by Robyn DeHart
“A fool has wasted his time and efforts,” Graeme said.
Braden bowed slightly. “Naturally you would believe that instead of recognizing that bloody thing had been sitting under your nose the entire time.” He glanced around at their surroundings, then took a few steps forward. “What are you skulking about these caverns for?”
“A simple exploration,” Graeme said.
“Coincidence. That is precisely what we are about.” Braden smiled. “Isn’t that right?” he asked, eying his companions.
“Absolutely,” Fitch said, his deep voice vibrating off the cavern walls.
Sam grinned, though it looked more like a sneer. “We’d best be getting on with that exploration.”
Graeme still blocked any view of Vanessa with his body. There was no need for the men to know she was even there. He’d never known Braden to be violent, but these other men might have more dangerous appetites.
But Graeme was tired of skirting around the subject at hand. “What do you want with the Loch Ness treasure?” he asked.
Braden’s brows rose, and then he and Fitch exchanged glances.
“I heard you,” Graeme explained.
“Wealthy client’s obsession,” Braden said with a shrug. He eyed Graeme a moment and then slowly smiled. “Solomon’s sent their dogs here to protect it?” But the man didn’t wait for an answer. “We have bigger foes to worry about.” He motioned to Fitch to return to the tunnel they’d started down. Sam reluctantly followed.
“Watch your step, Braden,” Graeme said.
“You just stay the hell out of my way.” Braden turned and disappeared into the darkened tunnel.
Chapter Eleven
Who were those men?” Vanessa asked.
Graeme faced her as they stayed hidden inside the tunnel. “Filthy scavengers,” he said, unable to keep the disgust from his tone.
“You mean like pirates?” Vanessa asked.
“I suppose you could call them that. They’re treasure hunters for hire,” Graeme said.
“And you know them?”
Graeme shrugged. “More or less.” Solomon’s, on principle, did not approve of men who earned their living hunting treasure for profit. A life like that tended to lead to greed, and greed fed the need for power, which only caused greater problems.
“Do you believe they’re working with your cousin?”
“No, I don’t. Niall isn’t the sort to hire help for his own search. He knows more about this damned treasure than anyone.” Graeme looked out in the direction that Braden and Fitch had retreated. “Something doesn’t fit.”
“Should we follow them?” Vanessa asked.
“No. We aren’t prepared in case things become less friendly. Besides, I suspect we’ll see them again,” Graeme said with a shake of his head. “I want to venture down where we were yesterday. Investigate a little more of what Niall has been working on.”
“This is becoming quite the puzzle,” Vanessa said. They walked through the central chamber and back around the way they’d come.
Graeme agreed, but said nothing. Niall wanted the Loch Ness treasure, but his efforts in the last month had created concern among the men of Solomon’s. Braden and his two cronies were also after the Loch Ness treasure. Too much interest in a single treasure in a short amount of time might have triggered Jensen’s concern, especially when that treasure was a part of the Kingmaker.
The individual stones posed no threat, but when combined, they could potentially create trouble for Her Majesty. But why would Niall have changed his course, changed his focus from simply craving the Loch Ness treasure, to wanting to possess a dangerous artifact like the Kingmaker? Niall had more money than most men, and he’d never been particularly ambitious. So why the sudden interest in a relic associated with great power?
Quietly they’d circled back, heading down the tunnels where they’d followed Niall yesterday. Vanessa reached into her bag and retrieved some folded parchment. She scanned it, then glanced up at the cavern walls.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Research,” she said. “While we’re in these caves I would like to find additional evidence to prove Mr. McElroy’s theory.”
“Who?” Graeme asked.
She handed him the notes that she held. “Mr. McElroy was a farmer who did a bit of exploring on the side and came across a bone he claimed proved the existence of the water kelpie.”
“Our beastie?” Graeme chuckled. “Interesting.”
“Indeed.” She took back her notes. “Somewhere in these caves is the cavern where he found that bone. He also has an illustration of a cave he could see, but not get into, that had several bones. I intend to find them,” she said. But then she abruptly stopped walking, and Graeme nearly slammed into her. “Oh my.”
“What?” he asked.
“Dynamite. A lot of dynamite.”
Graeme pushed Vanessa behind him and stepped over to where she’d been. Inside a small alcove were several sticks of dynamite.
Graeme glanced at his wife. She seemed as unruffled as she had been when facing down the corpse.
“The explosion,” Vanessa said.
“I was hoping that had been a one-time event,” Graeme said. “But it does appear there are plans for additional blasts.” Using such material could make these caverns far more dangerous than they already were. Cave-ins occurred naturally, but to accelerate such events with explosives—Niall must be desperate.
“We need to leave,” Graeme said. He needed to have a conversation with his cousin. Warn him to cease his blasting or else he’d chain the bastard in that damned house of his. And he’d leave the man there until he decided to stop behaving like a lunatic.
“Leave?” Vanessa asked.
“No more exploring until I know for certain this area is safe.” Graeme put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her gently toward the cave’s opening. “Besides, Duchess, we have the party tomorrow night. I’m assuming like most women you’ll need at least a day to ready yourself.”
“I need no such amount of time. Without the army of my mother’s servants, I should need only to put on a dress.” Then she paused and looked up at him. “What party?”
“Our party. To celebrate our marriage.” He paused a moment, noting that only days ago his life had seemed so simple. But now he had a bossy bride, and the new marriage had given his mother an excuse to muck around in his life. “My mother is organizing the entire thing.” Then he shook his head and continued to guide her back down the tunnel.
“I don’t have party clothes,” Vanessa said, although judging from her weak tone he’d guess that wasn’t precisely true, but rather an excuse she thought he might accept. “At least not the sort for a wedding party.”
“You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear. By the by, I sent a telegram to your family announcing our nuptials and your safety. There will also be a formal posting in the newspapers.”
She stopped so quickly that he ran into her. She turned to face him and he grabbed her arms as her large eyes peered up at him in wonder. “You did?”
He shrugged. “Seemed the appropriate thing to do.”
Graeme left Vanessa in the care of his mother and grandmother to help her decide what she should wear to the party. He then made quick work of the stairs leading to Niall’s front door. There was no need to bother with propriety; instead he stormed into Niall’s house, not waiting for an invitation or announcement. He made his way into his cousin’s study and threw the door open.
Niall immediately came to his feet from behind his desk. “Graeme, what are you doing here?”
“What kind of bloody fool are you?” Graeme asked as he breached the threshold.
Niall shook his head. “What are you talking about?” he stammered. Odd, because Graeme had never noticed Niall stammering before.
“The dynamite in the caves. Are you mad? You could destroy the entire system of caves. Bring that side of the hill sliding into the loch.”
Niall’s face went tight, his lips nothing more than a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t. I saw you the other day. Saw you sneaking around, building that wall.” Graeme glanced around the room. Unlike the other day, where everything had appeared neat and orderly, today everything sat in shambles. All of the furniture remained the same, but now stacks of books littered the floor, and Niall’s desk was covered with papers and maps as well. There was a large ink stain on the expensive rug. Evidently Niall had become haphazard in all areas of his life.
Graeme exhaled slowly, then moved to Niall’s large desk. He sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk and leaned forward. “My wife was nearly trapped there thanks to the addle-brained trap you set.”
“Your wife?” Niall’s tone rose in surprise.
“Yes. My wife.”
“But you’re not—”
“We are newlyweds,” Graeme bit out slowly. “The point is, that explosion you set off trapped her in a secluded area of the cave, and the results could well have been disastrous had I not been able to circle around and get to her through another tunnel.”
Niall slowly lowered himself to his chair. It was then that Graeme noticed Niall’s appearance. Normally he was the picture of an English gentleman: hair sculpted into the perfect style, clean and starched clothes with a crisp white cravat, bright, alert eyes. But the man standing before him had limp hair that hung around his face, and his clothes seemed as if they’d been picked up from the floor, wrinkled and stained.
But it was his face that showed the most difference. Dark circles lay heavy beneath eyes that now appeared hollow and gaunt. His shoulders slumped forward. He wiped at his mouth, then looked at Graeme. “That was you?”
“Yes, that was me. And Vanessa. She could have fallen, Niall. Been killed.” Graeme leaned back and eyed his cousin. They had never been close, but he was family. For that reason alone, Graeme would give him the opportunity to explain himself, give some damned excuse as to why he was acting reckless and crazy.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to be a trap.” He tried to laugh, to appear light, but Graeme knew better. Niall’s face, his entire body, jittered with a sense of anxiety. The man sat in his chair as if any moment he would spring to his feet. His eyes darted around the room, searching, but his gaze never settled on anything for any length of time. His skin tone was now almost gray in color, and he looked as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in days.
“What is going on, Niall?” Graeme asked. “You look like hell, man.”
Niall released another weak laugh. “I’m merely trying to find that treasure. Getting impatient, I suppose.” He wiped his hand down his face, and for a moment his façade cracked, and Graeme saw panic lurking in his eyes. Niall was terrified.
Graeme put his elbows on the desk and met his cousin’s gaze. “No, there’s more. What kind of trouble are you in? Do you owe someone money?”
As far as Graeme knew, Niall had always had plenty of money, but wiser men had lost fortunes at the gaming tables or in risky investments. Graeme could think of no other explanation for Niall’s odd behavior.
“I’m not in any sort of trouble.” Niall shook his head fervently and again attempted a light-hearted chuckle. “I’m merely searching for that treasure. It’s elusive, and I suppose it’s been driving me a bit mad as of late.” He scraped his fingers through his blond hair, then set his jaw. “You have no reason to be concerned,” he said, his casual tone forced.
Graeme could see the lines of resolve in Niall’s face. It was an expression Graeme was familiar with because it was one he himself wore all too often. He had not thought his English cousin had such spine in him, but obviously Graeme had been wrong. Niall would tell him nothing more.
“I see,” Graeme told him. But Niall was hiding something. Graeme could tell. It was in Niall’s voice, his movements, the shifty twitch in his gaze. Something had him scared as hell. Even if he would not ask for the help he so obviously needed, Graeme could not allow him to continue.
“If you keep using that dynamite, you’ll end up destroying those caves and making them all but impassable. If you think finding your damned treasure is hard now, try doing so when you can’t even pass through the caverns.”
Niall was quiet for several moments. “I have to do what I have to do.” His jaw set as he raised his gaze to meet Graeme’s.
Graeme looked around the room, seeing no one else, but he would have sworn that Niall was looking at someone behind him.
“You’re going to get yourself killed or end up killing someone else,” Graeme said.
“I am careful,” Niall said. “The dynamite is merely an easier mode to break into some of the tunnels that have long since closed up with fallen rock.”
“And you’re certain you’ll find that treasure in those caves?” Graeme asked.
Niall nodded. “Positive. There is no other place it could be.”
“Unless someone else already found it,” Graeme said.
Niall’s eyes widened, and fear shone brightly in their brown depths. “Has someone found it?”
“Not that I know of.” Graeme thought of mentioning the presence of Braden and his men, but thought better of it. If Niall was working with them, he didn’t want his cousin to know that he’d discovered his alliances. “And I suspect had it been found, Solomon’s would have heard tale of it.”
Niall seemed to relax a measure. “True.” He paused for a moment, then stood. “You mentioned a wife. I wasn’t aware you had married.”
“Vanessa; you’ve met.” Graeme came to his feet. “It’s a recent union.” He paused before adding, “Mother is having a party to celebrate. You could come.”
Niall nodded. “Congratulations.”
Graeme put one hand on the desk. “If you need help with anything, you need only ask.”
Niall again looked behind Graeme, then back into Graeme’s face. He gave him a brittle smile. “I appreciate that. But I’m perfectly capable of handling matters myself.”
• • •
Two hours later, The Raven sat across from Dougal and waited for him to speak. He slowly drank his whiskey-infused tea and eyed the boy, who seemed beyond excited to receive such an invitation. The young Scotsman shifted in his seat, seeming uncomfortable in the delicate chairs that adorned the parlor.
After Graeme had left Niall’s, Niall had wasted no time in excusing himself as well. He had said that he wanted to get back to the caves to try another path, but The Raven suspected it had more to do with not wanting to discuss Graeme’s visit. Or the man’s speculations. All the more reason to otherwise engage Graeme so he would cease paying attention to Niall and his quest.
The Raven could be a patient man. He had to be in his line of work. But he wasn’t used to extending his patience to sniveling boys like the one before him. Still, The Raven wanted to see what Dougal might be able to offer him. Clearly the boy hungered for attention, and his brother simply wasn’t providing that. Might be Graeme’s new wife that was demanding his time. The Raven felt certain the boy would prove useful, but he’d require guidance, guidance with a delicate hand.
Dougal sipped his tea, the dirt beneath his fingernails a stark contrast to the elegant teacup.
Filthy mongrel. He really was a hulking lad, meant for plowing fields and throwing back drinks in the pub. However, he clearly yearned for the finer things in life. And that yearning would be his downfall. The Raven pushed the tray of cakes toward the boy, then crossed his legs. “You do not care for your brother’s new wife,” The Raven finally said, taking a careful guess.
Dougal had already grabbed a sugared cake and poked a portion into his mouth. He shrugged. “She’s all right, I suppose,” he said, once he’d swallowed most of his bite. “Though I haven’t seen much of my brother.”
The Raven nodded knowingly. “That’s what happens. Life will never again be the same for you and your brother. She will now be his top priority.” He sighed wistfu
lly. “I’m surprised they’re still here. I suspect since she’s English she’ll want to get back to England soon rather than stay here.”
Dougal hadn’t responded, but his lips had compressed, and he didn’t take another bite of cake. He was listening to every one of The Raven’s words. And believing them. He nodded some, then set the remainder of his cake back on the plate. His shoulders sank.
“More than likely you won’t see Graeme as often,” The Raven continued. “Perhaps they’ll invite you to their house in London.” He tossed out that last bit to see what sort of relationship the brothers had. He’d never particularly gotten along with his own brother. The bastard had never respected all that he’d been given, but had never been willing to step aside and allow The Raven to take his place.
“Oh no,” Dougal said, shaking his head. “Graeme has never invited me to London.”
The Raven tsked in sympathy. “Never?” He feigned shock. “But is it not your family estate as well?”
“Never,” Dougal spat out.
The Raven nodded. “As I expected. He simply doesn’t appreciate you. Or what he has.” He leaned forward, allowing his cigar to rest in the ashtray. This would be too easy. He knew all too well from his own life what it felt like to be the brother that should have been born first. The one who deserved to be heir but instead was resigned to a life of nothing better than a peasant.
“You and your mother live in a house of modest means here, but compared to the wealth and opulence of Graeme’s estates in England…” He let his words drift off. Again his shook his head. “Pity.”
“What?” Dougal scooted his chair closer. “What’s a pity?”
“That you could not change places with him. You would make a much better duke. Much more honorable and worthy of the title, a man who would fully recognize what he had. You would care about the duties and responsibilities and the respect that goes along with such bloodlines.”
Dougal’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never even seen our English estates,” he said.
“Never?” The Raven asked with feigned surprise.
