Amber (Jewel Trilogy, Book 3) (29 page)

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.

I reckon I'll give you a few years before I go hunting for a way to keep those hands tied up and both of mine free.

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!"

Trick reached to put 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 warm 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 lock, 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." He handed it 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 stepped closer to Trick, his face looking sallow in the light from the candle in his 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 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. But that doesn't change the fact that I must get home. And, hearts 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 she knew him better than he knew himself. 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. God willing, 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 seductive 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 made her feel a little better, but his gaze on the manacles had the opposite effect, even more so when the hot look he shot her made her knees go weak.

Memories flooded:
The things I say are nothing compared to the things I'll do... There are other ways we can pleasure each other... Look at me, lass...

She shook away the images playing in her head. Knowing the way his mind worked, whatever he was thinking was most likely wicked, and she had no business being intrigued by that. Her brothers had always warned her that her adventurous nature would lead her to nothing but trouble.

"Kendra?" Her gaze snapped to his. She thought he sounded entirely too pleased with himself as his eyes burned a path down her body. "We'd better start looking."

Maybe she was only imagining it all, but the heat pooling in her center...that wasn't her imagination. In a dungeon, for God's sake. She shook herself again. "What are we looking for?"

"Hell if I know. A clue."

He slowly traversed one side of the room while she paced the other. Gingerly touching the cold instruments of torture worked well to dispel inappropriate feelings. 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. "I'll be damned. 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?"

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." Warmth 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 his wife. He needed her more than he'd like to admit.

Thank God she was here. He gave her a wavery smile, and her lips curved in return. He wanted to kiss them. Hell, 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. Sweet Mary, 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 hurt.

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."