Read Online Savage Deception (Liberty's Ladies) by Lynette Vinet - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lynette Vinet
Tags: Romance
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she allowed herself the satisfaction of drawing breath again.
Without dallying, Diana hurried past the wooden shelves that had once held bottles of fine wines and liquors. She halted when she reached the last shelf. A gray stone wall, decorated with a grapelike motif, blocked her way, but not for long. Pressing her palm into the center of one of the clusters, she watched as a section of the wall gave way and opened for her. Diana squeezed into the opening, and once on the opposite side, she pulled the panel into place.
The candle flickered and sputtered as Diana rushed through the dark, damp tunnel. The tunnel had been built over one hundred years earlier by a Sheridan ancestor who had been a pirate. Harlan, who had shown her the tunnel shortly after she had married Kingsley, had told her that his great uncle had been quite a notorious character, marrying well and pretending to be quite proper in all respects. But love for the sea and zeal for plunder were in his blood, and he’d built the tunnel as a means of transporting his booty into the house. Harlan had laughed when he recounted how, at a lavish ball given by this same uncle at Briarhaven, the scoundrel had plied British authorities who were eager to prove he was a pirate with drink and food, all the while delighting in the fact that beneath the floor boards upon which they danced was the contraband that would have proven their case.
At the moment Diana understood the heady sense of elation that Sheridan ancestor must have felt. She’d been frightened when Clay Sinclair, a neighbor and good friend, had stealthily approached her about spying on Farnsworth. Now, however, the lurking sense of danger stained her usually pale cheeks with a becoming rosy flush, and she realized that she truly enjoyed these nights when she slipped into the tunnel, more than eager for the adventure. Who would believe that the prim and proper widow Sheridan, a woman who pretended to be a Tory, was in reality a spy for the American cause? Diana barely believed it herself.
She reached the end of the tunnel. Setting the candle in a holder on the wall, she turned a large handle on the stone door in front of her. The creaking sound seemed quite loud in the quiet night, but Diana didn’t worry. She knew none of the soldiers would be so far from the house on such a cold night as this, and especially that no one would venture onto this part of the property.
Leaving ajar the stone door on the largest tomb in the Sheridan family cemetery and stepping outside, Diana took a deep breath, only to have it hang like a specter in the clear, frosty night air. Above her, a full moon illumined the white granite headstones. The ornate sepulcher stood on a marble slab, but it wasn’t a tomb at all, having always been the entranceway into the tunnel. Since Kingsley was gone, no one save Harlan, Hattie, and herself knew that it didn’t house the remains of deceased Sheridans.
The smell of pine from the nearby swamp wafted on the air, mingling with other wildwood fragrances, as Diana rushed about five hundred feet into the swamp. She felt grateful that the moon was full and lighted her way, confident that the soldiers weren’t nearby. Only seconds after she’d stopped beneath a large pine tree Clay Sinclair appeared like a sudden mist.
“I’ve been watching for you,” he whispered, a shy grin on his face. “I didn’t know if you’d have anything to tell me, what with Christmas only a few days away.”
“There’s a supply wagon coming through tomorrow,” Diana related and told him what had happened since she’d last seen him. “I won’t be able to come for a while, Clay,” she managed to apologize, feeling like a traitor. “Anne is ill. Captain Farnsworth is escorting me to Charlestown in the morning.”
Clay nodded his understanding, a shaggy strand of blond hair hung across his forehead. “I’ll tell Colonel Marion to give orders not to interfere with the escort party. He’ll be glad to
Without dallying, Diana hurried past the wooden shelves that had once held bottles of fine wines and liquors. She halted when she reached the last shelf. A gray stone wall, decorated with a grapelike motif, blocked her way, but not for long. Pressing her palm into the center of one of the clusters, she watched as a section of the wall gave way and opened for her. Diana squeezed into the opening, and once on the opposite side, she pulled the panel into place.
The candle flickered and sputtered as Diana rushed through the dark, damp tunnel. The tunnel had been built over one hundred years earlier by a Sheridan ancestor who had been a pirate. Harlan, who had shown her the tunnel shortly after she had married Kingsley, had told her that his great uncle had been quite a notorious character, marrying well and pretending to be quite proper in all respects. But love for the sea and zeal for plunder were in his blood, and he’d built the tunnel as a means of transporting his booty into the house. Harlan had laughed when he recounted how, at a lavish ball given by this same uncle at Briarhaven, the scoundrel had plied British authorities who were eager to prove he was a pirate with drink and food, all the while delighting in the fact that beneath the floor boards upon which they danced was the contraband that would have proven their case.
At the moment Diana understood the heady sense of elation that Sheridan ancestor must have felt. She’d been frightened when Clay Sinclair, a neighbor and good friend, had stealthily approached her about spying on Farnsworth. Now, however, the lurking sense of danger stained her usually pale cheeks with a becoming rosy flush, and she realized that she truly enjoyed these nights when she slipped into the tunnel, more than eager for the adventure. Who would believe that the prim and proper widow Sheridan, a woman who pretended to be a Tory, was in reality a spy for the American cause? Diana barely believed it herself.
She reached the end of the tunnel. Setting the candle in a holder on the wall, she turned a large handle on the stone door in front of her. The creaking sound seemed quite loud in the quiet night, but Diana didn’t worry. She knew none of the soldiers would be so far from the house on such a cold night as this, and especially that no one would venture onto this part of the property.
Leaving ajar the stone door on the largest tomb in the Sheridan family cemetery and stepping outside, Diana took a deep breath, only to have it hang like a specter in the clear, frosty night air. Above her, a full moon illumined the white granite headstones. The ornate sepulcher stood on a marble slab, but it wasn’t a tomb at all, having always been the entranceway into the tunnel. Since Kingsley was gone, no one save Harlan, Hattie, and herself knew that it didn’t house the remains of deceased Sheridans.
The smell of pine from the nearby swamp wafted on the air, mingling with other wildwood fragrances, as Diana rushed about five hundred feet into the swamp. She felt grateful that the moon was full and lighted her way, confident that the soldiers weren’t nearby. Only seconds after she’d stopped beneath a large pine tree Clay Sinclair appeared like a sudden mist.
“I’ve been watching for you,” he whispered, a shy grin on his face. “I didn’t know if you’d have anything to tell me, what with Christmas only a few days away.”
“There’s a supply wagon coming through tomorrow,” Diana related and told him what had happened since she’d last seen him. “I won’t be able to come for a while, Clay,” she managed to apologize, feeling like a traitor. “Anne is ill. Captain Farnsworth is escorting me to Charlestown in the morning.”
Clay nodded his understanding, a shaggy strand of blond hair hung across his forehead. “I’ll tell Colonel Marion to give orders not to interfere with the escort party. He’ll be glad to
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