Sarah Gabriel (26 page)

Elspeth sighed. “Perhaps we will never find it.”

Gently he set his arm around her shoulders. “But we are handfasted now, and that alone was worth the climb up here.”

“Aye,” she said. “Worth more than agates and granite layers?”

He pressed his lips against her hair. “I know you are disappointed, love.”

“A bit,” she said, keeping secret her remaining dread over her upcoming birthday, and the possible trouble that could result from that in two days. “Well, Grandda will know what to do. He made the bargain with the fairies when I was born. Should we go back now?”

“No one expects us for a while yet,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “And we are so nicely alone here, with plenty of time on our hands, it seems.”

He flexed his fingers on her arms and skimmed his hands downward. The shivers she felt then were the delicious, enticing sort. She rested her hands on his chest, feeling a wonderful, tender pulsing inside, in rhythm with her quickening heart.

“We do seem to be very alone here,” she said. “No smugglers. No treasure.”

“No fairies but the one in my arms,” James whispered, laughing softly, the dark velvety sound thrilling through her. Elspeth laughed, too, a mixture of relief and arousing interest. She pressed closer as his arms encircled her, and he kissed her, deep and slow.

When he slid his hand under the blanket over her shoulders, he pushed it to drop it away to the ground. Then he reached out and set the flaming candle on a natural niche in the rock wall. Breathing deep and quick in sudden anticipation, Elspeth shrugged off her plaid shawl and began to unbutton her dark green spencer, letting it drop down with the plaid. The neckline of her gray gown was low enough to show the ruched layer of her shift and lace-edged corset beneath, and James reached out to trace his fingers over her collarbones, sliding his fingertip into the hint of the dip between her breasts showing just above her underthings.

She lifted her hand to his chest and felt the heartbeat all through him like thunder, and stepped close again. He opened his arms and drew her into his embrace.

“What is this?” he asked, low and husky, nuzzling his lips against her hair, her cheek. Lifting her face to his, she felt sultry with early excitement. “What sort of treasure hunting do you have in mind, madam?”

“Did you know,” she whispered, “that handfasting is legal in Scotland by the old laws, but is not a true marriage until it is consummated? Until then, it is no more binding than an engagement.”

“Consummation,” he murmured, “is a lovely idea.
We should remedy the situation before any more time slips past us.”

“Are you sure we really have time here?” she whispered against his lips.

“Absolutely,” he answered, slipping his mouth to her ear, blowing soft there, so that she groaned a little, arching against him. “It is as if time has slowed inside this place, do you feel it?”

She closed her eyes, breathed. She did feel it—whether it was magic or pent-up desire, or the relief of finding nothing to threaten them here, she sensed it—a leisure, a relaxing of time, especially now that there was no hint of treasure, and nowhere else to look, or to go, for now. She would have to sincerely trust that all would be well, a revelation of sorts to her, but the fear and concern lifted, dissolved. She wondered, once she set foot outside this almost magical cavern, if it would return.

He kissed her then, and thoughts vanished like shadows before light. She bent back her head to accept it, sighing, feeling so good and so safe, no matter where they were—she was with James, and she felt loved and cherished, body and soul. And strangely, it was as if the intimate space in the rock had opened just for them, with time dissolving away, and passion warming the atmosphere.

When he kissed her again, she felt a tenderness so strong that her limbs trembled as if they might melt, hot and buttery, and no longer support her. Moaning, she let her knees sink, and James sank with her to the plaids on the ground, still warm from her body. From the press of his hard length against her own, she knew that he felt as she did, growing urgent with passion.

He cupped her jaw, traced his fingers down her throat and over her upper chest, so that her heart leaped. She arched, hungry for more, savoring his lips, the supple touch of tongue to tongue, the graze of his fingertips over throat and collarbone, all of it made her breath catch, her heart pound. When his hand moved down over her bodice, she moaned softly, moved toward him.

His hands were compelling, gentle, and desire went through her like lightning. She pressed her hips against him, aware of the hard evidence that he wanted her as much as she ached for him. Handfasted, married, they were pledged, and she felt such a surge of love and compassion for him that it nearly started tears in her eyes.

She slipped her hands over his shoulders, and up, sinking her fingers into his thick chestnut, gilded hair. There were no words to express what she felt in that moment, and she could only let hands, lips, body tell him what she felt.

His fingers found the hidden buttons of the front flap of her bodice, and she sucked in a breath, anticipating, as he drew away the cloth and slipped his fingers over the chemise beneath, his fingers working deftly at her short corset. Finally, at the exquisite touch of his fingers over breast, she moaned softly, breath coming faster. Her nipples pearled for him, and when he bent to touch his lips to her breast, she clung to him, running her fingers deep in his hair.

“James,” she whispered, “this is right, what we have done, marrying between us. It will make us safe forever; I feel it is so.”

He lifted his head to kiss her, drew back. “Aye,” he said, and took her down to the hard earth, and the
pile of plaids hastily spread there. “And we will make sure of it.”

Passion rocked through him, all the feeling he had saved for her, and all the deepest emotions so long restrained, years of it coming to the surface now like steam, for she fired his blood, his soul, and drove him to come out of himself, to open mind and heart. No other woman would ever have done that for him—she delighted him beyond measure. He kissed her, driven mad by her sweet, lush charm, by the delicate flowery scent of her hair, the warmth of her arms around him, the taste of her lips, her skin. She opened her mouth for him, and he tasted the inner moisture there, and when she pressed her body against his, he pulsed so hard, so hot for her, only for her.

She held magic in her—she was like magic, and a miracle, to him. She kept his soul bright, made his blood pulse, had done so since the first. He swept his hand over her breast, and she breathed against his mouth, and he ached deeply, hardened further for her.

He adored her, wanted her so intensely that it whirled through him like a storm. The urgency of the desire built inside him, yet he knew they had only moments here, and must return soon. But he could no longer restrain his desires, and she wanted this, too, as he did, and with these moments of peace and privacy in this strangely enchanted place, he would take her, and give to her.

“Ellie,” he whispered into her small and perfect ear. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, put her hands to his face, kissed him, and it was all the answer he needed. Tenderness
whirled through him like a thrill, head to sole, and he pulled her to him, and their kisses went to wildness, fiery and deep as fine whiskey, the fire sinking straight to his heart, and into his soul.

Moving a little, lying beside her, he braced his back against cool, dark rock, and felt himself draw strength from its massiveness, the nature of rock in harmony with his own nature, silent, restrained, patient. She leaned against him, and he slid his hands down to her hips, up and under her skirts, pushing cloth aside, felt her hands tugging at his own clothing. He slid his long fingers over the incredible softness of her bare hips, and pressed her tightly against his aching hardness, though he slowed himself deliberately, not wanting to rush her or this moment for them both.

But she was impatient, capricious, slanting herself against him, boldly, so that he could feel against him the soft place his body sought, and he near went wild, dipping his head against her shoulder, breath coming fast, so fast. “Love me,” she whispered against his hair. “Love me now, here, for tomorrow everything could change forever.”

He groaned soft, hearing those words, understanding the sadness and the joy in them, and he flared his fingers over her slender hips, and pulled her against him. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him, deep, tender, till he knew he would burst without her, and he lifted her slightly and she knew, she opened for him, warm and moist, and he surged into her, deep and sure, honey and fire. She moaned against his mouth, and he felt all the desire he had saved for her sweeping, pouring through him like a torrent, and he moved slowly, carefully.

When she found the rhythm of it and pushed
against him, he felt himself sink deeper, thrusts powered by his love for her, his utter need for her, body and soul. As she shuddered sweetly against him, pent-up need and fire burst through him, taking him past time and reason, into pure feeling like iron in a forge. Her mouth moved over his, silently pleading, and he kissed her, taking her breath into himself and giving her his own.

“T
here’s no trace of a legendary treasure here,” James said. “But the place is a great geological find.” He held Elspeth’s hand as they walked out to the outer cave again. While the caves held no promise of fairy gold and only ordinary traces of smugglers, he was excited at the reliable geological evidence, and planned to return. Every moment here, for him, had been worthwhile, for he had found his bride as well. Fairy or none, he knew this was right, between them, and he felt deeply grateful for that.

“We could search the smugglers’ things before we go,” she suggested. “Perhaps they’ve hidden something away.” She hefted the blue agate in her hand, and lifted it. “Why would my father leave us a clue that led to this cave—and then nothing?”

“Well, the agate led to more agate. Very well, no more talk of rocks,” he said, when Elspeth slid him a glance. He ran a hand through his hair, considering her question, his fingers still entwined with hers. “I wish I had an answer.”

“Perhaps we should go now,” she said, sounding weary and discouraged. “The others will wonder if
we do not meet them in another hour or so. At least we have some plain crystals and small green agates to bring back to them,” she added, smiling.

He did not like seeing her defeated, but he did not know how to help her find what she most wanted. And the blue agate still puzzled him—it had seemed a deliberate resemblance, but now it was indecipherable, beyond the entrance to the cave. Perhaps he would discover a pocket of blue agate on his return here—he certainly hoped so.

“Give me a few moments to record some geological information, if you will,” he said, and left her to fetch his leather satchel. Rummaging for the notebook and pencil, he resumed note taking. “A good deal of trap rock under all,” he murmured, jotting down further thoughts, “with much of the interior walls formed of limestone. Evidence of shell fossils even at first glance.” He looked over at Elspeth. “We should bring my sister here some other time, to look at the fossils. Her eye for those is much better than mine.”

“We may as well bring her up here. The place seems safe enough. Even the fairies are not here. I wonder why Grandda said they were here. Perhaps they inhabit some other part of the mountainside, far below these caves.”

James hardly heard her, scribbling more thoughts. “In the smaller, inner cave, there are traces of granite composite, with rock quartz, feldspar, mica,” he said to himself. “Basalt, other compressed rock. Flecks of crystal formations throughout. Heat once occurred beneath the limestone layers, as the inner cave is set well below the outer one, with a subterranean passage closed off, but pitted with niches
where crystals occur. Pocket formations indicate bubbles in ancient lava or magma flow. Good green agate…”

Elspeth waited patiently as he wrote down the rest of his observations. “You and Fiona can come back here later, James,” she said finally. “Oh—I left my bonnet.” She disappeared into the smaller chamber, walking down the rocky slope there.

After tucking away his things, James left his leather satchel and his walking stick with Elspeth’s by the outer entrance, along with her plaid shawl and his coat, and then he walked back to find her. He did not see her in the small chamber, and for a moment panicked, until he noticed her on her hands and knees in a dark corner.

“James,” she said. “Come look! I found another little cave here. There’s an opening, but these rocks are in the way.”

He joined her, bending low to look past her. Several rocks were piled up near a low cleft in the wall, and Elspeth was trying to shove one of them out of the way. The rocks were not large—no bigger than bread loaves and Yule puddings, most of them, and some were dark and quite lightweight, while others were surprisingly heavy, given their size. He had expected them to be made up of limestone or shale, but on closer inspection, he realized that these were odd, indeed, for this area of the cave.

“What the devil—these rocks are mica, schist, biotite,” he muttered. “Much of them are iron ore, all stacked here. It is not a natural rockfall, given the other rock in here. I believe your smugglers mean to hide something. They’ve blocked off the opening. Per
haps they have a little niche here for their best fairy whiskey—or French gold.”

“Gold?” Elspeth looked up.

“New-minted coin,” he said wryly. “Earned by smugglers. No fairy treasure, I’m afraid. What in thunderation is this,” he said under his breath, and guided her out of his way so that he could shift more stones. “Light the oil lamp on that ledge, my darling.”

She hastened to do that, using the flint from his leather pouch, and came back with the smugglers’ lantern glowing in her hand. James took the light and held it close to the rocks that he had shifted, and the ones still piled up against the back wall.

“Someone has piled mica, biotite, and even chunks of hematite—pure iron ore—against this crevice. Well, they must have had it to hand, and it makes an effective barrier. Here, roll this away. Do you have the strength? Aye, bonny girl,” he murmured, as he and Elspeth began to move the stones out of the way. He took the lamp again and got down on his knees. With several of the stones cleared away, he saw that the opening was large enough and deep enough for a person to pass through.

Kneeling, he leaned into the opening, shining the light around. And suddenly, as if the very earth gave way beneath him, he was sliding, tumbling, striving to hold the lantern without dropping it, as he fell into blackness.

Elspeth screamed behind him and he felt her grab for his shirt and miss, and he knew she fell after him. He slid over rough stone, pitted and studded and toothy, and came to a stop on a fairly level surface. Elspeth tumbled down after him, knocking into him, and with one hand he helped her right herself. Then
he came to his knees, still holding the lantern, which thankfully had not spilled.

The light glowed in a small space, like a snug pocket in the greater rock, no bigger than the most snug of cottages. Tall as he was, he would not be able to stand upright. Elspeth, however, did, brushing at her skirts, gasping a little after her fall.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. He lifted the lantern high, and looked around. “My God,” he said.

All around, studded in the curving walls and ceiling of the pocket, were crystals and gems, glittering in prisms and rainbows of sparkling color.

Elspeth slowly turned. “What is this place?” she asked. “Where are we?”

“A natural gem pocket, I believe,” he said. He stood, forced to crouch down, and he went round the little space, running his hand over the walls, holding the lantern up. Elspeth took the lantern from him and held it high so that he could look in more detail.

“Aye,” he said. “Tourmaline in a range of colors, natural clear crystal—look at this,” he said, and snapped off a crystal rod a couple of inches long, and handed it to her, a pure and sparkling thing. “And this.” He took the small chisel from his pocket and with another wrench and snap, he held out a glowing purple stone. “Amethyst.”

“All in one place?” she asked. “How can that be?”

“They are all crystals, formed in a bubble in the earth, planted and growing here in the rock bed over eons. Crystal quartz, tourmaline, amethyst…beryl…aquamarine…” He named them as he found them, each a different color, while Elspeth held up the light.

“Amazing,” she said. “Beautiful.”

“It is astonishing to find them all here like this, so pure and in such variety, in such profusion and size. Yet it is geologically possible.” He crouched. “We need to be careful of the sharp points of the crystals underfoot as we walk—and do not kneel, or it will hurt. And we’d best not crush or break them, though some will naturally snap free with even the lightest step.” He examined some crystals he had pried loose, and scattered them on the rock floor, where they gleamed like a royal ransom.

A chill of realization went through her. “This place…is like a treasure chest.”

“It is,” he agreed, and stood. “My God, it is indeed. A living treasure hoard, a subterranean chamber, held in the earth itself all this time.”

“Could it be?” She knew he would understand, and he nodded.

“Aye,” he said thoughtfully. “Aye, it could be that indeed. Perhaps it was not a treasure chest we were searching for all along, but a treasure chamber. A pocket mine, filled with natural gemstones.”

“But if this is it, and my grandfather said they have a portal to their world somewhere in these caves, then it was never hidden. I do not understand.”

“Fairies need not be the explanation. This is a very exciting geological discovery. And I’ll find you a gem for the ring that I owe you now.” He smiled, and held out his hand to show her a gleaming, perfect amethyst, and another glittering aquamarine. “If these do not suit, we will keep looking.”

She gasped at their beauty, then stopped as another thought came to her. “James, what if this place was hidden deliberately, to keep anyone from finding these
beautiful stones? What if it was hidden from the fairies themselves?”

He frowned, considering. She thought he would point out the lack of logic in her question, but instead he went back to the ramp down which they had fallen. She saw that it was not so difficult to climb back up, which was a relief—she had wondered how they would manage to get out of the jeweled cave.

He quickly made his way up the rampart, and eased through the small opening, leaving her alone in the pocket. “Just a moment,” he called back.

Shortly after that, he came back, walking half-crouched down the little ramp this time. He sat on a crude ledge in the rock, while she stood with the lantern. “It must have been the iron,” he said.

“Iron? I do not understand.”

“Donal said an ancestor of his stole the treasure and hid it away.”

Elspeth nodded. “The Fey were very angry, and have been for hundreds of years, wanting it returned. So what they are looking for could not be this place, right under their noses, as it were.”

“Iron,” he said again, thoughtfully. “Someone blocked off the entrance with the rocks, most of which contain iron and iron ore. Perhaps it was done by that MacArthur ancestor of yours, three hundred years ago.”

“Oh! Fairies cannot cross over iron! They would not be able to come in here. Oh, James! It was not a chest of gold at all that they lost. They lost access to this mine, because they could no longer come here. Perhaps, with so much iron piled there, they could not even see the place,” she added. “It disappeared from sight, as far as they knew.”

“Fairies.” He scowled, and she knew he struggled with her theory.

But the idea exhilarated her. She felt certain it was true, so certain that she laughed with delight. “This has to be it!”

James gave a long sigh, hands to his hips, looking around. “I suppose anything is possible once we start talking about fairies. And marrying them,” he added. “Well then, if we are to return the treasure to the fairies, and free you from their wicked spell,” he said, sounding wry, “we had best roll up our sleeves and move all that iron away from the opening.”

She laughed again, the sound echoing in the little chamber like a harmony of bells, and she followed James, who handed her up the little ramp.

An hour or so later, James wiped the back of his forearm along his brow, and stood back to survey what he and Elspeth had done together. The opening of the little pocket mine was cleared, all the smugglers’ goods moved to one side of the inner chamber. The various rocks had been moved, some of them easy enough for Elspeth to carry alone, some of them so heavy that he had strained to lift and transport them. But each one had been moved.

They had taken the stones outside the cave, and one by one, had rolled them down the mountainside away from the Coire nan Uriskin. Now James nodded to himself, seeing the little crevice clear, and he walked out to the larger chamber, where Elspeth stood by the entrance, surveying the view. He joined her there. The rain continued, and heavy mist clung to the slope. Darkness gathered as well.

“We had best leave,” James said. “Could take us quite a while to find our way down to the moor and
the lochside inn. The others will be getting anxious.”

She nodded, crossing her arms, sighed as she leaned against him. “I wonder if we have fulfilled the bargain. How will we know?”

“If that is indeed the fairies’ treasure, then we have made it available to them again. And you fell in love,” he murmured against her, “at least I hope so.”

“I have,” she said, slipping into his embrace.

“Then it is done, and the proof will be that you and I will stay together always,” he said. He bent to gather his coat, and Elspeth walked away to gather her own things. “Come ahead. Elspeth?” He turned. “Elspeth!”

He saw then that she had disappeared. Running to the second cave, he did not see her there, either. “Elspeth!” The sound echoed against the walls.

Eilidh…

When she turned, they were standing there at the entrance to the pocket mine.

Three of them, a man and two women, tall and beautiful, looked at her, and she seemed to see well into their eyes, and fall there somehow, and she was drawn forward. Out of the first chamber she walked, and through the second, and down into the gem pocket she went, following them. Vaguely she realized that she was not walking on ramps or rock, but passing through walls, through stone, like a wraith, following them.

You can do this because you are fairy blood,
one of them told her.

Who are you?
she asked, and she spoke but did not speak.

We are your kin,
they said, all of them in unison.

And then she knew, for she stopped, found her willpower and made herself stop and look at them. They were standing in the pocket mine with her, and though it was not a large place, and she was not tall, the ceiling and walls seemed to expand to allow ample room for all of them.

One woman was flaxen-haired, her features beautiful but harsh, somehow, and eyes a deep violet. The man was tall and dark-haired, and looked oddly familiar to her. The other woman was small, with hair like ebony and eyes with a crystal sheen.