The Sinclair Jewels Books One-Three: A Scottish Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Caroline Lee

  He began moving in their direction. Soon the sound of pounding footsteps was accompanied by harsh breathing, the panting of a young lad.

  Jaimie’s stomach climbed into his throat as he began to jog, praying he remembered the dangerous places enough to avoid them. Callan was somewhere ahead, and he was afraid.

  “Callan?” he called. “Are ye hurt? I’m coming, lad!”

  He heard a noise which may have been a whimper or his whispered name, but it was full of fear. The footsteps actually sped up, if possible, and within moments, he saw the lad’s light as he came around a corner ahead.

  “Callan!”

  Oh, thank God, he looks whole.

  The boy crashed into him, and they both held their candles safely away as Jaimie wrapped his free hand around the lad and buried his face in his disheveled hair.

  “I was so worried,” he murmured. “Why did ye come in here alone?”

  Callan began to struggle in his hold, so Jaimie pulled away just enough to see the lad’s face.

  And realized, despite their reunion, Callan was still terrified. Dread washed over Jaimie, making his limbs go numb.

  Agata.

  He forced a breath and tightened his hold on Callan’s shoulder. “What is it, lad?”

  When the boy spoke, it was everything Jaimie had dreaded. “Agata,” he gasped. “That way. She fell.”

  Fell? Dear God, nay!

  Jaimie shoved the boy toward the exit to his solar. “Get help,” he yelled, already running down the passage. “Find a servant and organize—”

  He cut himself off with a curse when he realized Callan was following him.

  “Nay! She said to get ye, Uncle Jaimie, no’ some weak servant!” The boy’s breaths were coming in pants now, but Jaimie understood what he’d said.

  Cannae fault the boy’s loyalty.

  But the terror which had taken hold of his mind as soon as he’d heard Agata had fallen meant he was the weak one. But… but if Agata had told Callan what to do, told him who to fetch, then that meant she was still alive. If she could still speak, there was hope.

  The knowledge gave his legs strength. “Then try to keep up!” he yelled to his nephew as he increased his stride, pounding along the ancient passage.

  He was barely thinking at this point, but some part of his mind—or maybe just his body—remembered the spot in the floor which had given away with such disastrous consequences all those years ago. When he came to the hole, he didn’t bother stopping or bracing against the stone ledge; he just gathered his momentum and leapt, landing solidly on the other side on the firm wood, all without breaking his stride.

  He heard Callan shuffling along behind him across the ledge, and forced himself to slow. If the wood was weaker here, the new damage could be up ahead. But as soon as he heard Callan safely cross, he turned his attention forward once more.

  “Agata?” he called, not even sure if he was expecting a response. “I’m coming!”

  “Jaimie!”

  Her reply was weak and distant, but he could hear her relief. He cursed again and began to run once more.

  “Uncle Jaimie!” Callan had been slowing, so his voice came from farther back. “No’ too far now.”

  The boy’s warning came just in time. Jaimie skidded to a stop as the forward edge of the light he carried illuminated the broken boards where she must’ve fallen. Quickly, he wedged the candle stand against the wall, praying it would continue to provide the light they needed, and threw himself down on his stomach. Hopefully, by distributing his weight that way, no further floorboards would give way.

  “Agata?” he called again, his heart in his throat as he inched his way closer to the hole. “Love, can ye hear me?”

  “Oh, thank ye, Jaimie!”

  He heard her release a breath just as he reached the edge of the rotten section, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

  Agata had fallen, aye, but unlike his fall so many years ago, she hadn’t been able to catch the lip of the boards. Instead, she must’ve thrown out her hands to either side to catch herself. Thank God the passage was so narrow, because she hung, one hand and one foot braced on either wall, above sheer nothingness.

  Her arms were already trembling as she met his eyes. “Tell me ye brought a rope?”

  “Nay.” He quickly shifted forward until his hips held his weight, and his shoulders and head were out over the void. “But I can reach ye if ye give me yer hand,” he said gently, trying to sound confident.

  Her expression turned panicked, and he could tell how difficult this position was for her. “Nay! If I let go, I’ll fall.”

  His smile was forced, but he did his best to keep her calm, holding her beautiful gaze. “Love, I swear to ye, I willnae let ye fall. ’Tis just a wee adventure. In the time it will take ye to swing one arm up toward me, I’ll grab it, and be holding ye before ye could even think about falling.”

  She was silent for a long moment, her eyes studying him. Finally, she took another breath. “Swear it, Jaimie?”

  “I swear it, love,” he answered immediately.

  She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. “I cannae!”

  His heart clenched at her wail. She was so strong, so determined. But now…? Now it was up to him to be in control.

  “Agata, look at me.” At his harsh command, her terrified gaze found his once more. “Ye will grab my hand, do ye hear me? And ye’ll do it when I say so. Understand?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, and he took that as an “aye.”

  “On the count of three, Agata,” he said, keeping his voice hard. “One, two, three!”

  At his command, she took a deep breath and released her hold on the wall. As she lost her grip on the other three points of contact, she swung her hand up toward him, and he knew he had only one moment to get it right.

  He did.

  Their hands clasped, and he used the momentum of her swing to grab her other arm. Her weight pulled him forward, but he grunted and flexed his feet against the passage walls. Then, as he began to pull her upright, he felt something press against his arse and realized Callan had arrived and was helping to anchor him.

  Jaimie couldn’t waste any breath calling encouragement, but he concentrated on lifting Agata from the hole. She helped where she could, kicking against the wall to help push upward.

  And then, with one last heave, she was up and over the lip of the floor. He rolled to one side, dislodging Callan, and pulled her into his arms. With his face buried in the crook of her neck, he breathed in her scent and thanked God for her safety.

  She mumbled something against his neck, but he couldn’t make himself loosen his hold on her.

  “I was so scared,” he admitted in a harsh whisper against her skin. “I was… I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  She was the one who pulled away, but just far enough to peer up at him. “Never? No’ even when Aileen died?”

  At the mention of his mother, Callan whimpered and threw himself at Agata. She wrapped one arm around him while she looked up at Jaimie, who shook his head.

  “Nay.” He took a deep breath and gathered Callan in the circle of his arms as well. With his family safe, he admitted the truth. “I wasnae scared then. I accepted that my fate was what I’d deserved, because I was weak. But I wasnae scared.”

  Smiling, she reached up and cupped his cheek, her fingertips caressing his face. “Ye’re no’ weak, Jaimie Mackenzie. Ye’re the strongest man I ken.”

  He shifted his hold and reached up to grab her hand. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss into her palm. “Only thanks to ye, Agata. I’d be nothing without ye.”

  Miraculously, her smile grew. “Ye ken what that means, do ye no’?”

  He met her eyes and nodded. “Aye,” he breathed. “I love ye. I love ye more than I ever thought I’d love another person.”

  “Good. Because I love ye, too. Ye’re a wonderful man, Jaimie, and I’m proud to be yer wife.”

  In her arms, Callan whimpered and
burrowed his head further in her chest. She chuckled, even while Jaimie was still reeling from her confession.

  “And I love ye, too, wee one,” she said gently to the boy. “That was a verra brave thing ye did, getting yer uncle for me.”

  Jaimie cleared his throat, knowing the lad needed praise. “Aye, Callan. I’ll always be in yer debt, for saving Agata.” His gaze crept back to hers. “Truly, wife? Ye love me?”

  Her fingers were still wrapped in his, but she managed to twist until they were intertwined. “Truly. I love ye, husband. And ye too, Callan.” She dropped a kiss to the lad’s head. “Ye both are my southern treasures.”

  The phrase made Jaimie frown in confusion. “Yer what?”

  For the first time, Callan pulled away and sat up. Without his weight on them both, Agata pushed herself upright as well, as Jaimie helped. The lad was obviously eager to participate.

  “Aunt Jean always talks about the treasure in the southern lands.”

  “Aye,” Agata said, laughing as she grabbed the lad’s hand in her free one. “And to a Sinclair, every land is a southern land! So I just meant—”

  When she sucked in a sudden breath and her eyes went wide, Jaimie actually tensed, looking for the new danger. But she just stared over his shoulder, as if entranced. He actually twisted around, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had captured her attention, but had no luck.

  “Agata?” he asked gently.

  “I just…” As if in a daze, her eyes landed on his once more. “I figured it out,” she whispered. “What if… what if the saying is true?”

  Callan gave a little bounce. “Ye mean there really is a treasure?”

  “Aye.” She nodded and gave a wry laugh. “I made a promise not to tell, but while dangling helplessly and near death, I made another promise to myself to tell both of ye.”

  “Tell us! Tell us!” the boy begged.

  Jaimie listened to her tell him the oddest story of missing jewels and a clan on the brink of disaster.

  When she was finished, Callan sat stunned, but Jaimie shook his head. “What does this tale have to do with aught?”

  “When we found the tapestry, we confronted our old nurse. She confirmed that our grandmother had given her the tapestry and entrusted its care to her. We were convinced there was a clue there, and we’d be able to find the jewels and restore our clan’s glory.”

  “And were ye?”

  Callan sighed in exasperation. “Of course, Uncle Jaimie. That’s why she’s here!”

  When he raised his brow in question, Agata smiled and nodded. “We discovered this at the same time I found my marriage contract. No’ only that, but the only word on the tapestry was the Mackenzie name. So I kenned that by coming here, I could fulfill my duty to my father and find a possible link to the missing jewels!”

  Jewels. Wasn’t that what she was called? The Sinclair daughters were their father’s jewels. As far as he was concerned, she was far more precious than any missing brooch.

  “And now?” he asked doubtfully.

  “And now,” she repeated in a breathless whisper, “I think I have found the link!”

  “My aunt’s saying?”

  When she shook her head, her honey-blonde hair whisked around her shoulders. “No’ just yer aunt, but yer brother as well. Jean told me it was something her grandmother used to say, aye? But I’ve never heard it beyond yer family. What if ’tis a clue?”

  Callan gasped. “The same as the tapestry? Someone left ye a trail? Southern lands? Ye have to go to the Sutherlands next!”

  Agata nodded, as excited as the seven-year-old. “The Sutherlands have the jewels!”

  “Actually…” Jaimie hardly dared to whisper the tendril of thought which snaked through his memory at that moment. Something innocuous, something he’d seen every day… “They might not.”

  Unwilling to say more in case just by speaking the idea he made it untrue, he reached for the candle holder and stood, holding one hand out to his wife. He gently lifted her to her feet, feeling the way her muscles shuddered after their ordeal. Holding her close, he watched Callan scramble to his feet, then jerked his head to tell the boy to lead them back.

  They moved deliberately, with Jaimie taking special care of Agata, in case it was too much for her. But of course, he needn’t worry, she was strong. When it came time to cross the hole Jaimie had made all those years ago, she went with only a small whimper. It was hard to allow her to step out again, but Jaimie was by her side, whispering encouragements.

  I love ye. I love ye.

  Her words thrummed through his mind in time with his own heartbeat as the trio shuffled silently through the passageways. No one spoke, all too intent on discovering Jaimie’s secret, and he prayed he wasn’t wrong.

  The door to his solar was still open, and Callan slipped through, then held it wider for them. Which was good, because Jaimie couldn’t seem to let Agata go. With his arm around her waist and her pressed up against him, he felt… whole. And not the way he’d felt last night, bollocks-deep in her. Nay, this was something more. Something more meaningful.

  I love ye. I love ye.

  With a deep breath, he released her, allowing her to slide to the high-backed chair which used to be David’s. She should be shivering, but she was too strong for that. Her bright eyes, with their flecks of gold, turned to him in excitement.

  “Jaimie?” she prompted him.

  Instead of answering, he turned to the desk and began sweeping away the scrolls and documents Edward had left for him. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed ahold of the ancient carved map and dragged it closer to his family.

  “Oh!” Callan exclaimed, bouncing in excitement. “I ken this!” He spoke to Agata as one finger stabbed at the various delineations. “Uncle Jaimie taught me the clans with this. See? This is us! And the MacLeods are up here, and this is the MacDonells and the Rosses here.”

  “And this,” Jaimie said softly, knocking on the wooden area between the Mackenzies and the Sinclairs, “is the Sutherlands.”

  “The Sutherlands,” Agata breathed, leaning forward to peer at what had once been a beautifully painted piece of art. “The southern lands.” Her hands hovered above the wood, as if afraid to touch it. “Do ye think… it’s there?”

  “This was the map my father used to learn the clans from his father. Boundaries have changed, and the paint’s worn off,” Jaimie used his thumbnail to scrape off a blue flake, “but ’tis been in my family for generations. The same as the saying.”

  “Mayhap for as long as the Sinclair jewels have been missing!” Agata smiled.

  And despite his efforts not to get his hopes up, Jaimie found himself smiling in return. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Callan bounced again. “Do it! Do it!”

  Jaimie slid his dagger from his belt and handed it, hilt first, to Agata. “Ye do the honors, love. I ken what I can do with these fingers now… and what I cannae do.”

  When he winked at her, she blushed, and it made his heart soar.

  Taking the dagger, she leaned over the map, her delicate touch tracing the deeply inscribed borders of each clan. “I think…” She licked her lips and peered closer, intent on the mystery. “I think ye’re right, Jaimie.”

  With a deep breath, she carefully pressed the tip of the dagger into one of the indentions, and—miracle of miracles—wiggled it!

  All three of them sucked in gasps as she pressed gently on the dagger’s hilt. With a creak of wood, the Sutherland borders gave way, and a piece of the map popped off.

  He could see her hands shaking as she reached into the hole left in the map. It wasn’t very deep. Nay, it was just deep enough and just wide enough—thanks to the Sutherland’s wide territory—to contain a linen-wrapped something. He watched her place it over the Lowlands and began slowly unpeeling the wrapping.

  Both he and Callan were leaning over the mysterious package when she, at last, revealed the contents, and both of them reared back in disbelief. For her part,
Agata’s whispered, “Aye!” told him she’d never doubted.

  Sitting there in the midst of creamy linen was the largest, roundest agate he’d ever seen. Easily three or four times the size of a man’s thumbnail, it was the exact same sable-and-gold shade as his wife’s eyes. It must’ve taken a master craftsman many days to fashion such a perfect circle from an unblemished stone.

  With shaking hands, Agata slowly picked up the jewel and closed her fingers around it, as much as she was able to. Her breathing was slow and steady as she turned wonder-filled eyes up at Jaimie.

  “Ye found it, husband,” she whispered. “My jewel!”

  The laughter burst out of him with his breath, and he reached down to pull her into his arms. “That rock can be yer jewel, wife, but I’ve found my jewel right here.”

  She was laughing with him, although he didn’t know if it was in relief or joy. “I love ye, Jaimie Mackenzie!”

  “And I love ye, my strong wife. Thank ye for making me the man I am.”

  She cupped his cheek, sobering slightly. “I didnae, husband. Ye’ve been that man all along. I just reminded ye he was there.”

  God, how he loved this woman. Staring down at her, he knew he might struggle, knew he might fall… but with her by his side, he’d always be improving. “I love ye,” he whispered again. “Ye’ve made my life perfect.”

  When his lips claimed hers, Callan made gagging noises in the background, and that was perfect, too.

  Epilogue

  The summer sun shown gaily through the window in her husband’s solar, but Agata had still lit the candles to better illuminate her work. She was bent over the desk, the pot of glue mixed with white paint by her elbow, and she hummed as she applied the next layer of base to the ancient map. With Jaimie’s permission, she’d sanded the remains of the paint off, and was preparing the family heirloom to be repainted.

  By her.

  The knowledge this map would be used by future generations made her throat tighten with emotion. Painting was so important to her, and once she’d been able to share it with Jaimie and Callan, her two loves, she didn’t think she’d be more satisfied. But by performing this restoration, her work would be seen for many, many years.