His concentration seemed to have moved from her. He poised above her, like a dog that had picked up another, more interesting scent.
“Ssh,” he said. “Can you hear something?”
‘Only the beating of my heart’, she longed to say. He released her, rolling off her to lie on his stomach on the floor beside her, his head turned to look at her and his ear pressed to the stonework.
“Listen.”
Reluctantly she rolled over and copied his actions. Her eyes widened as she heard the unmistakable sound of metal striking rock.
“What...?” she began.
“They're mining,” he interrupted. “The bastards are mining.”
Deliverance sat up, hastily retying her bodice laces and trying to restore some order to her hair as Luke continued to listen to the sound rising through the rock that lay beneath the castle's own foundations.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
In one movement he was on his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes. He put out a hand and pulled her to her feet, rearranging her collar and brushing dead leaves from her hair. His hands rested on her shoulders and he looked into her eyes.
“It means they are digging a tunnel beneath the chapel, Deliverance. They must know the powder is being stored here. What they will do is lay explosives in the tunnel and set them off. That will in turn cause a massive explosion within the castle. We will be lucky to survive. I need to alert the others.”
Deliverance thrust her tangled hair behind her ears, lingering long enough to allow her heartbeat to return to normal, before following him out into the courtyard where he had already gathered Ned and Sergeant Hale. They all returned to the chapel and stood in the middle of the floor looking down at the flagstones.
Ned shook his head. “I don't understand how we've not detected them?” He paused, frowning with concentration. “How on earth did you hear them?”
Luke hesitated for a fraction of a moment before replying, “I bent to retrieve that... he pointed to an empty barrel that had conveniently rolled off the pile. How could they have got so far without our knowledge?”
Deliverance cleared her throat. “I think I know.”
The three men looked up at her.
“There is a crypt under the altar and an old tunnel runs from it down to the riverbank,”
Luke's eyes flashed. “And you never thought to mention it?”
Deliverance bridled. “The tunnel caved in years ago.”
Where does the tunnel come out, Mistress Felton?”
“On the path to the sally port,” Deliverance said.
“Farrington would know about this tunnel?”
She nodded and he gave her a reproachful glance. They had discussed the security of that path and she had assured him it posed no risk. She had forgotten the long lost tunnel under the chapel.
Stupid, stupid.
She thought about her answer before saying slowly, “Farringtons have been coming to Kinton Lacey for years. Sir Richard himself as a boy, and then his sons. Jack was a friend of my brother's. They spent hours playing in the hidden corners of the castle.” She swallowed.
Luke looked around the group.
“Then we can assume they've managed to clear the tunnel. We’ve not been keeping a vigilant watch on that wall so it would have been easy to slip in under cover of darkness. They're probably camping in the tunnel and working in the day when we're too busy to notice the noise. Mistress Felton, show me the entrance to this crypt.”
A large stone altar still stood in the sanctuary of the chapel. Deliverance led the way behind it and pointed to a flagstone with a heavy ring sunk into it. With a nod from Luke, Hale lifted the stone aside and they stared down into a dark hole.
“We can't use a light, not with all this powder,” Luke fumed. “I'll just have to trust to the other senses.”
Narrow stone steps led down into the crypt and Luke took these with a degree of caution, his head disappearing from view. It seemed an age before he reappeared, his hair covered in cobwebs.
As he dusted himself off, he looked around the little group. “I found the entrance to the tunnel. There's a rock fall just about ten feet in and my guess is they're just behind it. I could hear them quite clearly. That puts them dead centre of the chapel, about where you're standing, Ned. All they need to do is lay their charges and...” he left the last thought unspoken.
“Are they still down there?” Ned asked.
Luke nodded. “Of course they are not to know that all they have to do is stop now and lay the charges. The fact they are still digging would suggest that they are trying to clear the whole tunnel and by my reckoning they will be through to our side of the tunnel in a couple of hours. Hale, find me six men. We will have a welcoming party for our visitors.”
Chapter 13
With the element of surprise on their side, it had not taken much to foil Farrington's plan to blow up the chapel, and at dinner they celebrated their triumph over Farrington’s miners with the last of Sir John's French wine.
Luke studied Deliverance's face, as she listened to Ned’s account of the victory, soft and gold in the candlelight. He liked the way her nose wrinkled when she found something amusing and he found himself remembering the feel of her pliant body beneath his hands as they had lain together on the dusty floor of the chapel. Another part of his anatomy responded to that memory, and he took a hefty gulp of wine and turned his attention to Ned and his now much repeated account of the day's victory.
“And we took them completely by surprise,” Ned continued. “Killed two of them before the others beat a hasty retreat.”
“Will they be back?” Penitence asked.
“We've blown the far end of the tunnel. They'll not be back,” Luke said. “And the best part is we have another half dozen barrels of powder to add to our stores.” He pushed back his chair. “Excuse me, please. I have a report on today’s action to write.”
Luke sat in Sir John Felton’s chair, playing with the feathers of the pen as he looked down at the half-written report. He wondered why he bothered with these daily reports, except as an exercise to prove to Sir John that he took his responsibilities seriously. All of them…except the prohibition about his daughters.
Luke snapped the pen. He had seen Sir John Felton hang a man for stealing a loaf of bread.
He looked up at a knock on the door. Lovedie Brown entered carrying a flask and a cup. She shut the door behind her and walked over to the desk.
“I thought you might be thirsty,” she said, setting the cup and flask down on the table in front of him.
“Thank you, Lovedie.”
Luke lifted the jug but Lovedie reached out and took the jug from him. “Let me, Captain Collyer.”
The wine splashed into the cup, blood-red in the candlelight. Lovedie walked around to his side of the table and set the cup down on the report Luke had been writing. As she did so she leaned forward offering a provocative view of the swell of her breasts. Luke swallowed, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled.
Lovedie moved behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. She began to knead the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders.
Far from a relaxing experience, Luke’s muscles tightened, as her hands slipped inside his shirt.
“What are you doing?” He managed to croak as the questing fingers moved down his body.
“I’ve seen how hard you work, Captain Collyer,” she whispered in his ear. “I thought you might like a little fun.”
Despite himself, his own body responded to her touch.
“Lovedie...” he began, embarrassed to hear his voice crack with lust. “This isn't going to happen...”
Her full lips parted and her hand slid lower, seeking his groin. “Are you sure? Because that's not what you're telling me.” Expert fingers stroked his erection through the cloth of his breeches.
The other hand continued to caress the back of his neck. He knew he should resist, but he had no power to move of his own volit
ion. It was as if he had become a puppet in her hands and what hands...he groaned as she tugged at his belt, unbuckling it, and sliding her hand inside.
She straddled his lap and cradled his face in her hands, her luscious lips parting as she bent toward him.
With a supreme effort, Luke pushed her away and jumped to his feet. She fell to the ground with a thump and sat in the circle of her skirts, looking up at him, anger flashing from her eyes.
“Don’t you want me?”
He swallowed, ignoring the ache in his groin. “Yes…no…I…I made a vow,” he said “Of chastity until the end of this siege.”
Lovedie rose to her feet, smoothing down her skirts. She gave him a scornful look, her lip curling in derision. “You? Chastity? A man like you needs to forget his cares.” She paused, tilting her head to one side. It’s Mistress Deliverance, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. Why would you want her when I can show you pleasures you’ve never dreamed of?
He had no doubt she could, and at that thought, he took a deep breath.
“Lovedie, it is a kind thought, but I’ve no need of what you have to offer and I would thank you not to speak of Mistress Felton in that way. You owe her your life.”
The girl sniffed, tossing the thick, red locks as she stalked toward the door. As she put her hand on the latch and she turned, looking at him from beneath lowered eyelashes, she said. “I’d not meant to offend, but if you change your mind, Captain Collyer…”
“I won’t. Thank you, Lovedie.”
As the door shut behind her he came out from behind Sir John’s chair and looked down at his report. The cup of wine had spilled in the altercation and spread across the paper and the table. He cursed, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
As he stepped out on to the curtain wall, he turned his face up to the dark night and let the rain cleanse him of the disgust at his own reaction to Lovedie’s advances. He could have so easily succumbed to what she had to offer. The base man in him whispered: Are you mad? A beautiful, experienced woman, throwing herself at you? Why didn’t you take what she had to offer? Deliverance would never know. The lover in him answered, You knew it wasn't right. You did the right thing.
He couldn't face Deliverance or anyone for that matter so he climbed the stairs to the top of Hawk Tower and leaned on the battlements looking out across the enemy encampment. He let the rain soak through his jacket and shirt, rapidly cooling what was left of his ardour.
“What in God's name are you doing up here?” Ned's voice came from behind him.
Luke turned his head, rats' tails of sodden hair whipping his eyes.
“Escaping,” he said.
Ned wisely remained in the shelter of the doorway.
“Deliverance been giving you trouble?” Ned asked.
Luke shook his head. “No, not Deliverance.” He straightened. “Escaping from myself, Ned.”
He crossed to join his friend in the doorway. Ned turned to go down but turned back as Luke sank on to the top step with his head in his hands. He had to talk; guilt was consuming him, distracting him from the task at hand. He needed Ned’s counsel, even if he already knew the answer.
“I’m a fool, Ned.”
“I've known that for years,” Ned responded.
“No, you don't understand,” Luke said. “I've broken my own cardinal rule.
“What do you mean?”
“I've let myself fall in love.”
“What?” Ned sounded incredulous. “You? In love? Not that dairymaid?”
Luke looked up and fixed his friend with a cold glare. “Give me some credit,” he snapped.
Slow realisation crossed Ned's face. “You're in love with Deliverance Felton?” He sank down on the step next to his friend. “You are indeed the biggest fool in Christendom, Collyer.”
“That's not the worst of it...” In a shaking voice, Luke recounted Lovedie's attempt to seduce him. When he had finished, he closed his eyes and ran his hands down his face. “Now what am I going to do?”
“You weren't considering throwing yourself off the tower?” Ned suggested.
Luke glared at him. “I'm not that desperate.” He groaned. “It’s Deliverance. I can't even think straight when I’m near her.”
“Well, we need you to think straight, Collyer. Maybe throwing yourself off the tower wasn't such a bad notion. Does Deliverance feel the same way about you?”
Luke nodded.
“God help us.” Ned threw his hands in the air. “You haven’t actually bedded her, have you?”
“No, but not for want of trying. We just can’t seem to find the right moment.”
Ned stared at him. “Just stop and think, Collyer. Beyond that wall are four hundred men intent on killing us. The two people in this castle on whom one hundred souls are relying for their lives, are behaving like a pair of moonstruck calves. You are going to have to put your woman troubles to one side and start behaving like a soldier. Love is a luxury which you can ill afford now.”
Luke looked up at his friend and nodded. “I know that. I've been telling myself that for days now.”
“And you're going to have to talk to Deliverance and tell her the same thing. She is sensible enough to understand that whatever has happened between the two of you cannot interfere with the conduct of this siege. End it, Collyer.”
Luke buried his head in his hands and groaned. “And what do I do about that trollop, Lovedie?”
Ned stroked his jaw. “Nothing. It’s her choice. She can stay here and behave herself or she takes her chance out there with our friend Farrington.” Ned put a hand on Luke's shoulder. “Come on. You’d better get out of those soaking clothes and get some rest. You're no good to us with lung fever.”
Luke nodded and rose to his feet. No battle he had fought had left him feeling so drained.
Chapter 14
Deliverance woke to the now familiar sally from Farrington's guns. The residence shuddered at the impact of the Thunderer's anger and the smaller cannon balls that smashed against the walls, sending reverberations through the whole castle. She lay in bed looking up at the panels of the wooden canopy above her as the curtain rings rattled. She was alone in the bed. Penitence must have already arisen.
She drew back the curtains and called for Meg, but the maid did not reply. Like Penitence she must have also started her morning chores. They had decided to leave her to sleep.
Deliverance swung her feet out of bed and padded over to her chest to find some clothes. As she raised the lid on the ancient coffer, the window crashed in sending glass shards flying across the room. Deliverance dived to the floor beside the chest as a leaden cannon ball, mercifully not one of the huge balls that spewed from the Thunderer, hurtled through the room, hitting the far wall with a mighty crash. The solid stonework stopped it dead and it bounced back, coming to rest in the fireplace.
Deliverance didn't move, shocked into immobility by the violence of the shot. The door burst open and she gathered herself together, peering over the chest to see Luke standing in the doorway, his jacket undone and his shirt unlaced at his throat.
“Deliverance, are you all right?”
“I'm fine. It missed me… by a few inches…” Deliverance struggled to speak. She shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself as the realisation of how close she had come to death.
Luke’s feet crunched on the broken glass and she smelled the familiar tang of soap and leather as he came to stand over her.
“Deliverance, look at me.”
She opened her eyes and he sank to his haunches, his brow knitted as he reached out to touch her face. “You've blood on your face.”
Now he had mentioned it, her cheek burned. With a shaking hand she touched the sticky wetness on her cheek, and then looked down at her fingertips with surprise.
She blinked and looked at him. “Is it…is it bad?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Just a cut. Nothing to worry about but there is glass all over the floor
. Don't take a step until you have shoes on.”
Before she could protest, he lifted her up and dumped her unceremoniously back on the bed. Deliverance wrapped her arms around herself, aware that she only wore her nightdress. She pulled her feet up, wrapping her arms around her knees in an effort to stop the shaking.
Luke bent to pick up the cannon ball.
“Leave it,” Deliverance said.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I want to leave it there to remember...” she began, but couldn't finish ‘...how close I came to death’
Luke picked his way back to the door where he inclined his head and said. “I'll send someone up to board the window as soon as you are dressed.”
She had expected him to come to her, take her in his arms, and reassure her of his love…kiss her…
He was just going to leave her?
“Luke…?” she began but he had gone.
Meg came running in through the door, closely followed by Penitence.
“Thank the good Lord, you are safe!” Penitence threw her arms around her sister. They may not have been the arms she longed for but they would do.
After a moment she pushed her sister away with a brusque, “Don’t fuss, Pen. Meg, find me some shoes and my clothes, and organise some help to clean this room.”
As soon as she was dressed, Deliverance went in search of Luke. She had hoped to find him in the library but the room was deserted. She wandered over to the old oak table, which had been cleared of all but a pen and ink stand and a scattering of papers.
A cup of wine had been spilled across the table, spoiling the papers and she wondered why no attempt had been made to clean it up. She righted the cup and picked up the still sodden papers, recognising Luke's handwriting.
The door opened and Luke walked in. He stood frozen in the doorway, his hand still on the latch.
“Deliverance. What are you doing here?”
She set the paper down and smiled. “Looking for you.”
“I’m very busy.” He shut the door but didn’t advance any further into the room.
Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War Page 13
