And what then? Would she then spring her trap?
Did he really have a choice, though? He couldn’t risk letting the gold fall into French hands. He would have to accept Brynn’s terms, despite the danger.
“Have your men maintain their posts,” Lucian said, turning on his heel. The price of trusting his wife might be his own life, but he had no better option.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lucian allowed Brynn to go first with the lamp while he carried his own pistol at the ready. He wasn’t surprised when she led him through the now-dark kitchens to the wine cellars below, nor when she slipped behind a wall of casks and bent low to open a short oaken door.
“This leads to the coast?” he asked.
“Yes. There are several caves beneath the house, connected by tunnels. The entrance from the shore is hidden in a crevice in the cliff wall.”
“Convenient for your family,” Lucian remarked sardonically.
Brynn shot him a glance but didn’t respond.
When she disappeared through the opening, Lucian followed. A narrow flight of steps hewn into the rock descended into the darkness.
Neither of them spoke as they moved downward. Brynn’s lamp cast flickering shadows over the rock, which was streaked with red and green and purple. When they reached the bottom step, the underground passage flattened out, but Lucian had to stoop to keep from striking his head.
Eventually the tunnel opened into a small cavern where he could stand up straight. This natural hideaway would be ideal for storing a cache of contraband, he knew. The Cornish coast was honeycombed with coves and ravines where a smuggler’s ketch could slip in undetected, but getting the trafficked goods to and from the beach presented a greater challenge. The usual goods would be bulky- bolts of silk, velvet, and lace, casks of wine, kegs of brandy, perhaps tea, all smuggled into the country to avoid the high taxes imposed by the British government because of the interminable war.
The floor of the cavern was wet and treacherously slick, Lucian saw, the rock worn smooth over the centuries by a trickling stream coming from deep underground. When Brynn slipped once, he reached out instinctively to steady her. She flinched at that casual contact, and Lucian drew his hand back abruptly, feeling burned himself.
She moved on through the cave into another man-made passageway cut through the rock. He glanced around carefully, marking his way, before following her. Soon he could hear the distant sound of the sea as it surged against the base of the cliffs.
Shortly the tunnel spilled into another cavern, this one already dimly illuminated by a lantern. Urgently Lucian put a hand on Brynn’s shoulder, silently detaining her. Some fifteen feet away, her brother Grayson was pacing the floor-rather nervously, Lucian saw.
Stepping past Brynn into the cavern, Lucian called out Sir Grayson’s name. The man spun around, reaching for the pistol in his belt. He froze when he saw the weapon aimed at his heart.
Lucian gestured with the barrel of his gun. “I suggest you put it down… slowly.”
For a moment Grayson’s hand clenched around the grip, but then he did as he was bid, carefully withdrawing his pistol and setting it on the rocky ground.
Then he flung his sister a despairing look. “You led him here, didn’t you? Are you pleased with yourself, Brynn, betraying your own flesh and blood?”
The pain on her face was visible, Lucian saw with a glance over his shoulder.
“I didn’t betray you,” she said hoarsely. “Lucian found us out somehow. But I was coming to find you, in any case. There may be another way out, Gray. One that doesn’t involve committing treason.”
Grayson clenched his fists, his fury evident. “Damn you, I told you, there is no other way.”
“What’s this?” Lucian interjected sardonically. “Dissension among thieves? I should think, Sir Grayson, you would show your sister more gratitude. You could never have stolen my seal ring without her help.”
Grayson’s wrathful focus shifted, and he glared at Lucian. “Brynn had nothing whatever to do with my appropriating your ring. I took it from your study over her adamant objections, and then tricked her into keeping silent.”
“Then used it to help our country’s enemies steal a scheduled shipment of gold.”
His gaze lowered. “Apparently so. I’m not proud of that. But you cannot blame Brynn. She played no part in it.”
Lucian raised a skeptical eyebrow, unsurprised that Grayson had come so readily to her defense. “You expect me to believe you? A traitor?”
“Believe what you choose, my lord. But I am solely responsible. Brynn hasn’t been involved until tonight when I demanded that she drug you.”
Lucian’s mouth curled. “And drugging me is supposed to absolve her?”
“She did it to save your hide, to keep you safe from Caliban’s men. You’re the one who should be grateful, Wycliff.”
A strange sense of relief filled Lucian to hear Brynn’s claim repeated. Perhaps, just possibly, she wasn’t guilty of treason after all.
“I intend to deal with my wife later,” Lucian replied. “For now, you’re my chief concern. I’ll thank you to return to the house with me.”
Grayson’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he said quietly.
“It will only go harder for you if you resist.”
He offered a bitter smile. “How can anything go harder than hanging? No, I’m afraid you will have to kill me, my lord. I would sooner die from a bullet than be executed for treason.”
Brynn gasped, but her brother nodded toward Lucian’s weapon. “Go ahead and fire. I don’t intend to let you arrest me.”
She stepped forward, the lamp she carried sending shadows jumping around the cavern. “No, Lucian, you can’t. I tell you, Grayson didn’t mean to commit treason. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was only trying to pay his debts, to protect his family. Please… Gray, tell him…”
“Brynn, I want you to leave,” Lucian ordered.
“No, I can’t let you shoot him-”
“Brynn,” Grayson said gently, “being shot is a far better way to die. It would spare you the shame of my hanging, as well as keep you safe. If I’m dead, Caliban and his ilk will no longer be a threat to you and Theo.”
Lucian hesitated, feeling a grudging respect for the man he should hold only in contempt. Grayson was prepared to die, that was certain. The shame in his eyes, the misery, the quiet resignation all shouted his resolve.
That hopeless look was all too familiar, Lucian reflected with a grimace. He’d seen that same despair on the face of his friend Giles. The friend he had killed.
Flinching, Lucian steeled himself against the anguishing memory, yet for an instant he was in another time-confronting Giles for his treason, being forced to end his life. For months afterward, Lucian remembered, he’d cursed the unfairness of it. Caliban was to blame for ruining countless men, men who were basically good and honorable. The bastard had ruined Sir Grayson the same way-with threats and extortion-Lucian had no doubt.
His gaze fell to the pistol in his hand. Could he repeat the past? Could he instigate Sir Grayson’s death? It would be tantamount to murder to try to apprehend the man just now, for like Giles, Grayson wouldn’t allow himself to be taken alive.
Brynn must have had the same thought, for she moved between them, tears sparkling in her eyes.
“You can’t kill him, Lucian. Please… please, I beg you…”
“Brynn, stay out of this,” her brother commanded.
She bit back a sob, a despairing sound that tore at Lucian’s heart. Hardening his resolve, he returned his gaze to Grayson. “Where do you have the gold secreted?”
Grayson nodded toward the back of the cave. “Beneath a shallow pool of water. You should take it. There’s no longer any point in my trying to keep possession of it.”
“I presume you’re waiting for your French contact to arrive?”
“Yes. A man named Jack. He was to meet me before the tide fell too low. He should have been here by now.”