Treasure Me

by Robyn DeHart

“He’s recently returned from rescuing Niall’s family from your nasty little hiding place, in the same spot where you’d held Esme at one point. Clearly your creativity is waning,” Graeme said.

  The Raven smiled, a deadly, chilling grin. “If anyone could have found them, he could. If Niall would have only asked, sought Solomon’s help, it would have saved him so much woe.” He clucked his tongue. “But Niall was too independent, too proud to ask for help. Pity.”

  Graeme felt the emerald weighing heavy in his pocket. He could so easily toss it to the man and move the queen to safety. That was what truly mattered. But what would happen when The Raven put the Kingmaker together?

  “Let her go,” Graeme said. “You can negotiate with me. And only me.”

  The Raven shook his head. “No. Look.” He motioned with his head to his right. “It’s all there. All the pieces necessary, but the one you hold. Give it to me.”

  “You lugged all that down here with you?” Graeme asked. The individual gems were not heavy. No bigger than small apples, they could easily fit in a man’s jacket. But the Stone of Destiny would have been demanding to carry down here with two hostages.

  “You underestimate me. Suffice it to say I’m always prepared. I brought it here last night. The rest is courtesy of your wife. Now enough!” The Raven said. He tilted the blade until the tip pricked the queen’s skin. “I will kill her. Give me the stone. I know you have it.”

  “What could possibly happen?” Victoria spoke up.

  “Dreadful things,” Jenkins said from behind Graeme. “We are unsure of the power of the Kingmaker.”

  “I’m not,” Her Majesty said. “This man does not possess the requisite virtues of a monarch. I believe the stones are even representative of those very characteristics.” She met Graeme’s gaze. “Courage, wisdom, and authority. Give him the emerald.”

  Graeme eyed her for a moment, wanting her to further explain. She nodded encouragingly.

  “Only if he lets you go first,” Graeme said.

  “I give you the queen, and you give me the stone,” The Raven said.

  “Agreed.” Graeme withdrew the stone and showed it to The Raven. “Release her and I’ll toss this to you.”

  The Raven paused, but only for a moment. He dropped the blade from the queen’s neck and shoved her forward. Graeme tossed the stone, and The Raven caught it with one hand. He wasted no time in grabbing the Stone of Destiny. He cradled the sandstone block as he dropped the emerald into place. He glanced around waiting for something, anything to happen.

  “Get her out of here,” Graeme said as he moved the queen behind him. Once she was safely under her guards’ protection, the men of Solomon’s stood in a line, all leveling guns at The Raven. “It’s over this time,” Graeme told him.

  Then the ground shook. The Kingmaker burned bright red as if The Raven had held it over hot coals, and he yelled in response but did not drop the block of stone. The shaking increased, and Graeme grabbed onto the wall to steady himself. There was a great noise that sounded as if it emitted directly from the center of the Stone of Destiny, and then in a blast, the Kingmaker shattered into countless pieces, and The Raven fell to the ground.

  “He’s dead,” Nick Callum said, kneeling by the body. Other members of Solomon’s gathered around him.

  “The Kingmaker is only for those who are worthy to hold the throne,” Victoria said, stepping forward. “I knew his plan would not work. Admittedly I suspected he would have to be shot, but this,” she eyed the body at her feet, “worked as well.” Then she turned to face Graeme and the rest of the men of Solomon’s. “I believe I once again owe you a great deal of gratitude.”

  Graeme pushed Nick forward. “You have Nick here to thank.” Then Graeme turned to leave the room. He still had yet to see his wife, to hold her and know she was safe. “Has anyone found my family?” he asked.

  “They’re over here,” Max called. His voice came from outside the chamber, across the sanctuary.

  Graeme looked to find his wife and brother sitting with Max. Both had blood on them, and Dougal still looked fearful, his smile a little brittle.

  “Graeme.” Vanessa stood and ran to him.

  When she reached him, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. Then he held her out in front of him to look for signs of injury. Bruises were beginning to form at her throat. So The Raven had tried to kill her. The thought soured his stomach. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said. He ran his hand down her cheek.

  “I left you a clue so you’d know where I was,” she said, her smile shaky.

  He pulled the fossil out of his pocket. “It was a perfect clue.” He held it out to her.

  “No, you keep it.” She shook her head. “I don’t need it anymore,” she said.

  “But it’s the beginning of your collection,” he argued. “How can you be a paleontologist without fossils?”

  “It’s our collection. I suspect this was only one adventure, and we’ll go on many more together,” she said. She smiled and it nearly brought him to his knees. “Besides, I don’t need any of that. I thought I belonged only in the science community, but I know the truth now. I belong with you. Wherever you are, I belong at your side.”

  He ran his fingers gently across the bruises forming at her neck. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.”

  “But you didn’t. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

  “I love you, Vanessa,” he said.

  She smiled. “Aye, I know,” she said, mimicking his brogue. “And I love you, too.”

  He kissed her soundly, his woman, his wife.

  Her warm palm pressed to his chest. “Graeme? What about Niall’s family? Did you find them? Are they safe?”

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “Fielding was able to locate Penny and Jonathan earlier today. They’re home resting now.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said. “And I deciphered the code from The Magi’s Book of Wisdom.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her snugly to him. “Did you?”

  “Though I don’t suppose any of it matters now. It was merely a warning against those who might seek the Kingmaker. Evidently it only works if you’re worthy.”

  “And destroys you if you aren’t,” he said. “The Raven is dead.” She nodded and snuggled closer to him.

  “I think perhaps its time I met your family, considering you’ve met all of mine. I believe I have some choice words to share with a few of them,” he said.

  “You’ll meet them in due time. Besides, I’ve already seen them today. Right now, I just need you to love me,” she said.

  “Always, Duchess, always.”

  Don’t miss the first book in the Legend Hunters series!

  Fielding Grey is a treasure seeker with a taste for danger…

  Esme Worthington has favored dusty tomes over society balls…

  Please turn this page for an excerpt from

  Seduce Me

  Available now.

  Chapter Four

  Fielding had followed the sound of voices all the way to the innermost part of the ruins. The Raven’s men had a woman with them, and she was quite the talker. He’d managed to find a ledge where he’d situated himself to see how many he was up against. Peering over, he wished they had a bit more lighting below.

  “I will give you no such thing,” a woman’s voice said.

  Where was the woman? He spied Waters standing in the middle of the room, and Thatcher looked to be walking directly toward Fielding. He crouched farther down to make certain he wasn’t seen, then peered back over the edge. There, chained to the wall, was the woman, wearing nothing but a flimsy nightrail. Since when were The Raven’s men in the habit of abducting women? Evidently his uncle wanted this artifact badly.

  Well, this certainly complicated matters. It would have been nice had Jensen and his Solomon’s friends warned Fielding about the possibility of having to rescue a woman in addition to the box.

 
; Of course he had no obligation to save her. She hadn’t been part of his original agreement.

  “Where is it?” Thatcher asked, his voice coming from between tightly clenched teeth.

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “The key to open this bloody thing.” He held up the box in question.

  “Let me see the box closely; it might jar my memory,” the woman said.

  “I know you have it. The Raven said the Worthington woman had the key. That’s you, ain’t it?”

  There was a long pause before she answered, as if she’d been considering a lie. “Yes, that’s me, but I don’t have any keys with me. If you take me back to London, though, I’ll be happy to retrieve all the keys I own for you to dig through.”

  Worthington. That was the name of the scholar on Mr. Nichols’s list. Fielding again peered over the ledge. He’d imagined an old matronly figure with grayed hair and a shapeless body, her nose firmly implanted in a book. Not the slip of a woman below him. Even in the dim light, he could see her tantalizing breasts under the nightgown.

  Fielding wondered if the men of Solomon’s knew about this supposed key. And if they did, why hadn’t they warned him? There’d been nothing about a key in the notes they’d given him either. Bastards probably didn’t share all their information with the hired help.

  “Get your filthy hands off me, you beast,” she said.

  Thatcher was indeed putting his hands on her, searching her for some sort of key, from the looks of it. Although why he thought the woman could hide anything beneath her almost transparent nightgown, Fielding didn’t know. He rolled his eyes. He’d never liked Thatcher, always felt the man took pride in being as vile and contemptuous as possible.

  “What do we have here?” Thatcher asked. “That’s an unusual pendant.” He pulled his hand back, yanking the necklace free, and stepped away from the woman.

  “That is nothing,” she protested. “A frivolous gift from my father is all. It’s not even real gold; I believe it’s made of painted steel. It will probably rust in another month or so.”

  All Fielding could see was a slight glimmer against the lantern light. A bit of jewelry perhaps. So she had been hiding something.

  “We’ll see about that. Waters, get over here. And hold that light still.”

  “You have no idea what sort of trouble you could be in for,” the woman warned. “That box is quite likely very dangerous. And I’d wager that your employer is paying you to retrieve it, not open it.”

  She was a smart one, Fielding would give her that. However, her common sense was sorely lacking. It was she who didn’t realize the danger she was in.

  While he’d never known Waters to harm a woman, Thatcher was the kind of man who took what he wanted regardless of what the implications might be.

  “Look there,” Waters said. “See that notch? It looks just like her trinket.”

  “Go ahead,” she said loudly. “Open the box. All that lies within the walls of that box are evils. Death, destruction, pestilence. The plagues of Egypt. The ruination of humankind. Go ahead,” she said again. “Unleash terrors upon yourself, it matters not to me. But I cannot watch.”

  She sounded remarkably like Mr. Nichols. Fielding shook his head. He’d never understand adults who believed in such fairy tales.

  “Perhaps she’s right,” Waters warned, his voice wavering with nerves. “The Raven did ask us to get the box, steal her key, and bring them back to him.”

  “You wouldn’t want to disobey your employer’s instructions,” she said.

  “We won’t know if her key is the correct one,” Thatcher ground out, “unless we try it.”

  “But she has all those books in her library. All of them were about this box. She knows something,” Waters said.

  “That’s right,” she agreed. “My library is extensive.” The last word came out in a yawn. “I might be a woman, but I know of what I speak.”

  “Your incessant chatter is grating on my nerves.” Thatcher hitched up his pistol and hit the woman hard on the head. “I said shut up!”

  Fielding gritted his teeth as if he had been the one struck. The woman’s head dropped and her body went slack, dangling from the manacles that affixed her to the wall.

  Thatcher dropped the necklace into his pocket and walked away from the woman. “We’ll wait in here for first light, then we’ll take her to The Raven and he can decide what to do with her. Waters, build a fire over there.”

  From his perch, Fielding watched the two men build a makeshift camp, complete with a fire and ratty blankets to lie upon. Once the woman came to, her arms would ache fiercely from being shackled in that position, but the knot on her head would no doubt hurt worse. She was so small, her body frail and limp. He forced his eyes back toward the men. Fielding kept his post for another hour, waiting for the duo to settle in for the night.

  Thatcher was unable to leave the box alone, though. He went back and forth, picking it up to further examine it, then setting it back down and trying to fall asleep. Once more he picked up the box and held it close to his face. He nudged Waters with his foot.

  “Waters,” he whispered.

  The other man sat bold upright. “What?”

  “Listen. Do you hear that? Do you hear the voices?”

  “Only your voice,” he said groggily.

  “Here, listen.” Thatcher held the box out to the other man, who, in turn, took it and held it up to his ear.

  A moment later Waters threw the box away from him as he sat up abruptly. Thatcher caught the box before it fell to the ground.

  “You heard it, didn’t you?” Thatcher said.

  “Bloody ’ell,” Waters said. “I heard my name.”

  Thatcher dug into his pocket and pulled out the woman’s necklace. The pendant caught the fire’s glow and cast flecks of light around them.

  “What are you doing?” Waters asked.

  “Opening it.”

  Thatcher pressed the metal pendant against the box, and a latch audibly released. Even from a distance, Fielding could hear it. He shook his head, certain he must have been mistaken. His own mind must be playing tricks on him from lying still so long.

  In one swift movement Thatcher popped open the lid. Both men sat for a moment looking around them, presumably waiting for the terrors to be unleashed upon them, but nothing happened.

  Fielding rolled his eyes. Damned superstitions.

  “There’s nothing in here,” Thatcher said.

  “Let me see,” Waters said. “What’s that on the bottom?”

  Thatcher dug his hand in, perhaps searching for hidden compartments, then pulled his hand back. “Nothing.”

  “What’s that on your wrist?” Waters asked.

  Thatcher held his arm up to the firelight, and a thin band of gold shimmered against his dirty flesh.

  “A treasure,” Waters said. “Give me the box.” He too put his hand in the box and pulled back with a band of gold on his wrist as well.

  They eyed their matching bands for several moments. Thatcher laughed. “Why, that’s a pretty find. But we’d better take them off. Don’t want to damage them before we can get the box back to The Raven.” Then Thatcher tried to remove his bracelet. “It won’t come off,” he growled.

  Waters attempted to remove his own, and his bracelet would not budge either.

  “What do we do?” Waters asked, his voice rising a notch.

  “We’ll get them off tomorrow,” Thatcher said. “The Raven will help.”

  “We can’t tell The Raven. He’ll kill us for trying to steal from him.”

  “I can make him understand,” Thatcher assured him. “Now go back to sleep.”

  Fools.

  The Raven would never understand. And he didn’t deal lightly with those who betrayed him.

  Fielding wouldn’t have to wait much longer. He needed them to doze off for only a little while before they’d be too bleary-headed to fight him. He checked his waistband for the pistol and fou
nd it snugly in place. Ten minutes later Thatcher’s loud snores echoed through the dungeon.

  Fielding waited a little longer before he crept down from his ledge and into their makeshift camp. Snagging Thatcher’s bag with the box hidden inside proved easy enough, as was snuffing out their lanterns, leaving only the remnants of their fire as light. But as Fielding turned to go, he saw her.

  Her frail body hung limply from the manacles, and her brown hair was matted with dirt and a small patch of blood. Her nightdress was covered in Thatcher’s muddy handprints.

  Blast it all.

  There was no way Fielding could leave her here. He glanced over his shoulder. The two men were still sleeping, so he slowly moved to stand in front of the woman. He tightened the cinch on the bag to ensure it was secure over this shoulder before placing one hand firmly against her mouth. Her eyes flew open, but his hand muffled the sound she made.

  He shook his head. “Be quiet,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to get you out of here. Nod if you understand.”

  Her wide eyes rounded, but she nodded nonetheless.

  “If I move my hand away from your mouth, do you promise not to scream?”

  She nodded fervently.

  He waited a few heartbeats, then he slowly took his hand away.

  “Please hurry,” she urged.

  Reaching up, he worked on the right brace, nudging the pin out of its confines. The rusted metal scraped and groaned as it moved, but it eventually gave way and he was able to remove her hand. Being hung from the wall as long as she’d been, her movements would be unsteady and sluggish. He couldn’t afford to be slowed by her. As she lowered her arm, she winced, confirming his suspicions.

  The men stirred. Fielding and the woman froze, waiting to see if either man awoke, but the snoring continued.

  He moved to remove the other pin, but unlike its counterpart, this one would not budge.

  “He had trouble with that one,” she whispered.