Married By Morning (The Hathaways #4)(16)

He answered in a thick voice that didn’t sound like his own. “Sweetheart, I would love nothing more. But joining my weight to yours could collapse the roof entirely. Start moving. If it makes you feel better, with all the debris in there, it can’t be too far to fall.”

“Actually, that doesn’t make me feel better at all.” White-faced, she moved slowly on her hands and knees.

Leo stayed in place, not taking his gaze from Catherine. The ground that seemed so solid beneath his feet was possibly nothing more than a layer of earth and ancient rotted timber. “You’ll be fine,” he said in a soothing tone, while his heart pounded with anxiety for her. “You weigh no more than a butterfly. It’s my weight that’s put a strain on what’s left of the beams and bridging joints.”

“Is that why you’re not moving?”

“Yes. If I cause a collapse when I try to get off, I’d like you to be out of harm’s way first.”

They both felt the ground shift beneath them.

“My lord,” Catherine asked, her eyes wide, “do you think this has anything to do with the Ramsay curse?”

“Actually, that hadn’t occurred to me yet,” Leo said. “Thank you so much for bringing it to my attention.”

The roof collapsed, and they simultaneously plunged amid a torrent of earth, rock, and timber into the dark space below.

Chapter Seven

Catherine stirred and coughed. There was grit in her mouth and eyes, and she was sprawled on a wretchedly uncomfortable surface.

“Marks.” She heard Leo shove debris aside as he made his way to her. His voice was unsteady and urgent. “Are you hurt? Can you move?”

“Yes … I’m all in one piece…” She sat up and rubbed her face. Evaluating the collection of aches and pains in her body, she decided they were all insignificant. “Just a bit bruised. Oh, dear. My spectacles are gone.”

She heard him swear. “I’ll try to find them.”

Disoriented, she tried to make out what she could of their surroundings. Leo’s lean form was a dark blur nearby as he searched the rubble. Dust clouded the air, settling slowly. From what little she could see, they were in a pit, perhaps six feet deep, with sunlight drizzling in through the broken roof. “You were right, my lord. It wasn’t far to fall. Is this the keep?”

Leo’s breathing sounded strained as he replied, “I’m not sure. It could be an undercroft beneath the keep. I see the remains of a stone partition over there … and hollows in the side wall where transverse joints would support—”

In a burst of fresh terror, Catherine launched herself at his indistinct form, scrabbling to reach him in the dimness.

“What is it?” Leo’s arms closed around her.

Gasping, she buried her face against the solid surface of his chest. They were half sitting, half lying amid heaps of rotted timber, stone, and earth.

One of his hands came to her head, curving over her skull protectively. “What happened?”

Her voice was muffled in his shirt. “Undercroft.”

He smoothed her hair and pressed her even closer into the protection of his body. “Yes. Why does that frighten you?”

She could hardly speak between panting breaths. “Isn’t that … where they keep the bodies?”

The tremulous question hung in the air as Leo puzzled over it. “Oh. No, it’s not that kind of undercroft.” A quiver of rueful amusement ran through his voice, and she felt his mouth touch the rim of her ear. “You’re thinking of one of the rooms beneath modern churches, where the deceased are put away. But a medieval undercroft is different. It’s only a storeroom beneath the keep.”

Catherine didn’t move. “There are no s-skeletons in here?”

“No. Nor skulls, nor coffins.” His hand continued to stroke tenderly over her hair. “Poor darling. It’s all right. Nothing fearsome down here. Take a deep breath. You’re safe.”

Catherine continued to lie in his arms as she caught her breath. She tried to take in the fact that Leo, her enemy and tormentor, was calling her “poor darling” and petting her. His lips brushed her temple and lingered gently. Holding still, she absorbed the sensation. She had never been attracted to men of his size, preferring those of less intimidating stature. But he was strong and comforting, and he seemed so genuinely concerned, and his voice was like dark velvet wrapping around her.

How perplexing.

Had anyone told her that she would one day be trapped alone in a filthy pit with Leo, Lord Ramsay, she would have said that was her worst nightmare. And yet it was turning out to be a rather agreeable experience. No wonder Ramsay was so sought after by the ladies of London … If this was how he set about seducing them, all this lovely soothing and stroking, Catherine could easily understand how he got his way with them.

To her regret, he gently eased her away from him. “Marks … I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to find your spectacles in this wreckage.”

“I have another pair at home,” she ventured.

“Thank God.” Leo sat up with a quiet grunt of discomfort. “Now, if we stand on the highest pile of debris, it’s only a short distance to the surface. I’m going to hoist you up, get you out of here, and then you’re going to ride back to Ramsay House. Cam trained the horse, so you won’t need to guide him. He’ll find his way back home with no trouble.”