the loop at the tip. “This is why no one can get to my hiding place.”
“Couldn’t they bring a fishing rod too?”
“They don’t know the exact angle to go through the crack and into the pocket in the wall. Hold the light.”
He held the flashlight firmly against the crack while she fiddled with the fishing rod.His pulse was pounding, compounded by the steady dripping of water, the scuttling of possible rats and other critters, but he was too excited to worry. Since he’d come back from his last seizure, he’d never touched the Heart of Brigid, just read about it, and knew it was a diamond in the rough.
Clare grunted and swore under her breath as she angled the rod this way and that. It didn’t looklike she was having an easy time.
“Are you sure it’s still there?” he asked while wondering if she was playacting this entire scene. Maybe this was a wild goose chase, and she was playing him for a fool.
The actual diamond was safely ensconced somewhere else, or she could have sold it at one of those underground auctions by now.
Had she had enough time?
But if so, whyhad she come to the castle and exposed herself?
Her brow was twisted, and sweat dripped over her forehead as she poked and prodded the rod.
“Maybe you should have brought one of those fiber-optic scopes so we can see,” he said.
“Shut up. I know it’s there.”
Now, her tongue was sticking out, and the sight of it all wet and luscious struck him straight in the groin. Hisbody had a strange way of making lust known at exactly the wrong time.
