A Knight to Desire (3 page)

Chapter Three

Scotland, Spring 1332

Heat prickled the back of Sir Simon Lockhart's neck as he climbed on foot up the Scottish hillside before him. His body tensed and sweat itched along his hairline. He turned his face into the hot breeze that rippled over the land as a familiar sensation came over him. Why did he sense danger here? He and his men were in the middle of nowhere. They'd been climbing this hillside for two days now. No one followed them. They'd been careful to make certain of that. 

There was no danger here. He was home. He was safe.

Simon took a deep breath and forced his curled fists to relax. He sloughed off the odd sensation of danger and concentrated on the beautiful scenery around him. He paused, forcing the other nine men behind him to do the same. He looked down over the path they'd just traveled up the Cairngorm Mountains. Rowan trees dotted the hillside, and far below fields of green grass and purple heather stretched as far as the eye could see.

And still the sensation of danger persisted. Simon squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the memories of his time in Teba when he and the Brotherhood of the Scottish Templars had attempted to return Robert the Bruce's heart to the holiest of places, and failed.  

God had abandoned them then. 

"Why do we stop?"

Simon's eyes snapped open at the sound of Kaden Buchanan's voice. He drew a sharp breath and banished his thoughts to the darkest recesses of his mind. "The Mother's Cave is within sight." He turned toward the mountain and pointed off in the distance. They were near the secret cave that had harbored the Templar treasure for years. He and his men were to relieve the ten knights who had guarded the treasure for the last fortnight.

Since its rediscovery less than a month ago, the treasure had been under constant guard while Simon and others determined the best way to move it to a new secret location. 

"We are almost there, men," Simon said, forcing a tone of excitement into his voice. It wouldn't do for his men to see his uncertainty. Besides, it was his memories that had brought forth the sensation of danger. Nothing more.

The weariness on his men's faces vanished as excited conversation rippled among the knights who would replace the guards already in the cave. A soft smile came to Simon's lips as his men's good humor lifted his own spirits. 

"Come, men." Simon continued hiking toward the small opening in the mountainside. "I am certain the others are eager for their replacements to arrive."

They journeyed up the hillside in no time, and stood at the opening of the cave. Suddenly the air thickened and silence fell around them. Scattered knights lay face-down upon the ground.

Dead.

Simon's heart refused to believe. He heard his men shuffle to a stop behind him. He ran forward, dropping to his knees beside his fellow Templar, John McCrae. Rolling him onto his back, Simon stared down into the vacant gaze. 'Twas a look he had come to know well. Bitter regret swept through Simon. With his hand, he closed John's eyes and stood, proceeding to the next man who lay reposed in death, his sword still clutched in his hand. 

"Are they..." Kaden asked from beside him. 

Simon stood, drew his sword and nodded, unable to answer just yet as he swallowed thickly. Quietly, he moved farther into the dark, winding passageway — into the bowels of the earth itself. The soft hiss of steel leaving other scabbards filled the silence as his men followed close behind. They proceeded deeper into the cave, then down a long passageway where two more knights lay dead.

"Someone outside of the Templars has discovered the treasure," Simon said, his voice rough as shock rippled through him. More men were dead. They'd lost so many already at Teba, then to the maniacal madman, Pierre de la Roche.

Simon's heart twisted at the thought. Nay, it couldn't be. The man was dead. He stood. "Come, men, be prepared for anything."

At the end of the tunnel a wooden ramp angled down into another cavern. The soft sounds of a waterfall came to Simon's ears, and he knew they were close to the treasure. He'd been told before he'd left the monastery that the treasure could be found in a cave behind the waterfall. 

Two flickering urns lit the cavern and revealed a waterfall on the opposite side. But despite the light and the air that flowed freely through the cavern, Simon's chest tightened, his breath stuttered in and out of his lungs as though he'd been buried alive. An odd sensation raced down his spine. Was the villain who'd killed these men still here?

Simon tightened his grip on his sword and moved silently forward.
The flame from the urn created a kaleidoscope of distorted, twisting light around the cavern. Golden-hued spirits seemed to dance on the walls, spirits of those who had died here, of those who had originally brought the treasure to this sacred place, of those who had come before any of them. Their presence comforted Simon as he edged toward the falls.

"I'm right behind you," Kaden said. Simon nodded and proceeded toward the underground lake that separated the cave's entrance from the treasure itself. His heart sped up as he strode into the water at the base of the waterfall. They'd have to go through the falls to enter the cave beyond. 

In the chest-high water, his mail dragged him down. He clenched his jaw and tapped new strength and determination to put one booted foot in front of the other, dragging himself forward, desperate to find the men behind that waterfall still alive.

He held his breath and plunged under the falls. He emerged, sword at the ready, on the opposite side. Light splashed across the chamber. His heart missed a beat as he blinked, then blinked again, until his vision cleared. The treasure remained. Gold, riches, jewels, artifacts from every culture crowded the large room.

"Oh, heaven above," Kaden breathed beside him. 

The air in the chamber was warm, dry and scented not with earth, but with the smell of something as sweet as honey on a warm summer's day. Simon shook his head, dispelling the magic of the moment and forced his gaze from the treasure to the five bodies that lay face-down on the ground. 

"Check them," Simon commanded his men as he hurried across the chamber to the familiar body of Brother Bernard. Simon fell to his knees beside the fallen Templar and carefully turned him over. 

"Bernard."

The man's dark eyes fluttered open.

Simon drew a sharp breath and crossed himself. "You're alive." Carefully he separated the leather tunic that covered Bernard's chest to reveal a long but not deep gash low on his belly. The wound had already stopped bleeding. But the purplish red color that surrounded his injury spoke of putrefaction. They'd have to take him back to Crosswick Priory if there was to be any hope of keeping the knight alive.

"He left … me alive … to warn you." 

Simon pulled the bladder of water from his belt and held it up to Bernard's lips. The young Templar tensed as he drank thirstily, then relaxed back into Simon's arms, his relief palpable. "Who did this?" Simon asked.

Bernard's eyes widened with fear. "De la Roche."

Simon flinched at the unexpected words. "That madman is dead." 

Bernard shook his head. "Nay. He somehow infiltrated our ranks." On a deep shuddering breath Bernard continued, "He came here as one of the ten knights. He worked as we all did at first, then artifacts started to disappear. A crown here. Jewels there. Then the Holy Grail vanished and he struck. Using a sword from the treasure — Joyeuse, Charlemagne's sword — one by one he took us down. He took from the treasure only what he could carry … but he took the Grail. The healing cup." Bernard's head fell back against the earth beneath him, as though suddenly drained of energy.

"How long ago?" Simon asked.

"It feels like forever." 

"Is there anything else you remember?"

"His looks, his voice, were so different from before. But I should have recognized those eyes — those light unearthly eyes." Bernard took a deep, shuddering breath. "He pretended to be one of us … the man who killed our brothers." 

Pierre de la Roche, the fanatical Frenchman who had terrorized the Templars in Scotland for months, torturing and burning the knights without remorse — a man who they all had thought was dead. "Why the Grail?" Simon asked with a mixture of anger and curiosity. 

Bernard closed his eyes. "I can assume only that he needed to heal from his fall over the castle wall the last time we confronted him. He walked with a limp we all assumed he'd acquired at the battle of Teba. But now I know better. He has used the powers of the Grail, for when he battled us at the end, the man was as strong as any warrior."

The temperature in the chamber suddenly seemed cooler than it had been as Simon's breath jammed in his throat. De la Roche was still alive and determined to kill them all.

His premonition of danger had been real.

Simon straightened and looked about the chamber at his men. He had to keep them safe. He'd lost too many men already. He would not lose any more. Treasure or no treasure, he had to keep them safe because de la Roche could return at any time with more men. 

Simon's gaze moved from his men to the artifacts in the chamber. Instead of splendor, this time he saw only the enormous amount of work involved in moving the treasure. It would take days to move it all with only ten men — time they didn't have, even if they knew where to take it. 

Simon turned to Bernard. "Can you walk?"

"I'll try."

With Simon's help, Bernard stood and leaned heavily on the arm Simon offered. 

"Are there any other survivors?" Simon asked his men. 

"Nay," Kaden said as he gripped Bernard's unsupported arm. The others gathered around, awaiting orders. 

Simon nodded. "We must leave. De le Roche is responsible for these men's deaths. But Bernard reports he was alone at the time. That was perhaps two days ago, judging by the state of Bernard's wounds and the rigor of the dead men. De la Roche could return with support at any moment."

"What about the treasure?" Kendall, the youngest knight among them, asked. "We can't just leave it for that blackguard."

"We won't." Simon tightened his grip on Bernard's arm and led him back to the waterfall. The others followed. Moments later, they plunged through to the opposite side of the water and made their way up the ramp on the far side of the chamber. Once all the men had completed the passage through the water, Simon looked back at the falls. He knew what he had to do. He just prayed his fellow Templars would understand the decision he'd been forced to make.

"Kaden, lead Bernard and the men to the cave's opening and hold them there. I'll join you soon."

"Why?" The knight frowned. "What are you going to do?"

Simon gripped the hilt of his sword, drawing the weapon from its scabbard. "I must protect the treasure the only way I can, by bringing this cave down upon it."

Silence crashed down upon the small group until only the sound of the falls rumbled behind them. Jacob stepped forward, his eyes wide in his weathered face. "We've only just found the treasure." 

"Nay!" Thomas exclaimed. "If you destroy the treasure then de la Roche wins."

Simon straightened. "'Tis our legacy to keep the treasure safe. This is the only way to do so with de la Roche at our heels. Do you not agree?"

The men exchanged looks, each judging the other's response. "Aye," they said in unison, then turned and headed for the cave's opening, leaving him alone at the opening of the long, narrow passageway that led to the outside. Simon turned back toward the water. He had to think. How could he bring the cavern down? He stared blindly into the silver gray pool.