“I’d like that as well.”
But the creaking of wood floors echoed across the hall and he stiffened. “However, I think our spy needs to be discovered.”
She sighed and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek tenderly and whispered, “Believe me, sweet Hero, no one’s disappointment is greater than my own.”
“Until tomorrow then?”
“Until then.”
Hero watched him go, holding the lantern high. Her mind wasn’t on their spy but on him, on the passion he ignited in her. On the desire that caught and burned so intensely. Another shuddering sigh escaped her, her body ached with something she couldn’t define, and she knew it would be some time before sleep found her that night.
Chapter Twenty
“With the preponderance of company above, I thought I’d never get you alone today. Still, I’m not sure this is what I had in mind.” Ian followed Hero, who held a lantern high, lighting the way as they descended into the bowels of the dungeon beneath Dùn Cuilean.
“You’re lucky Daphne doesn’t like the dungeons, my lord,” she said with amusement in her voice. “Or should we return above for another round of Pass the Slipper?”
He rolled his eyes. “I thought it would never end.”
She chuckled. “Papa seemed to enjoy it.”
“His grace is easy to please, though our guests are perhaps not as accommodating.”
“I cannot believe neither of them heard a thing last night. All that raucous music and it couldn’t be heard on the second floor?”
“Perhaps the Kennedys are heavy sleepers.” His interest wasn’t truly on his other guests at all. After searching futilely for the castle’s spy, he’d spent another sleepless night awash with sexual frustration. There was nothing he’d wanted more than to cross the hall and sneak into Hero’s chamber and make unrepentant love to her. Barring that, her company today would have been enough, but the evening’s rain continued into the day, leaving them trapped within the castle walls with his cousins.
Though he’d angled for a way to get her alone, this cold dungeon wasn’t what he had in mind, but he was willing to take what he could. “Since we’re here, I’m prepared for you to mesmerize me with a history lesson.” Hero pursed her lips but he only laughed. “I am curious. I promise.”
“Very well,” she relented. “There are three levels of dungeons here. They were not excavated from beneath the castle but rather the castle was built on top of the caves, which have been here for a thousand or more years. There was an archeologist ten or more years back who claimed that there was evidence that ancient tribes might once have inhabited them, perhaps to hide from Viking invaders. In any case, they were considered a perfect prison when the castle was first placed here.”
“I stand captivated.” He playfully tweaked her earlobe.
Smiling at his affectionate teasing, Hero stopped at one of the many doors that lined the left side of the hallway and indicated that he should enter. He stepped in and was immediately taken by surprise, his good-humored mocking forgotten. In astonishment, he moved toward the far end of the cell. Though the walls to his right and left were stone and mortar, the wall before him was comprised entirely of iron bars. Reaching them, he looked out at the Firth of Clyde. Without any wall to break against, the wind hit him with all its force, carrying with it pellets of stinging rain. Looking down, he found the rocky break at the bottom of the cliff to still be a dizzying drop below them. He backed away from the reach of the rain though the air was still misty.
“Are you prepared to swallow those sarcastic words now?”
“Incredible.”
But for the single door, there was no escape from a cell such as this. An exit through the bars—if it were possible—provided no freedom, only a long drop to a sudden stop. The dungeons were a masterpiece of cruelty. The punishment they delivered would have, in many cases, been exponentially worse than any crime committed to gain entry. If there had been a crime at all. In the days of clan wars and territory disputes, hostages were often taken for ransom or political gain.
“This is perhaps one of the worst forms of imprisonment I can imagine,” he admitted. As high as they were, Ian wagered the prisoners could feel the spray from the waves crashing below even if it were not raining. Even the sunniest days would not alleviate the misery of the cold and miserable cell. In the winter or on a day like today, it would be hell. “The exposure to the elements alone would make a man suffer dearly.”
“It is a frightful thought,” Hero concurred. “I confess that when I first came down here, I imagined finding a skeleton still chained to the wall, his flesh torn away by the wind and salt.”
“A gruesome imaging for a lady.”
“Come, on the next level below, the caves are open to the sea.” She tugged at his hand. “It is a smuggler’s paradise, which is what these caves have been used for in the hundreds of years since they were dungeons. The access to the sea and the depths of the caves made them the perfect hiding places.”
She led the way once more and he followed, amused by her fascination with stuff so disreputable. As they descended farther into the bowels of the dungeons, the cave walls became damp and the taste of salt lingered in the air. Storage rooms lined the great center cavern. Aye, Ian could see that it was an excellent place for hiding illegal goods.
“I’m surprised that with such a catacomb of caves down here, the weight of the castle didn’t simply collapse them.”
“Pillars.” She pointed to one of them, something Ian hadn’t noticed before, but now that they were brought to his attention, he found everywhere he looked. “They were constructed when Adam did the additions, to support the weight of the castle. But you’re right, I can’t see how it didn’t all cave in upon itself a hundred years ago.”
A short passageway descended sharply away from the cavern, and they came to a large wooden door bound in iron. He reached to pull it open for her and could not help but ask, “Why, pray tell, would there be such a sturdy door here?”
“To keep the smugglers from invading the castle, of course. No laird wants to die in his sleep from the attack of unsavories through his own cellar door.”
