The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (Cynster #20) - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,136
then hauled the free end of the rope up, tied it around the handle of his lantern, then lowered the lantern down into the cellar.
Glancing back at the basement door, now barely visible, he hesitated, then stalked back toward the steps, along the way gathering as many of the glass jars as he could carry and two empty metal pails.
Pausing at the bottom of the steps, he set the jars and pails down, then went up, into the kitchen, and lit three more lamps. He played the beams around, warning the wary watchers that he was still in the kitchen and hadn’t yet dropped down into their trap.
Then he left the lanterns before the basement door, their beams shining outward so there was no easy way for his would-be attackers to know if he was in the basement or lower by the amount of light. After that he quickly shut the basement door and wedged it closed with the spatula, then he went down and arranged the glass jars across the steps and set the metal pails strategically—his makeshift alarm—then without further thought, he ran to the trapdoor, kicked the poker through the hole, sat on the edge, grasped the sides, and swung himself down.
And let go.
The instant his boots hit the stone floor, he caught up the poker and ran full tilt down the tunnel. It was wide enough for two men abreast, and curved away from the house for a good twenty yards. Ahead he saw an old stone wall; a lamp sat at the base of the wall, shining back down the tunnel—the light set to lure him. He erupted into the roomlike space before it, another rough-hewn chamber about four yards across, and running for five or so yards on either side.
A muffled wailing rose from his left. Whirling, he saw Mary seated on a chair at that end of the chamber. She was lashed to the chair, a black cloth hood over her head.
Why the latter should make him so furious, he wasn’t sure—but had they asked if she was frightened of the dark first? Striding across, dropping the poker, he grasped the offending hood and gently eased it off.
Furious blue eyes met his. Through the gag fastened over her lips, she growled at him.
Despite his prevailing grimness, he grinned. “Good evening, Mary.”
Her eyes spat sparks, then she twisted her head to the side. He obediently went to work on the gag. “I know it’s a trap. I’ve done what I could to try to get us out of it, but they left me no option”—the knot loosened—“other than to come down after you.” She jerked her head and the gag fell.
“There’s always a choice!” Mary moistened her lips, shocked by the hoarseness of her voice.
“Indeed.” Ryder met her eyes as he shifted to start on the knots holding her to the chair. “And I’ve made mine.”
What could she say? She growled low in her throat and waited, more than impatient, urgent and concerned and frightened—for him more than her—as he worked at her bonds. “They’ll come back—there’s three of them. Three largish men. Where are we?”
“The Dower House. You haven’t been here before.”
She glanced around, tried to glimpse his face. “Where your stepmother lives?”
“Yes.” His tone was flat and hard.
The ropes fell and she rose, stumbled, but he caught her. Steadied her. “We have to hurry.”
“Yes—please let’s.”
He bent and picked up a poker, then with her hand locked in his, they ran as fast as she was able toward the opening to the passageway he must have come down. She hadn’t seen anything of her prison before; she’d been hooded when they’d carried her down.
They turned into the passage—and glass crashed, smashed, and metal clanged, the sounds coming from somewhere above.
Ryder swore, swept her up in his arms, and charged down the passage.
More curses exploded over their heads. Pounding feet thundered on floorboards.
They burst into another chamber at the end of the passage—just in time to see a rope that had been dangling from a hole high above, along with the lantern swinging wildly from its end, fall with a small crash and a slithering thump to the floor.
Holding her in his arms, Ryder stared up at the hole, then calmly stated, “You bastards will die.”
There was enough icy certainty in his tone to make Mary shiver.
Silence greeted his pronouncement, then she heard a click.
Ryder swore and whirled back into the passage.
Sound exploded behind them; rock shattered and shards flew.