Read Online Be Mine Tonight by Kathryn Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathryn Smith
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would explain why he approached from the side rather than straight on.
Pru climbed to the top of the hill and looked down into the hole the men had begun to expand. The wondrous sight that met her anxious gaze was definitely a stairwell—as old and crumbling as the rock might be, there was no mistaking it.
“An entrance,” she breathed. She lifted her gaze to Marcus.
Her friend was practically beaming. “Yes. This could be the secret cellar where Arthur hoarded his most valuable possessions. If my calculations are correct, I hope to reach the door by the day after tomorrow.”
So soon. Oh, God, thank you. Limbs trembling, Pru jumped at Marcus, all her joy rushing out of her in near-hysterical laughter. He caught her in his arms and swung her around as the diggers cheered. The moment he set her down, Pru was off thanking each of the men who were helping Marcus, shaking their hands and hugging them and not caring if it was proper or not. Georgiana, she noted, was not spared Marcus’s enthusiasm either. He didn’t swing her sister around, but he certainly swept her into one of his exuberant embraces. Georgiana didn’t seem to mind one bit.
With the promise to celebrate that night at dinner—and with thoughts of planning a larger party in the near future—Pru returned to the house.
Father Molyneux was walking through the garden as Pru and Georgiana drove up from the site, so Pru bade her sister to stop and she went to join the priest as Georgiana continued on.
“Father!”
The older man waved in greeting, flashing her a genuine smile as she approached.
“Miss Ryland, how lovely you look this morning. I trust you are recovered from your earlier illness?”
Chapel must have told him. Oddly enough, that realization wasn’t annoying so much as it was warming. The poor man must have really been concerned. She would have to thank him that evening.
“I have, Father. Thank you. May I walk with you?”
He looked genuinely delighted with the suggestion. “Of course. My friend Chapel has told me of the beauty of your roses. I thought to seek them out for myself. Perhaps you would do me the honor of showing them to me yourself?”
“But of course.” She took his offered arm. She wondered if Chapel’s experience with their roses was limited to having a servant cut one for him, or if he had sought out that perfect bloom himself. Most likely he had someone do it for him, but she rather preferred the image of him in the garden just after sunset, painstakingly searching in the dusk until he found the flower he wanted.
Truly, what woman wouldn’t prefer the latter?
“I am so pleased to have found you,” Pru told him as they walked. “I was at the site this morning and Marcus has uncovered a stairwell. He hopes to find an entrance to the cellar two days hence at the very latest.”
“That soon?” Father Molyneux’s expression wasone of astonishment. And there was something else. Was it fear? How odd.
“Yes. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Terribly.” Pru wasn’t so certain he meant that in a good way either.
“Begging your pardon, Father, but you do not seem as joyous as I expected.”
He graced her with a soothing smile—one that only men who were totally at peace with themselves could manage. “I assure you, my dear lady, that if the Grail is in that cellar, my joy will know no boundaries.”
Now it all made sense. “You are not convinced that we have found the right location.”
He shook his head. “It is no slight against yourself or Mr. Grey, but I have witnessed many of these excursions and the devastation their failure brings.”
There was something too shrewd and knowing in his warm gaze. Pru glanced away from it. She would not think of failure, not now.
“But this one might succeed.” How she hated that whine in her voice.
He patted her hand. “ Oui. And for you I hope it does. But I wish you to be cautious, Miss Ryland.”
“Cautious? In what respect?”
“These places that have
Pru climbed to the top of the hill and looked down into the hole the men had begun to expand. The wondrous sight that met her anxious gaze was definitely a stairwell—as old and crumbling as the rock might be, there was no mistaking it.
“An entrance,” she breathed. She lifted her gaze to Marcus.
Her friend was practically beaming. “Yes. This could be the secret cellar where Arthur hoarded his most valuable possessions. If my calculations are correct, I hope to reach the door by the day after tomorrow.”
So soon. Oh, God, thank you. Limbs trembling, Pru jumped at Marcus, all her joy rushing out of her in near-hysterical laughter. He caught her in his arms and swung her around as the diggers cheered. The moment he set her down, Pru was off thanking each of the men who were helping Marcus, shaking their hands and hugging them and not caring if it was proper or not. Georgiana, she noted, was not spared Marcus’s enthusiasm either. He didn’t swing her sister around, but he certainly swept her into one of his exuberant embraces. Georgiana didn’t seem to mind one bit.
With the promise to celebrate that night at dinner—and with thoughts of planning a larger party in the near future—Pru returned to the house.
Father Molyneux was walking through the garden as Pru and Georgiana drove up from the site, so Pru bade her sister to stop and she went to join the priest as Georgiana continued on.
“Father!”
The older man waved in greeting, flashing her a genuine smile as she approached.
“Miss Ryland, how lovely you look this morning. I trust you are recovered from your earlier illness?”
Chapel must have told him. Oddly enough, that realization wasn’t annoying so much as it was warming. The poor man must have really been concerned. She would have to thank him that evening.
“I have, Father. Thank you. May I walk with you?”
He looked genuinely delighted with the suggestion. “Of course. My friend Chapel has told me of the beauty of your roses. I thought to seek them out for myself. Perhaps you would do me the honor of showing them to me yourself?”
“But of course.” She took his offered arm. She wondered if Chapel’s experience with their roses was limited to having a servant cut one for him, or if he had sought out that perfect bloom himself. Most likely he had someone do it for him, but she rather preferred the image of him in the garden just after sunset, painstakingly searching in the dusk until he found the flower he wanted.
Truly, what woman wouldn’t prefer the latter?
“I am so pleased to have found you,” Pru told him as they walked. “I was at the site this morning and Marcus has uncovered a stairwell. He hopes to find an entrance to the cellar two days hence at the very latest.”
“That soon?” Father Molyneux’s expression wasone of astonishment. And there was something else. Was it fear? How odd.
“Yes. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Terribly.” Pru wasn’t so certain he meant that in a good way either.
“Begging your pardon, Father, but you do not seem as joyous as I expected.”
He graced her with a soothing smile—one that only men who were totally at peace with themselves could manage. “I assure you, my dear lady, that if the Grail is in that cellar, my joy will know no boundaries.”
Now it all made sense. “You are not convinced that we have found the right location.”
He shook his head. “It is no slight against yourself or Mr. Grey, but I have witnessed many of these excursions and the devastation their failure brings.”
There was something too shrewd and knowing in his warm gaze. Pru glanced away from it. She would not think of failure, not now.
“But this one might succeed.” How she hated that whine in her voice.
He patted her hand. “ Oui. And for you I hope it does. But I wish you to be cautious, Miss Ryland.”
“Cautious? In what respect?”
“These places that have
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