Treasure Me

by Robyn DeHart

  “Get me some water,” Graeme shouted, but his mother was prepared and already by his side with the items he would need. He knew he could leave the tending to his mother and grandmother, but Vanessa was his responsibility.

  Vanessa’s eyes fluttered open, but were still heavy-lidded and glazed. “What happened?” she asked, trying to sit up.

  “Lie still,” he demanded. He’d already soaked the rag in the water. He ran the damp cloth over her injury, and she jerked away from him.

  Her brow furrowed with her wince. “That burns.”

  “Keep still; I’m almost done.” He exhaled. “I’ve got to get the wound cleaned.”

  “I don’t think it’s bad,” Moira said from behind him. “I believe it merely grazed her.”

  “What grazed me?” Vanessa asked.

  “You were shot, dear,” Moira said. “Probably some drunken fools shooting guns off to celebrate.”

  “I don’t think so,” Graeme muttered as he continued to clean the wound. He met his mother’s gaze, and she clearly didn’t believe what she’d said, either. She was obviously trying not to concern Vanessa.

  As the blood cleared and the wound became visible, his heart slowed. What his mother said was correct; it was little more than a light grazing. Enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to require stitches. She’d probably be sore, though.

  Vanessa blinked up at him. She shook her head in disbelief. “You believe someone tried to kill me?”

  “Aye,” he said. He smeared some of Old Mazie’s salve on the wound, knowing Vanessa would stink like death for the night, but tomorrow she’d feel much better.

  “Probably because I’m trying to confirm Mr. McElroy’s initial theory about his fossil,” she said.

  “I don’t think that’s why,” Graeme said, sharper than he’d intended. If he wasn’t so bloody angry, he might have found it charming that she thought people were as passionate about fossils as she was. Enough so to try to kill her. But as it was, he was in no mood for humor.

  “Then who? Why?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Graeme exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his anger at bay. He wasn’t mad at her, and getting frustrated when she asked a legitimate question wasn’t fair. “But I fully intend to find out.”

  Graeme left the room to give Vanessa some quiet so she could rest. The wound was cleaned and dressed, and she’d been given a shot or two of whiskey to dull the pain. She was barely injured, yet the thought of someone hurting her…

  Who the hell had tried to kill her? Or had they been aiming for someone else? Namely him. He’d been standing right next to her. For a poor marksman, it would have been a simple mistake.

  Graeme made his way into the study. There he found Dougal flipping through his notes scattered across the desk.

  “What are you looking for?” Graeme asked.

  Dougal looked up and shook his head vigorously. “Nothing. I was—” He shook his head again. “Nothing.”

  Graeme poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp, then poured himself another. He swore and fell into one of the chairs.

  “Mother told me she didn’t die,” Dougal said.

  It was a sad attempt at comfort, but Graeme offered his brother a nod. “No, she’ll heal quite nicely. It wasn’t a very good shot. Makes me think that perhaps they were aiming at me.”

  “You?” Dougal asked, taking a step closer to his brother. “Why would anyone want to kill you?”

  “A variety of reasons, I suppose, though none immediately spring to mind.” Graeme eyed his brother, and something in his demeanor seemed out of place. He couldn’t make eye contact with Graeme, and his hands alternately fisted at his sides, then clasped in front of him. He was nervous. Very nervous. Graeme leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What do you know, Dougal?”

  Dougal frowned, but then took two steps backward. “About what? I don’t know anything.”

  “You know who shot Vanessa.” Graeme came to his feet, walking toward his brother. “Don’t you?”

  “Why would I know that?” Dougal asked, his voice hitching in mid-sentence. Again he shook his head.

  “I don’t know why.” The urge was there to grab the boy by his shirt and shake him until he admitted it. But Graeme swallowed the impulse. This was no common thug; this was his brother. The boy had seen or heard something, and now he was scared. “What do you know?”

  Dougal said nothing, merely looked out the window.

  “Is it someone I know?”

  Again Dougal said nothing, but his eyes jerked to Graeme’s face and then down to the floor.

  “Is it Niall?” Graeme didn’t think the man had it in him to murder. Hell, he had his own wife and child. He was a doting family man, madly in love with his wife. But greed or obsession could corrupt the most genuine hearts. And Graeme had threatened him, not to mention told Niall about Vanessa. Perhaps he should have kept his wife a secret to protect her.

  Dougal kept his gaze averted.

  “Have you seen Niall since he arrived?” Graeme asked.

  Dougal shrugged.

  “You went to see him?”

  “Perhaps I did.” The boy looked up at Graeme for the first time since he’d entered the study. “It’s none of your damned business.” Again Dougal’s eyes flashed with intense anger, much as they had earlier that night.

  Graeme ignored the anger. Hell, he remembered being furious at that age; having a reason had never been necessary. “Who was with him?” It seemed quite likely that his brother might have seen Niall’s partner.

  Dougal did not look away, but he didn’t answer.

  Graeme put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dougal, it’s important. Niall might be in trouble. The men of Solomon’s even asked me to look after him, ensure he was safe.” Graeme knew he was being unfair adding that last part. Dougal had always been a little obsessed with all things English, in particular Graeme’s affiliation with the exclusive club.

  His brother exhaled slowly. “An Englishman. Older, said he was a treasure hunter.”

  Hairs along Graeme’s neck stood on end. “What did he look like?”

  Dougal winced. “Fair-haired. He dresses well. His name is David.”

  An older treasure hunter with blond hair and his name was David. But certainly he wouldn’t be so bold as to come here to Scotland and attempt to manipulate Graeme’s brother? Graeme shook his head. Of course he would be that bold, and bolder still. Graeme swore. “Stay away from your cousin and that perfect gentleman. He’s more dangerous than you realize.”

  Dougal exhaled loudly and walked to the door. Then he paused. “I’m sorry, Graeme.”

  Graeme shook his head. There was no reason to blame his brother. “You didn’t know.”

  Dougal opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and instead simply slipped out of the room.

  Graeme sat and put pen to parchment. He had to get notice to Fielding immediately. It appeared as if Graeme had just located The Raven.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vanessa was sitting up in bed, leaning against the massive wooden headboard, when Graeme entered the room.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Fairly well, all things considered,” she said.

  He came toward her and sat on the edge of the bed.

  With one leg folded beneath him, his kilt revealed a fair amount of his thigh. Well-muscled legs with dark hair covering the tanned skin. Legs she knew were strong enough to hold her up against a cavern wall. Her face flushed, and heat crept up her chest to settle in her cheeks. She had not wanted a husband. Especially one with such… legs.

  Even without his touch, she found his very presence distracting. This confirmed her belief that for the time being, there should be no more touching. Touching of the sexual nature, that was, because certainly he had been most kind to treat her wound.

  “It wasn’t precisely a serious injury,” she continued. “Not certain why I fainted.”

&nbs
p; “I suspect you fainted because you’ve never been shot before,” he said.

  “I suppose you might be right,” she said. And if she were completely honest, she’d admit that she was terrified. It helped to have Graeme by her side; his presence had a calming effect. Still, someone had tried to murder her. “Do you know who was trying to kill me?”

  “I have my suspicions,” he said.

  “And?” she asked.

  Graeme stood up from the bed and loomed over her. “I will look into these matters.”

  “You can try to intimidate me, but I am not afraid of you. Besides, I should think I have a right to know considering it was my life in jeopardy.”

  He scowled at her. “I’m not trying to make you afraid of me, but damnation, woman, you should be afraid of something. Anything.” He exhaled. “I have reason to believe that you weren’t the intended target.”

  Vanessa paused and considered his words. But if she weren’t the target, then who was? She’d been standing directly next to—she pushed the covers back and swung her legs off the bed. “You?”

  He nodded once.

  “Who would want to kill you?” She came to her feet and moved to stand beside him. Without thought, she placed her hand on his arm.

  “A bastard.” His jaw tensed, revealing a flicker of anger that seemed to simmer right below his surface.

  “Oh, so generous with your details. Have you considered being a poet?” she asked, infusing her tone with a dose of sarcasm. She crossed her arms over her chest and did her best to glare at him.

  “Very funny,” he said.

  “Was it Niall? Are you trying to protect him?” she asked. There had to be a reason why Graeme was behaving so evasively.

  “No. Suffice it to say I don’t think my cousin held that pistol,” Graeme said. “But I do believe he is part of this somehow. He’s involved with the wrong man. A deadly and ruthless man.”

  “Those men from the cave?” Vanessa asked.

  “I don’t believe they’re connected.” His eyes narrowed, and he looked as if any moment he would slam his fist into something. “But you remember what I told you about those men? That they’re treasure hunters for hire? This other man is like that, only he’s the worst of them. He’s deadly and cruel.”

  “But this other man, is he after the treasure of Loch Ness? Perhaps using Niall to get to it?” she asked.

  Graeme forked his fingers through his hair. The unruly mane curled to just below his shoulders. She knew that it was soft and thick, and she longed to plunge her own hands into it. But touching Graeme was far too dangerous, letting him touch her more dangerous still. She could forget anything in his arms. Forget her fossils, forget her research, forget why she wanted it all to begin with. And then wouldn’t she be just like any other woman in London? A wife who lived for her husband but had no joys of her own? That was terrifying.

  “I think this goes beyond the Loch Ness Treasure. Those other men, now this.” Graeme shook his head. “I think they’re all after the bloody Kingmaker. The lot of them.”

  “Ah, yes, I read those notes. Interesting theories, but I still don’t believe that a supposedly mystical object is somehow going to allow them to dethrone Queen Victoria,” Vanessa said.

  “I’m not certain how the Kingmaker is supposed to dethrone the queen,” he said. “But if this man is truly involved, then he will have no qualms about killing Her Majesty.”

  Vanessa knew such a statement should spread fear through any gentle-bred lady. Of course she was concerned for the safety of Her Majesty and the kingdom; however, she also felt a most unladylike excitement to be involved in this adventure. Here was proof that her mother had always been right about her. She didn’t understand genteel ladies, didn’t precisely belong in their world.

  Thrill or not, Vanessa certainly didn’t want the queen to be harmed. “She is in danger, then,” she said. “Someone must warn her.”

  “I have already sent a warning to Solomon’s, and they will handle matters. And I’ve notified a friend of mine, Fielding, as he has a personal relationship with the gentleman in question,” Graeme said.

  Of course he had already sent warnings. He’d been the one to send notice to her family of her safety and their nuptials, when the thought of that had completely escaped her. She wasn’t certain if she wanted to examine what that said about her.

  “The legend states that once someone has the three stones, the Kingmaker will be complete.” Graeme rubbed at the back of his neck.

  “Right, the three royal stones—King David, King William, and King Robert Bruce,” she said. “Clearly the Loch Ness Treasure is Robert’s stone, because he is the only Scottish king.”

  “I suspect you’re right,” he said.

  “Perhaps what we should do, then, is locate the Loch Ness Treasure ourselves,” Vanessa said. “Before your cousin or that nasty man can get their hands on it. Without that stone, the Kingmaker will be incomplete, correct?”

  He nodded, and a smile played at his lips. “That is precisely what I had been thinking,” he said.

  “Do we know where it is?” she asked. “Other than somewhere in those caves?”

  He smiled, and the devilish nature of the grin seemed to tickle her insides. “No. I believe we might need to borrow my cousin’s notes for that task.”

  “Borrow them?”

  “I have a plan,” he said.

  Vanessa had a plan as well. They still couldn’t get the decoder to work, but she refused to believe that was the only way to decipher the secret text. She hated to do it, but it was time to ask for help. She looked down at the writing in The Magi’s Book of Wisdom and was once again struck by a slight twinge of familiarity. She could swear she’d seen some of the symbols before, but nothing specific came to mind.

  Still, it was enough to spark her curiosity. Perhaps the answer lay somewhere in her father’s library. He had a large number of volumes on many different subjects, and perhaps she could find something of use. Of course she didn’t have access to those books while she was here in Scotland, so she needed a proxy.

  The logical choice for assistance would be Jeremy, but she could not bring herself to ask him for help. Besides, Violet had admitted she’d had a curiosity about their father’s work—Vanessa would let her demonstrate her recently acquired research skills by letting her assist with the code. She scrawled a short note at the top of the parchment without an endearing salutation, a mere plea for assistance and instructions to respond through telegram so that Vanessa would receive it quickly.

  She would have sent this request in the same manner, but she wanted to send along examples of the symbols to aid in the research. Carefully Vanessa mimicked the style of a variety of the drawings. Then she signed the letter and folded it into an envelope. She would send it out now so it made the evening train.

  “Are you certain you feel well enough for this?” Graeme asked for the third time since they had left his mother’s house.

  Vanessa rolled her eyes, though she doubted that he could see her in the black of night. It had been a full day since she’d been injured, and she hadn’t even required stitches. “Yes. I am a touch sore, but otherwise feeling as right as the day is long, as the saying goes.”

  Then she paused before continuing. “I am in no way saying that I do not feel healthy simply because the days here in Scotland this time of year happen to be quite short.”

  He chuckled, and the low rumble of his baritone warmed her insides. He finished tethering their horse to a tree.

  “Careful where you step,” he said. His large hand clasped hers as they made their way through the trees to the back door of Niall’s home.

  From her previous trip here, Vanessa knew the lawn to be well-manicured, in sharp contrast to the wilds of the rest of the landscape in this area. But Niall’s manor house, built of brown brick and accented with ivy climbing up the sides, looked as if someone had picked it up from the English countryside and transplanted it here in the Highlands.

/>   “This way,” Graeme said. “There’s a back door that leads from the gardens directly into a parlor.”

  The gardens, as it were, consisted more of statues than of actual plants. Granted it was quite cold up here, and Vanessa doubted one could have much success with flowers. She followed him to the French doors that led into the house.

  Instead of opening the door, Graeme turned to face her and bent as if requesting a kiss. His breath whispered across her cheek. Her own breathing seemed to stop—as did her heart—as if her very body waited for what he’d do next. Would he ignore her request that he not tempt her with the pleasures of the flesh? But then he stood to full height again, now holding a pin he’d swiped from her hair. He turned back to the door, and a few wiggles of the pin later, the lock released.

  Silently he opened the door, and he and Vanessa slid inside. The parlor was dark, but the lamplight left on in the hall provided enough visibility for them to move through the sitting room.

  Graeme glanced into the hallway before leading her out into it. She recognized it as the main hallway that led directly to Niall’s study. If Niall worked similarly to the manner in which she did, then there was a chance he’d still be awake working through his notes. When they reached the door, Graeme stood still and silent for several moments, simply listening.

  A faint light peeked from below the door. It could be a lamp left burning like the one in the hall, or it could mean that Niall sat in that room reading or working. Nerves beat inside her chest, an internal drum that fired her heart and sped her breathing.

  One second more, and then Graeme opened the door. She knew that he’d tucked a pistol into the waistband of his trousers, but he did not draw the weapon as they entered. A single lamp flickered from the top of Niall’s desk, but no one was inside the room.