by Nicole Locke
Caird looked behind him. ‘Are they still hunting?’
‘Nae, they are skinning by the stream we found over there.’ Malcolm pointed off to his right. ‘It will be dark in a few hours.’
Caird looked through the trees and saw no one. They would have no better privacy than now.
‘We need to talk.’ He slowed his horse even more. Malcolm followed suit.
‘About the woman?’
Caird glanced at Mairead. She curled into his chest and her head rested on his outstretched arm. There were dark circles under her eyes and her weight against him was heavy. She still slept.
As much as he wanted to, they couldn’t talk of Mairead. They were in too much danger.
‘Nae, it is the gem,’ he answered.
‘You do not actually believe it’s hers?’
Caird shook his head. Not hers, never hers. ‘It’s not about Mairead. Or the dagger. It’s the gem...the jewel. Doesn’t it look familiar to you?’
Malcolm’s smile was wolfish. ‘Is it ours?’
‘Nae. It belongs to everyone. It’s legendary, Malcolm.’
‘Legendary?’ Malcolm looked behind him, his movement exaggerated. ‘My brother makes colourful descriptions? You often doona speak at all.’
The trees and path showed no sign of his cousins; Mairead’s weight did not shift, and her breath remained even. This conversation must not be overheard.
‘The gem is not usual. Half-polished, half not. The size so large it barely fits in a man’s hands. Think, Brother. There’s only one jewel fitting the description.’
Malcolm started. ‘It cannot...be,’ he whispered.
Caird remained silent while Malcolm gathered his thoughts. It had taken him hours to accept the jewel’s existence. As long as the conversation remained with the jewel, he would give this time to his brother.
When his brother realised they travelled with a Buchanan, his judgement would cloud.
‘Do you believe this?’ Malcolm continued after a while. ‘It’s a legend, a myth. It doesn’t exist.’
‘I doona believe in legends and this one was always too exact.’
‘If it is that jewel—’
‘Then kingdoms are at risk,’ Caird interrupted.
‘I cannot believe it.’
Caird lifted his hand to silence his brother. Mairead’s legs and arms were moving, subtly, but he felt their insistent quiver. Whether she was experiencing dreams or nightmares, he didn’t know, but her breath quickened, and her brows drew down.
They had long passed the spot Malcolm indicated where Camron and Hamilton would be skinning, but Caird kept his horse moving.
Malcolm looked questioningly at Caird, but kept his silence.
Caird hoped Mairead kept sleeping. There was still much to discuss with Malcolm. Even so, he fought the urge to wake her. Her restlessness...disturbed him somehow.
Eyes narrowing, Malcolm gazed at Mairead. Caird lowered his hand. It would not be long before his brother asked more questions about her, and he would have to tell the truth. Until then, he must use the jewel as a distraction.
‘I believe we have the Jewel of Kings in our hands.’ Caird turned his horse around on the path.
‘It was a tale told to us as children. Something we used to play.’ Malcolm adjusted his horse to follow his. ‘I cannot count the fights there were over the pretend jewel.’
‘Imagine the wars if the jewel was real.’
‘If the legend is true, it can make kings,’ Malcolm said. ‘Real kings. It is too much power. Too much responsibility. Too—’
‘Unbelievable it surfaces now,’ Caird said, feeling the restlessness of this conversation. ‘’Tis nae accident.’
‘What are you saying?’
If he was restless, his clan and so many others were shaking and cracking with unrest.
King Balliol rebelled against King Edward’s rule and the English king’s retaliation had been swift and vicious. The defeat at Dunbar in April had crushed any hope of freedom and only left unrest in its wake.
‘Someone was moving it,’ Caird said.
‘Someone? Mairead?’
Caird held Mairead closer and brought her arms and legs into the warmth of his cloak. ‘Nae, not her; not the thief either.’
‘A clan?’
‘Too many people. Our clans fight. It would have been put to use.’
‘To create kings,’ Malcolm said.
‘More like to declare one true king.’
Malcolm’s horse suddenly stopped and Caird steadied his own.
Caird could not doubt Malcolm’s shock. Scotland no longer had the ability to make kings. The Stone of Scone now supported the rears of English kings.
He was surprised it had not cracked with grief.
Was it truly so much of a surprise that the jewel appeared now? This year had churned up too many conflicting and powerful emotions. Hope for freedom then crushing defeat as nobles, churchmen, burgesses and freeholders swore fealty to an English king. Balliol was even forced to the Tower.
Worse, their defeat was made official since King Edward recorded it on his Ragman Rolls.
Malcolm slowly turned his gaze. Fear and concern were never on his brother’s face, but there was no mistaking those emotions now.
This was more than a secret. More than a costly dagger and legendary jewel. This was more than he wished to be involved with, let alone to involve his brother and clan. King Edward ruled Scotland now, and Caird held the jewel with the power to make Scottish kings.
‘Aye, I’m speaking treason,’ Caird whispered. ‘To my brother.’
‘It must stay with your brother and go nae further.’
‘If this is true, it will go to all our brothers. All our family.’ His clan had enough worries now. Bram, his laird and brother, hadn’t participated in Dunbar and no one knew why. It had put their clan’s loyalty in question.
If his enquiries into the jewel took long, his clan would be in danger. Still, if he got the answers he needed, if they could keep the jewel a secret. If they could build the momentum behind it before the English were prepared—
‘You can’t mean to use it?’ Malcolm asked. ‘It’s too dangerous!’
Caird shrugged. Even as his heart swelled at the possibilities, his mind feared the consequences. With war between the two countries, whoever possessed the jewel could stop it. ‘Nae more than Dunbar,’ Caird said.
‘Aye, a thousand times more dangerous!’ Malcolm retorted.
If he could, Caird would stop the war. ‘Why not use any means I have, especially when it’s just been handed to me?’
‘Dunbar was a mistake,’ Malcolm said. ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’
Caird conveyed in one glance everything he felt about that fateful battle. ‘Nae, it shouldn’t.’
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look away. ‘I owe you much, but I cannot allow this risk!’
Treason was the risk. But it was treason only if he wanted one side to win from the other. He had different plans.
The jewel could protect their clan. They’d have Scottish power and the English would want that jewel. It was like a doubled-edged sword, and razor-sharp. Yet, if they played it right, he could save all. He just wanted the conflict and bloodshed to end.
‘I will not risk much,’ Caird said.
Malcolm gaze strayed. ‘I cannot accept this. Maybe it is Mairead’s?’
If only that were true. She had acted sincere, but he knew what his brother did not. She was a Buchanan. None of what she had said could be true.
‘Do you believe that?’ Caird asked instead.
Malcolm shook his head. ‘Nae, but it would be easier if this was an ordinary, albeit valuable stone.’
Caird urged his ho
rse forward again. He heard his cousins in the woods. They would emerge soon and would wonder at their delay. ‘It may be easy to find the thief.’ The thief might even be trying to find them.
Malcolm caught up. ‘If we cannot find him?’
‘We continue celebrating and go to the games.’
They needed to act like nothing was amiss. Caird thought to flush the thief out before then, but that was just the first step.
Ultimately, he knew what they’d have to do. They needed to go to Mairead’s family and her clan. She’d said the jewel was her brother’s. If that was true, he needed to understand how her brother had possession of the dagger.
Tracing the true owners of the jewel would be slow and arduous, whilst all the time unknown enemies could be circling. However, he was left with little option. He had to get answers first, understand who was moving it and why. If the jewel was a double-edged sword, he had to know how to wield it. Once he had all the answers, he would go to Bram, his brother and laird, and discuss with the council the jewel’s future.
Even that wouldn’t be easy.
Bram was not on Colquhoun land, but far south on Fergusson land, which was close to the English borders. It was too dangerous to bring the jewel there during this time. Dangerous, but perhaps necessary.
Although he sought answers to determine the best course of action, he would not presume the fate of the jewel alone. He had to involve the clan and its laird.
In the meantime, there was camp to set, food to eat and their absence to explain to his cousins.
This was no time to tell his brother the other, much more precarious, situation they were embroiled in. And the risk didn’t come from the treasonous jewel they carried, but from the traitorous Buchanan in his arms.
Chapter Nine
Mairead jerked in Caird’s arms. One moment she was curled heavy with exhaustion in his arms, the next, she was leaning precariously away from him. If he had not had hold of her, she would have fallen.
‘What do you do?’ he demanded.
Caird tightened his arms to pull her back, but she was unmovable. This was taking stubbornness too far! He was used to being obeyed. He had become too soft with her. Her warmth and scent while she lay against him had lulled him into some sort of tolerance. No more. Now that she was awake, he would demand her co-operation.
‘Come, you will—’
She turned around. Her eyes were rounder than any full moon and just as distant. But emotion was there, even if he could not name it and she wasn’t quite awake.
Worried she would do something rash, he tightened his grip. Slowly, her expression cleared and he felt her body relax against his.
He exhaled, but releasing his breath did not release the uneasiness her gaze had given him. He knew, without any doubt, he had seen a vulnerability she would never have shown him otherwise.
She was looking around, taking in the denseness of the trees. She had been asleep for a long time and they had travelled far. Nothing would be recognisable now.
‘You slept,’ he said by way of explanation. He didn’t know why he gave her consideration, but he couldn’t shake the wild look he saw in her eyes.
‘Are we there?’ she asked.
‘Nae, this is a campsite. The others are preparing food. I have waited, but this horse needs rest.’
She nodded once, but he could feel her limbs twitching as if she couldn’t restrain their restlessness. What had she been dreaming of?
He needed to get her to the ground, to think and walk away his own worries. The jewel had complications; he was beginning to realise the Buchanan might prove even more complicated.
‘We need to dismount,’ he said gruffly.
She nodded again, then continued to nod as if answering a question. He released the breath he had been holding. At least she was cooperating now. Caird slid off the horse and raised his arms to take her waist. He was thrown off balance or the swift kick to his chest would not have thrown him to the ground.
It was over in a moment.
Not looking behind her, Mairead tugged on the reins as the large horse surged towards the road and back to her family.
She couldn’t stand Caird or the deception any more. Only dreaming of Ailbert, she didn’t care for the dagger, the money or the gem. She had a fortnight still to resolve the debt. She needed her family. Needed to see her brother laid to rest in the ground.
Tears whipped from her eyes, her hands slipped on the reins, her legs barely held her to the horse’s heaving flanks.
Free. Free. Free.
Her feelings were echoed in the horse’s hooves, and the wild cadence lifted her.
Then she heard it. Another sound, distant and in contrast to her own.
She looked behind her. Caird was on the road and gaining ground.
Too late. She’d never make it. Not like this. The horse he rode was rested, fed and bareback. She looked wildly around her. There were the trees, and she was smaller. Leaning further forward on the horse, she rode into the trees.
Caird yelled, but she didn’t care; she had to get away. She needed the distance; needed to forget. Her tears flowed heavier until she couldn’t see. She fell against the horse, trusting it would feel her pain and take her away.
Caird called out again, a song, a tune and the horse suddenly slowed.
No! She pressed her body into its flanks and her hands gripped its sides. The horse reared. Hooves lashed the air as it threw its body towards a tree.
* * *
‘Mairead!’ Caird couldn’t manoeuvre through the trees and he jumped to the ground.
Angry and weaving too close to the trees, the horse she rode was wild. With her hands still clutching the reins, Mairead’s body flailed.
Caird’s body jolted when she hit the first tree. Keeping little distance, and using a training tune, he tried to soothe the animal. But it was beyond wild with fear and threw itself towards the opposite tree. There was a moment of space to grab the reins. The momentum of his movement tossed Mairead into his arms, but not quickly enough.
Just in time, Caird shielded her before the horse crushed him against a tree. He felt the agonising pain before the horse gained balance and sped away.
Mairead’s weight was suddenly crippling, and Caird fell to his knees.
Sides ripping, he laid her on the ground. Even as the pain eased by letting her go, he fought the urge to pull her back into his arms. She was awake, but silent. Her face was smeared with tears and blood; her breath wheezy. She no longer looked scared, or unsure. She looked angry.
He didn’t care. He was furious.
‘You fool! You insanely impulsive female with nae care for—’
‘Doona give me your sanctimonious anger, Colquhoun.’ Gasping, she sat up. ‘What do you care if your horse crushed me?’
‘For you, Buchanan?’ His sides protesting, he sat back. ‘I care nothing for you. That was my horse you took.’
She whipped her arm up, but he caught her hand before she could strike him. ‘I wish you’d just stayed on the ground where I kicked you.’
Her hand felt cold and clammy. She was angry, but she was afraid, too. He almost hadn’t made it in time. Cared nothing for her? He feared he cared too much. ‘Lucky for you, I didn’t. You could have died galloping into this forest.’
‘I wouldn’t have been in the forest if you hadn’t chased me now, would I?’ she scoffed.
Chased her? It had been pure desperation. Caird’s anger warred with his need to protect her. She could have died. The agony in his ribs kept him in place or else his need to hold her would have won. Still her hand warmed in his and he softened his hold.
‘Where do you think you were going?’
‘Home, you suffocating oaf, where else?’ She wrenched her hand out of his. ‘Is it a surprise?
Did you think I would willingly go with you to celebration games? As if I could celebrate anything with your family, when it is my family—’
She tried to stand, stumbled and grabbed a tree.
He just stopped himself from helping her. Of course, her family. Her lying Buchanan clan.
‘Without the dagger?’ he mocked. He couldn’t care about her stumbling. He’d be damned if he touched her again.
There were too many complications with his touching her. He must, for all their sakes, ignore any desire for her. Slowly he stood and began to attend to his horse that had returned.
Caird turned his back on her. Again. Ignoring her, he carefully felt his horse for injuries. His steady strokes calmed the animal as he checked its flanks, haunches and legs.
Guilt flickered through her belly. He did care for the horse and she had risked its life. A flick of a hoof on a branch, or hindquarter swung too hard and fast on rough bark, could maim it for life.
Her fault, her carelessness. But she hadn’t been thinking. Another mistake.
Looking down, she tried to bend her ankle and gasped as pain arced through her. Caird continued his care of his horse and she suppressed her guilt.
Why did she care anyway? She shouldn’t be here. She’d take responsibility for the horse, but nothing else.
‘Why didn’t you just let me go?’ she demanded. ‘You doona need me. You had the dagger and gem.’
‘There’s not time for this discussion.’ He turned his head. ‘Your lies and deceit make you necessary until I have the truth.’
‘You ken the information you seek could easily be found with the thief! I’ve told you what you need to know.’
He stopped, his face edged with an almost cruel smile. ‘What I need to know? That was never the prerequisite. It’s what I want to know.’ He grabbed the bridle. ‘It’s not as if I trust your word, Buchanan. We need to return to camp.’ He gestured to the barebacked horse. ‘That’s your horse now.’
That horse was several feet away, where he had left it.
‘I can’t.’
Caird cursed. ‘You push my patience too far. Obey me.’
Obey him. If she could, she’d run away again.
