by Robyn DeHart
Suddenly Graeme realized that in his mind he was building a life for them. Fitting Vanessa into his world in England.
“So why the interest in the Stone of Destiny?” she asked, bringing his focus back to the present. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink with exertion, and her breath was coming more rapidly than normal.
He noted that Vanessa never complained about the rough terrain as they ascended the hill above the loch and approached the castle ruins. Most English women, in their dainty shoes, would not make it across the narrow shoreline, given the large stones edging the water, let alone the rocky cliffs above the loch. But Vanessa said nothing and continued to climb beside him.
“Might I remind you that I will only reveal this cavern to you if you share your research with me,” she said.
He supposed there was no harm in having a discussion about the treasures. She’d already read through the notes and heard much of his conversation with Jensen. “It is part of Scotland’s heritage,” he said simply, answering the question that she’d asked a moment ago.
“I was under the impression it did not need to be located since King Edward I stole it from the Scots in 1296. Is it not sitting in Westminster Abbey, where it has been since then?” she asked. She held her hand out to him so he could assist her over several of the larger rocks. At least she was intelligent enough to wear boots and not try to maneuver out here in those flimsy soft-soled slippers that many women wore. Although her dress seemed like it might hinder her, she managed to maneuver quite well within her skirts. “Or rather had been in Westminster. Did your friend not inform you that it had been recently stolen?”
“Yes, someone absconded with it. And yes, most people believe it to be the true Stone of Destiny,” he said.
“But not you,” she said. “You think the real stone is still out there waiting to be found.”
“I do.” He paused before continuing. “Well, I believe that a counterfeit was made, and that is the one that was stolen—the one that was in Westminster,” Graeme said. “I’m merely trying to find the authentic stone.”
“You believe that the Scots knew the English were coming, and they hid the real stone, replacing it with a fake one before the theft?”
He tried to gauge her expression to see if she believed him to be utterly mad. But she was not hiding a smile or snickering at him; instead her questions and tone all seemed to express genuine curiosity. “Something like that,” he said.
“And once you find it, what do you plan to do with it?”
Before Graeme could answer, they’d reached the mouth of the cave. “Be mindful of your steps. We do not want a repeat of this morning. Let’s not set off any other disturbances or explosions,” he said.
“Of course.” She nodded. “I should think the Stone of Destiny’s proper place would be in a museum, rather than Westminster,” Vanessa continued. “It is a biblical treasure, Jacob’s pillow, as it has been called. Do you believe it reveals prophetic dreams when you sleep upon it? I read about that once and thought it sounded interesting, although certainly it must be untrue.”
“I’ve never given that much thought.” Though he’d read about that theory as well, he’d only ever wanted it because it was a Scottish relic—their coronation stone—and he thought his kinsmen deserved to have it back.
“It would be nice if it were true,” Vanessa said, and a hint of wistfulness tinged her tone. “Did you know that some believe it was the cornerstone upon which the Tower of Babel was built?”
Graeme had to admit that she surprised him with her knowledge of the antiquity. Not many people ever gave the Stone of Destiny a single thought, let alone were aware of the number of random facts she’d been rattling off. And none of what she’d just said could be found in his notes. This was information she’d gathered from reading elsewhere. “You seem to know an awful lot about this particular relic.”
Vanessa shrugged, a pleasant smile on her lovely face. “I know about many different things. I very much enjoy reading, and history is one of my favorite subjects.”
“What else do you read?” he asked, finding himself genuinely interested.
“Science, of course, philosophy, and religion.”
“I came back around this way to find you yesterday,” Graeme said, leading the way down the tunnel. His lantern funneled light ahead of them.
“I suspect there are many ways to connect all these caverns,” she said.
“Indeed.” More than likely he could find the new cavern on his own. Yet he’d allowed her to convince him that he needed her assistance. Allowed her to blackmail him into accepting help. He still was unsure of his reasons, although he suspected it had more to do with the pleasure of her company than any research necessity, something he didn’t want to think about for any length of time.
Once again they found themselves in the area with the crumbled wall where she’d originally been trapped. “We’ll have to tear more of this down to make room for all of you,” she said, letting her eyes roam the length of him.
She didn’t wait for him to take action. Instead she immediately went about moving rocks out of the way, building a larger opening for his broad frame. Not to be outdone by a woman, Graeme helped, grabbing the larger stones, carefully pulling them down, and then setting them aside. Finally their efforts paid off; they had created a big enough entrance.
“That should do it,” Vanessa said, exertion lining her voice, making it husky and as rich as it had been when they’d made love. Perspiration dampened her hair, and tight wispy curls now framed her face. Delicate brows arched over her eyes, and here in the darkness of the cave, her long black lashes highlighted the blue of her eyes. Her rosy-stained cheeks and labored breathing spiked his desire. Damned if he couldn’t take her right there on the cold stone floor.
She stepped through the entryway, then turned expectantly toward him. Her head tilted, and again her eyes traveled the length of his body. “I do believe you’ll fit, although you might have to turn your body and perhaps bend some.” She demonstrated the motion, bending her body to illustrate how it was done.
He suppressed a laugh. He’d been climbing through these caves since he was a small boy, but he’d let her play the expert. He did as she’d shown him and followed her down the tunnel and into the chamber.
They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of their footfalls echoing in the cavern. Soon they came to an area in the passageway with a gap in the floor. “Vanessa?” he asked. “Are you certain this is the right path?”
She maneuvered herself around him. “Of course I am. See down there? That’s the boulder I was telling you about, the one attached to some manmade structure.”
“Precisely how did you manage to get across?” he asked.
Before she answered, she shoved him out of the way, then ran and jumped across the gap. “Like that. It’s not that difficult.”
Graeme swore, then rubbed the back of his neck. This was going to be a trying marriage, full of surprises both pleasant and nerve-racking. He followed behind her. “You really must try to be more careful.”
“I was quite careful,” Vanessa said. “I have jumped it twice now without even a scratch.
“Look at all of these new caverns I’ve discovered,” she said. Her eyes lit with enthusiasm. “But this isn’t the one I was so excited about. There are more, and one deeper in. This is the tunnel I took.” She pointed to her left. “I had to crouch, so it’s likely you’ll have to crawl through.” She eyed him, then the tunnel. “It’s a tight space.”
“I’m certain I’ve been in worse.”
She was right. He did have to crawl. The space was far too small for him to even bend over and walk, so he had to get on his knees and move through it that way. Tiny rocks lining the floor punched into his knees.
“Because this particular cavern is so difficult to get to, I believe that it is quite special. Especially because of the manmade contraption farther back. It does seem as if perhaps someone might be protecting someth
ing,” she said brightly. “I, for one, hope it’s fossils.”
They came upon the skeleton, and Graeme, already on his knees, used his position to investigate the remains. He ran his hands along the outer edges of the remaining clothing, looking for anything that would indicate the person’s identity. But he found nothing.
“If I had to guess, based on the type of clothing,” Vanessa said, “this was a man, and he’s been dead for many years. Look at the style here of his shirt.” She pointed, her long fingers pausing over the collar. “Clearly a style long since passed.”
Graeme sat back on his heels. “You surprise me,” he admitted.
“How so?” She looked at him inquisitively.
“I would not have expected you to care a whit about fashion, let alone pay that close attention to it.” Judging from the clothing he’d seen her wear, she only had an arsenal of practical dresses cut from wool.
“Oh, I don’t care at all.” She waved her hand. “But my mother does, and she has schooled my sisters and me on the intricacies of fashion, both for males and females. A good wife should know how to select a tailor for her husband.”
She was quoting her mother there; on that he’d wager money. Despite her odd interest in the bones of creatures long dead and her decided lack of delicate sensibilities around dead bodies, Vanessa had obviously been raised a gentlewoman. She had all the knowledge and skills to make her the perfect duchess. His perfect bride. On the other hand, whether or not he had what it took to become an ideal husband was still very much up for debate.
Graeme glanced back at the body and found her assessment to be true. He’d seen his own father wear a shirt with a similar cut, but his father had been dead for nearly ten years.
“I don’t believe this man is going to offer any further assistance to us,” he said.
“Shall we continue, then?”
Graeme nodded and motioned for her to move farther into the tunnel.
“It’s right up this way,” she said.
The area opened slightly, enough that Graeme was able to stand and move his arms freely.
She was right. This cavern was spectacular, formed and shaped by water flowing in and out. Their damp, cold surroundings seemed untouched by man. Vanessa immediately went about exploring. She walked slowly, holding her lantern just so as she scrutinized the cavern walls.
“Be careful,” Graeme said. The small puddles around his feet sat stagnant, but as he moved forward they rippled around his boots. There was something almost familiar about the cavern with its many stalactites and stalagmites. Not that he hadn’t seen such shapes before. Hell, he’d been intimately acquainted with one earlier that day. The two stitches in his arm still pinched where his skin had been pulled tight to close the wound.
It was something else that called to him. A certain recognition felt deep in his gut. There was a passage in The Magi’s Book of Wisdom that immediately came to mind: The three guard the secret, and swords from above point the way. He’d never known precisely what those words had meant, and it seemed odd that he’d think of them now, but looking straight in front of him he knew why.
Hunkered in the darkness, three large stalagmites stood looking very much like monks wearing their tunics and hoods. Directly above the formations, sharp stalactites pointed down at the cavern floor, almost illuminating the area nestled at the would-be men’s feet.
Perhaps he was imagining things. Perhaps he’d searched for the damned thing for so long that his mind conjured clues where there was nothing to be found. But he’d followed lesser hunches. He fell to his knees and felt around the base of the largest stalagmite, the center of the three. Chilled mud oozed around his fingers as he explored.
“Graeme?” Vanessa asked from behind him. “Whatever are you doing on the ground?”
“Looking for something,” he said.
“Indeed.” And then she was at his side, on her own knees.
The additional light from the lantern better illuminated the entire area. More than ever, the formations before him resembled three men, and above, the sharp tips reaching down toward him appeared swordlike. With renewed effort he dug through the mud.
“Whatever are you searching for?” she asked, her voice breathless with excitement.
“A medallion.” He laughed. “It’s probably a futile quest, but something about this area seemed right.”
His fingers moved through the mud and water searching for anything that felt out of place. He searched all over in front of the three figures, but found nothing unusual. “It’s a decoder,” he found himself saying. “For The Magi’s Book of Wisdom.”
“That handwritten bit in the back of the book,” she said.
He chuckled. “You really did read through everything. I don’t suppose that’s some ancient language you’re fluent in?”
“Unfortunately, no,” she said.
He sat back for a moment and looked up. “They’re supposed to point the way,” he said absently.
She reached into her bag for her tools. She unrolled the pouch and withdrew what looked like a miniature shovel. “Perhaps you only need to dig a little deeper.”
Graeme took the shovel and drove it into the muddy water. Almost immediately, it struck something that would not give way with mere pressure. He moved the instrument around in an effort to outline the object. It could be nothing more than another naturally formed cavern structure. But what was it?
With one hand, he held the miniature shovel in place and with the other, he dove in. The hole was much deeper than where he’d previously been looking. Now his arm was buried in the cold, murky water all the way up to his elbow. His finger moved over something decidedly hard and round.
“Did you find something?” she asked.
“I think I may have.” He worked the object free of its muddy imprisonment, then pulled it out. Mud caked to his arm and fingers and all over what he felt certain was the decoder. “Son of a bitch,” he swore.
Graeme rinsed the artifact in the muddy water, then held the light over the metal disc.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Vanessa asked. “The decoder you’ve been searching for?”
His pulse thundered. “Aye, it seems to be,” he said. The medallion dated back to the third century and yet still displayed every original carving. Now he could decode the last portion of The Magi’s Book of Wisdom.
“Had you been searching these caves for that piece?” she asked.
He shook his head, but never took his eyes off the metal disc in his hand. “No, I looked for this for several years after locating that book, but to no avail. Eventually I stopped. I figured if there was more than one way to bed a woman, certainly there had to be more than one way to find that bloody block of stone.” Then he looked up and met her gaze, only just realizing to whom he’d been speaking.
“Sounds logical,” Vanessa said. She swallowed, then came to her feet. She eyed their surroundings. “I’m going to go back to my search and see if there is anything else important in this cavern.”
He’d obviously flustered her, and ordinarily he wouldn’t have said such a thing to a lady. But she’d been down there on the ground helping him, providing encouragement and suggestions, and he’d simply said the first thing he’d thought. He’d momentarily forgotten she was his wife and instead had spoken to her as if she were a friend or a partner.
Decidedly male voices echoed somewhere behind them. Graeme pulled Vanessa close and motioned with his finger to his lips. He strained his ears to listen to the men’s words. Two distinct voices, but he couldn’t make out what they said.
He pulled her close and bent to her ear. “We’ll move closer, but stay behind me.”
She nodded.
Together they crept down the tunnel, in the direction from which they’d come. Graeme suspected the men were in the central chamber that led to the various tunnels. Their voices still echoed around them, their words becoming clearer.
“The Loch Ness treasure is what he really wants. It’s
here somewhere,” one man said.
“We’ll find the stone before he does,” the other said.
Graeme held an arm out to stop Vanessa’s progress. She pressed her body up against the wall, effectively hiding herself. “Stay hidden,” he told her, then sneaked closer to the main chamber. He caught sight of one of the men standing at the mouth of a tunnel. He had dark blond hair cropped short, and his leather coat sported dust and debris from the cavern, but there was something oddly familiar about the material.
Only one man that he knew wore a coat like that. Anthony Braden was not a member of Solomon’s, but Graeme knew all about him—the man was a bounty hunter. Wealthy collectors paid him huge sums of money to find their treasures. Graeme’s friend Fielding had once earned this same living before he’d joined the ranks of the men of Solomon’s.
“What the devil are you doing here, Braden?” Graeme asked as he stepped out of the shadows. It was risky to confront them, especially since he was unfamiliar with the other two men, but sometimes surprise could work in one’s favor.
Though Braden didn’t start, Graeme knew his abrupt appearance startled the man. He turned and met Graeme face to face. The man was younger than Graeme, but by no more than a few years. “I should ask you the same question, but then your kin are local to these parts, aren’t they?”
Graeme nodded, but said nothing. The man standing next to Braden stepped forward, his hand moving to the pistol strapped to his leg.
“Sam, that won’t be necessary. Graeme here is merely being cordial,” Braden said.
Sam eyed Graeme for a moment longer before crossing his arms over his chest.
Graeme had no weapon with him. Unless he could count the small sharp instruments that his wife used to scrape things out of stone. Hardly a man’s weapon.
A third man stepped back out of the tunnel: Rodrick Fitch, longtime associate of Braden’s. Fitch was slightly shorter than Graeme, but as broad. He was known as an accomplished athlete, a man who favored bare-knuckle fighting inside the ring.
“I heard the Stone of Destiny was stolen from Westminster,” Braden said.
