by Lauren Royal
They were both stubborn as mules, she decided, and they could hate each other for life for all she cared.
Suddenly Niall heaved a sigh and looked back, his gaze reaching past her to Trick. “Full brothers,” he said, calm as anything. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Aye.” Aghast to hear Trick’s agreement, she twisted in the saddle to see a smile teasing at the corners of his wide mouth. “Amazing.”
And just like that, they were best of friends once more.
Men. She wanted to spit.
She was still muttering to herself when they came to higher ground, a sparser wooded area that must once have been a clearing. It was peppered with stone ruins so thick and old, they could be of nothing else but a long-ruined castle. Overgrown with clinging plant life, low broken walls seemed to tumble over the uneven land, and the foundations of a round tower stood open to the sky, a few worn steps leading up to nowhere.
“We’re here,” Niall said.
They dismounted and tethered their horses. Pulling a heavy key from his pocket, Niall stepped into the circle of stone and reached through a layer of dirt and dead branches that seemed stuck to the hard-packed forest floor.
Not by a quirk of nature, though—by design. His fingers found a concealed padlock and fitted the key inside. It opened with a rusty click, and he tugged it off, hefting a wooden trap door that lay hidden beneath.
“Go ahead,” he said.
After staring for a moment, Kendra followed Trick down a steep stone staircase, pausing when the trap door thudded shut and plunged the space into blackness.
Holding her breath and her husband’s hand, she felt her way to the bottom.
It was a dungeon, deep in the earth. The only light was a tiny shaft that came through the tall ceiling from behind an iron grille. As her eyes adjusted, the sparse illumination revealed gruesome instruments of torture. A musty smell seeped from the packed dirt floor, making her imagine the ground wet and red with the blood of prisoners.
Hugging herself, she shivered.
Near the center of the chamber a human cage swung, its door hanging drunkenly from ancient hinges. The wooden rack sitting in a corner would have been used to pull a man apart. Along the far wall, four sets of ankle manacles were anchored near the floor, with matching sets for wrists higher up.
She heard the scrape of steel on stone, then the soft hiss of a wick catching fire. “They’re gone!” Niall burst out behind her, his voice laced with disbelief. She swung about to see him holding a candle high, his eyes wide in the flickering light. “The treasure chests are gone!”
FIFTY-ONE
TRICK LAID a calming hand on Niall’s arm. “Where were they?”
“Here, I tell you. Here, and here, and here.” He paced the dim chamber, indicating bare spots where Trick could see that heavy, rectangular objects had once sat. “I saw them but two days ago—the morning of the day you arrived. They were here, same as always. As they’ve been since before I was born. Before any of us were born.”
The dungeon was damp and stuffy. While Trick found another candle and lit it from Niall’s, Kendra slipped her cloak off and hung it from one of the manacles on the wall. “Whatever were you doing here two days ago?”
Niall hesitated but a moment. “This was Mam’s secret retreat. I came…to feel closer to her. To escape the clamor of the wake for a wee while. How can all that treasure have gone missing since then?” He held out the padlock, staring at it. “How did the thieves get this open?”
Trick took it from his hands. “It wasn’t forced or picked.”
“How can you tell?”
“There’d be marks.” Avoiding Niall’s eyes, he handed the lock back. “Who else has a key?”
“Only Rhona and Gregor. So far as I know, nobody else is even aware this place exists. It makes no sense. Twenty-three enormous chests, all gone.” Niall rubbed his brow, his face looking sallow in the light from the candle in his other hand. “Will you help me find them?”
Trick blinked. He’d planned to leave for England tomorrow—a search could take days. Weeks. “I must get home. This isn’t my responsibility. But of course I will bring the news directly to the king.”
“What if the thieves start selling the treasure, aye? Gold and silver platters and goblets? We’re a poor country. Should anything so rich as that treasure show up, surely someone will figure out whence it came, and then an inquisition will be made, and Mam and Da could be implicated.”
“She’s dead,” Trick said. “What does it matter now?”
“Hamish isn’t,” Kendra reminded him.
But he didn’t want to be reminded. He still didn’t know how he felt about his new father, and the last thing he wanted was a reason to stick around and find out while the rest of his life remained on hold.
“He could hang, Patrick.” The flame wavered, ruffled by Niall’s impassioned words. “Or worse. Stealing the Royal plate is treason.”
“Treason,” Kendra whispered. “Punishable by hanging, drawing, quartering—”
“I know the penalties for treason,” Trick snapped. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I must get home. And, heart’s wounds, it’s been thirty-five years since the crime.”
Surely no evidence remained to tie the misdeed to his parents now. John Ferries, the only witness, was dead. These fears were groundless. Emotional rather than logical.
“Trick.” She came close, capturing his gaze with hers. “Even should the crime continue undiscovered, King Charles would never regain what his father lost.”
He hesitated but a moment, realizing his clever wife had deciphered him already. Always it came down to what would be best for Charles Stuart. “Very well,” he muttered. “I’ll spare a day or two to help find it.” That was the most he was willing to delay his return to England. “But let’s not go off half-cocked. There may be some clue here of who took it or its whereabouts.”
Niall’s breath rushed out in relief. “Da may have ideas as well. Maybe someone else knew of the treasure or had a key to the lock. And in any case, he’ll want to hear of this loss immediately.”
“Go ahead, then, and speak with him. Kendra and I will remain behind to search for clues.”
“You know the direction to Duncraven?”
“Aye. Back through the town, then southwest. Be on your way. We’ll meet you later and formulate a plan. With any luck, one of us will discover something useful in the interim.”
Niall gripped him by the shoulders. “I thank you.”
“Think nothing of it,” Trick mumbled. “We’re brothers, aye?”
“Brothers.” The younger man kissed him on both cheeks and pressed the lock and key into his hand. He gave Kendra his candle and was off, the trap door banging closed behind him.
Kendra released a long breath. “That was good of you, Trick.”
“He didn’t leave me much of a choice.”
Hearing his voice hitch, she guessed it was the result of brotherly affection. “Why did you hesitate to agree?” she asked, stepping closer.
He trailed his fingers along her arm. “After last night, I’m suddenly wanting to get home and start anew with my lovely wife.”
She sensed that wasn’t the whole truth. But, very aware they were alone deep in the earth, his words caused her heart to race anyway. “After we help your family, there will still be time for that.”
“You can be sure of it.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then took the candlestick from her and set it atop the rack, where it bathed the stone chamber with a faint but welcome glow. He set the lock there as well, an unnerving thunk of metal on wood. “Shall we see what we can find?”
“I really don’t like it down here.”
“We won’t be staying long.” Another candle blazed to join the two already lit, and Trick set it into a holder and placed it across the chamber. “There now, it’s not so eerie after all, is it? Rather cozy, don’t you think?”
Was it her imagination, or had his voice taken on a sugge
stive tone? “Well, I don’t expect it’s haunted if it was your mother’s secret place. But I cannot say I care for the decor, either.”
“Early Torture isn’t your style?” His easy grin helped calm her a bit, but his gaze on her had the opposite effect, making her suddenly feel shaky and overwarm. She put a hand against the rough stone wall for support.
The things I say are nothing compared to the things I do...
She shook away the images playing in her head. She had no business thinking of such things—and in a dungeon, for heaven’s sake. It was wicked.
Had just one night with Trick turned her head?
“Kendra?” Her gaze snapped to his. She forced herself to stand up straight, thinking he looked entirely too pleased with himself as his eyes wandered down the length of her body. “We’d better start looking.”
She shook herself again. “What are we looking for?”
“I wish I knew. A clue.”
He slowly traversed one side of the room while she paced the other. Gingerly touching the cold instruments of torture gave her the shivers. The blackened metal felt evil beneath her fingers, the air thick and heavy with age, not to mention horrific tales.
When he let out a little hoot of discovery, she jumped.
“Footprints,” he said.
She joined him, crouching down. “What do these tell us? They could be your mother’s, or Hamish’s, or even our own. No telling if they’re hours old or years.”
“But they’re concentrated around where a chest once sat, see? As though people were recently here, trying to lift something heavy. And here, this deep line in the dirt. They used a board or something as a lever.”
“One set of small prints and three larger ones. Yes, I see.” She looked up. “But whose?”
He shrugged. “Just information to bring back to Hamish. Maybe it will jog an idea. Let’s see what else we can find.”
Half an hour’s careful search revealed more footprints clustered around where other chests had sat, and little else. A scrap of dark fabric that Trick pocketed, a curved shard of cheap broken glass. It could have lain there for centuries, for all they knew.
He sighed. “Let’s go up. We may find more clues outdoors.”
It was a relief to ascend the stairs and see daylight once again.
“More of the same footprints.” Breathing deep of the fresh air, Kendra followed the marks. “And wheel tracks,” she called. “Here, leading out of the woods. How did we miss this before?”
“We weren’t looking.” He hurried over to see for himself. “Multiple tracks from the same vehicle. Many of them. I’m guessing the chests were carted away one at a time.”
“Southeast,” she agreed. “Around the town. And then where?”
Trick lifted a shoulder. “Shall we go find out?”
FIFTY-TWO
THEY MOUNTED their horses and headed through the woods, following the ruts. Once clear of the ruins, the trees grew dense, providing reason for the chests to have been carted out singly. A larger cart wouldn’t have made it through.
At the forest’s edge, the tracks stopped.
“They loaded them on a wagon here,” Kendra said.
“Two wagons. No, three, or maybe four. Look.” Wider-set tracks turned south and continued. “Shall we see where they went?”
The tracks were easy enough to follow, leading Trick to believe they’d missed the thieves by not more than hours. Clouds were gathering again, and the trail would soon be washed away. But for now, the air was warm, the day bright as only a Scottish summer afternoon could be.
The colors seemed more brilliant here, slopes of blues and purples, the land’s harsh contours brought out by shadow and sun. Rabbits scurried in the underbrush, and a flock of swallows soared overhead. Scotland was beautiful, and Trick had missed it in a way he hadn’t realized till now, stuck in the confines of the dingy gray castle.
“What happened back there?” Kendra asked quietly.
“Hmm?”
“With Niall.”
“Oh. That.” Heat crept up his neck, his memories of the incident childish at best. “I’m not sure. But it won’t happen again.”
“It will.”
“Nay, it won’t. I’m not usually as volatile as you’ve seen me…” His voice trailed off, because he didn’t know how to explain it. The longer he stayed at his crumbling childhood home, the more confused he seemed to get.
He’d learned his early years hadn’t been as he remembered—or as the duke had later caused him to remember. His world had tilted on its axis. And though he’d found family, they were too new, too unfamiliar, to possibly lean on yet.
Which left him Kendra. He needed her more than he’d like to admit.
Thank heavens she was here. He gave her a wavery smile, and her lips curved in return. He wanted to kiss them. It seemed he always wanted to kiss them. “I just need to become accustomed to having family. It won’t happen again.”
“It will,” she insisted. “He’s your brother.”
“Exactly, and so he deserves my best. I’ll apologize for disbelieving him, and from now on I need to be more patient. He looks a man, but he’s yet a lad, and I must remember that.”
“No.” Her laugh rang over the hillside, and her smile would lift the most morose man’s mood. Losh, he was lucky to have her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Trick. This is the way brothers are. Families are. We don’t give each other our best, I’m afraid, but more often our worst. We slide into comfort and forget ourselves. It’s the hugs after the battles that make it worthwhile.”
A concept so unfamiliar it bordered on incomprehensible. It had been so very long since he could reliably expect a hug from anyone, let alone someone he’d wronged.
Lost in thought, he was caught by surprise when Chaucer balked at the edge of a river. Kendra tugged on Pandora’s reins. “Look, the tracks disappear. Shall we cross?”
There was no bridge in sight. The water didn’t look too deep—waist high, he guessed, at most—but he eyed her long skirts and the sun overhead. “The day is getting away from us. Let’s take what we’ve found back to Hamish and Niall. They may have an idea where the thieves were headed.”
“I left my cloak in the dungeon.”
“We also didn’t lock up. We’ll follow the tracks back. I’m not certain how to return from here, anyway.”
FIFTY-THREE
KENDRA’S HEART felt light as they rode back. She’d heard a warmth in Trick’s voice that made her feel perhaps he was finally opening up. When she smiled over at him, he smiled back. The glimmer in his eyes made her feel tingly all over.
How many more hours until they could steal up to their chamber at Duncraven tonight? She’d never thought she’d look forward to anything in that gloomy place, but they had five long weeks to make up for.
Back at the ruins, she tethered Pandora and followed Trick into the dungeon, shivering a bit as she descended the narrow, cold staircase in the slanting light of the open trap door.
He turned to her at the bottom. “You’re not still frightened, are you?”
“Maybe. A little.” The candles had all guttered out. She hurried to get her cloak from the manacle on the wall.
He blocked her path and snaked his arms around her middle, leaning in for a kiss.
As his mouth slanted over hers, a dizzying cloud of his sandalwood scent surrounded her, overwhelming the dungeon’s mustiness. Her senses spun wildly, her fear evaporating in an instant. Before she knew what was happening, he’d lifted her by the waist.
“Oof! What are you doing?”
His only answer was a raised brow as he carried her across the dingy room, then set her in the open cage, letting her legs dangle out where the door hung loose. He gave the ugly black thing a push to start it swinging.
The metal felt cold beneath her skirts, and the swinging chain made an awful grating noise. Holding tight to the opening, she gave a shaky laugh.
He grinned. “See? It’s not scary down here
at all. Not with the sunlight and the company. And it must not have been scary to my mother, either, considering it was her special place.”
Trying to be a good sport, Kendra reached her toes to push off again. The chain moaned a protest. “I can imagine her coming here to think,” she told him, swaying to and fro. “The way you go to the cottage at Amberley.”
He hesitated, then nodded his head. “Aye, just like that.”
Pleased that he’d admitted as much, she pressed for more. “You write there, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.” He gave the cage another shove, sending the chain to its screeching song.
“I wonder if your mother wrote here?”
“I never saw her write anything other than letters. And if I were her…” He pushed her again, flashing a grin that was more like a leer. “I’d not squander this place on writing.”
“What do you mean?” For some reason her voice came out squeaky.
“When we were together last night, you worried others might intrude on our privacy.” He cocked a brow. “It’s private enough here, is it not?”
“For that?” She was thankful the dimness covered her deep blush. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no bed.”
“What makes you think we need a bed?”
She forced a laugh. “You’re joking, of course. I cannot imagine—”
“Ah, lass, it’s not really so hard to imagine.”
Shocked as she was by his suggestion, she was even more astonished to realize it mirrored her earlier thoughts. A little thrill of excitement raced through her. But…
With his hands on the bars that flanked her head, he stilled the cage. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, chasing away the damp chill of the dungeon.
Her fingers clenched the rough iron while she mentally clung to her last shred of self-possession. “Wouldn’t we be disrespectful? Making love in a place where others have suffered?”
He brought a hand to her cheek, his thumb moving over her lower lip.“Many people suffer in many places,” he said softly. “Is that not good reason to take what joy we can find?”