Moonstruck Madness

by Laurie McBain

  She didn’t know why this morbid feeling of dread was hanging over her, but she suddenly felt as if she would never leave the Highlands and never see Camareigh and Rhea again.

  Lucien must know by now that she was gone. Would he be worried, or wonder what had happened to them. She wondered where he was now, and what he was doing.

  ***

  Lucien urged his horse through the stream that crossed their path, splashing water against the dusty blackness of his jackboots and turning their surface into rivulets of mud. He glared up at the gray skies overhead and then at the man riding silently beside him. “Does the sun never shine in this cursed land?” he asked with a mocking glance.

  Terence Fletcher laughed tiredly. “Never while I was assigned here. They do tell me there have been sunny days, although I’ve yet to meet anyone who has seen one.”

  Lucien flexed his shoulders slowly. “You think they’ve gone to the castle?”

  “I’m not sure, but I would wager that they have,” Terence speculated gravely. “I hope to God I am right.”

  “What made Richard run off to Scotland?” Lucien asked for the hundredth time, and still came up with no answer.

  “It must have something to do with the castle. We have traced your coach from various inns this far. It must be heading to Timere. The castle is up in the hills above it. It must be where they’ve gone. We can only be a day behind them at the most. If we hadn’t gotten caught in those floods we would’ve been here before them. We must’ve lost three days,” Terence complained in disgust. “I must be getting old, because these miles seem to get longer, the hills higher, and my back stiffer.”

  Lucien grinned sympathetically. “An afternoon’s romp in Hyde Park doesn’t prepare you for hundreds of miles of hard riding, I assure you.”

  Most nights they had managed to find an inn to stay at, but tonight they were in a secluded and uninhabited valley and were forced into sleeping under the cloudy skies. Lucien ate his share of rations hungrily, if not with relish, and was grateful for the ex-colonel’s experience in camping out, as he planned their meals and routes as he would have a campaign.

  “I’ve always felt strangely out of place up here,” Terence commented suddenly from his side of the fire. “I can remember how relieved I was to receive orders sending me back to England. I’ve always felt as though I were entering another age when I travel through the Highlands. Even the language is different.”

  “Tell me about the first time you met Sabrina,” Lucien asked as he pulled a blanket over his shoulders for protection against the cold night air.

  “The coincidences of life never fail to amaze me. Little did I imagine then that years later I would be married to that little girl’s sister and coming back up here to find, or rescue, her from some unknown danger.”

  “Mary said Sabrina witnessed the battle at Culloden,” Lucien said.

  “I suppose I’ll always see her as that little girl. Her violet eyes blazing with fury, her cheeks flushed pink and her lips trembling,” Terence said softly as he remembered. “She even took a shot at me with a pistol almost as heavy as she was.”

  “Sounds like the Sabrina of today. She has changed very little,” Lucien commented dryly.

  “She never will be completely docile, Lucien. She’s a high-strung little filly and will always rebel,” Terence warned him. “But then, that is why you love her, isn’t it?” he asked, unable to see the duke’s face in the darkness, but hearing his indrawn breath at the suddenness of the remark. “You do, don’t you? You’ve just been too stubborn to admit it.”

  “Not too stubborn, Terence, just too unsure of myself. I fell in love with that little vixen long ago, but by the time I realized it, I’d already committed the mistake of my life—I married Sabrina under false pretences. Can you imagine she’d believe me if I’d told her after she remembered that I’d married her to inherit Camareigh that I’d suddenly found out that I really loved her? I think not. She was so full of anger and hurt pride, thinking she’d been made a fool of, that she wouldn’t have listened to anyone, least of all me,” Lucien said bitterly.

  “But she is in love with you. I saw you two together many times when you were first married and you were very happy.”

  “That was because we were starting fresh, with none of the misunderstandings or hurtful memories of the past to ruin our relationship. And that is when I truly fell in love with Sabrina. I had desired her before—but that changed to something stronger and deeper,” Lucien admitted softly. “It was something totally new for me, and I suppose in my inexperience I handled Sabrina wrong.”

  “Why, for heaven’s sake, have you let a year pass and never told Sabrina the truth? You are barely civil to her, and leaving her to her own devices was bound to lead her into trouble.”

  “I wanted to give her time to cool off and let her wounded pride heal. I hoped she would forget the old hurts, and once Rhea was born I thought we might be able to start over again. Only as the months passed so did the chances to change anything. I’ve never been a coward about anything—at least not until then. I found I couldn’t face Sabrina. I couldn’t risk turning her completely against me. And then under the strain I lost my temper and stormed out, and so I wasn’t there when she needed me.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, Lucien. No one could’ve guessed something like this would happen.”

  “Mary did,” Lucien reminded him.

  “And it still has happened,” Terence replied. “I just wish we knew more about it.”

  The next morning they had been traveling for about three hours when they saw a small village ahead. “Timere,” Terence told Lucien, his eyes bright with anticipation. In the distance they could see a mountain range and the shimmering of water.

  Terence looked to Lucien, noting the tightened lips and determined set of his shoulders. He had lost weight, and had a lean and hungry look about him as he rode down the lane to the village.

  They both saw the duke’s coach at the same time and the grooms busily scrubbing it clean of mud from the long journey. As they heard the sound of horses’ hooves they looked up from their work, and upon recognizing the duke they gave a yell of surprised pleasure and ran forward to greet him, taking their horses as Lucien and Terence dismounted.

  “Sure glad we are, to see yer grace,” the coachman said, coming forward more sedately, but quickly, to greet the duke.

  “George,” Lucien greeted him, “you seem to have had quite a journey.”

  “That we have, and if I may say so, we’d not a bit o’ trouble with the coach.”

  “Good, I expect her grace was relieved about that. See that our horses are well taken care of, we’ve ridden them hard, George,” Lucien ordered as he made for the inn.

  “Ah, yer grace,” George called after Lucien, hurrying to catch up.

  Lucien turned, looking at the coachman inquiringly. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Well, it’s about her grace,” George blurted out.

  Lucien frowned. “What is it? I take it she is in the inn? She isn’t ill, is she?” he asked quickly.

  “Well, to tell the truth, yer grace, she ain’t in there.”

  Lucien looked at Terence, who was listening intently to the groom’s explanation. George licked his lips nervously as Lucien asked, “Where is she?”

  “She and the young gentleman rode out yesterday morning, and ain’t come back yet. Must’ve gotten caught by the mist up there somewhere. I’m awfully sorry, yer grace. We offered to ride along but her grace refused and ordered us to stay here,” he apologized. “We was out ridin’ around the area earlier, but we ain’t seen a sign of her or the boy.”

  “Thank you, George, you did what you could.”

  Lucien turned away abruptly and with firm steps headed for the inn, Terence close behind him. The landlord met them at the door, unable to conceal his surprise at finding, within a
day, two more guests on his doorstep when he usually had one or two a year.

  “You’ve the Duchess of Camareigh staying here. I wish to see her room, and prepare two more for myself and my friend,” Lucien ordered as he faced the surly looking landlord.

  “Maybe I canna dae that,” he replied. “An who be ye fer me tae let ye in the lady’s room?”

  “I am her husband, and the Duke of Camareigh. That gives me the right.”

  The landlord shifted uneasily before the steely gaze of the scar-faced man. “Guid enough fer me. Ye’ll be wantin’ two rooms, and anything tae eat?”

  “Whatever you have available,” Lucien replied. “Which room is her grace’s?”

  “Tae yer richt, first door.”

  Terence followed Lucien down the narrow hall to the first door, and on entering they looked around curiously. At the end of the bed was a trunk which Lucien recognized as Sabrina’s, and next to it a smaller one which must be Richard’s. The room was neat and clean, the bed made, but no items identifiable as Sabrina’s were sitting out.

  Lucien gave a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t know what I expected to find. As soon as our horses are rested we’ll ride out again. We’ve got to find them. Maybe the landlord will know where the castle is?”

  “You can forget about the horses. In this terrain, once we’ve left the main road, they are useless and dangerous to ride. What we need are a couple of shelties to carry us,” Terence advised from experience, and glancing around the room said thoughtfully, “I think we should look in their trunks. They’d hardly leave anything important lying about.”

  Lucien knelt down by Sabrina’s trunk, trying the lid, but it wouldn’t open.

  “Here,” Terence said, handing him a knife.

  Lucien slid the blade into the lock and moved it around, applying pressure until he heard a snap and with a triumphant sigh pried open the lock and lifted the lid. He stared down silently for a moment as he recognized Sabrina’s dresses. His hands lingered on a delicate chemise as he felt down in the trunk, lifting various items from it, but coming across nothing that could possibly help them. He’d placed a couple of folded petticoats in a pile with some handkerchiefs while he went through the trunk and was about to put them back when Terence bent down and picked up a piece of tapestried cloth and unfolded it. “What is this, I wonder,” he murmured, then blurted, “Good God.”

  Lucien looked up startled, and got to his feet quickly. “What the devil is it?”

  “Look at this. Here is your answer to why Sabrina and Richard are here,” Terence said in excitement, holding the tapestry spread before him.

  Lucien gazed at it. “It looks like a map. There’s a castle, and a lake, and a church—” He paused as his eyes narrowed, staring at the little figures and the trail of golden thread. “My God, a buried treasure map.”

  “Exactly. The old laird buried it six years ago to keep it safe from us. He was a wise old boy, for the army did plunder, and his castle was among the unfortunate ones, but we didn’t find any gold. This is amazing. I wonder where it came from, and why now, six years later.”

  Lucien’s hands gripped the tapestry, his knuckles showing white as he stared down at it. “Mary’s vision, it had a lake and Richard and Sabrina in a boat, didn’t it?” he asked in dread.

  Terence nodded worriedly. “And they did not return yesterday. The castle is in ruins. I don’t know where they would have spent the night?”

  Lucien folded up the tapestry and tucked it under his arm. “I think we’d better have a word with this landlord and find out what he can tell us.”

  They found food had been set out, along with whiskey and ale on the long table in the dining room.

  “If you will allow me to handle this, Lucien?” Terence suggested as they entered the room and sat down at the table. “If we rush things, he won’t tell us anything, nor will threats help. Will you trust me?”

  Lucien glanced at the landlord impatiently, then with a nod agreed. “Very well, but don’t take too long,” he warned, and pouring himself a whiskey took a large swallow without a grimace or shiver of revulsion as the strong stuff entered his throat. They ate in silence for a few minutes and Lucien was surprised that he could actually eat anything while he waited anxiously for Terence’s move.

  Terence called the landlord over as they finished, and to Lucien’s surprise asked the man to join them for a drink. The landlord seemed momentarily surprised, although it was the custom to invite your host for a drink before you left the inn, but after a second’s hesitation sat down and accepted a glass of whiskey. “I understand that the duchess and her brother did not return yesterday from their ride.”

  The landlord shrugged his shoulders uncommunicatively. “Canna be expected tae know wheer all o’ my guests are.”

  Terence’s lips tightened slightly and he sent a warning glance to Lucien, who was about to speak. “Did you rent them ponies?”

  “Aye.”

  “Did you see which way they rode off?” Terence persisted, questioning him patiently.

  “Canna say I did,” he answered with a sly smile and made to rise, but Terence’s next question stopped him.

  “Did you know that the duchess is the old laird from the castle’s granddaughter, and that the boy is his only grandson and heir?”

  The landlord sat back down, a look of dawning dismay on his face. “Ach, wha’ a fule I’ve been. I thought tha’ lad had the look aboot hin. The red hair is of the clan. And now I remember them sayin’ the granddaughter was different frae the other two. Dark as nicht, she weer, and just as wild.”

  “Did they go to the castle?” Terence asked, expecting a little more information now.

  “Nae doot aboot it. They rode off fer the glen,” he said, shaking his head. “I should hae warned them, ach, but I dinna ken who they weer.”

  “Why should you have warned them?” Lucien asked sharply, his patience wearing thin. “Because of the mist?”

  The landlord shook his head. “The mists are bad, aye, but ’tis the ghost tha’ haunts the glen tha’ will get them.”

  Lucien and Terence exchanged surprised glances. “Ghost?” Terence said in disbelief.

  “Aye. The English soldiers dinna believe, either, until they went in theer and only two came back, and they’d lost their wits. Naebody goes in theer and comes out alive, or not possessed by the devil.”

  ***

  “Guid mornin’ tae ye,” Ewan greeted Richard and Sabrina the next morning as he fussed over the fire cooking eggs. Then pouring a steaming herb tea into cups he handed one to each of them and beamed, “It’s sweet frae the honeycomb. Ye wee folks like it sweet?” he asked.

  Richard sipped his and nodded in approval. “It’s quite good,” he complimented the anxiously waiting figure.

  “Guid.”

  “Has the mist cleared?” Sabrina asked hopefully.

  “Nae, lass, it’s still theer,” he replied, keeping an eye on the eggs and not looking up.

  “When do you expect it to?” Sabrina persisted.

  “Dinna ken,” the Highlander answered unhelpfully and spooned fluffy eggs onto their plates along with some cold mutton.

  Richard ate his hungrily under the watchful eye of Ewan, but Sabrina just nibbled at hers. “You know the glen very well, don’t you?” Sabrina commented.

  “Aye, lived here ferever.”

  Sabrina nodded her head to Richard, who eagerly withdrew the map from a pocket of his jacket. “Ewan, do you know where this cave is?”

  Ewan took the map and gazed down at it for a moment. “Wheer did ye get this, laddie?” he asked, his eyes going suspiciously between the two of them as they sat there watching him expectantly.

  “Aunt Margaret made it. At least she made the tapestry of it and we copied it. She said Grandfather told her to make it, and then to give it to me and Sabrina. It’s a map of
the treasure,” Richard confided with growing excitement. “Do you know where it’s buried, Ewan?”

  “Waur a secret, ye know,” he said softly. “Naebody’s tae know aboot it.”

  “As the laird’s grandson, my brother has the right. Don’t you agree?” Sabrina asked.

  “Aye, he’s the richt,” Ewan said abruptly, and picking up his broadsword, held it casually in his hand. “Come, ye’ll see the treasure, but ye’ll nae tell anyone aboot it. I promised the laird to guard it with me life.”

  Sabrina and Richard got to their feet as he motioned them to follow him, but rather than leaving the cave he headed towards the back of it. He reached for one of the torches on the wall and holding it in front of him made for one of the dark corners of the cave, the light from the torch revealing a narrow passage they had not seen before. Following Ewan into it, Richard found Sabrina’s cold hand, and they walked cautiously along the slippery stone path, moisture dripping from the walls as they headed deeper into the earth, the torch Ewan held before him making his kilted figure look grotesque as it cast huge, wavering shadows on the walls.

  They came to the end of the passage and stopped, a large wooden door built across the opening barring their way. Ewan took a key from his sporran and fitted it easily into the lock, the noise as he turned it grating loudly in the close confines of the tunnel.

  He pushed the door open and entered the darkness first, signaling for them to follow him. They moved carefully behind him as he made his way farther into the room, leading them to the distant corner. Suddenly Richard grabbed Sabrina’s arm with his other hand and squealed in excitement. “Look!”

  Sabrina followed his pointing finger and caught her breath as she stared at the big chests full of golden objects and coins revealed under the torch held above them by the Highlander. They looked just like a hidden treasure should, with the lid opened on the chest to reveal gold and jewels crowding inside and almost overflowing. Stacked around them were paintings in heavy gold frames, and vases and other objects d’art of priceless value.