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When he still looked doubtful she grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the small clearing where she had seen the old woman enter the tiny cottage. When she got there, though, she slammed to a stop and stared in disbelief at the place where the ramshackle old cottage had once stood.
In its place lay ruins that were older and more unstable than the priory behind them. Not only that but the foliage surrounding it had smothered the path leading to the front door she had seen earlier. They were so unkempt now that the tangle of bushes and brambles had almost completely obscured the cottage from view. The cottage that now had no chimney, no front door, and no roof.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “There was a house here. It was better than that, Myles. While it was ramshackle, it was not that bad. It was a cottage, Myles, I will swear by it. The woman walked into it. I saw smoke coming from the chimney.”
Myles heard the rising panic in her insistent voice and hastened to soothe her.
“I don’t like this,” he told her quietly. “There are far too many odd things going on. I think we need to get out of here now before that lot are joined by anybody else. The last thing we need is to be chased through the trees again.”
He adored her too much to call into question her beliefs, but suspected that she had become confused the other night as well as disorientated. He knew that fear could play tricks on a person’s mind, and make them believe they had seen or done something when they truly hadn’t.
Had she imagined seeing the house more intact, though? Given the alternatives were just too nonsensical to be believed, he had to assume she might have hit her head far earlier in the evening that she had thought, and in her injured state become confused.
What he did believe was that the hooded cloaks still chanting around the pentagram had chased her – and they had intended to kill her when they caught her. He glanced over his shoulder when the chanting stopped. The small hairs stood up on the back of his neck, warning him that they needed to get out.
“Go,” he whispered harshly. He pushed one hand hard into Estelle’s lower back and propelled her forward, into the bushes and out of sight. “Don’t make a sound.”
He had no idea where the figure in black had gone now because it was no longer beside the figure in the red robes. He had no intention of going to find out. He could, however, still see the rest of the devil worshippers. They were all making their way toward their leader, still standing a few feet away. Myles watched that leader open a small vial and waft it about a bit, and had no doubt it contained opiates of some kind. To his surprise, and inner satisfaction, they all then removed their hoods, affording him a good look at their faces.
“Damn it all to Hell,” he breathed as he studied each face in turn, and felt his fury burn.
“What is it?” Estelle whispered. She leaned over him and peered over his shoulder. “I have seen them in the village.”
Myles nodded. “Come on. We are leaving.” He had seen enough.
Estelle didn’t need to be told twice and followed Myles toward a small, barely visible path several feet away, behind the derelict cottage. She took one last look at the ruined building, and shivered. Trying to stave off her growing alarm, she increased her pace but didn’t truly relax until they stepped out of the trees nearly ten minutes later.
The rain that immediately soaked her face was blissful given the terror she had just endured. She stood still for a moment and savoured the gentle taps against her chilled flesh as she breathed in the crisp air that billowed around her. It made her feel alive.
Suddenly, she felt someone touch her face. Her eyes opened and she looked straight into Myles dark eyes. Their eyes met. A wealth of understanding wove its way around them, and bound them together with invisible bonds. Something deep within her shifted. She boldly grabbed the folds of his shirt with tight fists and stood up on tiptoe. He didn’t pull away when she placed her lips upon his. Instead, he moaned low in his throat and hauled her into his arms.
They were both drenched by the time he finally released her but neither of them cared. She smiled at him. The tenderness in his warm eyes made her smile grow. She held him just as tightly when he slipped one arm around her waist and held her against his side as he guided her slowly around the edge of the wo
ods and back toward the house.
“I am not going to apologise for that,” he murmured.
“Good. I don’t want you to,” she assured him.
They were so engrossed in each other that neither of them noticed the small figure standing within the sheltered overhang of the woods watching them, waiting for them to disappear back into the tunnel.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When Myles and Estelle re-entered the house, they paused beside the tunnel entrance and slid a heavy wooden cupboard across to stop anybody else entering or leaving.
“That won’t stop them,” Myles told her.
Estelle looked at him. “What is the point of putting it there then?”
“It is going to make noise if someone wants to move it. It is too heavy for one person to move by themselves anyway. If it does move, I doubt they will be able to put it back exactly into position so we can keep an eye on it, and will know immediately if it has been used again.”
Estelle nodded. “So you will know if any of the servants have moved it,” she replied.
“None of those people work in this house,” he assured her.
“Who were they?” she asked. While she asked the question, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to know.
Myles snorted. “People who are going to be arrested soon,” he told her. “How well do you know the villagers?”
