you find your way to the cellar? There's a hidden door behind some casks of wine. I have to run upstairs and warn Eleanor to keep mum about you, so I don't have time to show you where it is."
Alec nodded. "I know where the hidden room is. I helped Kris clean it out."
"Good. We'll give you the all clear when Julian and his buddy are gone."
"Julian? The messenger?"
"Yes." She said nothing more, leaving them silently.
"Who's the messenger?" Cora asked, prodding him when he opened the door enough to peer out of it.
"He's part of the Moravian Council. Which means they know I'm out, and either know or suspect I've come to Kris for help. Quickly, they've gone into the other room, but I doubt if they'll stay there for long."
He hustled her through the sunlight, ignoring the pain as they headed through the kitchen to a small door, down a rickety flight of stairs, and through a series of musty, dark, close rooms that smelled greatly of the earth. He pulled out a small penlight, flicking it around the rooms to avoid the stacks of old furniture, barrels of wine the previous owner had left, and the usual detritus found in a house a few centuries old.
Cora said nothing as he counted down a line of oak wine casks, handing her the penlight as he gripped a cask with both hands, throwing all his weight against it, willing it to move. It shuddered and groaned for a few seconds before giving way, sliding to the side, revealing a cobwebbed entrance cut low into the stone wall.
"In," he said, kicking the remains of a wooden crate out to cover the marks on the ground where the cask had moved.
"Are there mice? I have a thing about mice," Cora said, her fear palpable.
"If there are, I won't let them near you," he promised.
She gave him a long look. "Do I have to go in there with you? Would the Julian guy know who I am? With regards to you, that is?"
Pain laced him at her words, although he understood her reticence. If it weren't for her, he'd say to hell with the council and face down the messenger. But he no longer had only his own future to consider. "No, he wouldn't. You don't have to go with me if you don't want to. Pia will claim you as a visiting friend, I'm sure."
She looked at him for the count of five before she nodded and ducked down to enter the room.
He smiled at her ass. He couldn't help himself - she was just so contrary at times, it was all he could do to keep from pouncing on her and claiming her right then and there.
The hidden room was more a hole scraped out of the side of the mountain than anything else, the smell in it particularly earthy when he pulled the door closed behind them. Cora scooted to his side, clutching the back of his shirt and peering around suspiciously as he shone the narrow light around the tiny room. There was no sign of rodent life, but his nose told him otherwise.
"Do you see anything?" Cora asked, pressing herself into him.
No. Surely you cannot be scared of a tiny little animal.
"You're kidding, right? Because if there is anything more frightening than little mousy feet and tails and those twitching noses, I don't know what it is. Well, OK, rats are icky, too, but I count them in the mouse category."
"I see nothing," he lied, meeting the beady-eyed, but mildly curious, gaze of a large brown rat that scampered onto a broken chair across the small room.
"OK, but if you do, I'm out of here. It's no reflection on HOLY JESUS!"
Cora screamed and pointed in a direction forty-five degrees from the rat, and proceeded to climb him like he was a ladder.
"You know," he said conversationally, her heaving breasts pressed against his face as she struggled to climb even higher up his body, her heels digging into his hips, "that mouse is probably far more terrified of great big you than you are of it, mousy feet and twitching nose aside."
"Don't let it get near me!" she shrieked.
If you keep doing that, love, Julian will hear you.
Sorry. MOUSE! Can we leave yet? Please?
I don't know, he said, rubbing his cheeks against the thin linen shirt, the scent of her and the feel of her breasts waking his appetite . . . both appetites. I'm rather enjoying this. Except