"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?" Lucien laughed harshly. "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 in by 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 curiously 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 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 gripp
ed 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 sigh 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 worried and surprised glances. "Ghost?" Terence said in disbelief.
"Aye. The English soldiers dinna believe, either, until they went in theer and only two came back. Naebody goes in theer and comes out alive," he told them in a whisper.
"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, Ewan," he complimented the anxiously waiting figure.
"Guid."
"Has the mist cleared, Ewan?" 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," Ewan 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, Ewan?" 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 thoughtfully for a moment. "Wheer did ye get this, laddie?" he asked Curiously, his eyes going suspiciously between the two of them as they sat there watching him anxiously.
"My 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, Ewan," Richard confided with growing excitement. "Do you know where it is, Ewan?"
"Waur a secret, ye know," he said softly. "Naebody's tae know aboot it."
"As the laird's grandson, Richard has the right. Don't you agree, Ewan?" Sabrina asked.
"Aye, he's the richt," Ewan agreed, 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 large 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.
Ewan 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 further into the room, leading them to the far 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 Ewan. 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 objets d'art of priceless value.
Richard ran across and stared down into one of the chests, his hands finding a large gold goblet filled with golden guineas. He picked up a necklace of pearls and held it out to Sabrina, the large pearl drops gleaming ghost-like in the torchlight.
"The treasure, Rina, we've found the treasure!" he cried, jumping up and down as Sabrina came to stand beside him.
Ewan stuck the torch in the wall above the chests and moved away, lighting other torches around the room while Sabrina and Richard gazed in awe at the treasure. Richard stuffed as many coins as he could into his pockets as he gazed in rapture at the fortune that was his.
Ewan silently came up beside them and watched with a half-smile on his lips. Sabrina wished she could feel the excitement, but the look on Ewan's face worried her as he stared almost hypnotically at them and the treasure.
As Sabrina remained subdued beside him, Richard turned around curiously, his small face glowing with excitement as he said, "Come on, Rina. You can have wh—" He stopped what he was saying abruptly, the coins he had held in his hands dropping to the stone floor and rolling across it as he stared in stunned silence at the opposite wall of the cave that was not illuminated by torches.
Sabrina turned around curiously at Richard's look, her screams of terror echoing around the small chamber as she stared into the hollow-eyed skulls of skeletons hanging in chains from the wall. Richard buried his face against Sa
brina's breast as she leaned weakly against him as they cowered in front of the treasure. They stood frozen in fear as Ewan chuckled beside them.
"They waur fules. They shouldna come in tae the glen. They wae goin' tae steal the treasure. Naebody haed better try tae do that," Ewan said menacingly as he stood before them now, his feet planted firmly apart and his broadsword held carefully before him at an angle. He could easily lift his arm, bringing it down in a mighty swing that would split either of their heads wide open.
Sabrina held Richard rigidly still beside her, some instinct warning her should she move it would mean instant death.
Ewan shook his head regretfully. "Ye shouldna hae come here, fer I canna allow ye tae leave knowin' the secret. Ye can stand watch over it like them on the wall," he told Sabrina and Richard with a sly grin, his crazed eyes glowing malevolently in the flickering light.
"You can't harm us, Ewan," Sabrina told him shakily. "We are the laird's kin. He would not like it if you harmed us."
Ewan frowned thoughtfully. "Angus wouldna be happy? I dinna ken what tae do? I'm supposed tae protect the treasure frae the English," he mumbled, then with a gleam in his eyes he looked at them suspiciously. "I canna believe ye the laird's kin. He dinna like the English, and ye be English dogs, comin' tae steal our gold," he spat. "A real duinhe-wassel ye are, in yer fancy britches. Wheer is ye kilt, mon?" he asked Richard angrily.
Sabrina pulled up Richard's face, holding it to the light frantically. "Look good, MacElden," she cried "See the red hair, the nose and eyes. He's Angus. Angus has come back from the grave to see you," she told him, urging Richard in front of her while she moved closer to the chest full of heavy gold goblets and plates, her hand searching for some weapon.
Ewan peered down at Richard's frozen face in doubt "Come back frae the grave, the auld laird, just to see me, MacElden?" he whispered, his broadsword lowered for an instant.
Sabrina's fingers wrapped themselves around the thick stem of a heavy goblet and without warning or aim she swung with all of her might against the side of Ewan Mac-Elden's head. The goblet struck his skull with a thud, stunning him as he sunk to his knees.
Moonstruck Masness Page 38