Christian chuckled. “Aye. That I might.” He gathered her against him, wishing they were alone, and kissed her deeply, feeling a blossoming of his heart as his lips moved over hers. She was his heart. He loved her and would do anything to keep her safe. Except leave her. And he worried that by staying, he was putting her in even more danger than if he had left.
He turned, keeping her hand in his, and walked towards the flickering torch on the wall. It was dark, and he couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of them. There could have been a squadron of the king’s soldiers in the shadows, waiting to spring at them. His eyes darted left and right and detected no one.
“I wonder who built this,” Willow mused, running her fingers along a straight gash in the wall.
“We don’t see many women down here,” a voice said from the darkness.
Christian spun, drawing his sword, to face the source of the voice even though he could not see who was there.
A cackle came from the darkness. “Did you think Jo wouldn’t set up guards throughout the tunnel?”
Christian’s fingers tightened around the pommel. “Who are you?”
A flame flared to life, and light fell over an old man. He held a candle in his hand and stared at Christian with wide, crazy eyes. His smile was full of brown, decayed teeth. “Pons de Ayes,” he said. “But I don’t think you would know my name.”
Christian slowly lowered his sword.
“I’m Willow,” she said. “And this is Christian Sterling.”
“Willow,” he pondered. “I know that name. It’s very pretty for a very lovely lady. Why are you here in the darkness? You should be above ground in the sun.”
“Hiding,” Willow replied with a sigh.
“Willow,” Christian chastised in a warning. She revealed too much.
She ignored him. “As I’m certain you are. How long have you been here?”
“It seems like forever,” Pons admitted. “But I’m content now that I’ve seen the likes of you.” He pinched his lips together and mused, “Willow. Willow.”
“My last name is Hawke,” she offered. “You’ve probably heard of my father, John Hawke.”
His eyes widened until Christian thought they would pop from his head.
“Yes! Yes. I met Hawke a long time ago. He was here. He helped me. He’s the one that brought me to this place.” He glanced down the tunnel. “Is he here?”
Willow’s shoulders sagged.
Christian wished he could take Willow in his arms and comfort her. Instead, he replaced his sword. The pain she felt was harder for him to handle than any number of blades. “No. He passed away.”
“Pity,” Pons said, scratching his head. “He was a brave man. He was afraid of nothing.”
“Are you a Templar Knight?” Willow turned the conversation from her father.
“Aye. I was wounded in battle. Hawke introduced me to Jo, and I’ve been here ever since.”
Christian glanced down the cave. The darkness swallowed the candlelight, making it seem like the black depths went on forever. “Guarding the tunnel?”
“How long have you been here?” Willow wondered.
“Years. This is my home now. Jo feeds me and gives me what I need. In return, I guard the tunnel.” He bowed his head, shaking it sadly. Strings of his long hair swayed from side to side. “But times have changed. All my brethren have been set upon by the king’s men. If I had been there, I would have fought those ruffians.” He grimaced. “If I could.” He rubbed his arm, moving his fingers up and down, and grabbed the end. His forearm was gone, sliced off at the elbow. “But I lost my arm in battle.”
Willow squatted in front of him. “I’m sorry.”
Pons chuckled darkly. “Don’t be. It was worth it.”
“How many knights have sought safety here?” Willow asked.
Pons pursed his lips in thought, staring at the ceiling as if calculating. “Don’t know for sure. Not enough to fight the king’s men, that’s for sure.”
