Barefoot in the Dark

by Suzanne Enoch

  Just when had he and Reg grown so far apart? It couldn’t come down to one of them having access to more money than the other. That was too simple. Nor did it speak very well for Reginald Clarke Addison. “If there is a cache, I have no idea how much might still be in it after two hundred years. I don’t want the publicity, not here and not now. I don’t want Orrisey turned into a tourist dumping ground with everyone digging up the countryside – my countryside – looking for scraps, filing lawsuits, and destroying their way of life and this entire part of the Highlands. You’re not the only one to take into consideration here. For God’s sake, Reg.” He blew out his breath. “A million. American.”

  “A mill…” Reg trailed off. “Well, now I’m surprised. That might just do it. But I need to speak with Eerika, first. She’s part of this, too.”

  “You have twelve hours. After that, the amount I’m willing to give you drops by a hundred thousand dollars an hour. And I’ll want the map back in exchange for the money.”

  Richard reached behind himself to open the sitting room door, then backed into the hallway. That hadn’t gone particularly well. Hopefully the money would prove more persuasive than his oral arguments. He glanced at his watch. When had it gotten so late? Reg’s twelve-hour deadline would hit at three-thirty tomorrow morning. Of course that was only for the million; he hadn’t managed any sort of moratorium on the treasure hunting. He needed to have Tom write up an agreement. Something he could force Reg and Norway to abide by.

  The rear stairs took him down to just outside the kitchen, and he walked into the loud, bright room to see Samantha seated at the large table there, three of the maids, two footmen, and Mrs. Yule the cook seated around her and all of them talking about traditional Highlands meals.

  “It’s not so much the contents of haggis as it is the consistency that grosses people out, I think,” Samantha was saying, an empty bowl in front of her.

  “From the way I’ve seen some of ye Yanks react, ye’d think we were forcing ye to eat live scorpions,” Mrs. Yule said with a laugh.

  Richard stepped into their line of sight. “I was always rather partial to haggis,” he stated.

  “M’laird!”

  “No, no, sit. As you were,” he commanded, as the room erupted into standing, bowing, and curtsying chaos. In the middle sat Samantha, grinning at him and no doubt thinking how very Downton Abbey he was while she had every one of his employees wrapped around her little finger. “Do you have a moment, Samantha?”

  “Aye, I do,” she returned, pushing to her feet. “Thank you for the soup, Mrs. Yule,” she went on, giving the stout woman a hug. “And I will owe you forever if you put haggis on the table tonight for Donner and Stoney.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Miss Sam.”

  Richard took his cat burglar’s hand, pulling her into the hallway. “Haggis?”

  “I know! Donner will totally barf. Stoney might, too.”

  “At least you’re an equal opportunity tormentor.”

  Her grin deepened. “When you walked in there and everybody stood up I thought I was in the Downton Abbey kitchen for a minute.”

  Ha! He was beginning to figure out how her mind worked. “I knew you’d say something about that. But I’ll have you know that my title outranks the Earl of Grantham,” he countered, trying to shove his concerns over Reg to one side for a damned minute.

  “Oh, that’s right! I’ve hooked the Marquis of Rawley. Ha! I’m out-marrying Mary Crawley. And I’m a rude, gauche American. Hey, I’m Lady Grantham, only more so.”

  “Good God. No more Masterpiece Theater for you.”

  She bumped her hip against his. “You talked to Reggie?”

  “I did.”

  “How bad is it?”

  Of course she would have deciphered his expression, probably from the moment he walked into the kitchen. “I’m not entirely certain. We traded barbs, I went from offering five hundred thousand to a million, and gave him twelve hours to swear that he’s finished with the highwayman nonsense before I start dropping the price by a hundred thousand an hour.”

  She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “You threw money at him?”

  That sounded unpleasantly familiar. “I offered him money in exchange for his leaving the map and treasure alone.”

  Samantha moved closer, putting her hands on both his shoulders. “You bought off your cousin. Is that what you want?”

  Richard glared at her. “I told you what I want.”

  “Yes, I know. For the village to remain safe and protected. I meant, is that what you want your relationship with Reggie to be? Just money?”

  Richard scowled, a hundred arguments and counter arguments fighting it out in his mind. Not many of them ended with him coming out unscathed. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

  “Because you guys are cousins. You’re family. I thought…I figured you’d work something out.” She shrugged. “Maybe you did. Obviously I don’t know shit about family.”

  “You have incomparable instincts,” he returned, disliking that fleeting look of – what was it? – regret, he supposed, that he saw on her face when she talked about the past she hadn’t had. He didn’t see that from her often. “Since I’ve put nothing between us but money, what do you think will happen over the next twelve hours, say? Especially given that Miss Nyland has designed an entire reality series around their discovery and spending of the treasure? They’re calling it Booty Queen.”

  “Well, that’s an amazingly horrible name.”

  “I am in agreement about that.”

  She walked up the stairs beside him in silence. However little she might know about family dynamics, she did have a good idea about what made people tick, what made them covet what other people owned. She could write a study on greed and desire and the lengths to which people would go to fill the holes in their souls.

  “It’s not good,” she said quietly, as they turned up the hallway toward the billiards room. “If it was just Reggie, I think he’d take the money. Eerika, though, wants to be famous. The money isn’t enough. It’s important, but it’s only fifty percent of her equation.”

  “What if I do close the house tonight? Pay Reg off and then send everyone packing?”

  “As long as they think there’s a treasure waiting at the end of their rainbow, I doubt she’ll let Reggie forget it’s up here. You might be able to keep them out of Canniebrae, but you can’t keep them from driving up to the village and staying at one of the bed and breakfast places. Since the entire village knows what they’re after, something bad might happen. Somebody will get hurt, Rick.”

  Something about the way she worded all that caught his attention. “As long as they’re convinced I’ve been concealing a treasure, they won’t stop looking for it,” he mused.

  Abruptly Samantha grabbed him by both shoulders, shoving him backward into one of the spare sitting rooms. “Richard William Addison,” she breathed, her chin lifted so she could look him directly in the eyes, “are you thinking of doing something nefarious?”

  “I’m considering,” he admitted.

  She continued gazing at him intently. “I am so turned on right now.”

  Sometimes even his good luck was abysmal. “Hold onto that thought, because I’d say we have a little less than twelve hours to resolve this.”

  “’We’?” She leaned up and kissed him. “I think I just had an orgasm.”

  “All right, all right. I get it. I’m willing to do something out of my comfort zone to solve this…dilemma so that no one gets hurt. Do you happen to have any ideas?”

  “I might have one or two.” She tugged his hand until he followed her back into the hallway and toward the billiards room again. “I need to throw some darts while we discuss, so I’m not tempted to puncture Donner when he hears about this and puts in his two cents.”

  20

  Monday, 3:50 p.m.

  “Samantha.”

  “I’m still up here,” her voice came immediately. “Plottin
g.”

  Rick topped the attic stairs, the framed map in his arms. “I think,” he said slowly, turning the frame to face her, “it worked.”

  Standing from the little office area she’d dug out for herself in the attic, she moved around a stack of antiques. “So this is the pesky little map that’s caused so much trouble,” she mused, swiping her hair behind an ear as she bent down. “Can I get a better look at it?”

  He put it front side up over a chest of drawers. “Yes, but didn’t you hear the part where I said it worked? They went for the money.”

  “I did.” Samantha pulled that large, folded paper from her pocket and laid it down next to the old piece. She’d drawn her own map, he realized. Apparently from the clues she’d picked up from a dozen different sources. Was it necessary to see if her version was accurate? No, not really. But she more than likely wanted to know how close she’d been to the original.

  “Do keep in mind that this old thing is costing me a million dollars,” he returned, a bit miffed.

  “Yeah.”

  Given that the maps had been drawn nearly two-hundred-fifty years apart, she’d been pretty much spot on. The old map was actually a little rougher than hers and not quite to scale, but that had probably been intentional. As he looked at the old map now, he was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to figure it out. If he hadn’t grown up knowing the legends and the countryside, it would have been much more difficult. She’d managed it, though, and in a fraction of the time it had taken him at fifteen.

  “How good a look did Reggie get at this when you were kids?” she asked.

  “A pretty good look. We had it turned upside down, though. I happened to look at my tracing of it the right way up while I was out walking around the village, and it just kind of…made sense.”

  She nodded. “You’re a good chess player, too. You see patterns.”

  “Thank you.” He felt a little like he was being placated, but he could live with that. Lowering the frame to rest it against the bureau, he eyed his cat burglar. “There is a chance they’ve sincerely given up the hunt, you know.”

  That made her look up. “They’re just spending the afternoon rolling around on all their cash, then?”

  “I wrote them a check. Probably not quite as fun, but I suppose they could be rolling on it.”

  “Did you give ‘em the speech? And have ‘em sign the paper?”

  Richard frowned. “I’m not an amateur, you know. I hit all the highlights: that I don’t want all that publicity up here; that the past should remain in the past; that even if there was something to find, they were in way beyond their depth; that a million would more than likely put any so-called treasure to shame, that by signing their names they were agreeing to take the money in exchange for the treasure. Everything but double-dog daring them to go behind my back. I’m not sure it wasn’t entrapment.”

  “Better they decide to go behind your back now than in six months.”

  “True enough.” It hadn’t been pleasant, though. “If Reg doesn’t take that bait, I suppose we can be fairly sure the treasure is safe.” Reg used to have a modicum of common sense. It would be a pleasant surprise if his cousin used it today.

  “Mm hm.” Samantha picked up her walkie-talkie. “Stoney, anything?”

  “I was just about to call you,” her fence’s voice came back immediately. “The cousin and the Viking just left the house. Told Yule it was to take a walk and see the snow before it melts. The village knows. They’re keeping an eye on them.”

  “Did they tell you they were heading out?” she asked Rick.

  “No, they did not.” Dammit. “How is it you were so certain?”

  Samantha shrugged. “I’ve spent lots of time with people who’re never satisfied with what they have and who always think they can get a better deal. And no, I don’t mean you.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “Nope. You drive a hard bargain, but you stick with the decision. That’s why when guys like Kigomo cheat, it ticks you off.”

  That actually made him sound rather upstanding. He could live with that. “What’s next, then?”

  “Plan A. Or A point five, because I was hoping the weather would keep them inside until tomorrow. You go catch up to them, be in a good mood because you won, and keep them away from the village for at least an hour.”

  “And what will you be doing, pray tell?”

  Half turning, she kicked her heel into the framed map, breaking the glass. “Me?” she said, her mind clearly already spinning different scenarios. “I’ll be negotiating.”

  He caught her arm as she retrieved the map, folding it along its old creases. “You’re the one who pointed out how seriously the villagers will see this.”

  “This is what I’m good at, Rick. Let me do it. Just keep them off the road long enough that I can get past them.”

  “Not alone.” His grip on her arm tightened. “I’d risk bringing the eyes of the world up here before I’d risk you.”

  She blinked as if she’d needed the reminder that the risks she took affected him. “I’ll take Stoney.”

  “And Tom.”

  “I am n—”

  “And Tom,” he stated again. On that point, he had no intention of budging. She might know how to deal with people who had things to hide, people who’d stepped across the street to the wrong side of the law, but Tom knew about negotiation and legality. He also had a hell of a right hook if it came down to that.

  She blew out her breath. “Fine. Get going. Do you have your walkie?” She pulled it from his pocket and handed it to him. “Channel five. That’s just you, me, and Stoney. The village is on seven, and everybody in the house is on three.”

  Reluctantly he released her arm. “Be careful.”

  With a swift kiss she grabbed up all the maps and headed downstairs. “You, too.”

  He didn’t have much to be careful about, since he had the boring, pedestrian task of getting in the way of Reg and Miss Nyland, but he understood why it needed to be him. His coat and gloves waited in the foyer, and he pulled them on as Yule found him a scarf.

  “It’s a bit late for ye to be going out, m’laird,” the butler observed.

  “I’m trying to track down my cousin,” Richard returned, very conscious of the fact that whatever he told Yule would make its way down to the village. “I wanted his opinion on upgrading the stable and making it a bit more useful.”

  “Ah. Last I saw, he and his lass were headed along the road down to the village. They left but five minutes ago. I’d imagine ye can catch ‘em up without much trouble.”

  “Thank you, Yule.”

  It had definitely gotten colder as the sun drifted lower in the sky. Whatever half-melted snow still lay on the ground would freeze into ice overnight. That would make driving a problem, but the helicopter shouldn’t have any difficulty when it arrived at noon. He wouldn’t have minded Tom remaining longer, but Walter Barstone needed to go.

  Settling into a slow jog along the road, he caught up to Reg and Eerika just past the third curve. “There you are,” he said, slowing as he reached them.

  He caught the end of Reg’s stifled frown as his cousin turned around. “What, am I to sign a promise to leave Scotland now? Couldn’t that wait until we returned to the house?”

  “The equipment drivers will be back tomorrow,” he returned, biting down against his immediate urge to return sarcasm with even more blistering sarcasm. “I wanted your opinion on something before they got started. Come take a look at the stable with me before it gets dark.”

  Richard intentionally worded his statement as a demand rather than a request, but even so he wasn’t certain whether it would work or not. He caught Eerika elbowing Reg, but pretended not to notice since his cousin fell into step beside him.

  “This is not good timing,” Reg muttered. “We’re trying to figure out how to use an extra million dollars when we’re not permitted to name the source.”

  “You’re sharing it with he
r, then?” Richard returned in the same tone, as he left the road to take the more direct route back to the house. Samantha and her two-man crew needed to get past them down to the village. “You’re that certain she’ll stick around even without Booty Queen? That she’s a…keeper? That’s how you worded it with Samantha, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sharing it in the sense that I’ll do some traveling and maybe fuck her on half a dozen different continents. Maybe she can turn that into a show.”

  Richard caught a whisper of movement off to his right, but he kept his attention on Reg and their whispered conversation. Samantha hadn’t wasted any time. He assumed she meant to move the loot before Reg and Eerika could discover it, but he wasn’t certain how or why that would discourage them from searching further. But he trusted her, and so he would go along with it. For now. “That’s your plan, then?” he said aloud. “Take the funds you could be investing and waste them on mojitos and vibrating beds?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. What do you want to do with the bloody stable?”

  “It’s a stable.” Richard paused, trying to decide what the hell he did want to do with the building. They hadn’t planned out this part. He could improvise, he supposed. “I’ll likely be spending more time here at Canniebrae. That means vehicles and horses. I want a building that will fit with the house, but also does everything a stable, garage, planting shed, and storage shed does, and also has at least temporary space for a construction overseer and whatever supplies we’ll need for restoring the west wing that can’t be exposed to a Highlands winter.”

  “You’re going to have to make it a great deal larger than it is now,” Reg commented, actually taking a look at the building in question.

  For the next forty minutes they discussed building materials, how to separate the animals safely from the machinery, windows, heating systems, and paving the old carriage way. It almost felt like the old days, before he’d informed Uncle Rowland that while he didn’t mind suggestions, he would not tolerate being “managed”. Back when he and Reg had still been close.