Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(44)

“You know what they say about the quiet ones.” He winks.

“Do you consider yourself quiet?”

He shrugs. He turns his horse around, moves a little bit ahead of me, and looks over his shoulder. “Do you want to see?”

“I can’t say ‘no’ to that.”

He nods once, then starts walking Peg around the rocky bend of the shore. I follow, going slowly on Eeyore, although he doesn’t seem thrown off by the rocks.

Liam looks back. “I trained them here when they were yearlings.”

“I want to hear how you trained them—later,” I say over the wind. He nods.

I follow him down a long, straight stretch of shore, into a grove of big, mossy trees that’s strange right by the ocean. Also strange: the way a thick, beige-green grass infringes on the sand around them.

Liam gets down off Peg. He ties the horse to a tree trunk, then comes over and leads Eeyore to another. He stands by Eey as I slide down, then takes my arm.

“It’s rocky,” he says, even though it’s not that rocky.

I clasp his hand; we twine our fingers together without a word, and Liam leads me into the trees.

“Gotta tell you, this doesn’t look horrible so far.”

He gives me a small, grim smile. “We’re not there yet.”





EIGHTEEN Lucy





“Should I be creeped out?”

“If you weren’t with me, maybe. If you were an enemy of the crown.” His thick brows wiggle.

“Wow. I’m super curious now.”

I follow him up some stone steps, built into the sandy, grassy ground. Then we reach a grass plateau. Liam moves a log and reaches into the grass and looks into my eyes and then he’s pulling up the ground. He’s pulling up a door in the ground, revealing stone steps leading downward.

“Oh my Jesus! Liam…”

“I’ll go first. You don’t even have to come down if you’re claustrophobic. Actually…” He shuts the door. His mouth is tucked into a grimace. “I shouldn’t take you down there.” His gaze finds mine, holding. “I meant it when I said it’s horrible.”

“It’s a dungeon.”

He nods.

“The only thing I can think about, about a beach dungeon…” I swallow.

“Yes.” He nods.

“Damn…”

“They used ocean water,” he says, giving voice to my theory.

“The dungeon is clearly underground. Would it flood during high tide?”

“It would. Barbaric,” he adds quietly.

“How long ago was this used?”

“Two hundred years. Mostly for traitors. Those who set to poison the king or in one case, tried to steal one of the baby princes. A cannibal was killed here. Someone who shot my great-great grandfather with an arrow in the shoulder; had been aiming for his throat.”

“So it wasn’t for beggars and whores and stuff like that?”

“Oh, no.”

“They didn’t know when they would die.”

“That’s right,” he says. He shakes his arm around. “No manacles.”

“Not necessary. Geez.”

“I know.” He stands up, reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry that I brought you.” He looks at me, serious, almost curious. “You make me do strange things, Lucille Rhodes.”

I hop up. “I hope one of them is go into the dungeon, because you know we have to now. I can’t resist a build-up like this. As long as you’re positive no one will close the door on us!”

He reaches into his pocket, bringing out a small, brass-looking piece that reminds me of a fat screw-driver.

“State secret.”

“You have a key to this door.”

“Of course.” He smiles smugly. “People still love the idea of locking us inside. I had a friend put me in there when I was little. There’s a key like this in one of the walls. I knew where it was. Out by dinner.” He winks.

“Did the tide start rising?”

“Yes. It was rising a little. As I recall, my shoes were wet. I had to take them off.”

“I’m surprised that you’ll go back inside!”

He shrugs. “Can’t be afraid forever.”

He opens the trap door again and steps inside. “You sure about this?”

“Oh, yeah.”

I follow Liam down some stairs, into a single room about the size of a master bedroom in an American house. Sand is all over the floor, crunching under my shoes. The walls—very tall, maybe more than twenty feet—are made of stone that’s stained by moss and mold. In the top part of the walls are small, round, barred windows, leaking sand into the room.

As I stand staring at one of them, a tiny pile of dark brown sand falls to the floor.

“So weird.”

I look around the room. It’s just sand and stone. No way to tell that anybody died here.

“How many?” I whisper.

He steps closer to me, laying his hand at the base of my back. “I don’t know.”

I look at him over my shoulder.

“That’s not true,” he says.

“You do know?”