He rummaged in the cupboard under the stairs, and apologised when he could only find a pair of wellingtons. Megan’s fingers trembled as she pulled them on. Secret passages. A handsome man to show her through them. She couldn’t help hoping for shadows and a little darkness, too.
She wanted to go with him, into the shadows, even though she couldn’t see what lay ahead. Even though there could be no plan, no carefully thought-out assessment of cause and effect. The man she’d thought she’d known had been slowly chipped away this evening, and all she could see now was the boy who had named a tiny carved mouse. The one who’d climbed through windows and skinned his knees. The one who’d looked up at the paintings of his ancestors, knowing that his whole life was in front of him, and that he could be whatever he wanted to be.
‘Are you sure?’ She nodded down at the wellingtons. They fitted, but looked a little odd with her dress.
‘The passage runs under the house, and the floor’s pretty uneven and sometimes a bit wet. You’ll ruin your shoes.’ Jaye grinned. ‘Anyway, this is a midnight adventure. It’s a come-as-you-are thing. Did I tell you that you looked absolutely gorgeous tonight?’
‘No. You didn’t.’ She’d been so busy avoiding him that Jaye wouldn’t have had the chance. ‘I feel a bit rumpled now.’
‘But still gorgeous.’ He caught her hand, leading her past the kitchen and down another narrow flight of steps to the wine cellar. Megan was losing her bearings, but this must be the older part of the house, under Jaye’s apartment.
He stopped beside a metal grille, and Megan shivered as cool air brushed her face. Before she could tell him that she didn’t need it, he’d taken his jacket off, draping it around her shoulders.
Bending to open one of the cardboard boxes stacked against the wall, he took out two candles, handing her one and lighting it. He swung the grille open and Megan peered into the gloom.
‘Where does this go? Is it an escape route?’
Jaye chuckled. ‘Yes, it comes up in the old stables. Apparently the fourth Duke had a habit of making this way out to the stables every time his debtors came knocking on the door. And the story is that the seventh Duke would smuggle his lover in through here. Not very convenient for the poor woman, I imagine.’
He held out his arm, and Megan slipped her hands into the sleeves of his jacket, pulling them up over her wrists so she could cling to him. Jaye was sure-footed in the half-light and obviously knew this tunnel well.
‘So what number are you?’ The Dukes of Marlowe seemed to go back a very long way.
‘My uncle was seventeen. Which makes me eighteen.’
‘Not your mother...?’ Megan had wondered how Jaye had inherited the title when his parents were both still alive.
‘No. My uncle had no children and I was the oldest male heir. It’s an old-fashioned system that doesn’t allow women to inherit. I’m hoping that’ll change for the next generation.’
‘And the house came with the title?’
‘Yes, the house and land are entailed. Although my parents have always run the estate. It suits us all and gives me the opportunity to spend more time with the charity.’
‘Then you don’t spend much time here?’
‘Not in the last few years. I haven’t been in this tunnel in a while. When I was a boy, and my friends stayed over, we used to creep down here at night all the time.’
So this was an escape for him, too. Megan imagined that the tunnel had been waiting, silent and dark beneath the house, for the moment when Jaye returned.
‘It’s wonderful. Every house should have one.’
‘I think so, too.’ Jaye stopped suddenly. Then she felt the brush of his fingers, as gentle on the side of her face as the cool breeze that ventilated the tunnel. Then his lips, leaving just the ghost of a kiss on her forehead.
‘It’s a tradition.’ Megan shivered as his breath caressed her ear. ‘No Duke of Marlowe can bring a woman down here without kissing her.’
‘Then it would be a shame if you fell short of your duties.’
‘My thoughts exactly. Particularly as I’ve never had the chan
ce to fulfil this particular one before.’
Megan caught her breath. Suddenly it seemed important that she wasn’t just treading the same path that other women had taken, that this was something different, and that it was hers alone.
‘As it’s your first time, I’ll have to forgive you for taking half-measures.’
‘Half-measures?’ There was something suddenly taut about the feel of his body next to hers. Something deliciously compelling about the tone of his voice.
He took the candle from her, propping it next to his own on a ledge that ran along the side of the wall. She caught a tantalising glimpse of his smile in the flickering light as the candle flared and guttered.