His Destiny Read Free Page A

believe unease inspired her question, which in part was the truth.
    “Worry not. I will lead you through it.” Dirt and small stones clattered into the distant opening. Sir Patrik hauled her forward.
    A tremor slid through Emma as she half tumbled after him. She refused to think of the spiders or rodents inside, and whatever else lived within this blackened crypt. Thank God they would soon be out of the mind-numbing blackness.
    “Wait here,” Sir Patrik whispered.
    Stone scraped; he was closing the entry.
    Leather padded against earth. Cloth shifted as he moved beside her. His body’s heat enveloped hers. “Say naught.”
    “Do you see anything?” a muted voice called from the other side.
    Emma jumped.
    Patrik laid a calming hand upon the lass. Even if the English searched the burial mound, they would find nothing but stones and the bones of those once loved.
    The knights knew naught of the secret rebel passage, a tunnel hewn through the earth into a maze of natural chambers leading to the other side of the ben. By the time he and the lass had reached the northern exit, the knights should be far away, and once he’d left her with friends in a nearby village, he could return to his mission.
    He touched the writ secured beneath his tunic and again cursed their delay. Too many lives lay at stake for him to fail.
    “Sir Patrik?”
    At the fear in the lass’s whisper, he set aside his worrisome thoughts. “’Twill be fine.” He drew her against him, found her shaking. After the horrific events of the day, she would be in shock.
    Although the situation was dangerous, he tread upon familiar ground. Too well he knew the twisted entertainment of the bastards. Anytime he drew English blood ’twas a day to celebrate.
    Men’s voices on the other side of the stone grew louder.
    She stiffened against him.
    “They have but entered the cairn,” Patrik whispered to offer assurance.
    “They will see where you have slid the stone.”
    “Nay. The entry to the tunnel is well hidden. After a quick check within the blackness, they will believe that if we indeed hid inside, we remained but a short time.”
    Long moments passed. The murmur of angry voices echoed from the other side, a muted curse, grumbles of dissent, then finally, blissful silence.
    Patrik released a sigh.
    “They are gone?”
    “For now. When they find no other tracks leading away, they will return. By then, we will be long gone.” And the rebels’ secret passage would remain safe from English eyes. He hesitated. After saving the lass this day, would she expose the escape route? Under the circumstances, he believed not. Still, he would watch her.
    Patrik released her and stood. “Wait here.”
    “What are you doing?”
    “If the knights return with torches, I must ensure that any trace of our passage within the cairn is erased.” With quick, efficient movements, he slid his hands up the wall until he felt the candle and the mound of dried grass placed there. He withdrew his dagger and flint. In seconds a flame sprang to life. Patrik lit the wick.
    Yellow light from his candle flickered, then grew in the blackness, exposing the time-worn walls, the layer of uneven dirt around them and the tunnels beyond.
    She gasped. “There are numerous tunnels.”
    “Aye.” He smothered the fire, then replaced the remaining tinder for future travelers. “Anyone entering must know the route or they will become lost.”
    Beneath the flickering light, her face paled.
    “Do nae worry, lass. I am well familiar with the passages.” She appeared far from convinced. “Stay here. I will be but a moment.”
    He shoved the stone aside, quickly retraced their steps and swept away any sign of their passage. Thankful to have finished the task, he slid the stone into place.
    Candlelight flickered in the gloom, the soft, pungent scent of the tallow melding with the musty air. He extended his hand. “Come.” Cristina stared up at him, the wariness on her dirt- and flame-smeared