by Susan King
“Time is ours here,” she said. “Hush.”
As he kissed her again, thought vanished like shadows before light. She accepted, sighed, returned with fervor, feeling so good, so safe here with him. Loved and cherished, body and soul. Time dissolved, and passion warmed them.
His lips traced downward, and she felt tenderness and desire burgeoning so strongly in her that her limbs trembled, her knees sank. James lifted her in his arms then and brought her out of the narrow channel and into the middle cavern. There, he sank with her to the stack of plaids and blankets there. She tumbled the blankets around them, under them, and James sank down with her, stretched out, his hard muscular body pressing against her own, urgent with passion now.
He kissed her, gliding his fingers over her throat and chest. Her heart leaped. She arched, hungry for more, savoring the supple, grazing touch of tongue and fingertips. Her breath caught, heart pounded as he began to snug her bodice downward, his hands gentle, his kisses compelling, raising desire like lightning, like magic, all through her.
She pressed closer, feeling a surge of love and a sort of compassion, wanting him to feel as loved in this moment as he made her feel. Touching his thick, glossy, gilded hair, his shoulders, his chest, she let her hands, her lips, her body convey what she wanted. When he worked at the little buttons along the front of her bodice, she helped him draw away the cloth. His fingers slid over the delicate fabric of her chemise, then inside with an exquisite touch over her breast, so that she gasped, pearling there for him. He raised his head to kiss her, rolled with her in the plaids.
What rocked through him now was deep, profound, as if all the feelings he had reserved over the last weeks, indeed over years, had been saved for her. What had been restrained simmered, roiled, then began to dissolve into a calmness, a bright certainty. She freed him, this girl. She fired his blood and his soul, drew him up out of himself, opened his mind, his heart. No woman had ever done that for him. He kissed her, maddened by the sweetness, the lushness of her, the delicate flowery scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, the taste of her lips. She opened to him, pressed her body to his, and he pulsed for her, hot and sure.
She had magic—she was magic, and more than that, a miracle to him. Since the first time he had seen her, she had brightened his soul. He swept his hands over her, breathed with her, ached for her, grateful she was his now, and he hers. All thoughts of fairies—a fairy bride, the demanding will, all of it—seemed inconsequential now. She was more important to him than any of it.
Urgency whirled through him like a storm, building, time vanishing again. Yet he remained aware that they must return to the world soon. She wanted this too, he knew it now, she savored this peace and privacy and enchantment with him. When she framed his face in her hands and kissed him, arched her body freely against him as if in answer to a question he had not asked, he knew again. This was right.
Kisses went to wildness, fiery as whisky, filling his heart, his soul. He moved with her, braced a hand on rock and plaid, drew strength from the very earth—silent, restrained, infinitely patient. She leaned into him, and he rucked up her skirts, lace and cloth, felt her hands tug at his clothing. He smoothed over the incredible softness of her bare hip, pressed her against his deeply aching hardness. But he slowed himself deliberately, for her.
Still, she was impatient against him, capricious and bold, and as he found the soft space in her that his body sought, he felt the wildness grow, his breathing fast, so fast. She kissed, murmured, though he did not know what she said. Then he groaned and flared his hands over her slender hips, delved and sank, as she looped her arms around him and took him into her, deep and tender, surging with him, all honey and fire. And all he felt for her swept through in a rhythm, his utter need for her, body and soul, bursting through. Her lips moved over his, silently pleading, and he kissed her, taking her breath into his own, giving back of himself.
Chapter 22
“There’s no treasure here, but we did make a great geological find,” James said later, taking Elspeth’s hand as they walked into the outermost cave. “We did accomplish that today.”
She laughed. “And a little more.”
Smiling, he hefted his leather bag on his shoulder. The Goblin Cave held only signs of smugglers, but every moment here was a treasure in itself, for he and Elspeth had found each other, and he was grateful for that gift. And he would return here to further explore the wealth of geological evidence.
“We should search through the smugglers’ things before we go,” Elspeth suggested. “Perhaps they found something and hid it away.”
James removed the blue agate from his pocket and lifted it to the light. “True. Why would Niall MacArthur leave a clue in his painting that led to this cave, if there was nothing here? This agate did lead us to a nice cache of agate in the rock. Oh very well, no more talk of geology,” he said, as his bride slid him a glance. “We can certainly look through the things in the other cave again if you like.”
“Grandda and the others will worry if we do not meet them soon. At least we have crystals and agates to show them,” she said.
“And a marriage,” he said. “Should we tell them?”
“We should talk to my grandfather first, and then—aye, we could tell them.”
James nodded. He wanted her to be happy always, to smile like sunshine. But he had not been able to help her find the treasure. The blue agate still puzzled him, its rarity here, its map-like formation resembling this very cave. He hoped that a cache of similar agate existed here, but there was much to explore yet.
“I should make some geological notes before we go. Shall we delay our departure a few minutes, Lady Struan?” He inclined his head.
She smiled and nodded. “Besides, I forgot my bonnet again.”
Rummaging for a notebook and pencil in his pack, James sat and began to jot down his thoughts. “A good deal of trap rock lies under all,” he murmured, writing. “Much of the interior walls are formed of limestone—abundant evidence of shell fossils.” He glanced up at Elspeth. “Fiona must come with us next time to look at the fossils. She is more experienced with those than I am.”
“If the smugglers are not about, it seems safe enough. The fairies are clearly not here. I wonder why Grandda believed they were.”
“Your grandfather sometimes sees fairies where there are none.” James scribbled more observations, murmuring to himself. “The second cave holds traces of granite composite, with rock quartz, feldspar, mica,” he wrote. “Basalt, other compressed rock. Flecks of crystal formations throughout. Heat once occurred beneath the limestone layers. A subterranean passage exists, pitted with niches where crystals occur. Pocket formations indicate bubbles in ancient lava or magma flow. Good green agate has formed in places there.”
“I will leave you to this, and go fetch my bonnet.” Elspeth slipped into the smaller chamber. He heard her slight footsteps along the rocky slope.
Finishing his notes, he tucked his things away a few minutes later, left his satchel and walking stick in the outer cave, and went back to fetch his bride.
At first, he did not see her, and his heart leaped. Then he noticed her kneeling in a dark corner. “What have you found?”
“Come look! I think there is another little cave here. There is a small opening, but there are a lot of rocks piled up here. It looks like a small avalanche happened here.”
“It almost looks like a cairn—placed deliberately. Let me see.” He crouched, looking over her shoulder. Several small and medium-sized rocks were stacked, cairn-like, in front of a low cleft in the wall. Elspeth was attempting to shove them aside.
“I know we should not disturb a cairn, but there is something behind it. And my grandfather would want to know,” she said as she dragged rocks off the pile.
He knelt to help her. Some were dark and lightweight, others surprisingly dense and heavy for their size. He had expected to find limestone and shale, but soon realized these were odd rocks indeed to find her
e.
“Mica, schist, biotite,” he muttered. “And iron ore! This is not a natural rockfall, but deliberate. Perhaps the smugglers hid something here after all by blocking off a niche. We might find their best whisky—or a stash of French gold.”
“Gold?” Elspeth looked up.
“New-minted coin, the sort smugglers sometimes carry,” he said. “No fairy treasure, I’m afraid. What in thunderation is this,” he muttered then, guiding her out of the way so he could shift some stones. “Where is the candle we had earlier?”
“We burned it through, husband,” she said, half laughing.
“Lord, we did. There’s an oil lamp on a ledge over there if you would light that and bring it here, my dear.” He handed her a flint from his pocket. She walked away, returning with the glowing lantern. Holding it high, she gave James light to work on the rock pile.
“Someone stacked these deliberately. An effective barrier,” he said, moving another rock. “Hold the lamp there—aye, bonny girl.” He crouched and peered. The opening was still blocked, but he could see that it was wide but not high. A person could only pass through by crawling. “What the devil is this place?”
“And what is this?” Elspeth picked up an object from the pile. A crucifix, he saw. James took it, turned it in the light.
“This is very old,” he said. “The smugglers did not leave this here.”
Removing several more stones, setting them aside, he took the lamp again and leaned forward, shining the light into the opening. Craning through, crawling ahead, he suddenly felt the earth give way beneath him. He was sliding, tumbling forward, trying to keep hold of the lantern as he fell down, reaching out for solid earth again.
With a cry, Elspeth grabbed his coat, but lacked the strength to pull him back, and tumbled down with him. Sliding over rough, toothy stone, keeping a fast grip on the swinging lantern—pray God it did not extinguish—he came to a halt on some solid surface. Elspeth fell into him, and he grabbed for her with his free hand, coming upright on his knees. Holding the lantern, miraculously still alight, he stood and looked around.
“What is this place?” Elspeth asked. Her voice echoed softly.
The lantern glow filled the space, a snug pocket cave with glimmering walls and barely enough room to stand upright. Elspeth stood easily, brushing at her skirts, breathing rapidly, but he could not straighten, keeping his head bowed, hair touching the curved ceiling.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. He turned back to survey the slope of rubble and rock that cascaded from the opening to the little cave. “It was a bit of an avalanche—we are lucky that we did not break any bones or come to worse harm. And lucky that the opening is not entirely blocked. We need only clear some rocks away to crawl out again.”
“James,” Elspeth said, looking around.
“Very fortunate. Help me move some of these rocks, love.”
“James! Look.”
“Aye?” He lifted the lantern higher and turned. “My God!”
All around them, the place glittered and sparkled. The curving walls and ceiling caught the light in prisms of sparkling color. Embedded in the rock walls were thousands of gems and crystals.
Elspeth turned slowly, heart pounding. “What is this place?”
“A natural gem pocket. My God,” James breathed. He stood with head and shoulders hunched, then crouched along one wall to run his hand along its shining, sparkling curvature. When he handed up the lantern, Elspeth held it high.
“Tourmaline,” he was saying, half to himself. “Aquamarine. Amethyst in abundance—crystals everywhere— look at this.” He snapped off a crystal rod easily and handed it to her. A clear crystal lay pure and sparkling in her palm. “And this.” He took a small chisel from his pocket and snapped off a glowing stone of deep purple. “Amethyst. Rose quartz—smoky quartz—and more.”
“All here in one place?” she asked. “How can that be?”
“These crystals all formed in a bubble in the earth, seeded and growing here in the rock bed over eons. Crystal quartz, tourmaline, beryl…aquamarine…” he named them as he found them, running his fingers over the different colors and rainbow sheens, while Elspeth held up the light to aid his discoveries.
“Amazing,” she said. “And so beautiful.”
“Simply astonishing to find so many of them together like this, in such profusion and variety. Yet it is geologically possible.” He crouched, touching the walls. “Dear Lord, is that—emerald? I need to bring better light in here to be sure.”
“Here, is this agate?” Elspeth knelt nearby. “Blue, and green—and striped like Donal’s blue stone.”
“Dear heaven, it is. Lass, be careful of the points—crystals and precious stones break off easily and can be sharp. And best we do not break or crush more than a few if we can avoid it.”
“They are scattered all over the floor as well. The place is filled with them!”
“Aye,” James said, picking up a few variously colored crystals from the rock floor. Elspeth stepped carefully, dipping down to pluck up some pretty stones. “This whole place gleams like a royal ransom,” he went on.
A chill of realization went through her. “Like a treasure chest. James!”
“A living horde of treasure,” he said. “A subterranean chamber filled with gems, hidden in the earth.”
“Could it be—”
“It could,” he said. “Aye, it could indeed. Perhaps the treasure was never in a chest at all. Perhaps all along we were looking for a pocket mine filled with natural crystals and gems, but never knew it.”
“Grandda said the Fey have a portal to their world somewhere in these caves. If so, they would know this was here. So I do not understand how they could think it was stolen or went missing.”
“A mine like this can be scientifically explained without fairies,” he said. “What an exciting geological discovery. And we can find the perfect gem for your marriage ring.” He opened his hand to show her the gleam of amethyst, garnet, and what looked like a green emerald attached to a crust of stone.
She gasped at their raw beauty. “James—what if this place was hidden deliberately to keep anyone from finding it—including the fairies? It would take a powerful glamourie to do that, though.”
He frowned, and she expected him to point out logically that such things did not exist. Instead, he went back to the ramp down which they had fallen into the little jeweled cave, peered there, and turned. “It must have been the iron.”
“Iron?” She tilted her head.
“I thought I recognized iron ore among the rocks in the cairn that blocked the entrance. My grandmother mentions iron in her book. Iron prevents the fairies from crossing a threshold. Perhaps that MacArthur ancestor of yours placed that very deliberately, long ago.”
She realized what he meant. “Fairies cannot cross over cold iron. Oh, James!”
“Cannot cross over iron in its natural form, or cold-forged, shaped without heat, as well as the heated sort. Some of these stones are natural iron.”
“So they were unable to come in here. But they must have known it was here all the time. Why would they ask Donal MacArthur to find it?”
“If such things are possible,” he said, and his cautious tone said he would hold on to skepticism, “they would not be able to see this place with the iron there. According to my grandmother’s notes,” he added.
“The mine vanished from their sight.”
“Exactly.”
“The Fey have been angry about their missing treasure for hundreds of years. Could this be what they meant? And right here, where they could not see it?”
“Aye, if this fairy nonsense has anything to it.” A smile played at his lips.
She felt certain of it, exhilarated. “So this is the lost fairy treasure!”
James sighed, standing with his head bowed under the natural arch of the gem-studded ceiling. “I suppose anything is possible once we start talking about fairies. And marrying them,” he added.
“True.” She came toward him, wrapped her arms around him.
“Well then, if we are to give the fairies their treasure house and free you and your grandfather from their wicked spell,” he drawled, “we had best move all that iron away from the opening.”
She laughed, as did he, softly. The sound echoed in the little chamber like a harmony of bells. Then she went with him to begin to shove stones away from the little ramp.
An hour or more later, James wiped the back of his forearm along his brow and stood back to survey what they had done. The entrance to the little pocket mine was clear enough, and he had made sure to carry all the iron-bearing stones outside the cave, rolling them down the mountainside away from Coire-nan-Uriskin.
Elspeth waited by the outermost entrance, looking out. The rain had stopped, but mist clung to the slopes. Darkness was already gathering.
“We had best get back to the lochside inn, or they will be searching for us,” James said as he approached.
She sighed. “Do you think we have met the bargain?”
“If that wee cave is your fairy treasure, then it is available again, so aye. And you fell in love, so aye,” he murmured, setting his arm about her shoulders. “Your Grandda believes all that will protect you. And if not, I am here for you as well.”
She turned into his embrace. “So it is done.”
“Let the proof of it be our long and happy marriage.”
“And your new belief in fairies,” she said, muffled against his coat. He chuckled, kissed her hair. “Oh, I forgot my bonnet again!” She left him to go gather her things.
James waited briefly, watching the clouds gather and darken. “Come ahead, love. We must go.” He turned. “Elspeth?”
