Her shoulder struck his chin.
“Willow!” he hissed. “Turn sideways.” He pushed her hip over so that their bodies were facing each other.
She scowled. “That didn’t accomplish anything.” Except to be positioned against him, which wouldn’t have been bad if they were anywhere else.
“There’s nothing we can do. We’ll have to go back and hope those soldiers have moved on.”
“No. No. I’m not going back into that tunnel. If we can just...” She tried to shift her position, swinging her legs over Christian toward the grate. “He moved that boulder. We can do it, too.” The space was cramped, and she had to twist her body, shifting and crawling. Half of her body was on top of him.
“Wait, Willow. I’ll move and—”
Her hand shoved down on his groin. “Sorry,” she mumbled, pulling away quickly. She swung her legs over his head. At one point, her bottom pressed against his face until he backed down the tunnel. She placed her feet against the bars and pushed. The grate wiggled slightly.
But not enough.
Christian scooted himself forward beside her, feet first.
Willow kicked the grate, trying to dislodge the boulder.
He spread his arms out, bracing himself on the tunnel wall so he wouldn’t fall against her, and put his feet on the bars of the grate. He glanced at her. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“Push.”
Willow used all her strength to shove the bars. The grate moved with a creak.
“Don’t stop,” Christian ordered.
Willow had no intention of stopping. She shoved hard. The grate suddenly swung open. Shocked, elated, Willow quickly scooted from the tunnel. She finally stood, out of the darkness, excited and relieved to be out of the tunnel.
Christian crawled out after her. He wore a grin as he watched her.
She threw her arms around his neck. “I knew it would work! I knew it!”
He squeezed her tightly. “You did well.”
When she pulled away from him, she saw he was not focusing on her or the tunnel but inspecting the landscape. It was the same thing her father would have done. They were still in danger. She followed his lead, her joy fading. The boulder before the grate had rolled down a slight incline.
Christian returned to close the grate.
Willow scanned the small hill, but there was no sign of Sage. She inspected the ground for tracks.
“He tried to cover them up,” Christian said, moving to her side and staring at the leaf-covered dirt. “See here?” He pointed to a section on the ground. “He used something to wipe away his tracks.”
It looked as though the wind had blown a bush across the dirt. There were brush marks. She was a trained tracker. That was one of the things she did best. Her father had taught all his daughters how to track, but Willow had picked it up quickly. She had an eye for detail, her father had said. She nodded and followed the brush strokes to a bush. She eased aside the thick leaves and pulled out a branch. “He must have used this.”
Christian agreed with a nod.
It was like when Christian lived with them. Her father would hide in the forest, and she and Christian would work together to find him. But this was no game. Willow tossed the branch aside and skimmed the ground for more tracks, tracks that would tell them which way Marcus took Sage.
“I’ll get you back to the chateau,” Christian said.
She whirled, startled.
“To your father and sister,” he clarified.
“I can’t return to the chateau. Those men are searching for me.”
