by Robyn DeHart
“We must be quick about this,” Graeme whispered.
“Yes, you mentioned that several times earlier when you were trying to convince me I shouldn’t come. But so far I don’t think I’ve held you back,” Vanessa told him. She waited for him to argue the point further, but he simply sighed.
She nodded and immediately made her way to Niall’s desk. The large mahogany surface was empty save for a partially written letter to a woman named Penny. Vanessa could only guess she was Niall’s wife. She opened the drawer in the center of the desk, but found only a letter opener and some ink.
She continued to search the drawers while Graeme went through books and items on the bookshelves. In the drawers, she found two additional letters addressed to Penny. Why had he not mailed them? Perhaps Niall had secrets from his wife as well. Vanessa also found some banknotes, blank parchment, and a handful of candles. Nothing useful.
She looked over toward Graeme and found him engrossed in a book.
“Did you find something?” she asked as she walked over to him.
“Perhaps,” he said.
The book, a handwritten journal, had been shelved among the other books. Quite clever to hide something in plain view. Graeme flipped pages, finding more notes and a drawing. He stopped and held the book closer to see it better in the poor lighting.
While he examined the journal, she caught sight of her Grayson’s manual that she’d loaned Niall. It was open and lay facedown on a chair. She retrieved it, careful not to lose the place. He’d been reading the chapter entitled “Extreme Measures and Other Necessary Tactics.” It was a part of the book she hadn’t thoroughly examined yet because of her limited dig experience.
At the bottom right corner of the left-hand page was an illustration showing how to set up dynamite for use in an excavation. “Graeme, I think I know why Niall wanted this book.” She walked over to him. “Look.” She held it open for him to view the illustration.
Footsteps sounded in the hall.
She grabbed Graeme’s elbow.
He ripped the page from the journal he’d been reading, then replaced the book. His large hand grabbed hers and pulled her through a door at the back corner of the room. It was a closet lined with shelves from floor to ceiling and now, with the door closed, as dark as the night outside.
Pressed against Graeme’s chest, she could hear the thundering of his own heart.
They were going to get caught.
Niall wandered into his study. He’d thought he’d heard a noise, but lately he hadn’t been sleeping much, and his mind conjured images and noises. Even if he did sleep, all he saw was Penny and Jonathan trapped somewhere—scared, hurt, hungry, and waiting for him to save them.
The study was empty, but he had left a lamp burning. Or The Raven had been down here. The man had nearly taken over the entire household. Under the guise of a guest, The Raven had Niall’s servants bend to his every whim. If only they knew what a monster he truly was.
If it weren’t for fear that he’d never find his family, Niall would sneak into the man’s room right now and kill him. Wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze until no sign of life lingered. He closed his eyes and took several steadying breaths. He had to find that bloody stone soon. His family needed him.
He doused the lamp, then left for his bedchamber.
The sound of footsteps in the study disappeared. Vanessa relaxed into Graeme, her warm breath pouring over his arm. Graeme held them there for several more moments before he opened the door. He didn’t want to risk being caught.
The study, now shrouded in darkness, was empty. Vanessa replaced the book she’d been holding, then he led her through the room, back down the hall to the parlor, and out the garden doors.
Neither of them spoke while they hurried to where they’d tied the stallion. Graeme climbed atop the beast then helped Vanessa up, and they rode back to his mother’s house.
“That was close,” Vanessa said as he helped her down from the ride. “He could have caught us.”
“Indeed.”
“What did you find in that book?” she asked.
They entered the study and Graeme stoked the fire until the flames roared back to life. Vanessa stood with her back to the hearth, warming her backside and hands.
“I’m not certain, but I believe I’ve found the answer to that clue,” he said. He withdrew the piece of paper that he’d torn from the journal and examined the illustration, a large piece of stone with three carved divots, where the three royal gems were to be placed. “This is obviously the Kingmaker,” he said.
She left the fire and came to his side, glancing at the illustration. “It is how I imagined it would look.” Then she met his gaze. “But something in this image troubles you.”
“Not as much troubles me as annoys me. It is of the stone in Westminster,” he said.
“The counterfeit Stone of Destiny,” she said.
“Right. It had these three divots.” He pointed to the illustration. “It was one of the reasons why I thought it was a fake. Nowhere in my readings had I come across mention of carvings made into the stone, so I thought the divots proved it was not the real Stone of Destiny.”
“And why is that annoying?” she asked.
“Because I could be wrong,” he said. “Suppose Westminster’s Stone of Destiny was the authentic one, and now The Raven has it. Suppose for years I’ve been searching for something that was right before me?”
“Graeme, I don’t think so. Your theory is sound. It makes sense that the Scots would have tried to hide the real Stone of Destiny. If it is the base of the Kingmaker, then hiding it could protect the throne.”
She was right.
“It would seem we have our task set before us,” she said.
“And what would that be?”
“We must find the true Stone of Destiny,” she said with a toothy grin.
He’d wanted to find the stone and return it to the Scots. After all, it was their antiquity. Now, however, it seemed that this quest was no longer simply to appease some great void inside him. Rather, Graeme had to find the Stone of Destiny to keep the Kingmaker from falling into the hands of The Raven.
At some point, he’d have to decide if it was worth the risk of returning it to the Scots or if the damned thing shouldn’t just be destroyed.
Chapter Fourteen
The Raven eyed Dougal. He was out of patience. He’d tried to mold the boy, tried to fill his head with ideas to encourage him to get rid of Vanessa, but the boy had failed and now he could potentially be a liability. But he couldn’t very well kill the boy here in this tavern. Although it was at the edge of the village, there were still people around.
“You failed,” The Raven said.
“She’s injured, but not badly,” Dougal said.
“If you knew what lay ahead of you, you would have killed her. She will bring you nothing but trouble. If you think you aren’t seeing enough of your brother now, wait; it will only get worse. Tell me, dear boy, has your brother ever offered to send you to school in England the way he was educated?” The Raven asked.
A frown creased between Dougal’s eyes. “No, he never has. And I’ve asked,” he added softly.
“I suspected as much,” The Raven said.
Dougal rounded his shoulders. “None of that matters. He’s my brother, and I can’t believe I allowed you to talk me into any of this.” The boy shook his head, his expression tight with regret. He came to his feet. “That’s all I came here to tell you. I can’t, I won’t, help you anymore.”
The Raven wrapped his fingers around the boy’s wrist. “Keep in mind, dear boy, that it was you who pulled that trigger. Once your brother discovers your part in this, he’ll walk away from you. He’ll have you arrested and imprisoned, and then who will take care of your poor mother?”
Dougal swallowed.
“Do as I say, or I’ll kill them all and save you for last so you can watch them all plead, watch them all die. And I’ll make certain they al
l know how you led them to the slaughter.”
Two days later, Vanessa took the telegram from the attendant. It was not from Violet as she’d expected, but rather from Jeremy.
Vanessa, first I much congratulate you on your nuptials. STOP. It is most pleasing to hear you have found happiness of your own. STOP. Your letter was most interesting, the symbols most intriguing. STOP. We have found information. STOP. Too much to include here, must write lengthier letter. STOP. Look for correspondence soon. STOP. Yours truly, Jeremy.
“Is this all that came?” she asked impatiently.
“There is this telegram for your husband,” the man said.
She glanced over the short message sent from Graeme’s friend Esme. Vanessa sent a quick response back inviting Esme and her husband to Loch Ness.
As Vanessa stepped out of the telegraph office, excitement bubbled through her stomach. It certainly sounded as if Jeremy had discovered something useful. But why was he the one responding? Obviously her sister had run to her lover for help. Not that Vanessa could blame her; the task was probably better suited to someone more familiar with ancient texts.
Still, it was curious that he’d used “we” when referring to the discovery of information. Were he and Violet working together? Perhaps it was much in the way she and Graeme worked together, although she and Graeme were not foolish enough to entangle their hearts.
Later that day, Graeme came into the small dining room where Vanessa already sat with a plate piled high with food. He could still feel the lack of sleep gnawing at his mind, yet she appeared well rested and perfectly alert.
“They should arrive soon,” Vanessa said gleefully. She continued to enjoy her meal, taking a mouthful of quail eggs.
“Who?” Graeme asked.
She swallowed her bite of food. “Your friends Esme and Fielding. I intercepted a telegram and invited them to come here.”
“Why would you do that?” he asked.
“I was already picking up a telegram of my own and I happened to be at that office. It seemed logical that I would respond on your behalf. Besides, we might need their help. You said yourself that Fielding has personal ties to this Raven fellow.” She shrugged daintily. “It seemed logical he might provide insight into dealing with him. Do you not agree? I was under the impression that the men of Solomon’s stick together.”
“I hadn’t given it much thought.” Graeme took a seat at the table. “I sent a message to alert him of The Raven’s presence out of courtesy, as I knew he’d been looking for the man. The Raven is a relation of Fielding’s.”
“Well, then, I suspect they would have come up here had I invited them or not. But as your wife, I’ve decided it is time for me to play the hostess to some degree.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Although I did not invite them to stay at your mother’s house.”
“How kind of you.”
She flashed him a brilliant smile. “I thought so. It seems I’m better at the minutiae of domesticity than I anticipated.”
Graeme chuckled, but said nothing further.
“I suppose we should have them here for a meal,” she said, her brow furrowing with thought.
He held up a hand. “No more parties. It’s dangerous. Too dangerous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous.” He spoke slowly, struggling to control his frustration. “I’m being logical. Have you forgotten that the last time we had a party, you got shot?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten, but honestly, Graeme, it was barely a grazing,” she said. “They will be guests—”
“Vanessa—” he growled in warning.
“Very well.” She inclined her head, playing the part of the acquiescent wife, despite the conniving gleam in her eyes. “But remember, you can’t protect me from everything.”
There had to be thousands of eligible, biddable Scottish lasses in the region, and he’d ended up accidentally handfasted to the most stubborn English chit he’d ever met.
• • •
The Raven walked in silence. The fresh covering of snow blanketed the landscape in front of him. The winter precipitation still fell from the sky soundlessly, cold and wet as it landed on his hands and cheeks.
His boots crunched into the snow as he climbed the hill to the castle ruins. Below him, the loch shimmered against the snow. The sun already fought to be free of the cloud cover; he suspected the snow would be melted by noon.
He entered the remains of the castle, stepping over what had once been the stone wall that encircled the fortress. The caverns were below, in the hillside, where Niall swore they would find the treasure of Loch Ness.
Voices came from inside the castle. He stopped and moved to hide behind a staircase that now led to nothing. The ceiling above had long since crumbled, and the open sky sat heavy above him. The voices came closer. Two men, if he had to guess. Niall and Graeme?
Damnation if Graeme hadn’t continued to be a thorn in his side. If provided the opportunity, The Raven would simply kill the man. Yes, he risked bringing the full wrath of Solomon’s down on himself, but it wasn’t as if they weren’t all hunting him anyway.
But today was not the day for Graeme to die. The two men who emerged from the castle were neither Niall nor Graeme, but instead two men he knew from London. One man, Braden, he knew particularly well. Until The Raven had been forced underground a year ago, they had been competitors, both treasure hunters for hire. Since The Raven’s forced retirement, Braden had acquired most of The Raven’s previous clients.
The Raven had taken revenge on the man, though. Not two months earlier, he’d broken into Braden’s house and stolen King David’s stone, a relic the man had found himself and opted not to sell. It was one of the three stones necessary to complete the Kingmaker.
No doubt Braden had traveled here thinking that he would find the final stone and barter with The Raven. He was a fool to think The Raven would ever make such a deal.
“Find it, then get yourself back here,” Braden was saying to his companion. When the man didn’t move, Braden released a heavy sigh. “We will discuss the other matter later. Go.” And with that Braden disappeared back into the castle.
The other man, whom The Raven did not know by name, but knew to be a close associate of Braden’s, stood for a moment before turning to leave. The Raven allowed him to exit the castle before he followed him.
Braden’s associate was larger than The Raven in both height and breadth. But when it came to being cunning, no one matched him. They were nearly to the bottom of the hill, almost to the edge of the rocky beach, before the man noticed he was being followed.
The Raven stopped walking as the man turned around.
“You there,” he said, his voice low and full of gravel. “What are you about?”
“I want to talk,” The Raven said.
“So talk,” the man said, clearly annoyed by the intrusion.
The Raven made his way closer. He eyed his surroundings. There was nothing the man could use as a weapon unless he had one on his person. At this moment, The Raven had three: a knife lodged in his boot, a pistol tucked into his waistband, and a dagger attached to his belt. One could never be too careful.
“Hey,” the man said. “Don’t I know you?”
The Raven shrugged. “Perhaps.” He reached into his coat and unfastened the dagger. This was turning out to be a perfect day.
The man stepped closer. “I know you. You’re the man who stole Braden’s treasure.”
The Raven said nothing, merely laughed.
The man came even closer. He braced his legs into a fighter’s stance. “You want a fight, old man?”
True, he was old enough to have fathered this man. His own son couldn’t have been much different in age. But age mattered naught.
“Tell me,” The Raven said. “What is it that Braden is after here in Loch Ness?”
The man’s eyes flickered past him to the castle ruins at the top of the hill, perhaps surprise
d that The Raven had seen Braden.
“It can be our little secret,” The Raven said. Then he laughed, enjoying his own jest. He withdrew the dagger and turned it over in his hand, the silver blade shining brightly against the snow.
“Do you honestly think I’d betray Braden to you? I’d just as soon kill you first,” the man said as he lunged forward.
He landed a blow to The Raven’s stomach, hard and forceful. It nearly knocked him backward. Nearly, but not before The Raven was able to slice the dagger into the man’s side.
“Is he after the Kingmaker?” The Raven asked, shifting out of the way as the other man’s fist came down again, this time hitting nothing but the air between them.
“Kingmaker? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” the man said. He ran at The Raven, this time ramming him with his head at the center of The Raven’s gut.
“You can’t protect him,” The Raven said once he’d recovered from the blow. He leapt forward and managed to jab the man again with the dagger. Blood seeped from the man’s leg and dripped onto the snow. Crimson covered alabaster as the blood stained the frost.
The man’s eyes widened with surprise. He grabbed his thigh, trying to stanch the bleeding.
The Raven took the opportunity to strike again, this time slicing the man across the torso, not deep enough to cause too much damage, but enough to cause pain.
The man cursed, coming at The Raven again, but his coordination was off this time, and he missed.
“All you need to do is tell me what Braden is after. Then I’ll leave you alone,” The Raven said.
“I’m no fool,” the man said.
The Raven smiled at him. “Perhaps that was a tiny prevarication. Still, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I’ll stop toying with you.”
“Go to the devil,” the man said.
“Admirable. What has Braden done to deserve such extreme loyalty from you?” The Raven danced around him, ducking to miss another blow from the man’s fist.
The man said nothing, merely growled and came at him again. This time, The Raven was able to grab hold of him. He held the man by the arm, dagger pressed intimately at the man’s side. “Tell me what I want to know,” The Raven said close to the man’s ear.
