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the sound of settling rocks, and this time when the panic flared, Elspeth let it flood her. She ran to the noise, dropping and scrabbling on hands and knees. “Achilles?”
Spotting a small hole, she squatted low, putting her cheek to the ground just as a tiny black nose sniffed into view. She began to clear rocks away from the hole, but her dog was either too startled or too curious, and he disappeared from view.
“Where have you gotten to?” She worked quickly, plucking rocks away, revealing a narrow burrow, low and dark.
She thought about the layout of the castle. Such a place would likely feature a pit off the dining area—ogling prisoners had once been considered grand entertainment between courses. Was this a passage to a long-forgotten dungeon? The thought didn’t give her comfort—if the pup fell, they’d never be able to pull him out. “Get back here this instant,” she said, her tone distinctly alarmed.
Elspeth heaved aside a few of the larger rocks and, sweeping away loose bits of masonry, uncovered a hole large enough to crawl through. She didn’t hesitate, just dove in after him. The tunnel soon shrank around her, and she sank onto her belly, slinking forward on her elbows.
A mass of fur barreled into her. She yelped, and he scampered away again.
“Blasted pup. ” He thought they were playing at some game. “Get here, you rascal. ” She patted the ground, reaching an arm before her in the darkness, and seized a fistful of soft puppy. “Gotcha. ”
She crept backward, doing her best to hold on to the dog, alternately nipping and licking her. “I should’ve named you Pan, not Achilles, you wee troublemaker. Don’t you know you could get crushed in here? Or you could’ve dropped down the pit, and then where would you be?”
“One could say the same for you,” a decidedly masculine voice replied.
Aidan. Elspeth dropped her forehead in defeat. He’d seen her embarrassed, helpless, and stuttering … he might as well see her covered in dust, engulfed to her waist by a hole in the wall.
Her heart gave a hot, shamed pounding in her chest as she realized her skirts were surely up around her knees. She held her breath, and sure enough, felt a cool breeze dancing above the cuff of her half boots.
“It appears I find you stuck again. ” Restrained laughter vibrated in his voice. “I must know: how did you manage before we met?”
“I am not stuck. I am merely … retrieving Achilles. ” But she found she couldn’t continue to worm her way back out while keeping hold of the dog.
“You appear to have stopped moving. ” His voice was closer now; probably he was squatting down next to her. “Might I be of assistance?”
“I …” She blinked her eyes tight. Yet another instance of dashed dignity. “Yes, please,” she said, deflating.
He grasped her calves, and a bolt of lightning shot straight from his palms, crackling up through her body. His hands seemed to linger overlong on the skin just above her boots, and she wondered distantly if he might not have accomplished the same thing by simply grabbing her booted feet.
He tugged as gently as the situation permitted, but her knee scraped along the slate floor, and she flinched. “Damn,” he whispered. “A moment. ”
She sensed him move closer. He loomed there, hesitating, and then a hand slid beneath her knees.
A foreign sensation exploded to life, buzzing through her body, settling to a hot pulse between her legs. A cry escaped her, and she lost hold of Achilles. “I … the …” Elspeth cleared her throat. “I’ve let go the dog. ”
“Relax. ” He gave her knee a squeeze, and her stomach flip-flopped. “He’ll get hungry and come out. Let’s attend to you first,” Aidan said, freeing her the rest of the way.
She cringed at how she must look—surely she was covered in dirt and crumbled mortar—and dismay alternated with this new yearning she felt in her breast. She tried to blow the dust and hair from her face.
He rolled her carefully onto her back and brushed the hair from her brow. “Hush,” he murmured, even though she hadn’t said anything.
Their gazes met, and her mind went blank, silly concerns like dust falling away. His eyes were a crisp blue— not a pale, washed-out shade, but blue like a summer sky.
Faint lines were etched around them, from where he’d squinted in the sun. Her eyes traced a path down to the matching lines bracketing his mouth. He’d labored in the sun, but her roguish hero had smiled too.
He licked his lips, and she couldn’t help but stare at that mouth. Would his kiss be firm or soft? A gentle peck, or deeper? Because she guessed kisses could go deeper.
She desperately wanted him to kiss her, wanted to find out for herself what he’d feel like, breathing in the very breath from his lungs. But she hadn’t the slightest idea how to go about making a man kiss her. Surely one didn’t just ask. Great heroines communicated their desires with a glance or a gesture.
Elspeth looked back up at Aidan with widened eyes, imagining illicit things like kisses and touches, but his expression remained an unreadable mask.
He wasn’t getting her message.
And so she blinked, then opened her eyes even wider.
He tilted his head, studying her. “Did you hurt yourself?”
