Barefoot in the Dark

by Suzanne Enoch

“Yes.”

  “I’m coming to get you.”

  “No, you’re not. You have to be there when they get back.” She shoved again with all her weight, but nothing budged. Apparently she’d found the one weak spot in the wall already.

  “Yule’s telling Jamie to offer Reg dinner at The Bonny Lass. That should give you another half hour or more.”

  “Thanks. Keep everything on schedule, Rick, or this is for nothing. Your aunt and uncle can’t think anything’s weird, either. Ever. If they say something to Reggie, this could start all over again.”

  She was not going to be the weakest link here. Rick had given in, which surprised her, but he’d also hopefully bought her a few more minutes – at least for polite British refusals if Reggie and Norway decided not to eat at the pub. That was all she could count on timewise, until or unless she heard differently.

  Reggie and Eerika must have put the stone back in place at the far end of the tunnel, because she didn’t feel a draft even with the hole slowly growing in size. That was good; she didn’t look forward to freezing to death in the already chilly cellar of a Scottish pub.

  Pulling the spike back in, she returned to prying at the concrete between the stones. Hammering was out, because that would immediately draw attention to the cellar. This was stupid. They’d gathered an entire village together and concocted a plan to save the treasury, all in less than an hour. It wasn’t supposed to all fall apart because she couldn’t get out of a six-hundred-year-old cellar. For most of her twenty-five years she’d done this kind of thing for a damned living.

  “You know, Will Dawkin, from one thief to another, I could use some help,” she muttered. “I am keeping your stash safe, after all.”

  More pushing and pulling wrenched another stone loose, but it was taking too long. Plus, she was going to end up with bruises all up and down her arms. No sleeveless ball gowns for her.

  A wisp of cold air, really cold air, slid up her fingers through her glove and all the way up her left arm as she reached through the wall for another stone to grip. She jerked backward, and two more stones dropped to the floor.

  That was wind. Spooky wind. But she could probably get everything but her shoulders through the hole now. One or two more. And an extra ten minutes. Was that too much to ask? Samantha shook out her arms and reached in again.

  A hand grabbed her wrist. Barely stifling a yelp, she yanked backward again – and black-gloved fingers reached into the flashlight-lit cellar. “I told you I was coming for you,” soft, smooth Brit drifted into her.

  Grabbing up the flashlight, she pointed it at the hole – illuminating a frowning pair of deep blue eyes crouched low to look back at her. “You gave me a heart attack,” she whispered fiercely, something deeper than relief sinking through her. “Push here and I’ll pry at the mortar,” she said, indicating her target rock.

  “On three,” Rick said, digging his fingers around the stone.

  He counted down, and she pried as he shoved. With a shower of cement chips, the stone came loose. She caught it in her hands and set it aside. “What do you think?” she asked, eyeing the irregular opening.

  “Give it a try. I’ll pull.”

  Samantha handed through her walkie-talkie and the flashlight, then took off her coat and gave it to Rick, too. “Okay, ready or not.”

  Going down on her hands and knees then lowering onto her stomach, she stuck her head through, then squeezed her right arm followed by her shoulder. On her own she wouldn’t have risked trapping one arm up and one down, but with Rick there she could attempt it. Lowering her left shoulder as much as she could, she gripped Rick’s wrist and pulled as he shifted backward. “Slower,” she grunted. “My boobs are getting squished.”

  Immediately he eased up by about half. “Well, protect your boobs,” he returned. “I’m quite fond of them.”

  “Dammit, don’t make me laugh. Pull right a little more.” He did so, and her left sleeve tore as her shoulder came free. “Hallelujah. Now more left. My left!”

  Her left arm came completely free, and she scooted forward on her hands and toes. After what felt like an hour of butt wiggling she edged onto one side and curled her legs into the cave with the rest of her. Whoosh. She sat up, and Rick helped her pull on her coat again.

  “Well done, my lass,” he said. “You’d never have gotten Tom or Walter out that way.”

  “Thanks, but it’s not over yet. Plus now you look as dirty as I do.”

  He ran his flashlight over her. “I doubt that. I’ll lead, shall I?”

  “Sure. I like looking at your butt.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Crawling, his wildly-swinging light in one hand, he headed out through the narrow tunnel.

  She would have admired his rear more if she hadn’t been pouring logic all over that sudden cold breeze and the stones falling out of the wall. It had to have been the draft from Rick pulling the cover stone aside, and the change in air pressure. Unless that hadn’t been it at all. As she left the main part of the cave, she turned her head to look back. “Thank you,” she breathed.

  Outside she straightened, taking a deep breath of the fresh, cold air. Man, she didn’t like being trapped somewhere. While she was pretty sure she was going to have some sore arm muscles tomorrow, she would have risked losing a limb entirely if that had been what it took to escape. Then she turned around to look at Rick, and realized it might get even worse than that. “You rode here?” she hissed.

  “It was faster than running.” He swung into the saddle and freed his left foot from the stirrup before he reached a hand down. “You did say we’re in a hurry.”

  So she had. Clenching her jaw, she took his hand and climbed up on Major General Llewelyn Alberic Emilius Price-Davies – Major for short – behind Rick, and slid both arms around his waist. “Punch it, Chewie.”

  22

  Monday, 6:37 p.m.

  Richard sent Major pounding up the hill. The road would have been faster, if less straightforward, but after all this he wasn’t about to risk them being overtaken by the jeep.

  A quarter mile above the village Samantha’s walkie-talkie beeped, and with a curse she freed one hand from her vise-like grip around his middle and retrieved it from her pocket. “I’m here,” she said, nearly taking his ear off with the thing as she tried to talk and hold onto him at the same time.

  “Miss Sam,” Jamie’s voice came back. “Yule said ye’d be on this channel. They’ve just left. I came down to fetch ye from the cellar, but all I found was a hole and a gold coin.”

  “A coin?” Richard repeated.

  “I didn’t put it there,” she said, and lifted the radio again. “I’ll pay you back for the wall.”

  “If ye’ve convinced them to stay away, I’ll pay for it myself. I’m putting together a parade committee. Dunnae make me call it off.”

  “I’ll let you know. Thanks.”

  She pocketed the radio and grabbed Richard again, tightly enough to restrict his breathing. She definitely hadn’t been faking her uneasiness about horseback riding, then. “Parade?”

  “Later. Right now I’m hanging on for dear life.”

  He swore he could hear the jeep off to the right, but in the dark and with Samantha up behind him he refused to risk going any faster. At the same time, he couldn’t help feeling a little like a romance hero, the lord rescuing his damsel and setting off to protect the village and the castle. Samantha wasn’t precisely the damsel type, but she was his, and he had rescued her. She would never have made it back to Canniebrae in time on her own.

  Headlights flashed into view on the right and slightly down the hill from where they rode. Damn. If Reg or Eerika caught even a whiff that someone from the house had been down in the village, they would assume there’d been meddling and that the treasure had been moved. Even worse, they would realize, and correctly, that they were being made to look foolish.

  “It gets steep up here,” he said, ducking lower along Major’s withers. “Hold on.”

  “I
am so not a frontier woman,” she returned, her voice muffled and breathless against his back.

  It would never do for him to admit he was a bit relieved to find there was something in the world at which she didn’t excel. “You could always have robbed trains,” he pointed out.

  “Or river boats.”

  They charged over the lip of the hill and stopped just on the far side of the stable. He whistled for Briggs as Samantha staggered to the ground. Leaving Major to wait for the groom, Richard dismounted and grabbed Samantha’s hand. Keeping low, they made it through the kitchen door just as the jeep pulled up to the front of stable.

  “Upstairs,” she panted, as they raced through the kitchen and the servants’ quarters and up the back staircase.

  At the door just before their bedchamber he let her go. “The blue dress?”

  “Yes, please,” she returned, shoving into the spare room and shutting the door behind herself.

  He was getting their damned shower fixed tomorrow, if that was the last thing he did. Shedding his coat and gloves and shoes, he scooped up her blue Vera Wang dress and matching pumps, then a dark blue suit with a gray tie for himself.

  As he rushed back to the next-door room he could hear Yule down below, informing Reg that the household was just sitting down for dinner. Samantha was already out of the shower, and from the goosebumps covering her bare skin she hadn’t bothered waiting for the water to get warm. She dressed as he stepped into the tiny shower and washed dirt and grime from his hair and face, refusing to wince at the shock of the icy water running down his legs.

  “We’re going to be late,” he said, as she finished toweling off her hair and then went to work on his.

  “It’s because we were having shower sex,” she announced, putting on her lipstick, rubbing some off, and then deliberately kissing his jaw.

  He kissed her back on the mouth before she could straighten. “Thank you for this. Have I mentioned that you’re remarkable?”

  Smiling, she helped him knot his tie. “You’re not so bad, yourself. I know you’re not big on public displays of affection, but it was really good shower sex. With soap.” With that she ran back into the bathroom and turned the water on again.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ambiance.”

  That didn’t make sense, but given the excuse she’d thought up for them, the slightly rumpled look they’d managed actually fit rather well. They headed downstairs and stopped just outside the dining room as inside Eerika described how quaint The Bonny Lass was, and how much they’d enjoyed their meal.

  Richard slid his hand around Samantha’s waist and strolled into the room beside her. Tom and Walter were there already, looking very clean and neatly-pressed, as did his aunt and uncle. Reg and Miss Nyland stood to one side of the table, chatting with the four of them.

  “My apologies,” Richard said, turning Samantha in a circle and then holding her chair out for her. “We…lost track of time.”

  “And you may want to wait until morning to take a shower,” Samantha added, smiling up over her shoulder at him. “I don’t think there’s any hot water left.”

  “Well, how thoughtful of you, telling us,” Eerika returned.

  So that was why she’d turned the water back on. If Samantha ever decided to go back to the dark side, he was going to be in a great deal of trouble. “A shame you’ve already eaten, Reg,” he said aloud, as footmen marched in with soup and buttered rolls. “Mrs. Yule promised fresh pan-fried bass and wild rice.” He took his seat at the head of the table, intentionally not inviting them to join in, anyway. Yes, he could be that petty when it suited him. He was permitting Reg to get away with a million dollars and a job offer even though his cousin had broken his word, after all. “And some haggis for Tom and Walter to try.”

  “Great,” Tom muttered, looking dubiously at the bowl.

  Reg looked rather mournfully at the rolls, but Miss Nyland wrapped her arms around one of his. “I am too stuffed to eat a single thing,” she purred. “Perhaps we should retire early tonight, Reginald.”

  “Yes, fine. Good night, all.”

  “Good night, my dear,” Aunt Mercia said.

  They’d done it. They’d saved the treasure, the village, and enabled him to keep the promise he’d made eighteen years ago. He looked up to see Samantha grinning at him, but then she side-eyed toward his aunt and uncle. Right. It would be very like his aunt to comment to her son in the morning about how all the young people had spent dinner in exceptionally high spirits and kept toasting each other.

  “Tom and Walter are leaving tomorrow,” he said instead. “Do you have anything to put on the helicopter to London, Uncle Rowland?”

  “Must you go?” Aunt Mercia asked, reaching over to cover Walter’s hand with her pale, plump one. “It’s been delightful having you both here.” She smiled. “And Walter here is quite the rummy player.”

  “Walter,” Samantha said, her eyes widening. “You didn’t wager anything, did you?”

  “We all have our secrets,” Barstone drawled, glancing at Richard.

  What did that mean? That they’d landed closer on the morality scale because they’d worked together? Because he’d concealed a theft that had been ongoing for two and a half centuries? The next time Barstone chose to do something that benefitted other than himself or Sam, then Richard would re-evaluate the score in their competition.

  After dinner they moved to the formal drawing room and sat to chat well past when his aunt and uncle generally retired for the evening. Even with the benefit of years of practice at being charming, he was impatient and hard-pressed to hide that fact. He wanted to know everything Sam and her unlikely team had done, what Reg and Eerika had said, how the entire plan had gone off. Because after two weeks of tension and stress, he felt…relieved.

  Finally, his uncle rose and helped his aunt to her feet. “If we don’t see you before you leave tomorrow,” he said in his usual grand tone, “have a safe journey. I’m certain we’ll meet again at the wedding, whenever that may be, if not before.”

  “You’ll know the date as soon as we set one,” Richard contributed, rising to walk them to the door. “Uncle Rowland, would you mind sending your leatherworks portfolio to me in London?”

  His uncle’s cheeks flushed, a smile pulling at his heavy jowls. “I’d be happy to, Richard. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking New York could use a high-quality leatherworks shop that’s not tied to west coast chains.”

  His aunt took her husband’s hand and squeezed. “We’ll see that you get that portfolio, Richard.”

  Once they were gone he headed for the side table where a dozen various bottles of liquor, glasses, and a bucket of ice sat. “Champagne would be more appropriate, but will you settle for a Scotch whisky?” He lifted a single aluminum can from the table. “And a diet Coke for milady?”

  Samantha laughed. “I’ll take a tiny drop of whisky. The soda would keep me awake.”

  “Nothing would keep me awake,” Tom countered. “Anti-thieving is hard work.”

  “It would’ve seemed like less work if there’d been more profit in it,” Walter said, accepting a glass. “But it gave Sam a couple of points in her ‘good guy’ column, so I’ll drink to that.”

  “Thanks, Stoney.”

  Richard raised his glass. “Thanks to all three of you. It wasn’t what any of us were expecting when we arrived, but admirably done. To us.”

  “To us,” the other three echoed, and drank. Samantha made her usual “I hate alcohol” face, but she finished off her finger-width of whisky.

  “Your ride will be here promptly at ten o’clock,” Richard said, polishing off his own glass. “And it’s not leaving without both of you on board.”

  “Thank God,” Walter commented. “This place nearly froze my ass off.”

  “Bed now,” Samantha said, yawning. “See you guys in the morning.”

  They all parted at the top of the stairs, and Richard followed Samantha into
the spare bedchamber to turn off the trickle of now-cold water. “I thought I might have melted off the wallpaper,” she commented, yawning again. “I should have realized we’d run out of hot way before that could happen.”

  “That was a clever touch. And I have no problem at all with Reg and Norway going to bed without supper or a hot shower.”

  Once they were in their own room he slipped off his jacket and hung it over a chair before he stepped out of his shoes. Sam headed into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later in an oversized T-shirt and sweat pants. “What?” she asked, looking at his lifted eyebrow. “More for you to strip off me. Plus it’s comfy.”

  Putting his hands on her hips, he lowered his head and kissed her. She tasted of fresh mint. “You look good in comfy.”

  She ran her palm along his cheek. “Are you and Reggie going to be okay?”

  “I think so. I hope so. I offered him a job with Addisco. It seemed to alter things. Though he did go behind my back after he gave his word he was finished with treasure hunting.”

  “Yeah, but as far as you’re supposed to know, he didn’t go behind your back. On his own I don’t think he would have gone looking for the cave, anyway. He definitely didn’t want to be there. If you want to keep a relationship with your cousin, you’re going to have to let this whole episode go.”

  Sighing, he touched his forehead to hers. “When did you become so wise?”

  “I’ve always been wise, dude. I just try not to overwhelm you with it. You totally made your uncle’s week, too, you know.”

  “I’m trying to let the past go. I may not need his business advice, but he is my family.”

  “I’m going to brag about you to Katie Donner. You have so many more awesome points than Donner does.”

  “Mm hm. Keep talking, Yank. But don’t start without me.”

  Figuring that what worked for her would do for him, he settled for a pair of sweat pants, himself. They were comfortable, and it had been a bloody long day. After he brushed his teeth he left the bathroom, then paused as a soft snore came from the bed.