“His reasons don’t matter.” Gregory was certain of that. “Lord Loxton has Ecton in custody. Allweneed to do is get Caitlin out of there.”
Everyone stared at him.
Hamish waved a hand at the blocks. “How? Each of these weighs a ton.”
Gregory met Hamish’s eyes and smiled. “That’s the one thing Ecton didn’t allow for—we’re in the country.” He looked at Jenkins. “We have Clydesdales, do we not?”
“Ah.” Jenkins’s face cleared. “Of course.” He whirled, searched the faces, then pointed at his stable lads. “You, you, and you. Go and fetch the draft horses. All four. Fast as you can.”
“And don’t forget their yokes and harnesses,” Gregory called after the already running lads.
Patrick was shaking his head. “Ecton truly is a fool through and through. You don’t even need to send to neighbors for the beasts.”
Gregory’s smile widened, and his confidence grew. “That’s one of the benefits of a place like Bellamy Hall.”
The light was failing by the time they got the horses there and harnessed with the right gear to haul away the stones.
With his knowledge of stone, Hamish had been a big help, and Patrick, with his engineering expertise, had been crucial in working out how to best construct the net they’d fashioned to loop about the stones and in which direction to pull each away.
Several of those who had stormed Ecton’s dilapidated house had returned to the Hall to carry the news to those who’d remained behind. As a result, a large contingent, including Cromwell and the painters, had come hurrying to the ruins with lanterns and blankets and shawls. And to hold the chill at bay, jugs of ale and cider—the painters’ contribution, which was welcomed by all.
As the sun slipped beneath the horizon, the cold intensified.
Each block required all four horses to drag it away. They got the first hauled off sufficiently far to the right easily enough, but the second had tipped as it fell and wedged into place and, consequently, proved a lot more difficult to dislodge. Eventually, Hamish set to with a huge chisel and hammer he’d had fetched. The sound of metal striking metal rang out eerily over the landscape of dark, shattered, jutting rocks.
Gregory couldn’t drag his gaze or his awareness from the lantern-lit scene about the blocked doorway. Caitlin was in there; he told himself she was, yet still he feared. Until he set eyes on her again—or better yet had her in his arms—he couldn’t relax, couldn’t stand down.
She was everything to him.
He made a silent vow that, when he next had a moment alone with her, he would tell her exactly what she meant to him.
Better yet, he would show her.
Even better, he would do both.
Then Hamish stepped back, examined his handiwork, and signaled to Henry and Jenkins, who were waiting at the horses’ heads, and the huge beasts leaned into their yokes once more, and this time, with a hideous screeching scrape, the second stone started moving.
Everyone cheered.
As soon as the second block was out of the way, willing hands fell to, unhooking and dismantling the net of ropes and leathers they’d cobbled together to haul the blocks, and finally, they approached the last massive stone.
Inside the crypt, Caitlin blinked and blinked, then cursed at her continued inability to see. Or to reach up and dab the tears from her eyes.
They were coming—truly coming to get her out. That horrible screeching, grating sound—followed by cheers—set the matter beyond doubt.
The relief that had already flooded her rose even higher and caught in her throat.
She’d been lying there, feeling increasingly anxious and helpless with it, but then she’d heard voices—distant and indistinct—yet they’d continued and hadn’t faded away.
They—her rescuers, she assumed, and thanked God for them—had remained outside for quite some time, but in the dark, she really had no idea how long it had been. She’d puzzled over why they hadn’t come to fetch her and had reasoned that the fiend had somehow blocked the door.
With all sounds deadened by the earth and stone surrounding her and muffled even more by the black hood, she’d been reduced to guessing what was going on, but those loud and happy cheers surely indicated that, whoever had found her, they were making progress toward getting her out.
Gregory.
He would be there; she was sure of it.
Behind the black material, she smiled and tried to take a deep, calming, reassuring breath, then remembered and cut off her inhale.
