Free If Love Dares Enough by Anna Markland

Hurry!”
    “Did your grandfather tell you about the passageway from the house?” Hugh asked.
    “Yes, but I haven’t had a chance yet to examine it. Torod has watched me too closely. He takes his duties more seriously when Renouf is gone. He knows Renouf will kill him if anything happens to me while he’s away.”
    “I’d certainly like to know where Renouf goes so frequently in Normandie, and whom he visits,” Antoine said.
    The brothers had been examining the walls of the cave as they talked, looking for any sign of an opening to a passageway.
    “Over here, Hugh, there are steps,” Antoine called from somewhere deep in the recesses of the cave, his voice echoing off the glistening walls.
    Hugh strode over, slowed by the slippery pebble-strewn floor of the cave. The steps were worn away by time and tide, but they were there, ten of them leading up to a heavy wooden door, completely covered with barnacles and green slime, the hinges rusted, parts of it rotted.
    “I can’t believe I didn’t know of this,” Devona exclaimed. “We’ve never ventured so far into the cave.”
    There seemed to be no handle, no means of opening the ancient arched portal. Hugh threw his weight against it, but it didn’t budge.
    “Perhaps it opens outwards?” Antoine suggested.
    “But there’s no handle to grasp,” Hugh said with apparent growing exasperation.
    “Is there space at the bottom to get a hold?” Devona shouted from the foot of the steps. “The tide’s coming in. We must be wary. It’s unpredictable in this cove.”
    Antoine and Hugh knelt on the slick, jagged steps and curled their fingers under the space beneath the door, then heaved with all their might.
    “It moved, Antoine, it moved!”
    “Again, once more, little brother.”
    Both men were perspiring now, despite the chill in the cave and their wet bodies. This time the door edged wide enough for Hugh to inch his fingers into the opening at the side.
    “Heave again, Antoine—this time— un—deux—trois—allez!”
    The stench that emanated from the long disused passageway almost felled them, but the way was open.
    “Don’t open it too much. It will create a noticeable draught in the house above,” Antoine panted.
    “You’ll need torches when you descend, Devona,” Hugh called to her as he peered into the murk. “It’s dark and looks slippery.”
    Devona nodded, but she was getting nervous. “My lords, the tide, come—quickly.”
    The waves were already lapping at the edges of the cave.
    “Devona, go, go quickly. We’ll come back on the morrow and investigate the cave further now we’ve found the passageway. You must look for the doorway at your end. We’ll send word by way of our steward, Barat.”
    He put his hands on her shoulders and brushed his lips over hers and she could feel his heart beating in her ears. She placed her palm over his heart and returned his kiss, shocking herself by thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Then she tore away and ran for the stone staircase, already awash, her dress and the smooth pebbles impeding her progress, her wimple askew in the wind.
    Antoine and Hugh splashed into the waves and swam out to the waiting rowboat. Their oarsmen pulled them aboard. Halfway up the steps Devona looked back and saw Hugh waving to her. How she wished she could have escaped with them, but she couldn’t leave her family. She raised her hand in a silent salute to her heroic saviours. She was sobbing by the time she reached the top of the climb.
    “What have we here, Lady De Maubadon? You seem to be wet.” Torod’s voice drenched over her like a bucket of ice cold water.
    “I—I—fell—into the water,” she stammered.
    “What were you doing on the beach at this time in the evening? It’s dangerous when the tide comes in.”
    She cast a wary eye out to sea. No sign of a rowboat. She didn’t know where she found the courage, but looking him squarely in the eye, said, “I thought to drown myself, Torod, but my