Chapter Twenty Two
She wove through the trees, Ian wending behind her, and stopped in front of an old well.
Sliding from her mount, she tied the reins to a tree.
“Here we are,” she said, moving to the edge of the well and peering down into the black hole.
Moss clung to the stone sides, the tufted greenery visible in the dim forest light, creeping downward until it disappeared from view, consumed by shadow.
“How far does it go before it levels off into the tunnel?” Ian asked, peering down beside her.
“The depth of the well doesn’t matter. The tunnel isn’t at its bottom.
” She pointed down one side. “It shoots off there. We must scale down to it, then crawl through for a spell. If I remember correctly, it isn’t long before the tunnel heightens, and we’ll be able to stand.
” She turned, her gaze taking in his great height. “Well, ye might have to duck yer head.”
He shot her a skeptical look. “Will I fit through the initial hole?”
Jo lifted her shoulders. “There’s only one way to find out.”
She grabbed the length of rope from her saddlebag and handed it to Ian. “When I was eight or nine, my father brought me here and showed me what to do. First, we must tie one end of the rope here.” She draped the rope over the piece of the well house that was suspended above the opening.
Ian’s brow furrowed. “At the time, I’m certain that was advisable, but the years have weathered this wood.” He crossed to a young but sturdy-looking pine and secured the rope around it. Then he turned and tied the other end around her waist.
“Are ye ready?”
She nodded, gripping the rope. “Lower me down.”
Slowly, he dangled her down into the well. It took several tries for her to get a hold of the tunnel lip, but she found her grip and pulled herself inside. The air was thick and damp. She considered the space over her head and the width of the cave.
“Ye’ll fit,” she called out. “Barely,” she added under her breath.
“All right. I’m coming but move away from the entrance. I’m going to ready a torch.”
After a few moments, Ian’s head and shoulders appeared in the tunnel entrance.
He passed her the torch before he pulled himself behind her.
His shoulders brushed the sides of the tunnel as they crawled over stones that were wet and slick.
Eventually, the narrow tunnel broadened and heightened.
It was carved into the earth and framed in wood.
Tree roots dangled above their heads, many stretching thirstily into the ground, digging deeper into the earth at their feet, creating a tangled web through which they had to weave.
In places, the frame had weakened, releasing piles of loose dirt to the ground.
Finally, their path began to ascend, and soon the wood supports ended, and once more, stone reinforced their way. When they reached a stairwell, Ian stopped her. “Where does this lead?”
“To my parent’s chamber.”
Jo’s heart hammered in her chest, not only from the exertion of climbing the stairs but from the myriad emotions building within her: Soon, she would be standing outside her parent’s chamber...
but they would not be inside. Likewise, she would be within Toonan...
but no one could know she was there. One moment, excitement shot through her, then the next, she was crestfallen and wanted nothing more than to turn back.
But she would not surrender now.
Not after coming so far.
Once upon a time, she had been a girl, so very afraid with no sense of the strength she’d had inside her. And all that while, it was there...the will to survive. Her mother and father had known that she was made of tougher stuff, and she had proven just that to herself again and again.
They reached the door. She took a deep breath.
Ian stood behind her, holding the torch high.
Steeling her shoulders, she lifted the latch, leaning back to allow room for the door to pull open, revealing the back of a heavy tapestry.
Stepping inside, she carefully inched along the chamber wall, concealed by the densely woven fabric.
Reaching the tapestry’s edge, she started to peer around it, but suddenly Ian grabbed her arm and shook his head.
Furrowing her brow, she listened and heard what had made him pause.
Footfalls sounded across the floor, and for a moment, her heart gave way to hope.
What if it was her father? What if he’d managed to escape the baron, and the abbot’s spies had yet to hear of the good tidings? Or mayhap Laird Stewart’s loyalties had truly shifted back to their rightful place, supporting his own countrymen, and he negotiated her father’s release?
Her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing shallow, she shook off Ian’s grip and peeked out.
Someone crouched near the hearth, striking flint.
Slim and narrowly built, she knew instantly that it was not her father.
Curious, she continued to watch. The person was bent low and in shadow, but when he straightened, Jo’s heart leapt.
“Thane!” she cried, bursting out from behind the tapestry.
“Jo, come back,” she heard Ian hiss.
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, glancing back.
Thane whirled around, his eyes wide, his hand pressed to his chest. “Lady Josselyn,” he gasped and fell to his knees. “It cannot be.” Then he smiled, tears flooding his eyes as he jumped to his feet and charged toward her. “Lady Josselyn,” he cried, his voice cracking.