Harlequin Historical February 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Texas Ranger's DaughterHaunted by the Earl's TouchThe Last De Burgh

by Jenna Kernan

  ‘Perhaps I will,’ Nicholas said. Nodding graciously, he turned to mount his horse without a backward glance, gesturing for his squire to precede him as they rode away. Guy obeyed and did not slow until they were out of sight of the preceptory. In fact, he seemed unwilling to halt, doing so only after Nicholas had stopped well away from the track. Even then, he kept looking over his shoulder, as though expecting the Pope’s armies to give chase.

  ‘’Tis just as I have heard, my lord,’ he said, his eyes wide. ‘The Templars zealously guard their secrets. Why, ’tis said they uncovered some hidden knowledge in the Holy Land that they now use to their own advantage.’

  Nicholas gave his squire a wry glance. Guy had always been a superstitious sort and recent events had made him more so. Frequently, he tried to foist some talisman or charm upon Nicholas, claiming that the objects, whether a coloured stone or a splinter of bone belonging to some long-dead saint, bore special powers. Now, apparently, the Templars themselves were endowed with such.

  ‘I thought you considered them sunk in dissipation, not keepers of some ancient wisdom,’ Nicholas said drily.

  But Guy was not to be dissuaded. ‘’Twas eerie, my lord, even you must admit to that,’ he said, suppressing a shiver. ‘’Tis certain they did not want us there, with none to greet us except that surly fellow, who ought to be taught how to treat his betters.’

  ‘Perhaps so, but I was loath to raise any suspicions with Brother Gilbert,’ Nicholas said. ‘Better he think himself well rid of us.’

  ‘You don’t mean to go back?’ Guy asked in an incredulous tone.

  ‘I would like to have a closer look at the place,’ Nicholas admitted. ‘Something didn’t feel right.’

  Guy groaned. ‘Nothing felt right, my lord! Yet no good could come of probing into their mysteries. Who knows what goes on there? They obviously are hiding something.’

  At his words, even quiet Emery glanced at him with an expression of alarm. ‘You don’t think they’re holding Gerard in there, do you?’

  Nicholas held up a hand to stop his squire’s raving. While Templar preceptories in the east might have reason to keep prisoners, he could not conceive of the brethren locking up their own here at home.

  ‘I do not suspect the Templars of capturing their fellows, no matter what dark tales are whispered about them,’ he said, with a quelling glare at Guy. ‘Nevertheless, I’d like to take another look at Temple Roode.’

  Naturally, Guy did not agree. ‘But if you do not think Gerard is there, then we will only be wasting precious time in our search for him.’

  While his squire had a point, Nicholas was not prepared to leave the Templar preceptory behind on the strength of one brother’s dubious word. ‘’Tis possible that a return visit may yield nothing, for Brother Gilbert may be concealing little more than his larder from hungry visitors,’ he said. ‘However, I would make sure the man who left me for dead is not enjoying the hospitality of the house.’

  The reminder of the attack finally silenced Guy and Nicholas looked out over the moors, assessing the possibilities. ‘There’s really no means of approaching the place without being seen unless we wait until nightfall, and even then the moon will prove both help and hindrance,’ he said, remembering the stretch of open land that they would have to cross to reach the cluster of buildings. It was simply too barren, with few trees to provide shadows in which to hide.

  ‘There might be another way.’

  To Nicholas’s surprise, ’twas Emery who spoke and the boy coloured, as though regretting his speech.

  ‘Go on,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘It could be nothing but an old legend,’ Emery said, hesitating.

  ‘What old legend?’

  Again Emery hesitated, but Nicholas urged him on with a nod.

  The boy drew a deep breath, as though summoning his courage. ‘There have always been rumours of tunnels beneath the Templar property, going back to when they first settled there.’

  ‘Tunnels? What for?’ Guy asked.

  Emery shrugged. ‘No one knows. Perhaps the Templars sought to travel from their preceptory to the village without notice. I can’t imagine where else they would wish to go in secret.’

  Guy muttered something and crossed himself, obviously leery of either the Templars, underground passages or both. But Nicholas knew the value of tunnels. He had gained access to his brother Dunstan’s keep through just such means, foiling the enemies who held it. Castles, built for defence, often had escapes routes for use in times of siege.

  But ’twas unlikely that a manorial farm, especially an ecclesiastical property like Temple Roode, could boast anything of the sort. Yet, what else had they to do until darkness fell? ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ he said, eager for a challenge.

  Guy groaned. ‘And how are we going to discover in an afternoon what no one else has ever found, maybe for a hundred years?’

  ‘As far as I know, no one has ever looked for them,’ Emery said. ‘Why would they?’

  Guy shook his head, as if dismayed by the folly of both of his companions, and muttered to himself in dire tones, ‘More likely, who would dare?’

  * * *

  Emery felt only dismay as they neared the village. What had she been thinking? While they wasted time hunting for tunnels that probably didn’t exist, Gerard could be travelling in the opposite direction, putting miles between them. She should never have spoken.

  But who would have thought her opinion would carry weight with any man, let alone Lord de Burgh? Emery had forgotten how differently she was treated when garbed as her twin. It had been too long ago and she had since learned to keep her silence. So what had possessed her to speak, especially in such exalted company?

  Emery shook her head. Nicholas de Burgh rode his huge destrier with ease, tall and proud, his gloved hands gripping the reins confidently. He was a noble, wielding the kind of power and influence that should strike fear into anyone pretending to be someone else. That, coupled with her brother’s warning, ought to have kept her quiet and wary. And yet...

  Emery glanced away from the handsome figure and told herself ’twas distrust of religious houses that had prompted the suggestion. She could not call it back now. But when they drew to a halt on the low rise that overlooked the village below, she was tempted. Where were they to find underground tunnels amongst the cluster of small homes, with people and animals roaming about?

  Emery waited for some sign of scorn or rebuke from her companions, but Lord de Burgh appeared unperturbed as he looked out over the landscape. ‘Now, if you were a Templar, where would you want to go?’ he asked.

  Blinking in surprise at the question, Emery turned to study the village she had not seen in some time. For a moment, the years fell away, and it seemed as though she were young and at liberty to explore the moors,

  Gerard at her side. And in that instant, the answer came to her.

  ‘The church,’ she said.

  Lord de Burgh’s smile of approval made Emery glance away, uncomfortable. She realised how long it had been since she’d felt pleasure or companionship, but this was not the time and place to seek such things. Nor was Nicholas de Burgh the one to provide them.

  Emery was here for Gerard, not for anything else, yet she could not help but savour the first small taste of the freedom that she had known in years. She was riding again, seeing new places and experiencing new things, and her heart pounded with a combination of fear and excitement as they approached the distinctive round building.

  ‘What kind of parish church is this?’ Guy muttered, eyeing the place warily as he dismounted.

  ‘I suspect it was built by the Templars, who favour that sort of construction,’ Lord de Burgh said, heading towards the doors.

  ‘’Tis probably modelled after the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem,’ Emery added, but
her words did seem to comfort Guy, who appeared hesitant to enter.

  Emboldened by her new freedom, Emery strode past the squire to follow Lord de Burgh inside, but her courage soon wavered. Plunging into the cool dimness, she was met with an interior unlike any other.

  In fact, Emery took a step back in astonishment, running into Guy, who gulped and grabbed her by the arms, whether to steady her or himself, Emery wasn’t sure. But for a long moment they stood together while gaping at the elaborate decorations. Although the number that crowded the small space was startling in itself, ’twas the strangeness of the designs that stunned Emery.

  While she could not claim to be well travelled, she had never seen such carvings in any church, and, apparently, neither had Guy, for he resumed muttering in hushed tones, frozen in his position near the doors. But Emery finally moved forwards, peering in wonder at the images that appeared more heathen than Christian.

  Heads that resembled pagan designs or some remnant of ancient legends were scattered amongst more traditional adornments. Emery blinked at the bulbous face of the Green Man, a symbol of fertility that some say had been worshipped in years past. And everywhere were horned figures that looked more like demons than saints.

  ‘What kind of parish church is this?’ Guy asked again, his voice cracking in the stillness.

  ‘An unusual one, isn’t it?’ Lord de Burgh said, drawing Emery’s attention. He, alone, seemed undismayed by the sights as he walked the perimeter, pausing only to knock on a wall or peer behind a decorative panel.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Emery asked, curiosity overcoming her unease.

  ‘I’ve some experience in tunnels—and in hideaways, having played at seeking my brothers often enough in my youth,’ Lord de Burgh said over his shoulder. ‘And one of my brothers, Geoff, is fond of puzzles, so he taught me how to study a problem.’

  Emery was startled to realise that the great knight really was searching for the rumoured tunnels. ‘But wouldn’t the floor—?’

  ‘Too obvious,’ Lord de Burgh said, stopping in front of a carving tucked under an arch. ‘And unlikely because of the difficulty in concealing such an entrance. However, they would need to be able to access their passage without too much trouble, else why create such a massive work?’

  When he turned towards her, Emery could only nod in agreement, struck dumb to be included in such a conversation. She knew her disguise was responsible, yet Lord de Burgh was being more than gracious to an unknown young man, and her wariness made her wonder whether he had an ulterior motive.

  As Emery watched, he knelt before a grotesque image, running his hands over the surface and into the crevices along the edge as though searching for something, and soon he must have found it, for the massive piece moved slightly. Emery blinked in surprise, but even more amazing was the glance he shot her, one of triumph and shared success that stopped her breath.

  Perhaps ’twas the way of men and their friendships, Emery thought, and held no special meaning. Yet she could do no more than look on while he shifted the heavy chunk of stone as if it weighed little, exposing a gaping hole beyond. Cool, damp air seeped from pitch blackness, hinting at lower depths and, stepping closer, Emery could see a set of worn stone steps leading downwards.

  The discovery even lured Guy away from his stance near the doors. He was soon standing beside Emery, muttering to himself. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said aloud. And then he turned towards her, his eyes narrowing. ‘Did you know about this?’

  ‘I knew only of the rumours of a tunnel,’ Emery said. ‘Lord de Burgh managed to find it.’ And he had done so with seemingly little effort, which made Emery return Guy’s suspicious glare with one of her own.

  ‘How do we know that this doesn’t lead into a bottomless pit?’ the squire asked.

  ‘We don’t,’ Lord de Burgh said. Apparently undisturbed by the prospect, he set about lighting a lantern he had found tucked away behind a screen.

  ‘My lord, you cannot mean to enter there,’ Guy protested. ‘You don’t know what lies below: foul air, rising water, precipitous drops. It may be an old cavern that has been blocked up, with no connection at all to the Templars or their property.’

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Lord de Burgh said. The mischievous grin that accompanied this sentiment made him look younger and dashing, perhaps even a bit wicked, and Emery found it hard to ignore his excitement, which stimulated her own. Was that why her heart had picked up its pace?

  ‘You can stay behind and watch the horses, if you don’t care to explore the tunnel,’ Lord de Burgh said, with a shrug, though it was obvious he had no intention of doing so himself.

  Guy sputtered a protest, but was silenced by a look from his master, who then turned to Emery. Although he said nothing, expectation brightened his dark eyes, and Emery felt a sudden giddiness. Had Gerard ever offered her such a dare? Emery couldn’t remember, but years of being stifled by duty and silence made her meet the unspoken challenge.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Lord de Burgh’s answering grin did something to her that Emery could not explain, but she told herself ’twas wiser to keep an eye on the man rather than not. However, Guy had other ideas.

  ‘My lord, you cannot think to take this—’ the squire began, gesturing towards Emery. But Lord de Burgh held up his hand to stop any argument, leaving Guy to shake his head as his master ducked into the hole. ‘Be careful, my lord,’ he warned.

  There was nothing for Emery to do except follow Lord de Burgh. But when she stepped on to the stone stairs, she drew in a sharp breath at the sudden change in her surroundings. The familiar figure of Guy standing in the dim recesses of the church was replaced by a blackness so total that she blinked several times before she could see anything at all. Finally, she spied the faint flicker of the lantern, barely visible ahead.

  Having no time to regret her hasty decision, Emery hurried forwards, lest the pale talisman disappear from view. But she had not counted upon the shape in front of her and stumbled into the tall form of Lord de Burgh.

  ‘Steady,’ he said, turning his head towards her. ‘Some people don’t do well in tight quarters, especially below ground. My brother Simon, for all his courage, is one, and there is no shame in it.’

  Emery wasn’t about to argue, for she could not find her tongue. Lord de Burgh’s face was so close that she could see the thick, dusky lashes of his eyes. The lantern cast a glow upon his cheek, a beacon of warmth in the cool darkness. And when his gaze met hers,

  Emery’s heart began pounding so loudly that she was certain he could hear it.

  Like an animal in the glare of a lamp, Emery was powerless to look away, her breath faltering, her pulse racing. Then something flared in his eyes, a question perhaps, but if so, it was one that Emery could not answer. Time stood still as their gazes held until, to her relief, he finally turned away.

  Shuddering, Emery was glad of the shadows as she sought to control her clamouring senses. Thankfully, Lord de Burgh appeared little affected by what had seemed so momentous to her because he soon spoke over his shoulder.

  ‘Watch your feet,’ he said as he resumed walking. ‘The Templars might have laid traps for unwanted visitors.’

  Traps? Emery felt as though she had already fallen into one, as she belatedly realised the intimacy of the situation. Neither a past spent with her father and brother, nor her recent isolation, had prepared her for the experience of being alone in the dark with a man, let alone a man like Lord de Burgh. Panic stirred, and it was not the fear of being unmasked, now a very real possibility, or even the dangers of the tunnel that chilled her.

  Something had just passed between them, something so powerful that Emery hoped he would never look her way again. Not like that. And especially not here in the darkness.

  Chapter Three

  Nicholas did not care to
dwell on what had just occurred, though he had the feeling he could unravel the puzzle of his odd reaction if he put his mind to it. But now was not the time. Travelling underground in unknown passages required all of his attention, lest he fall or lose his way. And he had not undertaken this exploration recklessly, no matter what Guy might think.

  Pausing to inspect the ground at his feet, Nicholas noted that it sloped slightly. But why go deeper under the earth? Perhaps the Templars had taken advantage of some natural formations, using and extending what already existed to suit their needs.

  Although that would mean less chance of the roof crashing down upon them, it posed other dangers. Having explored the caves near his brother Geoff’s property, Nicholas knew that a mis-step could lead to disaster, especially when they had no rope. One slip into a crevasse would mean no escape, and though recently he might have courted such risks, he had no intention of losing his life—or Emery’s.

  The thought made him slant a glance behind him, just to make sure the boy was still following. The sight of the youth’s bent head was a strange comfort, making Nicholas suddenly aware of home and family. Perhaps that explained his odd reaction. With six older brothers, he’d never had the opportunity to pass on his experience and knowledge to a younger sibling. Now he wondered whether he should share his skills with someone who might make use of them—before it was too late. And Emery seemed a more likely candidate than Guy.

  ‘It doesn’t look as though anyone has passed this way in a long time,’ the youth whispered, as though confirming Nicholas’s thoughts.

  ‘Perhaps the way is blocked ahead, putting an end to its usage,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘Or maybe they no longer have need of a secret entrance to the church.’

  ‘Yet if they still monitor the tunnels, we should keep quiet. Some of these places can produce echoes or amplify sound to warn those ahead.’

  Emery fell silent then, and Nicholas knew a sense of loss. There was something soothing about the boy’s speech, as though he were wise beyond his years. Or maybe Nicholas had just grown weary of his squire’s company. Guy’s constant fussing made him seem more like a nursery maid than a squire, and his harping to return home grew wearisome.