The Lady and the Laird

by Maura Seger

  Sarah looked uncertainly at Seamus, who also got to his feet and said quietly, "Sarah's been working all morning, miss. She's just taking a wee rest."

  Katlin glanced from one to the other of them. It would never have occurred to her to suspect Sarah of malingering. Since the girl first came into her employ, she had been a hard and diligent worker. It was only natural that her interest in Seamus would be a distraction, but to Katlin's mind, that was all to the good.

  "That's fine,. Sarah," she said, "and you, too, Seamus. I don't expect anyone to work all the time. By the way, have you a lamp?"

  Seamus broke into a grin and hurried to find one. When he was gone, Sarah said, "I know you've never been a taskmaster, miss. It's just that I'm all at sea these days. I don't know whether I'm coming or going and, truth be told, there are times I can't remember what I've done or haven't. But if I forgot something important, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

  "If I happened to notice," Katlin said with a smile. Between Angus and the treasure, she was more than a bit distracted herself. She took the maid's hand and squeezed it gently. "Seamus is a good man."

  Sarah beamed her a smile just as he returned with the lamp in hand. "This what you want, miss?" he asked.

  Katlin nodded and took it from him. "Just what I need."

  "What for, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "I want to check out the storage rooms in the back passage," she explained. When they looked at her in bewilderment, she added, "Just to see if they might have anything useful in them."

  "Nothing in any of them, miss," Mrs. Fergus said, "except maybe a few rats. Been empty for years. Even the one people say was a chapel long ago."

  Katlin's ears perked up. "A chapel?"

  The housekeeper nodded. "It's just a story, miss, I don't know as to how it's true. But supposedly when the first keep was built there was a low building beside it that housed a chapel and a few other rooms for different uses. The keep was destroyed when the castle proper was built, but the low bit beside it was still useful so it stayed."

  "Was the chapel still used?" Katlin asked.

  "I don't think so," Seamus said. "There's a much bigger and grander one behind the main hall, you've seen it. That's what the family used once the castle was finished."

  "But if the old one had been consecrated," Katlin said slowly, "they may have been reluctant to put it to any other purpose."

  Mrs. Fergus shrugged. "I couldn't say, miss. Don't know if any of it's true at all. But I wouldn't go looking through those dank places if I were you."

  Katlin had reason to remember her advice a short time later as she entered the first of the rooms. There was little to indicate what it might have been, but a careful study of the floor revealed what she thought could have been the markings of a long-gone altar.

  It was hard to tell with only the lamplight and the faint daylight entering through the slit windows near the ceiling. But a check of the other rooms revealed nothing similar.

  Returning to what she thought might have been the chapel, she resolved to make a thorough search.

  ***

  At about the same time, Melissa Haversham was nearing Innishffarin. She came for the simple reason that she could not stay away. Awakening that morning, she had been informed by her maid—with some smug satisfaction, it is to be noted—that the Baron Devereux had left before dawn to return to London.

  Not even his host and hostess had any idea why he had deserted them so precipitously.

  Melissa, however, was quite sure that she knew. It had something to do with that insufferable chit, Katlin Sinclair. A hideous possibility occurred to her. Was it possible they had eloped? The mere thought was intensely distressing. She simply had to know if it was true.

  Arriving at the front door, she tied her mount to an ancient iron post and banged loudly with the clapper. Seamus answered.

  "Miss?" he inquired politely.

  "Stand aside," Melissa decreed. "I want to see your mistress immediately."

  Seamus had no way of knowing whether Katlin was in the mood for company or not, but he did know that he didn't care for jumped-up twits like the one in front of him. Stolidly, he said, "She isn't at home."

  This appeared to confirm Melissa's worst fear and sent her into a royal tizzy. "What do you mean she isn't here? Where has she gone? When did she leave? Did you see her? Tell me!"

  Seamus took a prudent step back and reassessed the situation. He liked Miss Sinclair very well and was grateful to her for her kind treatment of Sarah. But no sensible man voluntarily dealt with the likes of Melissa Haversham.

  "She's in the back passage," he said. "Through there."

  Melissa stared at him wild-eyed for a moment before hurrying off in the direction he indicated. She found the passage without difficulty, but it was empty.

  More determined than ever to confront Katlin, she noticed a door standing open to one side. A light flickered within. Silently, Melissa approached the door and looked beyond.

  Katlin was there, but she was acting most peculiarly. She knelt on the stone floor, the lamp set beside her. As Melissa watched, she eased her hand into what appeared to be a chink in the rock and pulled. At first, nothing happened. But with a second and then a third effort, the stone slowly gave way. Before Melissa's startled eyes, it lifted on creaking iron hinges until it stood upright from the floor. Beneath it was a dark hole.

  Melissa Haversham was not a complex young woman. Her motivations were exquisitely simple—she wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. Katlin stood between her and the single thing she wanted most, to be the Baroness Devereux.

  She did not think; she certainly did not consider. There was not so much malice in her action as there was impulsiveness and its cousin, selfishness. She took several quick steps into the chamber, paused only long enough for a deep breath and thrust both her hands out.

  Katlin had no time for more than a muffled scream before she fell into pitch darkness, the perilously balanced stone sliding into place after her.

  Like most such people, Melissa was instantly horrified by what she had done, not out of concern for Katlin but out of the possible consequences if she was caught. She gathered her skirts and ran, leaving Innishffarin without saying a word to anyone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "I don't know what to make of it, sir," Seamus said. "Miss Katlin went off hours ago to check some of the rooms beside the back passage and no one's seen her since."

  Angus nodded to the Gypsy who had come to show him a couple of good horses. He'd buy the mounts but the haggling would have to wait for later. Taking Seamus aside in the stable yard, he said, "What did she want to do that for?"

  "I'm not sure, sir," Seamus admitted. "But she did ask Mrs. Fergus about the Wyndham treasure not too long ago."

  Angus looked at him skeptically. "That old chestnut? Where did she hear about that?"

  "I've no idea, sir, and I can't say it has anything to do with her absence. But it is worrisome."

  Angus agreed, although not for any reason Seamus could have guessed. The laird was thinking about Charles Devereux and trying to calculate the odds of the baron being either stupid or crazy enough to ignore his orders.

  If he had returned and if he had dared to go after Katlin again, she could be in the gravest danger.

  "Show me," Angus ordered curtly.

  A short, hard gallop later, he stood in the former chapel and looked around slowly. Something had clearly happened here, and it appeared ominous in the extreme. The fallen lamp was mute but potent evidence.

  He was contemplating various ways of parting Charles from his miserable life when he spied the small chink in the stone. He bent down, got his hand into it and pulled. The stone lifted.

  He lit the lamp and held it over the hole. Steps carved from stone led into darkness. He walked down them far enough to see the bottom. There was no sign of Katlin. He was about to leave, in swift and deadly search of Charles, when he stopped. A faint, tantalizing impression teased his
senses. He couldn't say precisely what it was, except that he was instantly flooded with memories of Katlin. It was as though some essential part of herself had suddenly risen before him.

  Not her scent, he thought, although she favored lavender soap, and there might have been a hint of that flower in the moldy air coming from the tunnel. Not a sound, either, although he seemed to hear her voice within him. Indeed, he seemed to hear her calling his name.

  On the strength of that alone, he turned toward the tunnel. It was very low; he had to hunch over to clear the ceiling. But he was able to move quickly nonetheless. It took him only minutes to notice a faint light in the distance.

  He moved toward it and there, where the tunnel burst out in a cavern carved into the cliff above the sea, he found Katlin, like some mythical creature dwelling in a sea cave, sitting on a bench with her golden hair tumbling around her shoulders and a relieved look on her lovely face.

  "You don't give up, do you?" she said as the crashing waves sounded not far away. But her smile of welcome crumbled and in its place came tears as she flung herself into his arms.

  "Oh, Angus, I was so afraid. At first, I thought I was going to die all alone in the dark, and even after I found this place, I couldn't figure a way out. I couldn't budge the stone from the top of the steps no matter how hard I pushed, and once I got here, there are only a few slit windows cut in the cliff face. Even if I could have fit through them, there would have been nowhere to go except straight down."

  He shook his head in wonder, stroking her hair and holding her tight against him. Katlin in his arms, willingly and happily, was enough of an event without also having to take in the strangeness of the cliff chamber. Yet he could hardly avoid doing so. Especially given that one wall of it was adorned with an immense cross of gold studded with precious gems.

  Katlin sniffed loudly, wiped her eyes and said, "I found the Wyndham Treasure."

  Still holding her, Angus reached out a hand and touched the cross with wonder. It was cool and smooth to his touch, the gold untarnished even after all the centuries, and the gems, though not as bright as those cut in more modern times, were still gloriously filled with color.

  "You really did," he murmured.

  "It's yours," Katlin said. She hiccuped and put a finger to her lips in surprise. "Excuse me."

  "That's all right," he assured her gravely. There would always be a bit of the London drawing room in her, he realized. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

  "I mean it," she said. "I'll give you the cross. Only don't try to take Innishffarin from me."

  His eyes darkened. He set her a little apart from him so that he could see her more clearly. "Still on that, are you? Figuring I want Innishffarin more than anything else. Won't listen to what a man says. Won't even give him a chance to speak his piece. Just go off half-cocked, nearly get yourself killed searching for some damn fool treasure—"

  The thought of how close she had come to disaster made him pale. He would rather have faced any danger himself than see her harmed in the smallest way.

  "Damn fool?" Katlin repeated. Her terror was fading quickly, giving way to good old outrage. Of course he had come for her, she had known he would.

  He was, after all, a Wyndham, and they kept what they thought was theirs.

  Only she wasn't, not on his terms, not this way, not—

  "It's not a damn fool treasure," she said. "Any idiot could see that. It's one of the greatest artifacts ever found. It will be famous and people will come from miles around to see it."

  "Fine," Angus said, dismissing in a word the craftsmanship of a dozen long-gone goldsmiths and jewelers who had brought together all their skills to create the cross. Not to mention the vast wealth of the ambitious Byzantine lord who had funded it. Or for that matter the ruthless rapacity of his own ancestor who had brought it all the way from the Holy Land where he had looted it and then hidden it in the cave hard beside the sea.

  "Keep it," the laird of Wyndham said. "For that matter, keep the whole bloody castle. Live here in solitary splendor for the rest of your days if that's what you want. You're the most stubborn woman I've ever met and I'm through trying to convince you that I—"

  It was Angus's turn to hesitate. She was looking at him with stark surprise and the beginnings of something else that looked tremulously like hope. But he was a Wyndham, damn it. She'd tempted and taunted him, rejected his honorable suit and banished him from under her roof. She couldn't expect him to turn around and admit to loving her. Could she?

  "Katlin, lass, I-"

  "Hush," she said as a soft smile curved her mouth, a small hint of the great joy springing to life within her. "You're a proud man, Angus Wyndham, and I respect you for it. I misjudged you and I'm sorry. The truth is you've overwhelmed me. I feel as though my life only began when I came to Innishffarin and met you on the village road."

  He laughed at the memory. "A sorry sight you were."

  "Tis true."

  "So agreeable?" he challenged. "No more fight left in you?"

  Her eyes flashed golden in the pale light. "I wouldn't say that."

  "What would you say?" he demanded, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around until she was breathless, pleading to be let down. He did, but only partly; he did not let her go. He wouldn't do that ever again.

  "I'd say I love you," she murmured, looking straight into his eyes.

  "Ah, lass," he murmured, "those are the sweetest words in all the world when they come from you. Be my wife, Katlin Sinclair. Not for Innishffarin or anything else but your own self, for truly, lass, I love you. Did you honestly think I could care more about a moldy old pile of stone?"

  Ratlin's eyes flashed in mock anger. "Don't you call my castle moldy. It'll be just fine with a little work. We can sell the cross to pay for it."

  Angus shook his head. "Nay, I've plenty of money for the job. We'll keep the cross and hang it in the proper chapel. If you like, we'll baptize our children there."

  "How many children?" Katlin asked mischievously.

  "As many as you want."

  She laughed and brushed a teasing kiss over his hard mouth. "In that case, don't you think we should get started?"

  His arm closed around her waist, drawing her to him as his lips claimed the sweetness of hers. They lingered a little longer in the chamber then returned swiftly to the high tower within sight of the sea where they bound the promise of their love in ties of silken passion.

  Behind them, the sound of crashing waves echoed off the now empty walls as it had for centuries past. Light washed by the sea fell over the room, along the bench and beneath it to the limestone floor where very faintly could be seen a square cut into the soft rock as though a portion of it had been lifted out and put carefully back in place.

  Katlin and Angus did not notice it, but that didn't matter. For them, there was already treasure enough.

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