Amber (Jewel Trilogy, Book 3)

by Royal, Lauren

  "Oh, yes," she breathed.

  And she did. No matter that he robbed Puritans and didn't seem to trust her, in his own unique way he was the most honorable man she'd ever known. It seemed he always—always—wanted to do the right thing.

  She waited, willing him to believe her, until finally he reached up. Cold metal circled her wrist, a grating creak in her ear and a bang as the manacle closed.

  "Oh, my God, Trick."

  "It's not locked. Just tell me if you want out." When she didn't cry off, he lifted her, fitting her legs around his middle before he reached for her other arm. "The offer stands—I can have the cuffs open before the words pass your lips." His voice turned hurried, frenzied. "Keep your legs wrapped, leannan. I don't want any weight on your hands. I would never, ever want to hurt you."

  Snap.

  Another bracelet around her second wrist, black iron instead of amber. Pressing her against the wall while he reached between their bodies, he tugged her skirts up and tucked the hem behind her shoulders. And with a quick upward thrust, he drove into her.

  "Oh, my God." Her eyes slid shut, and she struggled against the restraints, not hurting or frightened—he hadn't locked them, after all—but just frantic with the need to touch him. In her few lessons on love, she'd enjoyed the giving as much as the taking.

  Although she wanted to gift herself over to him, it was so hard to only succumb.

  But as his hips initiated the rhythm her body craved, succumb she did. She clenched her fists against that urge to touch, her fingernails digging into her palms. Helpless to participate, she could only feel. Her skin prickled, her heart raced, and her whole world centered where her body met his.

  It was agony, but sweet, so sweet.

  As his tempo quickened, she felt a throbbing, and she couldn't tell if it was hers or his. Then it grew, until she knew it belonged to them both. Until she felt him pulsing within her and responded in a burst of exquisite glory.

  "Oh. My. God."

  "Are you all right, leannan?" Panting, he moved to release her wrists. Her legs straightened, reaching for the floor, and she slid down his body, her gown still wrenched up between them.

  As she stood there on trembling limbs, he brought her wrists to his mouth and kissed them, one and then the other, so cherishingly that she thought her heart might crack at the tender look in his eyes.

  "I think maybe I got carried away there," he confessed in a husky whisper, circling her wrists with his hands. Rubbing. Warm, and so gentle. "Are you all right?"

  She gave him a shaky smile. "I don't believe I've ever been better."

  His hands stilled, and the beginning of a grin tipped a corner of his mouth. "Are you sure, leannan?"

  "Dear God, I've never been more sure in my life."

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The ride was hardly short, but Kendra was still glowing with aftereffects when they walked through the tunnel and into the great hall. Their hands were joined, and she looked down to her wrist. A bracelet of amber and the faintest pink line, not enough to hurt or even feel, just enough to remind her of the glorious afternoon.

  Seated at a trestle table with a hearty meal before him, Hamish's gaze went to their joined hands as well. He smiled, a sigh escaping his lips. "You two put me in mind of my Elspeth, you do. Happy newlyweds you are, and glad I am of it."

  It was true they were happy. True for Kendra, and as she met Trick's gaze, she knew it was true for him, too. Perhaps the matter of his parentage was disturbing, and perhaps she wasn't finished climbing the wall he'd built between them. But they'd turned a corner in that dungeon—they had laid the foundation for trust. A foundation they could build on in the days and weeks to come.

  "The first time Da's been downstairs in weeks," Niall told them with a grin. "Join us, will you? Da has been trying to puzzle out what happened. Did you find any clues?"

  Trick handed him the key. "Not much," he admitted, emptying his pockets. "Just this scrap of cloth"—he gave it to Hamish—"and this piece of glass." He set the shard on the table with an audible clink, then seated himself.

  Kendra sat beside him, and plates were set before them. Seeing nothing sweet on the table, she took a wedge of spinach tart while Trick eyed a platter of meat slices swimming in onions and a savory-smelling sauce.

  "What is this?" he asked.

  "Mutton," Niall told him. "Scotch collops."

  "Sounds good." He transferred a piece to his plate.

  "Homespun." Hamish fingered the dark fabric. "It could have belonged to anyone, but most likely a common worker. Certainly not Elspeth or myself. As for this"—he picked up the glass—"it looks to be part of an old bottle. Wine, I'm guessing. We broke our share of them down there over the years."

  Feeling her face heat, Kendra exchanged a look with Trick. And a secret smile. Maybe he had been conceived there.

  And they could have conceived there themselves, she realized with a start.

  He turned back to his father. "We also found many footprints—they looked to be of four different people, clustered around the chests as they lifted. Three larger sets of prints and one smaller." He polished off the mutton and reached for another serving. "So more folk than Niall supposed must have known about the treasure."

  "More folk know about it now," Hamish corrected. His mouth straightened into a grim line. "After the original folk enlisted their help in this crime."

  "The original folk?"

  With a sigh, the older man ran a hand back through his thinning hair, a gesture that reminded Kendra of Trick. "Gregor and Rhona," he practically spat. "My friends. Or so I thought."

  "Da!" Niall's eyes went wide. "You cannot really mean to accuse them?"

  "No one else knew of the place. Or the treasure's existence." Hamish's voice sounded bitter, betrayed. "One small set of footprints—Rhona's. And three larger—Gregor and two men. One of them wearing homespun. Who else could it have been? The thieves had a key."

  "Then they borrowed it or stole it—from you or Rhona and Gregor. Someone could have followed you there sometime. All those years..."

  "No one followed. And as for all those years, there were things that happened in those years. Things you don't know."

  Looking shaky, Niall took a long sip from his pewter goblet. "Such as?"

  "Friends do not always get along. The four of us quarreled from time to time. Bitterly."

  The spinach pie had turned out to be sweet after all, swimming in butter with cinnamon and sugar, but the last bite turned sour in Kendra's mouth. "What did you fight about?"

  "For years now, Gregor and Rhona have wanted to sell off the treasure. The office of Town Clerk of Falkland doesn't pay so well, aye? At least not well enough for the two of them to live as they supposed they should, their best friend being a duchess. But Elspeth and I—we always argued with them, and we always won."

  Niall ran his goblet back and forth on the pitted trestle table. "You were afraid if anything were sold, you'd be discovered."

  "Aye, that was it in part, although Gregor always talked of carting the goods to London before selling them. Among the riches in that great city, he believed the treasure would go unnoticed, and in any case, not be connected to anyone back here in Scotland."

  Kendra ran a finger around the rim of her own goblet. "But you didn't agree?"

  "Royal plate is quite recognizable. But the truth is, we had other reasons for not wanting it sold. We only wanted it returned—off our hands."

  Trick helped himself to a hunk of bread. "Could you not convince them?"

  "We thought we had. Over and over. But always a few years later they would bring it up again." Hamish cut a piece of mutton. "I can only assume, Patrick, then when you arrived, they saw their last chance slipping away. They knew Elspeth had been planning to ask you to return the treasure. So they took it upon themselves to enlist help and make off with it before it was too late."

  "Gregor and Rhona." Reluctantly, Niall nodded. "I expect that's why they've been absent sin
ce shortly after the burial. I thought they needed rest, but come to think of it, it's odd they left you alone, Da. When they spent every day here since Mam fell ill."

  Hamish returned the nod.

  Trick pushed his plate away. "So you think they're bound for London?"

  "I expect so, son."

  If Trick noticed the endearment, he didn't react. "We found cart tracks outside the tower, heading southeast around Falkland, and then more tracks from four wagons that went due south. At the point where they crossed a wee river, we turned back. Where would they go from there?"

  "Down and over to Stirling Bridge," Niall said. "It's the only way across the Forth."

  "Unless they were in a hurry." Hamish dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "Then they'd head for Burntisland and the ferry over to Leith. Just as King Charles did all those years ago."

  "They're in a hurry," Kendra said.

  The three men turned to her. "How do you know?" Trick asked.

  "They crossed the river instead of heading up or downstream to a bridge. Although it wasn't overly deep, there had to be some risk involved in traversing the water with such a heavy load."

  A new appreciation lit Trick's eyes. "You're right. But still and all, even taking shortcuts they cannot have gotten far, not with a burden like that. The tracks were visible, which means they left today." His gaze went to one of the deep-set windows. A light mist had begun to fall as they'd headed back to Duncraven. "I imagine the trail is washed away now. And they're making even slower progress."

  Niall nodded. "If we ride out immediately, we could make it to Burntisland before them. And wait."

  Kendra could hear the excitement in his voice. Clearly he saw this as more than a mission for right. She imagined he envisioned an adventure—he and his new older brother, off to save the world.

  He rose, looking eager. "I don't suppose it will be too difficult for the likes of we two to dissuade one old man and woman."

  "Watch your tongue, lad," Hamish put in, a ghost of a smile transforming his grim face. "Who are you calling old?"

  With a laugh, Trick stood. "I'll fetch my cloak." He started for the turret steps.

  "Wait!" Kendra leapt up to go after him. But he was already far ahead of her, his boots disappearing around the tight curve as he took the steep staircase two steps at a time, while she could manage only one.

  By the time she caught up, he was already inside their chamber, spreading his cloak on the bed. Breathless, she caught him by the arm. "I want to go with you."

  He spun to face her. "No. We've been over this before."

  "You're not going to play the highwayman this time, Trick. I'll worry—"

  "And I'll worry more if you come." He caressed her cheek with the backs of his long fingers, then moved away to root through the clothespress. "Stay with Hamish," he said, pulling out a black shirt and breeches. "He needs people around him."

  "He has Duncan and Annag, and his grandchildren."

  "Aye?" He tossed the garments on the open cloak. "Then where were they today?"

  "At their own homes," Niall said behind them, "packing up their lives." They both turned to find him standing in the open doorway, holding a roll of parchment. "They'll return tonight. Seems they're moving here for good."

  "Good?" Kendra asked incredulously.

  "Bad choice of words." He half-grimaced, half-grinned. "But I don't want to upset Da by questioning this. Not until he's stronger."

  "I understand." And she did. But that didn't mean she wanted to stay here with Niall's brother and sister. Left to deal with them alone, she could picture herself tearing her hair out. She'd be bald by the time Trick returned.

  Suddenly she realized they were her husband's brother and sister as well. "They're yours, too, Trick," she blurted.

  "Pardon?" He buckled on his sword belt.

  "Duncan and Annag. They're your brother and sister."

  In the act of shoving a pistol into his boot top, he stilled, the gun dangling from his fingers.

  Niall leapt into the room to catch it. "Half brother and sister," he corrected.

  Trick's face had gone pale. Kendra wished she could see the expression in his eyes, but his hair hung in the way.

  "They're my half siblings, too, and I manage to survive," Niall joked weakly. "It's not all that bad."

  "I just hadn't thought of it."

  "Then have you thought about the fact that you're Scottish?" Niall handed over the gun.

  Trick stared at it as if he'd never seen one before. "Scottish?" he repeated.

  "One-hundred percent Scots," his brother said in an exaggerated burr. "Both your parents."

  "I hadn't thought about that, either." Regaining his color, he shook his head as though to clear it, but the hair fell right back into his eyes. "I thought Mam was half Irish?"

  Niall shrugged. "I suppose. But either way, you're not English, aye?"

  A small smile tugged at Trick's lips. "I never did feel very English."

  "Well, that's because you aren't." His brother returned his grin. "But you up and married a Sassenach, aye?"

  "Guess I did, at that," Trick said, reaching an arm to pull Kendra close.

  Seeing he was over the shock, she relaxed. He felt warm against her side, and she wished he wasn't leaving. She looked down, twisting the bracelet on her wrist.

  Trick jammed the pistol into his boot top. "Are you ready?" he asked Niall.

  "I brought a map." Walking to the desk, Niall unrolled the parchment. "I thought you'd like to see the way."

  Trick helped him smooth it on the scarred oak surface. "We're here, are we?"

  "Aye, and going here." Leaning over the map, Niall traced a finger southward. "Alongside the mountains and through the hills to the coast. Burntisland is directly opposite from Leith, do you see?"

  "Across the Firth of Forth, aye." Trick's own finger followed the path. "How long should it take to Burntisland?"

  "On horseback, not long. Two, three hours. With twenty-three chests of silver and gold, a whole day, maybe longer. Especially in the rain. The route is far from flat."

  "That's in our favor." Trick rerolled the parchment and stuck it into his belt. "Shall we leave?

  "I need just a minute to fetch my things. I'll meet you downstairs." Niall left, his footsteps hurrying through the garrison and then echoing as he descended the stairwell.

  When the sound faded away, Kendra turned into Trick's arms. "Are you sure I cannot come with you?"

  "I'm sure, leannan." He bent his head, his lips apologetic on hers. "This shouldn't take long. A few hours to get there, a day to get back with those chests." His lips brushed hers again, then lingered. His tongue teased her mouth, robbing her of breath, making her want to beg him to stay.

  But she wouldn't. Rhona and Gregor had to be stopped. And she wouldn't push any more to go along. She was determined to be better than in the past, the sort of supportive wife he deserved.

  "Be safe," she said softly.

  "I will." A final kiss only left her wanting more. "I have a plan, so don't fash yourself."

  "Don't worry, do you mean?" She squeezed him around the middle. "You're talking like a Scot already, you know that? Before much longer, Caithren will be the only one at home who can understand you."

  With a laugh, he was gone.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  "Sit still, milady." Jane's hands curled and twisted. "You're restless this morning."

  Feeling like little Susanna at the orphanage, Kendra sighed. Her gaze went to the bedchamber's window. It had rained all night, though it seemed to be letting up now. "I wonder how they're doing. All the night and into the morning."

  "I'm sure they're fine, milady." Jane stole a cube of cheese from Kendra's untouched breakfast tray and popped it into her mouth. "They're probably on their way home already."

  Kendra fingered the amber around her wrist, a bit sad that the slight pinkness from yesterday was gone. Trick had said he had a plan. She hoped it was a good one. "I didn't say
I was worried."

  "Of course you're worried." Jane tied a purple ribbon and stepped back. "There you go. He'll be home soon. You're doing well here, are you not?"

  Was Jason checking up on her here, too? Kendra wondered. The thought made her warm inside. Though she knew it was unlikely, Leslie Castle being far from here, she also knew that her brother would do so if he could. He cared—just like Jane cared enough to ask the question.

  "How are you doing here, Jane?"

  "Why, fine." Gathering combs, pins, and ribbons, the maid arranged them in her little traveling case. "I've a room to myself bigger than the one I share at Amberley—why shouldn't I be fine?"

  "How is that?" Kendra frowned. "I would expect the servants' quarters to be crowded, what with Duncraven's staff and now Amberley's."

  "Didn't you know, then, milady?"

  "Know what?" She rose and wandered to the window. The rain had stopped, and she smiled at the scene below, watching a mama rabbit hop after her baby through Elspeth's garden.

  "When his grace—not your husband, but his father—left all those many years ago, he stopped providing her grace's allowance. She had to survive on what Duncraven earns, which I gather isn't much. Most of the servants were dismissed."

  "My God." Kendra swung from the window. That explained why a nurse companion was doing bedchamber duty. And why the castle was so run down. "His grace—my husband—doesn't know of this, Jane. That I can promise."

  "Calm yourself, milady." Jane shut her wooden case. "No one here blames him, and besides, this all happened long ago. The remaining staff are happy to have employment. And since Mr. Munroe moved in, they're even getting paid." She took her curling iron from the hearth and blew to cool it off. "Shall I sit with you and play some cards? The day might pass more quickly."

  "Maybe later. I think I may sit with Hamish a while."

  Jane's plain face split in a smile of approval. "Excellent idea. You know where to find me."

  Kendra followed her maid out the door and down the winding, torchlit stairs, biting the inside of her cheek. She knew Trick wouldn't stand for his father and brother scrimping to the point they apparently were. Estate management was her strength, so she hoped to get to the bottom of Duncraven's problems before he returned. And find a solution that wouldn't involve him playing the highwayman any longer.