by Sabrina York
But at least they were together now.
He should tell her.
Really. He should.
This was probably his last chance.
It took him a moment to rally his courage. Not that he was worried about any rejection from her; it was simply a collection of words he’d never said before, and they frightened him a little.
It was probably best to simply say them.
“Lachlan?”
He flinched as her soft voice rippled through the cavern. “Aye, Lana?”
“What’s wrong?”
Wrong? Other than being shot and left to die in an oubliette with the woman he would happily give his life, his soul, his all to save?
He couldn’t hold back his sardonic laugh. “What makes you think anything is wrong?”
“You are tensing your muscles and muttering to yourself.”
“Was I muttering?”
“Aye.”
“I was working through how to tell you something.”
“Why not just say it?”
“That’s what I was convincing myself to do.” But he wasn’t. Not really. The words escaped him yet again. And, yet again, he made the cowardly choice to prevaricate. “I … dreamed of you,” he said.
Her lips tweaked. “Did you?”
“Before we met.”
She set her hand on his cheek. “How odd. I dreamed of you as well.”
Something welled in his chest. “Did you?”
“Aye. In my dream, you were a braw, magnificent beast. A true Scotsman. Like you are now.”
“Really?” He attempted not to puff out his chest.
“Naturally, it was something of a surprise when you first appeared … wearing that cravat.” He loved the way her nose curled, even though her distaste was disconcerting. But she did love him, so it hardly mattered now.
“It was a very expensive cravat.”
“So you said.” Her laugh was a captivating trill. “Was I what you expected? Was I the way you dreamed?”
He thought back to the vision of her, the sweet and soothing soul. The peace she had given him, even before he’d met her. He cradled her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. “Exactly. Perfectly. I am … so glad I found you.” The words snagged in his throat, but he forced them out. He needed to. “Lana…”
“Aye?” God, her eyes were beautiful in the flickering firelight. But then, they were beautiful always.
“There’s something else I need to tell you. It’s … verra important.”
“All right.” She settled back and folded her hands in her lap, peering at him expectantly.
“Lana … I…” God. Why was this so hard?
Her brow rumpled. “What?”
No doubt the first time was the most difficult. Hell, he should just blurt it out. He sucked in a deep breath and did just that. “Lana, I love you.” There. He said it. It felt good. Wonderful. Fantastic.
She blinked. “I love you, too. What did you want to tell me?”
“I … ah…” He shrugged. “That was it. I love you. I’d … never said it and I wanted you to know. You know. Before we … You know.”
It was slightly unsettling that she laughed again, but it was with a fond amusement. “Lachlan, I know you love me.”
“I … How could you?”
“I’ve known for a long time. You doona have to say it.”
Ah, but he wanted to. Over and over again, for as long as they both should live. Which was probably not long. They were in dire straits. There was no call for his arousal to rise.
But really, what the hell else was there to do? Here? In a cave?
He pulled her closer and kissed her again. And again. In between kisses he murmured those words, and they became less difficult with each utterance.
She, however, became difficult. To his consternation, she pushed him away. “Not now, Lachlan.”
Not now?
When?
When she stood and shook out her skirts, he stared at her. “I think it’s time for us to explore that tunnel.”
“Lana, if my mother couldn’t find a way out, what makes you think we can?”
“Her leg was injured. Besides, we should at least try.”
God, he loved her. And she was right. He owed it to himself, to her, and to his mother to try.
Moving slowly and cautiously, and holding hands, they followed the stony wall deeper into the cavern. When the path veered into a downward slope, Lachlan took Lana’s arm to help keep her steady. It wasn’t easy going. He could only envision his mother making this trek, alone and afraid with a wounded leg, and his heart ached for her. At least he had Lana with him—
His thoughts scattered when he barked his shins on something hard and hollow. Leaning down, he explored its surface. It was, undoubtedly, a crate. What the hell was a crate doing in this cavern? They found several more as they made their way through the dark, and the mystery grew.
And then they turned a corner and Lachlan’s heart lifted as he was greeted by a shaft of light. Sunlight, filtering through their rocky tomb.
“Ah. Here it is,” Lana said, as though she’d been expecting it all along.
They rounded another corner and … Lachlan froze. His mind spun as he stared at an enormous cave, lit by a shaft of light. It glittered. Sparkled. Shone. His breath caught in his throat. Lana gasped as well.
“Glory,” she said softly. He understood her awe. The cave was filled with mountains of gold and jewels. Countless chests brimming with it. A fortune.
“The Rosslyn Treasure,” he murmured. Ironic, that. It had been here, beneath the castle all the time. But then, this was a day for irony.
“Your mother got this far,” Lana said. “She found the piece of the cross in this casket. But by then, she was exhausted and she couldna find a way out of the cave.”
“There has to be a way out, if they managed to get all this in.”
“One would imagine.” Lana shot him a bright look. “Shall we explore?”
“Indeed.”
It made sense to follow the cavern walls looking for another tunnel, but they didn’t find one, not until Lana looked up. “There.” She pointed to a small inlet in the rock above their heads. The rotting remains of a rope ladder dangled from the lip.
Lachlan knew better than to test the strength of those tatters. Rather, he pushed a chest toward the base and, when that wasn’t high enough, he emptied out another and set it atop the first. Lana chuckled at his irreverence for the fortune he dumped into the sand, but honestly, he cared little for the gold. Something far more precious was at stake.
He scrambled up and peered into the fissure and was elated to feel a gust of fresh air on his face. “Come.” He reached for Lana’s hand and she joined him. Together they climbed onto the ledge and crawled through the narrow tunnel and …
Glory be.
Lachlan stopped and stared at the most breathtaking sight. The crashing waves of Sinclair Bay. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. He turned to Lana and grinned. And then, because he couldn’t contain his joy, he kissed her.
They quickly scrambled to the edge and Lachlan led the way from the mouth of the cave, down onto the beach. It was a difficult passage because the opening was far aboveground. At length, they made it. As he stood back and looked up, he realized the cave was nearly unnoticeable. And if the tide were in, it would be unreachable.
That thought gave him pause. He glanced at the water and took Lana’s arm. “We should hurry,” he said. The tide was coming in once more, and if they wanted to make it around the point without having to swim in treacherous waters, they needed to move now.
Lana nodded and they set off, following the curve of the beach until they reached the rise leading to the castle. It was a difficult climb, but his fury spurred him on, that and worry for Alexander and Andrew. They were both clever men and he knew, when they found him gone, they would know Dougal had made his move and be on their guard. But Dougal was devious and, apparently, wouldn’t shy away
from killing any witnesses. Should the Lochlannachs survive and report his treason, Dougal would lose all.
His friends were in dire danger and Lachlan intended to save them. If it was not already too late.
As they crested the bluff and the castle came into view, Lachlan’s resolve swelled. “I want you to go to the village,” he said to Lana.
She glanced at the town, far in the distance, and frowned. “I am no’ leaving you.”
“You must. Dougal is deranged, and there’s no telling with he will do when he realizes we’re not dead. I canna have you in danger.”
She set her teeth. “I am no’ leaving you.”
“Lana…”
With a sniff, she wrenched her arm from his hold and marched toward the castle.
Hell.
He had to follow. He had to. But honestly, this was no place for her. When Lachlan found Dougal, there would, no doubt, be violence.
He couldn’t bear the thought of her in harm’s way. He’d already almost lost her once.
They rounded the corner of the castle wall and stepped into the bailey, and Lachlan stopped short.
Bluidy hell.
Had he worried about keeping Lana safe? Her entire family was in the yard, just dismounting from their horses. Hannah and Susana and—Christ—Isobel. Magnus was there as well, looking terribly daunting in his kilt with his claymore strapped to his waist.
“What the hell are you all doing here?” Lachlan growled. “We told you to stay in the village.” Where it was safe. And what were they thinking, bringing a child to a fight?
Hannah and Susana ignored his question, rushing over to fold Lana in their arms. “There you are,” they cooed. “Safe and sound.”
Only Isobel paid him any mind. She sauntered over and struck a cocky pose. “We would have stayed there, but you were taking too long.” This she said in a reproachful tone.
He didn’t quite know how to respond. He had been busy, after all.
Her eyes narrowed on his stained shirt. “What happened to you?”
“I was shot.”
Her nose wrinkled, but all she said was, “Oh.”
“Where are Andrew and Alexander?” Magnus asked, coming up to his side after greeting Lana.
Lachlan quickly explained that when Dougal had forced him from his rooms, the other men had been in his antechamber. There was no telling where they were now. “I need to find them. And I need to find Dougal as well.” And put an end to his perfidy at last.
It was agreed that he and Magnus would go and search the castle, while the women waited in the bailey where it was safe. Unfortunately, only he and Magnus agreed. The women thought the idea was utter rot—especially when their men were possibly in danger—and in the end, he and Magnus had to hurry to catch up as the Dounreay women stormed the castle.
As they neared the imposing front door, they slowed and eased into a stealthy mode. It was an impressive sight, watching the formidable females in action. They had finely honed warrior instincts for sure. As they crept into the grand foyer, weapons aloft, a muffled voice echoed off the stone walls. It emanated from down the hall, in the parlor.
They all stilled. While Lachlan was relieved he wouldn’t have to hunt for Dougal, trepidation flared. He knew his cousin had a pistol at the very least, and among them Lachlan’s company had two bows, a claymore, and a knife. Impressive, certainly, but no match for a bullet. He was bothered that Lana had no weapon, so he handed her the knife from his boot and—thankful for his recent practice—quietly eased an ancient claymore from the grip of the armor standing in the hall. It was a little rusty, but Lachlan was sure Dougal wouldn’t mind. At the same time, Hannah lifted a dagger from the wall. It was ornamental but sharp.
Slowly, quietly, they eased down the hall toward the room. By some miracle, Susana allowed him to go first. As they neared, Lachlan could make out the voices.
“It took you long enough to find him,” Dougal said in a disgruntled tone.
“He was hiding.” McKinney. Anger at the two men roiled anew. They had been his trusted servants, and all the while they’d been in collusion to use him, play him, kill him. He didn’t like the feeling. He didn’t like it at all. “So what do we do with them, now that we have them? Shall we shoot them?”
To his dismay, Lachlan heard a gun cock. At his side, Susana bristled. But before she could bound into the room, Dougal snorted. “We willna shoot them. That would be a waste of a providential opportunity.”
Susana relaxed a tad, but her expression was alarming.
“What do ye mean, providential?”
Dougal sighed. “It’s a sad thing when a vassal turns on his overlord, isn’t it, Dunnet?” A muffled snarl rose in response. “Such a pity Caithness had such a treacherous baron. He came to the castle with his brother in an attempt to murder the duke. They took him to the ramparts. There was a struggle. A fight. An unfortunate crumbling wall … they all tumbled into the sea together. Sadly, the duke’s body was never found. But those of his attackers were. Broken and shattered on the rocks below.” His tone hardened. “So you see, McKinney, we canna shoot them, or the story willna hold water.”
“Caithness could have shot them.”
“Of course he could. But do you really want to carry these two hulking men up all those stairs? Do think things through.”
“Ah. Right. I see.”
Clearly Dougal was the brains of this duet.
Astonishing, that.
But Lachlan had heard enough. Now that he knew what they planned to do, it was time to make a move. He peeped around the corner to scan the scene. He wasn’t surprised to see Alexander and his brother bound to two chairs with gags in their mouths. They did not look pleased. McKinney stood by the window, picking his teeth, and Dougal stood with his back to the door. Both men had pistols.
But Lachlan had the element of surprise. He could rush them, but it was unlikely he could take down one man before the other shot.
And then he realized … he wasn’t alone in this.
It was an excellent realization, because he’d been alone so often before.
He turned to Susana and lifted a brow. She nodded. With gestures alone, he expressed his intention to take Dougal down, while Magnus tackled McKinney with Susana covering them both with her bow. He glanced around the company to ensure they all understood. He held up a hand to Lana, Hannah, and Isobel, making it clear that they should stay in the hall and out of range of those pistols.
He thought they understood.
He should have known better.
He gave the signal to move, and when he and Magnus charged into the room, everyone followed, even Isobel, who issued a truly horrifying battle scream.
It had the effect of stunning the men—this incursion of armed and bellowing women—but only for a moment. Dougal whipped around, his hand fumbling for the pistol tucked in his belt. He didn’t reach it before Lachlan plowed into him. Together they landed and landed hard. Though his mind spun, and pain rocked him, he was aware that Dougal was stunned, too stunned to launch a counterattack before Lachlan lifted the blade to his neck.
He was aware of other things as well.
The pluck of an arrow being released. The dull thunk as it landed. McKinney’s howl. An ominous thud.
And Susana’s sigh.
“Ye werena supposed to shoot him,” she said in a gentle tone.
“I know,” Isobel responded. “But I wanted to.”
Lachlan glanced up to see Lana and Hannah run to the bound men and cut them free. While Andrew skittered over to check on McKinney’s condition, Alexander came to help Lachlan restrain Dougal, who had regained his senses and was beginning to struggle. They quickly scuttled his efforts, tying him with the same rope he had used on Alexander and his brother.
“Well, what do we do with them now?” Alexander asked as he stared at the two men, fully trussed. McKinney wasn’t dead but only, Isobel insisted, because she had not intended to kill him.
“I could use them for
target practice,” the adorable demon suggested, whipping out an arrow and taking aim.
The flare of Dougal’s nostrils was supremely satisfying.
“We canna kill them, darling,” Lana said gently, setting a restraining hand on her niece’s shoulder.
“We canna?” Isobel’s lip came out.
“No’ if I’m to live in this castle once I marry the duke.” When Lachlan sent her a quizzical glance, she elaborated. “I doona want to have to see him every day, and if you kill him here, he might … linger.”
Ah. Excellent point. “Also,” he added, “the carpet is very expensive.”
Alexander nodded, surveying said carpet. “There is that.”
“Best if we have the magistrate oversee their transfer to Newgate.”
Isobel gusted a sigh, but she sheathed her arrow.
This settled, Lachlan turned to Lana and pulled her into his arms. It was his first chance in far too long to hold her, imbued with the knowledge that they were both safe and hale. Well, mostly hale. He was shot after all. Although, upon inspection, he realized the bullet had gone clean through and it had, for the most part, stopped bleeding. But he appreciated Lana fussing over it.
Andrew and Susana, as well as Alexander and Hannah, enjoyed a warm reunion as well. For her part, Isobel kept watch on their prisoners with an eagle eye and twitching fingers, and Magnus explored the whisky in the breakfront, muttering something about this being an excellent time for a dram.
It was, in Lachlan’s estimation, an excellent time for a kiss. He pulled Lana closer and whispered the words he now found so easy to share. “I love you, my darling. Love you with all my heart.”
And then he kissed her.
And while he didn’t care anymore who saw them, it was a little unnerving when Isobel issued a resounding snort and announced to all and sundry with a great deal of derision, “There he goes, seducing her again.”
Lana huffed a laugh into his mouth, and he gave it back. But he didn’t stop kissing her.
He never would.
EPILOGUE
