In reality, to keep her truly safe, he shouldn’t be leading her to the intruder at all.
But he understood and respected her need to face the man and learn firsthand what his intentions had been. He would want the same opportunity.
They descended the stairs in silence, Phin taking the lead. At the bottom, there was a short hallway and at the end of that a closed door, barred with a heavy padlock. Iago stood outside.
The loyal manservant gave Phin a questioning glance at the sight of Eleanor past his shoulder.
Phin gave him an assuring nod. “How has he been?”
“Quiet. Disturbingly quiet, if you ask me. The men said he didn’t struggle at all. Never once tried to escape or shout. Not even when they put him in the manacles.” Iago furrowed his bushy brows. “Oddly resigned to his fate, I’d say.”
“Hmm.” Odd, indeed. “Any other weapons?”
“Three concealed daggers of varying size. A length of rope. A few other small oddities that didn’t appear to be of any importance or threat. All of them removed.”
“And he’s properly secured?”
“Hand and foot. I tested the locks myself.”
Phin looked back at Eleanor who returned his glance with a steady stare. She was resolute.
“All right,” he sighed. “Close the door behind us and remain outside. Be on alert and ready to assist.”
“Always, my lord.”
Iago stepped aside and withdrew a key to release the lock. After opening the door, he blocked the threshold with his body until he assured all was right. Then he stepped back to allow their entrance.
Phin reached back and took Eleanor’s hand in his, whispering over his shoulder, “Stay behind me.”
She said nothing in reply, but gave a small squeeze of his hand.
The cellar was empty but for their prisoner. Metal manacles connected by heavy chains encircled his wrists and ankles and a thick length of rope bound him to a solid oak chair in the center of the room. A lantern sat just inside the door, casting a significant glow about the dank space.
As Iago had stated, the man didn’t appear to be resisting his situation at all. He sat straight and confident, his gaze sharp and focused on them as they entered. Dressed head to toe in black, he possessed brown skin, black hair, and dark, watchful eyes. From their brief fight, he knew the man to be of average height and physically fit and strong. Phin estimated him to be no older than thirty.
The man was still gagged, but he didn’t even try to speak after their entrance. He simply watched.
“You may release his gag before you go,” Phin said to Iago.
The manservant carefully walked behind their prisoner and released the cloth secured over his mouth. Then with a nod, he slipped from the cellar.
As the door closed behind them, Eleanor gave a small flinch and released Phin’s hand.
Though he wished he could reassure her—reclaim her hand, retain some sort of physical contact with her—Phin kept his attention on the man in the chair.
“What is your name?”
There was only a slight pause. “My name doesn’t matter.”
His voice was only subtly accented with the cadence of India, but it was enough to confirm Phin’s prior assumption.
“Why did you attack this woman?”
A short sound issued from the man’s throat. “I did not.”
Phin took a step forward. “Are you denying that you rushed from the shadows of her garden with a sharpened blade?”
“No.”
