Core moved quickly across the courtyard, the mist swirling around the edges of his kilt as he strode through the thick haze. He reached the other side of the courtyard, relieved to have met no one. His hand was on the latch to the storeroom when a familiar voice bade him stop.
“Core!” Jyne emerged from the refectory with light, quick movements and warm eyes. She glanced around to ensure that they could not be overheard and came up close beside him. She looked up at him with a seductive smile that made his heart stutter. “Thank ye for last night.”
Core’s mouth went dry. He wondered what part of last night she was thanking him for. He hoped she appreciated the way their bodies had melted into each other and their kisses had burned like sweet fire on their lips.
Core forgot to respond. He possibly forgot his own name.
“Why are ye taking food into the storeroom?” she asked, as if just noticing what he carried in his hand.
Core cursed himself for giving her a moment to be observant. “This is some food,” he replied, his mind spinning to devise a plausible rationale. “I took note o’ one o’ the elders who is too frail to come to the table, so I am taking him some food.” More lies.
“Ye’re truly a kind man, Cormac. Och, but what am I doing, keeping ye from yer errand o’ mercy. Here, let me help carry this for ye. I can speak with the elder and see if he needs any other care.”
“Nay!” That would not do at all. “Forgive me, but Cook had need for ye in the kitchen. ’Tis difficult to teach the young ones.”
“It is. Poor Cook is trying to entertain them, but ’tis hard for the young ones no’ to run about. We dare no’ let them go for fear they would antagonize one o’ the warriors.”
“Mayhap I can help?” asked Cormac.
“I warrant ye’re rather obligated after last night.” Jyne came closer and looked up at him through her long eyelashes in a way that made his temperature rise. There was precious little he could do about it, though, while holding the food.
“I shall do my utmost.”
“See that ye do!” Jyne turned to walk away, then twirled back to him and kissed him on the cheek. Before he could respond, she scampered off, skipping across the cobblestones of the courtyard.
Core smiled after her, watching her leave, until another figure came into view. The black-robed monk. Seeing him reminded Core of everything he so desperately wanted to forget. With a grumble, Core turned back to his work.
Core entered the storeroom and walked to the trapdoor in the wooden floor. He had worried at first that someone would open the door and explore the crypt, but he was sure after last night none would do so now.
He carefully climbed down the ladder, holding the trencher and a crock of ale. A lantern illuminated the cavern with a pale light. The cave was hewn into the rock, crystals twinkling in the light of his lantern. Core followed a passage to the left, revealing an iron lattice and a locked iron gate. A man stood on the other side, glaring at him.
The large, bearded man was the runner Core had saved from his men when he took the abbey. Locking the man in the crypt seemed like the best thing to do with him. Over the past few days, Core had fed him and gotten to know some basics about the man. His name was Donnach. And the Campbell warrior intended to kill him.
“Care for some food? The stew smells good,” said Core mildly.
“Go to hell, ye bloody bastard,” snarled Donnach. “If ye hurt her, touch her in any way, I shall rip yer head off yer skinny body and dine on yer liver.”
Cormac had heard much coarse language in his life and took the man’s ire in stride. He had locked the man in the abbey crypt, so Donnach was justified in his anger. Core placed the food within reach of the man and stepped back. Donnach glared at him with murder in his eyes, but grabbed the food and drink through the bars of his prison and ate hungrily.
“I must thank ye for last night. Ye had the entire keep believing there are ghosts down here,” said Cormac, still pleased with how things had transpired.
“Saw it off,” grumbled Donnach.
“Ye have enough candles? Are ye warm enough?” asked Core.
“Let. Me. Out.” Donnach spat out the words. Captivity did not agree with him.
“I would like to, and I tell ye the truth, I plan to. Trouble is, ye ken who I am, and it all gets terribly complicated. Besides, I need yer help.”
“Why would I do anything to help ye?”
“Because by helping me, ye help yerself and others too. Allow me to tell ye my troubles, and then see for yerself if ye’re willing to lend yer aid.”
Donnach shrugged. “I have nowhere to go.”
“Red Rex is under the impression that there is treasure here at Kinoch Abbey. I have been sent to retrieve it. If I dinna return wi’ something, Rex will kill all the monks at the nearby monastery. If I can find a treasure of some sort, all my men and I will leave ye and Lady Jyne in peace.”
“Why would Red Rex believe there be treasure here?” asked Donnach.
“Because Cormac told him that lie to save my life.” Brother Luke stepped forward.
“Brother Luke?” Core was not sure why the monk had followed him to the crypt.
“Ye were right about another thing,” Luke admitted to Cormac. “I need to get off my…arse and do something to help. What can I do?”
“I was going to ask Donnach to search the crypt to see if there be anything within that might serve as a treasure. I’ve heard the caverns go back a ways.”
“They do. I confess, I have never been eager to explore this place, but I must do what I can to save my friends.” The monk squared his shoulders. “Let me in.”
“Ye want him to lock ye in here wi’ me?” Donnach asked the monk, the lines of a frown etched deep on his forehead.
“I cannot stand by and do nothing while the brothers’ lives are at risk.”
Donnach stepped back, away from the gate, and Core unlocked it, allowing Luke to enter. He locked the gate again, sealing the men in the tomb. He felt like a veritable lout to do so, but he knew if he didn’t, Donnach would flee, and that would be disastrous for him.
Luke took a candle and nodded to Core and Donnach with a grim expression. He turned and walked boldly into the dark passage leading to the caverns that contained the crypt.
Donnach growled at Cormac, but grabbed a candle and followed the monk. “If it must be, I will see it done.”
“Thank ye,” said Core, not knowing what else to say. His effort earned him an over-the-shoulder glare from Donnach.
Core returned to the storeroom, unsure about his own response. He should have been pleased, for now he had two men—men he trusted more than his own warriors—looking for something that could pass for a treasure while he spent the afternoon with Jyne. He should have been happy.
Brother Luke’s admonishment against lying still rung in his ears. He was playing Jyne false. Sooner or later, she would discover the truth. Core cleared his throat. He was a ruthless warlord, just like his father wished. The thought weighed heavy on his soul.
Seventeen
Her plan to scare off the Fire Lord and his ill-kempt followers had not worked, but Jyne was not as disappointed as she thought she should be. In truth, she was not ready for her time with Cormac to end. As long as they fought against the Fire Lord and his brigands, they were together. Once her brothers arrived and they left, so would Cormac. And she wasn’t ready to say good-bye.
When she found Cook, the elderly matron insisted she did not need help, but Jyne could easily see that the burden of watching the wee ones and trying to get meals on the table was a taxing one. Jyne felt something pulling at her skirts and looked down into the wide eyes of Ina.
Jyne crouched down to her level. “How are ye doing, my wee friend?”
Ina said nothing but put her small hand on Jyne’s cheek and sighed.
“Have thos
e bad men frightened ye?”
Ina nodded. It broke Jyne’s heart. She must find a way to protect these wee ones. She suddenly remembered something Cormac had said to her. Maybe if she could not get the brigands to leave, she could get the children somewhere safe.
“Here, stay with Cook,” said Jyne, transferring Ina’s small, tight fist from her skirt to Cook’s. She needed to talk to Core. She entered the courtyard, mist swirling around her pale blue gown as she walked.
“There she is! It’s her!” yelled a voice in the mist.
Jyne froze, unsure who had spoken.
“Come here, ye big coward. Here is yer ghost. ’Tis only our ghost story–telling hostess.” Bran emerged from the swirling mist, his eyes accusing, pulling Dubh, his large companion, along behind him.
She had been instantly frightened when she saw the men, but something in the warrior’s dismissive tone struck deep. How many times had she been disregarded and discounted, even by her own family? She squared her shoulders and stood up straighter. “Did ye see the White Lady?” she asked Dubh, purposefully playing into his fears.
“Aye—” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a sharp jab in the ribs from Bran.
“I will ask ye now,” demanded Bran, glaring at Jyne, “to tell this fool that all yer nonsense last night o’ the ghost was merely a child’s story.”
She had gotten to them. She suppressed a smile and instead pasted on what she hoped was a look of pure innocence. “I dinna ken if it be real or no’. I wasna here a hundred years ago. Mayhap the ghost has moved on.”
“But last night—” Dubh received another harsh jab.
“There is no such thing as ghosts!” thundered Bran.
“But what o’ Robert the Bruce?” asked Jyne. “I ken many who swear they’ve seen him riding at night.”
“Aye, so I’ve heard tell,” agreed Dubh. “He roams the land because his dying wish was that his heart be taken to the Holy Land and buried in Jerusalem.”
“But Lord Douglas died trying, and Bruce’s heart was taken back to Scotland,” said Jyne, continuing the well-known story. Every child in Scotland knew the tale.
“Where ’tis buried under the high altar at Melrose Abbey,” continued Dubh.
“And now the Bruce canna rest, wi’ his dying wish left unfulfilled, and rides the moors at night!” Jyne finished the story. It was strange that she had found common ground with this thief of such bulbous proportions.
Bran glowered at both of them, but did not refute the story. It was so well-known and so widely believed, it would have been pointless of him to do so.
“’Tis too bad the postern gate has been destroyed,” sighed Jyne, thinking fast. “I would sleep better knowing that the wall around us is not breached. We have enough to worry ourselves here wi’out any new ghosties roaming in.”
“Aye, we should fix the gate, we should!” Dubh bounded off, calling for men to help him in the process. Bran glowered at her, but turned and stormed away.
Jyne smiled after him, pleased with how she had been able to hold her ground. A cold hand touching hers made her jump.
“Are they gone?” Ina held Jyne’s hand in her icy one.
Jyne breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps she also was being affected by her own imagination. “Aye, they’ve gone. But yer hands are like ice. Now go back to the kitchens and get warm.” Jyne ushered Ina back and continued her quest to find Core. They must get the children someplace safe.
* * *
Cormac returned from the caverns feeling distinctly unsettled. He had not gone far into the courtyard before he met Jyne. They snuck back to talk alone in the storeroom.
“Good morn to ye again.” Jyne gave him a wide smile that made his toes curl in his boots. “I’ve been thinking on how we can get the wee ones to safety. Ye said ye knew a place we could go to stay safe from the warriors. Could we take the young ones there instead?”
“A place to go?” Cormac was confused.
“The first night, ye wished to take me away.”
He still did. “Aye, there be a few abandoned crofters’ huts a few miles away.”
“Could the bairns stay there?”
Core considered it for a moment. “Would be tight, but aye, they could.”
“Would these men let them go?”
That was another question. Sometimes Red Rex liked to keep hostages; sometimes he cared not. “I doubt they would notice, as long as there were still enough people left to wait upon them.”
Jyne shook her head. “Those bastards.”
Cormac smiled at such a word emerging from such sweet lips. “Be best to leave wi’out drawing attention. Sneaking out the postern gate, or what’s left of it, should’na be a problem.”
“Och, it may be. I convinced Dubh to repair it to keep out the ghosties.”
“Ye did?” Core was impressed. Jyne was not one to be underestimated. “Well now, let me think on this. Gather the people, and we’ll meet in the kitchens after the main meal.”
He watched Jyne disappear into the mist of the courtyard and thought hard on how to make Jyne’s wishes come true as he dashed away to don his Fire Lord attire once more.
A short time later, he had donned the bearskin robe and idiot horned helmet and faced the men in the great hall. “I heard some o’ ye are afeared o’ a little ghost. Cowards!” he thundered. Or at least he tried to. His voice did not quite carry as his father’s did. Still, he was attempting to resemble his father as best he could.
“Aye, there is no such thing as ghosts,” chimed in Bran.
Core turned on the man. “No such thing as ghosts? Are ye daft? Why, even Red Rex has seen them. But he’s not afeared o’ them. Nay, them ghosties are afeared of him!”
Some in the hall laughed, and Cormac felt as though he was finally being accepted as one of them, maybe even as their leader.
“We need some o’ ye to go on a hunt,” commanded Core. “We need meat to fill our bellies, since we’ve eaten through the stores. We need others to join Dubh to repair the gate.”
“And what o’ this treasure we were sent here to retrieve?” demanded Bran.
Core took Bran aside, though he was careful to speak close enough that others could hear him. “I may ken where the treasure is. I dinna want to announce it to all the men, because the less who know where it is, the better. I found some clues that it is hidden near a tree wi’ two trunks at the far side o’ this valley.”
“Ye want us to search for it?” asked Bran.
“Nay, let me research it a bit more. No need to race out. I will examine the scrolls and let ye know if it’s worth the effort.”
Bran had a greedy glint in his eye that told Core that soon, many of the men would be searching the valley several miles in the opposite direction of where he wished to take Jyne and the children.
“Well, I shall be in my chamber should anyone wish to consult wi’ me.” He doubted anyone would. He marched off to his solar, which commanded a fine view of the valley before him, and watched in satisfaction as small groups of men left the keep, walking or sometimes riding to the other end of the valley. When most of the men had left as the gossip spread, Core knew it was time to act.
A few minutes later, he had shed the trappings of the evil warlord and stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He had brought his bow and a quiver of arrows for the trip, just in case.
Jyne was surrounded by children, who all seemed to be talking to her at once. She was answering them patiently and responding to every cry for attention, every bumped knee, every plea for assistance. He paused a moment just to watch her.
She was dressed in a pale blue kirtle with a cream sleeveless surcoat. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about her gown or her simple linen head covering, but he could not take his eyes from her. Her bright eyes gleamed blue, and her pink lips tempted him to take another tas
te.
She caught him from the corner of her eye and turned toward him, a smile spreading slowly across her face. Her eyes warmed in a manner he hoped was for him alone. Lady Jyne Campbell was simply the most beautiful lass he had ever met.
Except she was a lady.
And he was the son of a warlord.
“We should get moving,” said Core gruffly to hide the disappointment of his thoughts. “There are some abandoned crofters’ huts a few miles away. I’m guessing the occupants moved along wi’ the monks when they left.”
“Verra good. Some o’ the women will go wi’ the young ones,” replied Jyne.
“I wish ye would stay there too. This is no place for ye,” said Core, stepping near to speak quietly.
Jyne shook her head as he knew she would do. “Kinoch Abbey is under my protection. My place is here.”
“I dinna wish for ye to be in danger. ’Tis no’ good for my constitution.”
Jyne laughed. “Yer constitution?”
“Aye, for my heart pounds to see ye at risk.” He leaned close and spoke softly in her ear. “In truth, my heart pounds whenever ye’re near.”
“Pray tell, why might that be?” she asked, though her heightened color told him she knew very well what he meant.
“I wish to show ye, but ye’re surrounded by miniature chaperones.”
Jyne laughed again and gestured to the children. “Ah, my wee ones. They shall keep me safe from untoward advances.”
“But on the way home…” Core returned her smile. They might have much company for now, but on the return trip, they would be alone to do as they pleased. And it would please him greatly to do a lot of it.
“On the way home, ye may have to watch yerself, lest I do something untoward,” said Jyne with a saucy grin.
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