Highland Treasure

by Lynsay Sands

  “Jo’s sister?” Alick asked with surprise.

  Lady Jo Sinclair was their sister Saidh’s dear friend, wife to Laird Campbell Sinclair and the only Lady Sinclair they’d met.

  “Nay. Lady Bearnas Sinclair. Cam’s mother,” Rory answered, his tone distracted as he scanned the woods around them, searching for the sign the message had mentioned.

  “Oh,” Alick muttered. “So the message was from Cam’s aunt, and she wants you to collect a treasure and take it to Sinclair,” Alick reasoned out, and when Rory didn’t comment, he asked, “What are ye looking fer?”

  “There is supposed to be”—Rory paused and smiled—“a ribbon.”

  “A ribbon?” Alick asked, moving up beside him. “I do no’ see—”

  His words died when Rory pointed out the thin, white ribbon tied around the trunk of a tree on their left. There was a narrow trail next to it, leading deeper into the woods that would have been easily missed without the ribbon to mark the way.

  “I do no’ recall Cam mentioning an aunt, but even so, what would she be doing in England?” Alick asked, shifting uncomfortably on his mount. “Mayhap ’tis a trick or a trap.”

  “Mayhap,” Rory agreed, aware of the way the suggestion made the other warriors all now sit up in their saddles, eyes alert as they searched the surrounding area for signs of trouble.

  They were all silent for a minute, listening to the bitter wind whistling through the trees, and then Rory turned in his seat to eye the four men with them. “Fearghas and Donnghail, you two stay here and keep an eye out. Fetch us if ye catch wind o’ trouble.”

  He waited long enough to see the men nod, and then added, “The rest with me.”

  Rory urged his horse down the new path, but his hand moved to his sword, ready to draw it at the first sign of trouble. The narrow trail, if it even could be called that, forced them to ride single file. They took it at a walk, Rory leading the way, Alick behind him and Conn and Inan following to guard their backs. No one spoke and they all eyed the surrounding forest warily until Rory came to the edge of a small clearing where a cart sat unattended. The moment he stopped, Alick moved up on his right to get a better look.

  “Where’s the horse?” Conn asked in a rumble. The warrior had urged his mount up on Rory’s left, leaving Inan to guard their back.

  Rory’s narrowed gaze swept the area. A horse must have been used to bring the cart here, but there was no sign of one now.

  “What exactly did Sinclair’s aunt say in her message?” Alick asked, his voice grim and eyes sharp as he awaited the answer.

  “That she had heard we were in the area, and knew from her sister’s correspondence that the Buchanans were dear friends to the Sinclairs. As such, she begged our help. A great treasure waited at the end of a trail we would find by a white ribbon tied around the trunk of a tree just past the river in the woods outside Monmouth, and she would be forever grateful if we saw that treasure safely delivered to Sinclair.”

  “Forever grateful, eh?” Alick muttered, twisting his head to check the trail behind them. “No mention of a reward?”

  “Nay.”

  “Well, if ’twas a trap, they’d probably mention a reward as a lure,” Alick pointed out.

  “Aye,” Rory murmured, and then gesturing for Conn and Inan to wait in the cover of the trees, he urged his mount cautiously out of the woods and crossed the small clearing until he could look down into the cart. There was something in the bottom, a lumpy bundle covered by a large fur. Rory hesitated, and then took another look around the woods before leaning down to snatch up a corner of the fur and tug it aside.

  “What is it?” Alick asked, urging his own mount up next to the cart.

  Rory didn’t bother to answer. His brother was already close enough to see. He grabbed one of the four lumpy bags that had been hidden by the fur. His eyebrows rose slightly at the lack of weight to the item. It wasn’t light as a feather, but not heavy enough to carry any kind of jewels or gold. Cloth of some sort was his guess, proved true when he opened the bag and peered inside. Blue velvet lay at the top, concealing the cloth beneath it. Rory took a moment to feel the bottom of the bag to see if there was anything solid inside, but all he felt was more cloth.

  Pulling the strings to close the sack, Rory hung it from his saddle to keep it out of the way as he swiped up another bag. Like the first, it was light, carrying mostly cloth and something he would guess was a brush by the shape of it when he squeezed the bottom.

  “Clothing?” Alick guessed, eyeing the bag he held, and when Rory grunted in the affirmative, he asked, “Then where is the treasure we are to transport?”

  Rory opened his mouth about to admit he had no idea when movement drew his gaze to the opposite edge of the clearing. They watched in silence as two men on horseback moved out of the woods. They were English soldiers and moving at a snail’s pace so that a full minute seemed to pass before they were fully out of the trees and a third horse appeared behind them. This one carried a woman, though they could see none of her beyond the fur-lined silver-blue cloak and matching coif and veil she wore.

  Rory’s eyebrows rose at the sight. While he’d seen many a woman in a headdress and veil, the veil usually hung below the face. This one completely covered the face so that she must be having trouble seeing them. He certainly couldn’t make out any of her features.

  “Lady de Valance?” he guessed, thinking the woman had come herself to deliver the treasure into their hands.

  “Aye.”

  Her voice was a soft whisper and he found himself leaning forward over his horse’s neck to better hear her if she spoke again.

  “I am Rory Buchanan and this is me brother Alick,” he announced when she said nothing more. “Ye requested our aid in getting a treasure to Sinclair?”

  “Nay.” Despite his leaning, Rory barely heard the word, but then she cleared her throat and said with a little more volume, “’Twas my mother, Lady Mairghread de Valance, who wrote to you. I am Elysande de Valance. ’Tis me she wanted you to see to Sinclair.”

  Rory sat back as her words rushed over him. Lady Mairghread de Valance’s greatest treasure was her daughter and she wanted him to escort Elysande north to Sinclair.

  A glance at Alick showed that he was not the only one stunned by this news. While he was still digesting this information, she added, “I felt sure that Tom and Simon here would be enough to escort me north. We could ride fast as a small party. However, Mother seemed to think it would be better to have Scots with us. She said the English are not well liked in the Highlands and ’twould be safer to have Scots for escort as well.”

  When Rory was slow to respond, she shifted slightly and added, “Mother also said, as a friend to our kin the Sinclairs, you may be willing to aid us. Howbeit, I understand if you do not wish the trouble. We will do fine on our own.”

  “Nay,” Rory said abruptly when she began to gather her reins as if to leave at once. “The Sinclairs are good friends. We would be pleased to see ye to them.”

  Rory noted the way her shoulders seemed to ease a bit at his agreement, but she offered no gratitude, merely gave a stiff nod and said, “Then shall we?”

  Rory hesitated the briefest moment, pondering the fact that it apparently hadn’t even occurred to her that there might be some reason he could not leave at once. For surely there was no way she could know that he’d planned to leave this morning anyway. But more important to him was the fact that she offered no explanation for this journey and he knew there must be an interesting one. Usually a simple trip to visit relatives would have included a large retinue of soldiers and servants, along with wagons to carry tents and such for the lady’s comfort. It definitely would have included other women to accompany her. But she was alone with two soldiers.

  Before he could ask any of the questions now rushing through his mind, a sharp whistle drew his attention to where he’d left Conn and Inan at the edge of the woods. Their number had doubled. Fearghas and Donnghail were now with them and
the foursome was moving into the clearing to approach.

  Eyebrows rising, Rory rode to meet them, knowing that only trouble would have made Donnghail and Fearghas follow them when they had been ordered to stand guard.

  “Riders,” Fearghas announced once Rory was close enough to hear. “A large group. At least twenty riders, but I’d guess more from the noise they’re making. I’m thinking ’tis the soldiers we saw approach Monmouth as we left.”

  Rory frowned and then glanced back to the woman and her two men to see that one of the soldiers was grabbing up the last two bags and the fur from the cart. He passed the fur to the other man to roll up and tie to his saddle, while he hung the bags from his own. It made Rory realize that he still held the second bag he’d picked up. Hooking the tie to his own saddle with the first, Rory considered the situation. He had no idea if the contingent of soldiers they’d seen approach Monmouth were looking for the lass, but it didn’t matter. He’d rather avoid them either way. Soldiers en masse could be trouble on the road and something he’d like to avoid when they had a lady in their midst.

  “We’ll stay away from the main road and travel as fast as we dare through the woods,” he decided as he straightened in the saddle. He didn’t wait for agreement, but led them to the English trio to tell them of his decision. The grim expressions of the soldiers and the way the woman stiffened at the news of a troop of soldiers approaching told him they were expecting trouble, but he didn’t question them. There was no time now. He could get the answers he needed later, Rory decided, and got them moving at once.

  “Are you all right, m’lady? Do you need a rest?”

  Realizing she had begun to slouch and sway a bit in the saddle, Elysande straightened abruptly and scowled despite knowing Tom couldn’t see her expression through her veil. Or perhaps only because he couldn’t. She knew the soldier only asked the question out of concern and she surely would have appreciated it if it didn’t simply make her focus on the pain she had been trying to ignore for the last several hours of travel.

  The truth was, Elysande was not all right. In fact, she was weary and in agony and there was nothing she wanted more than to stop and rest. But they could not stop. She would not be safe until they reached Sinclair. She could rest then—and even sleep for a week if she wished.

  But dear God, she was racked with such agony right now that all she wanted to do was lie down and die. And the pain was not all just physical. Her mother and father—

  Elysande cut off her thoughts lest they lead to tears, and forced herself to stiffen her spine. She would not die. At least, not without one hell of a fight. She would survive her losses and this hellish ride, and get to Sinclair. It was the last thing she could do for her mother.

  “I will tell Buchanan you need a rest.”

  Tom’s voice drew her from her thoughts and she shook her head at once. “Nay. I’m fine. No stopping.”

  The soldier hesitated briefly, but then sat back in his saddle with a dissatisfied grunt. She wasn’t surprised. Tom knew just how badly injured she was. He’d had to carry her from her mother’s bedchamber, using the secret passage to deliver her down to the cart and horses he and Simon had waiting in the woods outside the castle walls. He’d laid her gently in the cart and then they’d been away, and while she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to wholly stifle her moans and cries of pain as she was shaken and jolted about on the ride to Monmouth.

  They’d arrived a couple of hours before dawn and Elysande had rested until the sun rose, only mounting her mare after Simon had returned from delivering her mother’s message to Rory Buchanan. The two men had both protested the move, insisting she should travel in the cart, but Elysande had been equally insistent that she would ride. She had not wanted to meet the Buchanans on her back. She hadn’t wanted them to know that she was injured, nor suffer the humiliation of their seeing her men helping her mount. Tom and Simon had pretty much had to place her in the saddle. She hadn’t been able to manage it on her own, but once seated she’d actually felt a little better. The cart had shaken and jolted horribly on the journey to Monmouth, causing her constant agony. But seated upright on the saddle she’d felt better. At least, she had until they’d started to ride. Now it was nearly as bad as the ride in the cart had been. At least there she hadn’t had to use her trembling muscles to keep her seat.

  Tom suddenly dropping back behind her again drew her attention to the trail ahead to see that it was narrowing once more, forcing them to ride single file. If it could be called a trail, Elysande thought. Half the time the lead Scot seemed to be beating a path through the woods. But then perhaps that was normal. She had no way of knowing; Elysande had never traveled beyond the forest around Kynardersley castle until now, while the Buchanans were from Scotland and surely knew their way home.

  That thought drew her gaze to the man riding in front of her as her eyes slid over the dark plaid he wore. Rory Buchanan. She’d been a bit startled when he’d appeared in the clearing. The man was much larger than Tom and Simon. He was also wearing a scandalous outfit that left his knees and lower thighs bare between the tops of his boots and the bottom of the skirt he wore. Elysande had blinked at the sight and then forced herself to keep her eyes on his face for propriety’s sake. Not that that had been a hardship. Even through her veil she’d been able to see the man was handsome with a nice face, bright green eyes and long dark hair shot through with red. He was also large and muscled, but not overly bulky with it, and apparently that was a shape she quite liked. Although for some reason that same shape on the other Buchanan brother hadn’t affected her quite the same way. Alick, she recalled, and guessed by the way he deferred to Rory that he was the younger of the two Buchanan brothers. He actually looked very like the older, with the same auburn hair and green eyes. They were both handsome, but Rory Buchanan had an air of confidence about him that was missing with the younger man. Perhaps that was why she found him more attractive.

  As if her thoughts had drawn him forward, the younger brother suddenly rode past her as the path widened again. She watched with curiosity as he moved his horse up beside his brother’s and began to speak. She could hear the soft rumble of his voice, but couldn’t make out his words. Elysande knew it must be about her, however, when Rory Buchanan suddenly glanced back at her.

  She immediately forced herself to sit up a little straighter, realizing only then that she’d started to slump in the saddle once more. Ignoring the way her muscles and her very skin cried out at the action, Elysande held herself stiff in the saddle and raised her chin. She would not show weakness. She could manage this. Besides, it must be nearly midday by now, she reassured herself. They would stop soon if only to eat and relieve themselves. She hoped.

  Rory let his gaze slide over the veiled figure behind them. Lady Elysande had been riding slouched in the saddle when he first glanced back, but had straightened when she realized he was looking. There was little to see but the headdress and veil that hid her hair and face from him, and the rich, warm cloak she clutched closed against the cold with one gloved hand while handling the reins with her other. In truth, she could have been a corpse or a man under the outfit, but there was nothing alarming in the way she sat her mare.

  “She looks fine,” Rory said finally as he shifted his attention forward once more.

  “Aye. Now she does,” Alick said with irritation. “But I am telling ye there is something wrong. She was slumped and swaying slightly in the saddle until ye looked back.”

  Rory looked back again, but she was still sitting upright, seeming perfectly fine.

  “Why do ye think she wears the veil like that?” Alick asked suddenly.

  Rory just shrugged. He had no idea.

  “Think ye she is so ugly her mother feared we would refuse to escort her did we see her face?”

  That brought a startled laugh from his mouth, and Rory raised his eyebrows at his brother. “What difference would her face make? We are doing this as a favor to the Sinclairs, not because of what t
he woman looks like.”

  “Aye,” Alick agreed on a sigh. “Still, it seems fair strange that she would cover herself wholly like that. It must make it hard for her to see where she is leading her mount.”

  “All she needs do is follow me,” Rory pointed out with unconcern. “The veil obviously does no’ blind her so much she canno’ do that.”

  “Hmm.” Alick shifted unhappily in his saddle. “We do no’ even ken why she needs our escort. Why has she not a large retinue with soldiers and servants to see to her well-being? She has no’ even a maidservant to act as chaperone.”

  Rory grunted at the comment, for it was something he’d pondered himself and had no answer to. There had been no time to ask back in the clearing once he’d realized soldiers were headed their way. He knew the soldiers would have continued on the northeast road from Monmouth while their party was now heading northwest. He’d decided they would use the less traveled route to Scotland. It would reduce the likelihood of encountering the soldiers who may or may not cause trouble, and also remove the risk of bandits as well since such ruffians preferred to ply their trade on the busier routes where there were more travelers to attack.

  “Why do ye think— Damn,” Alick interrupted himself, and slowed his horse, allowing it to fall back behind Rory’s and drawing his attention to the fact that the path was narrowing again. It was also growing steep, he noted, slowing his mount to avoid bumping into Inan’s as he and Conn reduced speed in front of him to manage the steep descent.

  The path was taking them down into a valley with an ascent nearly as steep on the other side, Rory saw, and decided they would stop in the dale to eat and let the horses rest before continuing up the incline on the other side. It would give him a chance to ask Lady Elysande those questions that had been tumbling through his mind since the clearing. It might even give him a chance to see the woman’s face. Surely she’d have to remove her veil to eat?