Seeing a few iron nails on the floor, she grabbed them and dropped to her knees beside the grate. Tossing them into the hole, she flattened a hand on the crossed iron bars for balance.
But as the rusted iron gave way under the press of her hand, she felt the old grate crumble and crack, tilting beneath her. Scrambling for hold, sprawled awkwardly, she inched backward, and looked down.
A cold wind swept through the broken tower walls, but inside the atmosphere felt thick. Deep in the hole, Elinor saw a shadow gathering, rising like a column of smoke. A sound grew, a rumble and shaking, the sound of the very darkness.
Pushing away, she could not free herself—her arm was caught between broken metal struts. She was sprawled out on the grate, trapped and being pulled downward.
Chapter Ten
She heard acrash behind her, following by a dragging sound as awful as doom—then footsteps and a shout. “Elinor!” Gavin called.
Then he was there, falling to his knees, reaching for her, his hands strong and firm on her waist. As he drew her back, her forearm twisted, and he stretched further to free it so that she fell back in his arms.
“Come here—” He held her, just that, then helped her to her feet, though her limbs trembled. She rubbed her bruised arm, gasping. “What happened?”
“The outer door slammed shut—I could not open it. I felt so furious, knowing he has haunted Braemore for centuries, and done such harm! So I went over to the pit to tell him to leave, and the grate broke under me.”
“I should never have left you. But you faced him on your own, lass.” Drawing her into the shelter of his arm, he moved her away from the pit.
“And then I saw him, saw the shadow. Look!” She pointed. In the pit, darkness swirled, and the floor seemed to shiver under her feet.
“Stay there.” Gavin stepped away to drag something heavy toward the grate—a coiled black chain. “I remembered that an iron chain was part of the medieval door mechanism. A lengthwas still stored in a garden cupboard. This ought to do,” he said, and pushed it into the pit.
Slithering like a great beast, the massive chain fell into the darkness, smashing and clanging as it reached the bottom. Gavin wiped his hands.
“Sir Archibald Erskine,” he called, “as laird of Braemore and a descendant of your son Gabhan through Lady Matilda, I order you to leave this place. Depart now or be trapped in irons forever.”
He caught Elinor’s hand in his. Silence. She leaned forward to see a dark swirl.
“Gavin,” she whispered. “The shadow is still there. He is not gone!”
“Look. She is here,” he whispered, pointing upward toward a little glow of light.
Elinor gasped. “Has she ever been seen in the tower?” He shook his head.
The light swirled over the broken grate, then dipped inside. “Lady Matilda—” Elinor reached out.
“Wait,” Gavin murmured.
Peering down, she saw the light bloom in the darkness, saw the weave of the massive chain. Then all went dark. “No—”
“Wait. She is still here, see,” Gavin whispered, holding her hand.
The light reappeared, swirling upward and over their heads. Elinor watched as it moved toward the outermost door, where it whirled, stretched, took form.
A woman stood there, pale, dark eyed, beautiful, translucent. The old, scarred door was just visible through her. She held out her hand—
Another light bloomed beside her, larger, taller: a man, long-haired, translucent, wearing a tunic. Lady Matilda smiled as she took Sir Archibald’s hand—
“Oh,” Elinor breathed. “She came in here to free him. The iron diminished his anger. He needed Matilda’s forgiveness.”
“More than forgiveness,” he whispered, “he needed her love.” As he spoke, the lady and her baron entwined, faded, and vanished.
“Oh!” Elinor gave a little sob, and Gavin kissed the top of her head.
“And I needed your forgiveness.”
“No need. I love you,” she said simply.
