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They had no idea they were gazing on the remains of Dunbar McKenna.

Turning away from the Scot, William passed a lingering glance at Jason Gray. Young, foolish, but a good knight, he was deeply sorry. Michael was bent praying over the young lad, making the sign of the cross when he had finished. Over his shoulder he heard Paris mumbling a prayer and making the sign of the cross as well.

As regretful as William was, he could not spare the emotion for the knight. The only praying he would be doing would be for his wife, when he found her. He moved back to the boulder.

“Help me with this,” he said hoarsely.

Paris and Michael obeyed, moving to different positions around the rock and throwing their backs into it. After the first couple of shoves, the boulder finally budged ever so slightly. Encouraged, and with a fear fed by adrenalin, William barked inspiring words as they rocked in unison, slowly moving the boulder bit by bit.

They stopped for a moment and re-examined the slope surrounding the boulder and discovered that there was some sort of cave or hole underneath it. Bile rose in William’s throat when he saw that they were getting closer. Above them, in the distance, they could still hear the sounds of a fierce battle and the smoke in the air grew heavier.

“Again,” William was filled with dread. But he had to get to her.

“How in the hell did they get this rock here?” Paris demanded with a grunt. “Seems like an awful bit of trouble to me just to cover a grave.”

Michael gave a loud groan as they pushed in unison and the boulder gave a bit more. “It must’ve taken twenty of the bastards to carry it here.”

“Shut up and keep pushing.” William grunted.

After several laborious, endless minutes, they had managed to move the stone about two feet, enough room for them to do what needed to be done.

William rested against the stone for a brief moment, feeling the horror of what he was about to see sweeping over him but fighting against it. He had to remain in control just a while longer. He noticed that Paris and Michael had stood back, allowing him the first few moments of the discovery to himself.

With a sigh of utter reluctance, he stood away from the gap and gazed down into it, seeing nothing. With tremendous hesitation, his heart pounding in his ears, he crouched down and peered into the inky hole. Jordan’s face confronted him almost immediately.

But she wasn’t dead. She was on her hands and knees, looking up at him.

“William!” she gasped in surprise.

William was so stunned that he fell back onto his arse. Shock was not a pertinent term; astonishment was a more fitting description. Utter astonishment. Dear God, she was alive.

Not being able to see his face through his helmet, Jordan was unaware of his amazement. In fact, she wasn’t all that surprised to see him, for she thought Malcolm had sought William out and sent him to rescue her.

“Dunna sit there!” she demanded irritably. “Help me out of this hole. ’Tis not good for a pregnant woman to be crawling around on the damp ground, all cold and dirty. I shall catch my death while ye loll on yer behind, English.”

He began to shake violently. When he lifted his hands to his helmet, she could see that they were shaking and when he ripped off his helm and she saw the astonishment on his face, she was genuinely puzzled and concerned.

“Are ye all right?” she asked softly. “What is wrong?”

He chuckled, coming out as more of a cough. What is wrong, she asks? Suddenly he was back on his knees, pulling her from the tunnel and clutching her to him with a death grip. Jordan threw her arms around his neck, holding onto him for dear life. But, truly, she had never been honestly worried; she had always known he would come for her.

“William,” she tried to push away from him but he was squeezing her too hard. “English, I canna breathe.”

“God, Jordan.” he whispered huskily into her hair, his voice filled with tears. “Are you all right, love?”

“I am fine. Oh, English, I knew ye’d come!” She pushed against him hard enough to be able to look into his eye. “Did Malcolm find ye? Where is he?”

William was dazed and confused, delighted and overwhelmed. “What are you talking about?”

“My cousin, Malcolm,” she repeated patiently. “He helped Callie and I escape to the little room back there,” she pointed back down the tunnel. “He said he had to go and unblock the secret exit.” She shook her head at him with puzzlement. “Dinna he find ye and ask ye to help him? He knew ye had come for me, too.”

William stared at her with amazement and growing horror. “He helped you?”

“Aye, he did,” she replied with a nod. She looked incredibly beautiful and composed. He was a wreck.

He shook his head slowly, his mind boggled. “Oh, my God,” he mumbled. “Jordan, I thought he had killed you. I found him in the bailey and ran him through. With his dying breath he told me to find you in the gully to the north, between two bushes and under a boulder. My God, I thought he was talking about your grave.”

She stared back at him, “Nay,” she whispered in horror, then louder. “Nay! William, he was telling you where to find me. ’Tis the secret passage from the wall.”