by Candace Camp
“In theory, I do,” Coll replied. “I’ve never actually gone inside. But there are two stones above the entrance that can be moved. It’s a drop down, so you have to take a rope and secure it to climb in and out.”
Violet shivered. “It’s a little frightening, isn’t it? To think of going down into that tomb in the dark.”
“Aye, a bit.”
“Not knowing what will be inside. Or even if the structure is still safe.” She paused, contemplating the idea. “It’s exciting as well.”
He laughed. “I’m not surprised to hear you say that.”
“Do you think your mother continued the tradition? That she went into the tomb on the solstice?”
“No. Ma was a practical sort who believed in the here and now. She knew the old stories, the old ways, well enough, and she used to tell us stories that would make our hair stand on end.” He smiled reminiscently. “But she dinna believe them. My great-grandmother was a bitter old woman; looking back on it, I think she mourned Faye all her life. I suspect she raised my mother differently; she scorned the old ways with Ma—after all, they hadn’t saved her daughter. Inside, though, Gran was still bound to them; she was the one who told me about the Long Night and the way into the barrow.”
“And you never tried to go in there?” Violet swung around on the stool to face him, setting her brush aside.
“I did not. There are those of us who are reluctant to disturb the dead.”
Violet made a face and crossed to the bed to sit beside Coll. “Still, I find it difficult to believe that you didn’t want to explore it when you were sixteen.”
“I thought about it once or twice.” He toyed with the sash of her dressing gown, idly untying it, and grinned at her. “But I never had a wicked companion to urge me to sin . . . until now.”
Freed from the sash, her robe sagged open, but Violet chose to ignore it. It was more difficult to ignore Coll’s thumbnail dragging along her thigh. “Did she tell you what this Long Night ceremony entailed?”
He shook his head. “Not really. They may have had to spend the night there.”
“With all the remains?” Even Violet was daunted by that prospect.
“I don’t know. Perhaps it was a test of their resolve.” His reply was distracted. His eyes were on his fingers, busily bunching the material of her nightgown in small increments, shortening it bit by bit. “The main thing was to be there when the light came in.”
“Why? What light?”
“The sunrise.” Violet’s legs were exposed now up to her thigh, and Coll slipped his fingers beneath the hem of the gown.
She giggled and lightly slapped his hand. “Coll, stop it. Tell me what happens at dawn.”
“You’re a hard woman.” He heaved a dramatic sigh and stopped the movement of his hand, leaving it there, warm and firm against her skin. “Very well. The story is that inside the barrow at dawn on the winter solstice, the sunlight shines in and strikes the altar. It only happens on that one day at that exact time.”
“Coll . . .” Violet’s eyes glowed. “What a thing to see. It would have seemed a visible proof of rebirth.”
“Not to mention substantiating the words of their holy men. A grand way to assure everyone that their faith is justified.”
“You’re a cynical man.”
Coll’s agile fingers moved upward again, teasing across her sensitive flesh. Violet closed her eyes as she leaned back, bracing her hands on the bed.
“Nae, not cynical. Just a man who seeks a different sort of truth. Ah . . . there, I think I have found it.” He watched her as her face softened in pleasure under his teasing fingers.
Violet let out a noise very like a purr. “I believe you have.”
“Good. I always like to attain my goal.”
Violet moved her legs a little farther apart, and she heard the telling uptick in Coll’s breathing. “And what is your goal?”
“Why, ’tis only to please you, my lady.”
“Only me?”
“Well, perhaps I derive a certain enjoyment from it myself.” His fingers continued their skillful movements, gliding over her slick, aching nub of flesh and sending shivers of need through her. “I enjoy hearing you moan.” His grin was almost feral. “Yes, just like that. I love the scent of your arousal. Most of all”—he pressed hard and fast—“I like to watch your face as you melt.”
Violet could not hold back the deep groan rising in her throat as she shuddered under the force of the ecstasy he brought her. After a long moment, she opened her eyes. He was right, she thought. She felt as if she had melted. At the same time her whole body hummed with eagerness. She looked at Coll. He was lying back against the pillows, one arm still tucked beneath his head and his other hand curled around her knee. Heat radiated from his large body and glowed in his eyes. His mouth was curved into a smile that bordered on smug.
“Two can play at that game.” Her voice was low and husky. She saw a swift response flare in his eyes.
“Good,” Coll said as Violet slid up his body and kissed him thoroughly, deeply. When she pulled back, he sank his hands into her hair. “Show me.”
And so she did. Methodically Violet undressed him, taking her time and pausing to kiss and caress each part of him she revealed. She lingered on his chest, using her lips and teeth and tongue to arouse the tightening buds of his nipples. Tracing the pattern of the hair on his chest downward, she pulled his breeches down and off, then took him into her hands.
Coll pulled in his breath sharply. Violet looked up at him. His strong face was loose and vulnerable, his eyes closed, shadows of his lashes cast across his cheeks. She could not resist going to his lips again, drawn by their kiss-bruised color. She took his lower lip between her teeth, worrying it gently as her hand returned to the hard, silken shaft, pulsing with desire. Caressing and stroking, she drove him higher, teasing him in such small, tender increments that he hovered on the brink for what seemed an age of pleasurable ache.
Finally, with a low growl, he turned and pulled her beneath him, driving into her with a fierce hunger, his entire being focused solely on this passion-drenched moment. He shuddered against her, pouring his seed into her with a cry that seemed torn from the bottom of his soul, and Violet followed him into that sweet release.
Violet was not sure what awakened her, but she was aware instantly of the absence of Coll’s long, warm body beside her in the bed. She turned, opening her eyes, and saw him at the window. He had shoved the draperies aside and stood looking out, buttoning his shirt. The square of the window cast a faint light upon his face, and her heart clenched inside her at the sadness that tinged his features.
“Coll . . .” She rose on her elbow, reaching out to him. He turned and smiled, the unhappiness banished from his features though the shadow of it remained in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I dinna mean to wake you.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I must leave. It’s near dawn.”
“You do not have to go.”
“Aye, I do.” He stroked his fingers down her cheek. “I will see you at breakfast.”
Coll kissed her again, then went to the door and, after a cautious check, slipped out. Violet sighed and lay back, aware of an ache in her chest. She wished that Coll would stay with her. That she did not feel empty when he left. Most of all, she wished she could erase the sorrow she had glimpsed on his face. Coll had come back to her, but it caused him pain.
It hurt her to the core to see him unhappy—far worse, knowing that she was at the root of it. Not for the first time, she thought about giving in to him. Giving up. Coll would never set out to hurt her. He would always do what was right. What he thought was right. What he thought was best.
Her throat tightened with the familiar fear, and with a groan, Violet buried her face in her pillow. After a long moment, she pulled herself out of bed and began to dress. Accept what you have, she told herself. It was far more than she had ever hoped for.
She arrived at the dining room befor
e him, as was often the case. Coll, despite his early rising, usually took a walk around the house, inside and out, to make sure everything was as it should be. Now that they had caught Will Ross, it was no longer necessary, of course. In fact, Coll had no need to live here in the house anymore. Violet hastily pushed that thought to the back of her mind.
Violet’s heart lifted, as it always did, when Coll came through the door. He smiled at her, and she wished that she could kiss him in greeting, but that was unthinkable when at any moment a servant might walk in.
Instead she said, “When can we start on the barrow?”
“Do you plan to dig out the entrance? You could take a break from the ruins and set the men to that.”
“It seems a shame to interrupt their work at the ruins. We have come so far.”
“Ah, but do you think you can possess yourself in patience until you’re finished there?” Coll raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“No. But you know another way into the barrow.”
“A possible way in. We canna be sure.”
“Until we try it.”
“Until we try it.” He grinned. “I got a rope and a lantern from the shed. But I’d suggest a hearty breakfast first.”
“You were already planning on going.”
“I know you.”
This simple, even offhand, statement struck Violet hard. Coll knew her. In every way that mattered, Coll knew her. And even so, he chose to be with her. She turned away, a trifle flustered, and began to fill her plate.
After breakfast, they walked to the ring of stones and climbed the grassy slope of the barrow. On the sides the tomb rose gradually. The front, however, had two distinct levels. Above the rubble-filled entrance to the tomb was a small level surface, a terrace above which the barrow rose sharply to the top. Lying flush against the barrow at the back of the flat area were two stone blocks. Both were inscribed with wavy lines and swirls around the edges, and in the middle of each, clear though worn and rough, was engraved the symbol on Coll’s sgian-dubh.
A shiver ran through Violet, and she looked over at Coll. She could see in his eyes the same anticipation mingled with awe. They stood on the edge of a discovery. The blocks were not light, but Coll was able to push both of them aside. Lifting the lantern, they peered down into the darkness. The passageway was narrow, but widened out at the bottom, and they could see several feet of the earthen floor. Coll went back down to the barrow’s entrance to tie the rope around one of the large slabs of rock there. Returning, he tied the lantern on the other end of the rope and lowered it carefully into the opening until it settled on the floor.
Hands around the rope, Coll edged backward into the hole and climbed down, then held the rope as Violet followed him. Her stomach took flight for an instant as she dangled half in and half out of the hole, but then she wrapped her legs around the rope and slid down, her hands protected by thick leather gloves. She joined Coll in the center of the narrow passageway. On either side rose slabs of stone, forming a corridor. Behind them, the lantern revealed a jumble of rocks that Violet knew must be the entrance. In front of them, the stone hallway stretched into darkness.
Lantern in hand, they started down the hall. It was eerily silent among the stones, the sounds of their movement loud in the ancient stillness. As they moved forward, the ground rose, the slope so gradual that it seemed as if it were the stone slabs above their heads that grew lower and lower, giving the corridor a stifling, ominous appearance. Before long Coll had to lower his head to avoid hitting it on the rocks.
He held the lantern up as they walked, revealing the careful placement of stone slabs above them across the pathway. The horizontal stones rested on the tall, vertical rocks on either side, forming a sort of doorway and buttressing the stone roof. Most of the slabs that made up the walls stood with their narrow sides in, but now and then one of them was turned to face the corridor. On these latter stones were carved more swirls and wavy lines, as well as other symbols.
Abruptly the corridor flared out into a large, round chamber, and the roof of stone slabs disappeared. With Coll holding up the lantern as high as he could, they could see that the walls of the chamber were built of more slabs in an intricate pattern of horizontal and vertical rocks. They tilted their heads back to gaze up at the amazing height of the walls, so tall that the roof lay beyond the yellow pool of lantern light. On either side of the roughly circular room was a doorway, and both doors were covered by large, flat stones that would require several men to move. These, too, were decorated with symbols and swirls.
“I imagine those are the burial chambers,” Violet said in a hushed voice, somehow reluctant to break the silence of the tomb. “What a marvelous creation! Can you imagine a primitive people constructing this? To have so tall a ceiling—to brace and buttress all these stones so that it is sturdy and strong—and all without mortar.”
“Think of the years it must have taken them to build it.”
“I have never seen anything like it.”
For several minutes all they could do was turn around, studying the chamber, but finally Coll shook his head, almost as if dispelling the mood of admiration and astonishment, and turned to Violet. “Where’s the altar?”
He moved forward into the middle of the circle, and his lantern lit the wall opposite them. Unlike the other walls, this one was built with a multitude of smaller rocks, much like the construction of the ruins they were excavating—and of many modern boundary walls throughout the glen. The stacked rocks were buttressed at regular intervals by larger, vertical slabs that served as columns. Long, horizontal stones stretched across these column-like stones and supported yet more rows of small rocks. The pattern repeated as far up as they could see.
“I don’t know. I don’t see an altar.” Violet followed him to the far wall.
“Makes one wonder about the legend. If there was no altar, what exactly did this light illuminate?”
“Any shaft of light piercing this darkness would have been impressive. However, my guess would be that this stone is what the light struck.” She pointed to a spot directly across from the corridor through which they had entered. Three feet square, the stone rested on top of one of the long, horizontal supporting stones, facing outward. In the center of the stone was a large carved spiral similar to the other swirls that decorated much of the tomb.
“That does seem to be a place of importance. If light could strike anywhere, it would be directly across from the hallway.” Coll cast another long look around the chamber. “But where would she have hidden the sacks of gold? Obviously she could not have moved any of these rocks.”
“I suppose she could have dug a hole in the floor somewhere.”
Coll looked doubtfully at the ground. “That’s a great deal of area to just begin digging randomly. Let’s look for the symbol again. If we could find it inscribed on one of the rocks, it would at least give us an approximate place to start digging.”
They began around the chamber, searching the walls for another marking that resembled the one on the outside. Taking their time, they made a full circuit of the high-ceilinged chamber as well as the walls of the passageway. It took hours, and they were tired, hungry, and thirsty by the time they finished, but they had not found the mark they sought.
They left the barrow in reverse of the way they had entered, Coll holding the rope while Violet scrambled up it, then Coll following, pulling up the lantern. He shoved the rocks back into place, and the two of them flopped down, leaning back against them.
“I am beginning to think that my grandmother hid those bags too well.”
“Or someone else already found them.”
“If someone had found them, there would have had to be at least rumors of it. Anyone coming into a large amount of money in the glen would have been noticed. And how could a stranger have stumbled over something so well hidden?”
“Perhaps we were wrong about the tomb.”
“It’s the only place where we’ve found the symbol.”
>
“True. But perhaps I am wrong about the symbol being significant. Maybe we misunderstood the clues Faye left.” Violet sighed. “Frankly, I cannot really envision a pregnant woman getting in and out of that barrow, carrying bags of gold.”
“She would have been stronger than you think. She was no fine lady; she worked hard.”
“But climbing up and down a rope?”
“She would have tossed the bags in, then climbed down. They were accustomed to coming here at least once a year, if we are correct in our assumptions, so perhaps they had developed an easier way to go up and down. Perhaps they had a rope ladder—or had even hidden a wooden ladder nearby. Faye was used to clambering around on the rocks near the sea and in the caves; Meg does it all the time, gathering plants for her remedies. Or she might have known of another way in—a back entrance, say.”
“I suppose she could have done it. She would have had to bring down a shovel, too, and dig a hole.”
“She was determined.”
“I can’t help but think we’re missing something.” Violet raised her legs, resting her crossed arms on her knees and leaning her head upon them. She thought about the young woman that day long ago, starting out to complete her task. “Do you suppose she went down there all by herself at night? Or waited till dawn and—”
“That’s it!” Coll stiffened beside her, his eyes suddenly bright. “That’s the key. She hid it at dawn. On a particular day!”
28
Violet stared at him, her thoughts suddenly racing. “Yes. Of course.”
“In the Long Night ceremony, the light illuminates a certain spot at dawn. But we think Faye hid the gold on the date she noted in her journal, not on the solstice.”
“December sixth,” Violet agreed.
“And on December sixth the light would fall on a different spot. Where it falls on that day is where she buried the treasure.”
