Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(95)

“Show me,” Graeme bit out.

His fury was growing with every minute that passed with no sign of Eveline. The idea of her being imprisoned in the dungeon had him shaking as they descended the stairs into darkness.

Patrick stopped to hand a torch to Graeme. He then lit two others and passed them to Tavis and Bowen so the way would be sufficiently lit.

At the bottom of the stairs, Patrick plucked a key from the wall and inserted it into an old, rusted lock. The clasp came away easily, despite the amount of rust and deterioration.

Graeme exchanged glances with Tavis to see if the older man had picked up on the lock. It should have creaked and groaned if it hadn’t been in use for two decades. It never should have unlocked so easily.

Tavis realized it too, because his expression went from brooding to instant alertness. His entire stance stiffened and his face tightened in rage. He held up his hand to let Graeme know he understood and then put a finger to his lips to signal for complete quiet.

When all were through the iron barred door, Patrick led them to the middle of the decaying room and held up a torch to show them the rope leading down into the pit.

“Sweet Jesu,” Bowen muttered. “Surely no one would put a wee lass down in this hole. It smells of death.”

Graeme handed over his torch to one of his men and then ordered Teague to hold his torch so he could see his way down. Then he grasped the rope and quickly descended hand over hand into the darkness below.

When he hit the ground, he yelled up for Bowen to drop his torch. Not waiting for the others to climb down, Graeme immediately searched the surrounding area, going from one wall to the other and all points in between.

When the others dropped down, more light exploded into the chamber, enough to see that it was completely empty.

“See?” Patrick sputtered. “ ’Tis madness that you come bearing your army and accusing my son of such treachery.”

“Come, Graeme, we’ve still to search the outlying cottages,” Tavis said.

Graeme stared around the room, damning the fact that Eveline could not hear. He could not even call out to her and let her know that he was here, that she was safe and that all she had to do was call out to him.

He flashed the torch one last time and readied himself to go back with the others, who were already climbing back up the rope, when his gaze fell on a disturbance in the dirt against the far wall.

He stalked forward, holding the torch in front of him as he drew near to the wall. There was a footprint, one that he and his men had not made, for it was not possible.

Half the print was visible. The other half seemed to disappear into the very wall.

“Bowen! Teague!” he barked. “Over here!”

A moment later, the others surrounded him and he pointed down.

“Where is she?” Brodie snarled, for the first time giving voice to the fact he believed all that Graeme had said.

“What is beyond this wall?” Graeme demanded.

Patrick shook his head, panic evident in his voice. “I have no idea. I swear it. I know not of anything beyond this wall.”

Graeme dropped to his knees and began running his fingers along the seams of the stones. He pushed inward with his uninjured shoulder, but the wall would not budge.

Bowen dropped to his knees just a bit farther down the wall and began pushing on the various stones himself. When he was the length of six stones from Graeme, the wall suddenly pushed inward, sending Graeme tumbling forward.

Graeme scrambled to his feet, swinging the torch in all directions as he gained his bearings. ’Twas a small room. He swung around in a complete circle and nearly danced the torchlight right past her.

A gasp went up. He wasn’t the only one to have seen the still body lying on the floor. He yanked the torch back and rushed forward, his heart screaming denial the entire way.

Behind him, there was a mad scramble and then more light. The entire chamber lit up and Graeme could see the chains and manacles that circled Eveline’s wrists and ankles.

He let out an enraged howl that echoed and bounced off the stone walls. He tossed the torch back to one of his brothers and then dropped to his knees, gathering Eveline in his arms. He rocked back and forth, kissing her hair, her brow, her cheeks. Her skin was so very cold and she was so very still.

Her father knelt down beside Graeme, staring in horror at his daughter, so lifeless in Graeme’s arms.

“I did not know!” Patrick babbled. “I swear it on my very life, I did not know!”

Enraged, Bowen slammed the older man against the wall. “Where are the keys to the manacles?”

But Graeme ignored them all. He pushed back Eveline’s hair and with trembling fingers, felt for a pulse against the side of her neck.

“Is she …” Tavis broke off, unable to complete the sentence.

“She’s alive!” Graeme said in a rush of relief. But even as he exclaimed it, he took in the bruises on her face, and rage blew through him like the fires of hell.

The chains were attached to the wall of the chamber with old hinges he doubted were that strong anymore. It would have been enough to restrain a lass, but not a warrior who was so filled with rage that he could have thrown a horse to free his wife.

He handed Eveline to her father. “Hold her and shield her.”

Then he stood, reached for the chains, and with a bellow of rage, yanked the top hinge, which held the two chains attached to the manacles at her wrists, free from the wall. Before he could move to the one at her feet, Aiden gripped the chain and tore the hinge from the wall, freeing her so they could at least take her from the dungeon to remove the manacles.