Free The Hellion and the Highlander by Lynsay Sands Page B

“There is a lever at the bottom. Pull it up, and the door will open.”
    Kade nodded, then waited until Will slipped out of the room before turning back to the wall to find the lever in question. Kade pulled on it and the door slid open a few inches. He paused at the sound of Averill’s continued mumbling and pushed it all the way open and stepped into the tunnel. He’d expected to see her coming his way, a candle in hand. What he saw was a dark so thick it could have been a cloth over his eyes. The tunnel was also suddenly deathly quiet. He couldn’t even hear her breathe.
    “Averill?” he said.
    “Kade?” The name came out on a whoosh of relief, and he heard the patter of her feet as she rushed forward. She threw herself at him and hugged him briefly. Kade didn’t even get the chance to raise his arms to hug her back before she overcame her relief and gratitude, recalled herself, and stepped back with an apology.
    “I am sorry, my lord. ’Tis just I feared I would be stuck in here wandering the tunnels forever like some horrible ghost.” She paused suddenly and raised sharp eyes to his face. “How did you know to open the tunnel?”
    “I heard ye squeal, lass,” he said easily.
    “Aye, but how did you know—”
    “Ye told me about the tunnels that first night I woke,” he interrupted.
    “Oh, aye,” she muttered, and didn’t seem to notice that he hadn’t really answered her question. She appeared too eager to get inside to worry about it and slipped past him into the room with a little sigh of relief.
    Kade followed, pulling the tunnel door closed. Dear God she was a mess. Cobwebs caught in her hair, smudges of dirt on her face and chemise—a very thin, almost gossamer chemise that left little to the imagination, he noted, then forced his eyes away as she turned to face him.
    Averill was wringing her hands anxiously, her face screwed up with worry, and then she blurted, “Bess told me that you have spoken to my father about marrying me.”
    Kade stiffened, but nodded. “Aye. Diya no wish to marry me, lass?”
    “Nay,” she said quickly. “I mean nay, ’tis not that I do not wish it,” she explained impatiently, then added, “But you may not once you know the truth.”
    He felt his eyebrows rise at her words. “What truth would that be?”
    She hesitated, looking completely miserable and really quite adorable with the smudges on her face. “That I am ugly, my lord.”
    Kade felt himself relax. For a moment he’d worried there was something he didn’t know. That even Will didn’t know about to tell him—a tendre she held for someone, or a past indiscretion perhaps. He was relieved to know it was nothing likethat, just her belief that she was ugly, one instilled in her by others over the years…and all because of foolish superstitions.
    He’d decided this evening that once they were married he would have to make an effort to build up her self-esteem and convince her that what those other suitors had said wasn’t true. It appeared, however, that he would have to do that sooner rather than later. To that end, he cleared his throat, then said, “Yer no ugly.”
    Averill stared up at the ever-so-sweet man before her and sighed unhappily. She should have known this would happen. He couldn’t see her and perhaps didn’t wish to believe that what she said was true. She rather wished it wasn’t true herself. However, it was, and she’d not allow the man to marry her without first understanding what he was getting.
    “’Tis kind of you to say so, and I do appreciate it,” she assured him gently, then pointed out, “Howbeit you cannot see properly and so, of course, cannot see how my hair is an ugly orange, or—”
    “I can see yer hair,” he growled. “’Tis no orange. ’Tis a mixture o’ blonde and red. I like it.”
    She blinked in surprise, then realized that he might actually see her hair. He had said his vision was blurry, but that did not affect color. “Really?” she