When they came to the dark, cold, stone stairs leading downward, he pushed Alyx so hard she slammed into the wall and tripped down four steps until she caught her balance. Pausing for a moment, her hands protectively on her belly, she tried to catch her breath.
“Go on,” Pagnell sneered, pushing her again.
Alyx managed to get down to the bottom without falling again. The room they were in was cold and totally dark, the ceiling very low. Barrels and sacks of stores crowded the floor. She whirled when she heard the door creak open.
Pagnell stood in front of a heavy door, open to reveal a yawning black nothingness. “In here,” he growled.
“No.” She backed away, but the room was so crowded there was nowhere to go.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and with one shove, slammed her into the blackness.
Crouching in a corner, surrounded by the cold blackness, she saw the door shut, blocking off the last ray of light, and heard the heavy iron bolt shoot into place.
Chapter Thirteen
THE HIDEOUS LITTLEroom seemed to be the epitome of every nightmare, every bad thought, every horrible story she’d ever heard. There was no light, and even after an hour she still could not see her hand before her face. For a very long time she remained huddled in the corner where Pagnell had tossed her, afraid to move.
If she could not see, she could certainly hear the noises of insects on the walls and floor, sounding loud and treacherous. What made her finally move was something scampering across the soft leather of her shoes. With a little squeal, she came upright, her hands trying to clutch the stones of the wall behind her.
“Calm yourself, Alyx,” she said aloud, and her voice echoed off the walls. It would be morning before long and Jocelin would be looking for her—if he were still alive. No, she couldn’t depend on anyone getting her out of here. She had to try to find her own means of escape.
Cautiously, hands out like a blind person, she took a step forward and nearly fell across a low bench. Kneeling, she ran her hands over it and was glad to see that she could make out the shadow of it. When she’d finished her exploration of the bench, she moved to the walls, feeling her way to the door. For all the door gave when she pushed against it, she might have been trying to move the stone walls.
The room was about six feet square with stone walls and a dirt floor, and the only furniture was the short bench. There was no window in the door and no light came in around the corners. The low ceiling allowed her to explore every inch of the room. There were no windows, no gratings, no weak places anywhere. When she finished, the upper half of her body was covered with spiderwebs, and there were tears on her face. Angrily, she tried to brush the sticky things from her face and clothes, all the while crying and cursing Pagnell and men of his kind.
After several hours she sat down on the bench, knees drawn up, and put her head down. Absently, she pushed the baby’s foot down from where it was kicking her in the ribs, and as her child became more active, restless, she started to sing to him. Gradually, he quietened and so did Alyx.
Overhead, she heard people walking and knew the ceiling was the castle floor. Somewhere up there Jocelin was trying to find her. She began to imagine ways to escape and wished she could start a fire, thinking that perhaps she could burn her way out. But, of course, the smoke would probably kill her before the fire burned the door.
When the door opened, the sound, so loud in the quiet room, startled her so badly she nearly fell off the bench. Candlelight flooded the room and nearly blinded her.
“There you are,” came a voice she knew was Elizabeth Chatworth’s.
Alyx gave no thought to her class as she threw her arms about Elizabeth. “I am so very, very glad to see you. How did you find me?”
Elizabeth gave Alyx a one-arm hug. “Jocelin came to me. It’s that idiot Pagnell, isn’t it? That man is as vicious as any man created. Now, come on before the dunce returns.”
“Too late,” came a drawling, half-amused, half-angry voice from the doorway. “You haven’t changed much, Elizabeth, you’re still giving orders to everyone.”
“And you, Pagnell, are still tearing wings off butterflies. What has this one done to you? Refused your advances as any woman with any sense would do?”
“Your tongue is too sharp, Elizabeth. If I had time I’d teach you softer ways.”
“You and how many other men?” Elizabeth spat. “You’re scared to death of me because what I say is true. Now get out of the way and let us pass. We’ve had enough of your nasty little games. Go find someone else to play with. This child is under my protection.”
He planted himself in front of Elizabeth and Alyx, not letting them out of the little cell.
“You go too far!” Elizabeth hissed. “You’re no longer threatening a helpless servant. My brother will have your head if you harm me.”
“Roger is too busy plotting against the Montgomerys to give a thought to anyone else. I hear he stays drunk all the time now that dear, sweet, crippled Brian has gone off sulking somewhere.”
Alyx didn’t see the little eating dagger Elizabeth pulled from the sheath at her side, but Pagnell did. With a sidestep he dodged her, caught her arm and, twisting it, pulled her to him. “I’d like to feel you under me, Elizabeth. Do you bring as much fire to your bed as you do to everything else?”
Alyx saw that now was her chance. On the wall outside the cell, to her left, was a heavy ring of keys. In one swift motion she flung them at Pagnell’s head, catching him on the temple.
He released Elizabeth, staggered back one step and put his hand to his head, stared at the blood on his hand. By the time he regained his senses, Elizabeth and Alyx were halfway up the stairs.
Pagnell caught Elizabeth’s skirt and jerked so hard she came tumbling backward, slamming into his chest. “Ah, my dear Elizabeth,” he drawled into her ear, his arm about her waist, the other hand going to her ample breast. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for a long time.”
