A Highland Folly (14 page)

“Someone here agreed to the project? Who?”

“Your good mayor welcomed the surveyors and urged them to the build the bridge here instead of on the other side of the ridge.” He laughed tightly. “You look shocked.”

“I am. Mrs. Tawes has been one of the most verbal opponents of the project.”

He gave her an ironic grin. “So, in order to keep harmony within his home, Tawes has changed his mind. That explains many things.” Taking her hand again, he added, “Now let us visit this den that the rapscallions have made their own.”

Striding upward through the ungrazed field, Anice was glad Lucais was coming with her. She was not sure who had been carrying a lantern among the ruins. She wanted to investigate and escape unseen. She had noticed no one lurking about the castle during the daylight hours but honestly had to own that she had not thought about anyone intruding before she saw the lights. Her jaw tightened as she reminded herself that she had every right to enter the castle whenever and with whomever she pleased. Dhùin Liath belonged to the Kinlochs.

Lucais sensed Anice's tension but said nothing as he stared at the castle. He had never guessed he would enter it. Only Kinlochs should come here to this absurd memorial to past glories that had been long forgotten. As they edged around the fallen stones from the wall that once must have surrounded the inner courtyard, he knew he was not the first unexpected encroacher into this beloved monument that was visible from anywhere in the glen.

He saw footprints among the mud near the gray stones that were etched with stains from a recent storm. Boots, if he was not mistaken. When Anice's fingers tightened around his, he guessed that she had seen them as well.

He looked past the stones to where the keep rose in majestic defiance to time's ravages. The tower at the corner of the remaining wall beyond it tipped at an almost impossible angle. He did not share Anice's optimism about it staying upright once the blasting neared Dhùin Liath.

“It looks worse as you near it,” Anice said, her voice hushed.

“Where could a cabal convene here?”

“This way.”

Lucais followed Anice to the gaping hole where a wooden door once had stood. Remnants of a rusted portcullis had been pushed back onto the stone floor. Picking his way through its sharp edges, which threatened to catch his boots and trip him, he sneezed.

“It is dusty in here,” warned Anice with a laugh.

“I noticed.” Quickly he scanned what once must have been the great hall. The ceiling far above was supported by massive timbers. Only the door offered any light, and shadows claimed the corners.

She went to what appeared to be a cairn and groped inside it. Smiling, she pulled out a lantern. Her expression hardened as she shook it. “Someone has been using this. I refilled it earlier this month when I came up here to look for a wayward ewe. It is nearly empty.”

“Is there enough?”

“I hope so. We need not explore all of the keep.” She met his gaze steadily. “What I am going to show you, no one beyond the Kinloch family knows.”

He took the lantern from her and lit it. “I am honored.”

“This is no joke, Lucais!”

“Are you still prattling about the treasure that is hidden here?”

“You may not believe it, but others may.”

“Do you?” He was amazed. Anice had seemed to be immune to the fancies that infected so many Highlanders as they dreamed of what could have been if the English had been defeated at Culloden. “This is silly.”

“Mayhap. Mayhap not. Just do not wander off. Please, Lucais.”

He frowned as he drew her closer. The tension along her lithe form revealed that she meant her words. Putting the lantern on a stone by what once had been a hearth, he smoothed her unruly hair back from her face. Gently he tipped her face upward as he whispered, “I would be delighted to please you.”

The noise of two rocks clicking together stiffened Anice in Lucais's arms. She nodded in response to his unspoken question. Someone else was there.

He blew out the lantern and started to set it back in the cairn. Taking it, Anice slipped her hand into his. She went slowly across the uneven floor, sliding her feet in the hope of discerning any holes before they tripped. When she whispered to turn right, her soft words echoed along the empty hallway they entered.

Musty coolness met them, allowing them reluctantly into the murk that eased as they passed narrow arrow slits. The odor of rot rose. She listened for another sound to identify where the intruder might be. Sliding her hand along the wall, which was as dry as the bones of the dead Kinlochs who once had lived here, she ignored the squeaking of a rat.

When Lucais paused and touched tatters hanging on the wall, she whispered, “I think it was once a tapestry. There are others in better shape … elsewhere.”

“With the treasure?”

“Do not be ludicrous. I meant in another wing of the keep.” She shivered. “I wish I had brought my gun with me.”

“To what end? To shoot whoever is here?”

“I would not shoot anyone!”

“Then don't bring a gun with you. That's nothing but an invitation for disaster.”

She frowned. “I thought I might scare anyone who dared to come here enough so he would think twice before returning.”

“Or create more of a catastrophe by firing a gun at someone you know.” He smiled without humor. “I find my wits are better in circumstances like this.”

“As long as
he
does not have a gun.”

Tugging on her hand, he pulled her along the hall. “Let's hope your caller here is as sensible as I am, or simply such a penurious Scot that he or she does not want to waste a ball on me and you.”

Anice did not reply. Beneath her feet, the crackle of dried grass and half-eaten nuts was announcing their passage to anyone who might be trying to avoid them. The light from the windows threw their shadows along the wall. Flapping wings overhead warned her to cover her head as bats flew past them.

“Nice place you have here, Anice.” Lucais laughed. “I think you need to invite people in more often to keep your pets away.”

“As I told you, no one is supposed to be here but a Kinloch.” She pointed to the left. “This way, but you must never reveal to anyone what I am going to show you or the way to get there.”

Lucais scanned the wall, but there seemed to be no break in the pattern of the broad stones. “Where?”

“This way.” She laughed.

Anice ran her fingers along the wall in the pattern that her grandmother had explained in the letter that had come with the copy of her will, leaving the obligations of this castle and Ardkinloch to her only son's daughter. When she jumped back as a section of the wall swung open to reveal a hidden passage, Lucais breathed an oath.

“You think they might be using
this
as a secret meeting place?” he asked.

“Only if one of the Kinlochs showed this to them.”

“You sound as if you are trying to prove they are involved.”

“I have to be certain,” she said as she held up the lamp so he could relight it, “that they are not.”

Anice walked cautiously down the stairs. Although she had come here soon after her arrival in Scotland to discover what lay beyond the false wall, she did not trust her toes to find the way on the crumbling steps. Mortar trickled away beneath her feet to tumble down into the darkness. She stepped through the low door at the base of the stairs and held up the lantern so Lucais knew to duck.

Then she turned and raised the lantern again so the light could sweep the room. With a relieved sigh she said, “Thank heavens! It is undisturbed.”

“What is undisturbed?”

Anice offered him the lantern. “Look for yourself.”

“By gravy!” he gasped as he walked to a huge stone table that was set in the middle of the octagonal room. He bent to touch the faceted gems that were set into the stone and brushed away dirt to discover gilt beneath it. “It is true! There is a treasure in Dhùin Liath!”

“The gems are glass,” she said with a soft laugh, “although the gilt may be real. But that is not why it is important to the Kinlochs. My grandmother's will explained that no one shall claim this land except a Kinloch as long as this remains here. The table was set here when the castle was raised in the time of Gileskel Kinloch, in the years before Robert the Bruce became King Robert the First of Scotland.”

He grinned. “Spare me the history lesson, Anice. Rather, tell me how you found this.”

“It was part of the obligation my grandmother bequeathed to me.” She shivered, because the room was damp and chilly. “I am to guard this legacy, allowing no one who would endanger the family to know of it.”

“You have told me.”

Her smile wavered. “I should have been brave enough to come here alone, but I did not want to chance meeting someone who did not want to be met here.”

“That is the wisest thing I have heard you say today.”

“But no one is here, so the one carrying the lantern might not have been one of my cousins.”

“We have proven nothing but that no one has come here but us.”

Anice set the lantern on a stone that had tumbled away from the others. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

He caught her face in his hands. She gasped, astounded by the fire in his touch and in his eyes. “Irritation is not the passion I am trying to inflame in you.”

He lifted her hand and brushed it with his lips. She could not move, could barely breathe. Her lips parted when he bent over her hand again.

She gripped his shirt as she struggled to resist the powerful pulses racing through her as he kissed her palm with an eagerness that warned her that he yearned to kiss her far more intimately. When he lured her finger into his mouth to caress it with his tongue, she moaned with the craving she could not govern. Her fingers combed upward through his raven hair, delighting in it slithering between them.

Instantly she realized her foolhardiness. His arm around her waist tugged her to him. Trying to pull away, she turned her face as his lips neared hers.

“Do not be afraid of a kiss,” he murmured, “when it could be so splendid.”

“I am not afraid.” Stepping away, she was surprised when he released her. Had she misread the longing in his touch? No, for she could not mistake the regret in his sigh. “I do not want you to kiss me.”

“That is a lie.”

“I do not appreciate being called a liar.”

He cocked a challenging eyebrow at her. “Even when you are lying?”

“'Tis no lie that I do not want you to kiss me.” Her assertion was countermanded by her trembling voice.

“Then, what
do
you want?”

Anice wrapped her arms around herself. “I don't know.”

“Another lie.”

“No!” She met his eyes steadily.

“Let me prove it to you.”

“Lucais—”

With a triumphant laugh, he slanted his mouth over hers. The soft sound of her protest became an eager sigh as a flame burst to life within her, urging her closer. Slipping her fingers beneath his loose collar, she stroked his nape, then along his shoulders. His rough skin covered muscles that moved enticingly as his arm slipped around her, tightening to pull her up against his chest. Every breath she took, every beat of her heart, matched the rhythm of his.

Eyes closed, she tilted her head as his lips traced rapture along her neck. She quivered, unable to stifle the delight dissolving her against him. Her arms swept up his back when he bent to taste the skin visible above her open collar. His breath burning on her skin was as uneven as her own.

His hands edged her face again as he raised his mouth. With his thumbs caressing her cheeks, he whispered, “You see? You were lying. You, sweet lady of Dhùin Liath, are my reward for—” The lantern flickered and nearly went out.

“We must get back up to daylight before it vanishes altogether,” Anice said, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. As they hurried up the stairs, she added, “What I have shared with you today, no one else must know about.”

He whirled her into his arms at the top of the steps. “No one shall, sweetheart.” His lips seared across hers.

Grasping his arms, she pushed herself out of his embrace. She did not want to leave, but she must say this. He must understand.

“Lucais, promise me that you will not show anyone else what I have shown you. Please.” She tapped the wall in the pattern that made it close.

He slowly turned her to face him. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I want to!” The words burst from her, as sharp as the pain slicing into her heart. She spun away and almost tripped over something on the floor.

He caught her arm and steadied her. Then he bent to pick up a piece of wood.

She stared at the spade on one end of the shaft. “Oh, my!”

“Yes, oh, my,” he muttered.

“It is one of yours, isn't it?”

“Yes.” His eyes slitted. “How did you know?”

“No crofter would abandon a perfectly good shovel here.”

“And Dhùin Liath makes an excellent hiding place for what the vandals have stolen.” He picked up the sputtering lantern. “That answers one question, doesn't it?”

“And creates more.”

“Many more.”

Ten

Anice heard the shouts. Looking out her window, she stared at the dark clouds rising from the valley.

“Fire!” shouts came from everywhere in the house and from beyond the window.

She moaned in horror. She had thought it had been dust from the work on the embankment for the bridge. Now she saw the angry orange flames at the base of the smoke. The road workers' camp must be on fire. Running out onto the narrow balcony beyond the French windows in the parlor, she yelled toward the kitchen garden.

“Gather everyone and bring any buckets you can find quickly,” she ordered before hurrying back into house. Calling more orders to the household, she raced toward the door.