Chapter 22
22
Monday, 6:37 p.m.
R ichard sent Major pounding up the hill. The road would have been faster, if less straightforward, but after all this he wasn’t about to risk them being overtaken by the jeep.
A quarter mile above the village Samantha’s walkie-talkie beeped, and with a curse she freed one hand from her vise-like grip around his middle and retrieved it from her pocket. “I’m here,” she said, nearly taking his ear off with the thing as she tried to talk and hold onto him at the same time.
“Miss Sam,” Jamie’s voice came back. “Yule said ye’d be on this channel. They’ve just left. I came down to fetch ye from the cellar, but all I found was a hole and a gold coin.”
“A coin?” Richard repeated.
“I didn’t put it there,” she said, and lifted the radio again. “I’ll pay you back for the wall.”
“If ye’ve convinced them to stay away, I’ll pay for it myself. I’m putting together a parade committee. Dunnae make me call it off.”
“I’ll let you know. Thanks.”
She pocketed the radio and grabbed Richard again, tightly enough to restrict his breathing. She definitely hadn’t been faking her uneasiness about horseback riding, then. “Parade?”
“Later. Right now I’m hanging on for dear life.”
He swore he could hear the jeep off to the right, but in the dark and with Samantha up behind him he refused to risk going any faster. At the same time, he couldn’t help feeling a little like a romance hero, the lord rescuing his damsel and setting off to protect the village and the castle. Samantha wasn’t precisely the damsel type, but she was his, and he had rescued her. She would never have made it back to Canniebrae in time on her own.
Headlights flashed into view on the right and slightly down the hill from where they rode. Damn . If Reg or Eerika caught even a whiff that someone from the house had been down in the village, they would assume there’d been meddling and that the treasure had been moved. Even worse, they would realize, and correctly, that they were being made to look foolish.
“It gets steep up here,” he said, ducking lower along Major’s withers. “Hold on.”
“I am so not a frontier woman,” she returned, her voice muffled and breathless against his back.
It would never do for him to admit he was a bit relieved to find there was something in the world at which she didn’t excel. “You could always have robbed trains,” he pointed out.
“Or river boats.”
They charged over the lip of the hill and stopped just on the far side of the stable. He whistled for Briggs as Samantha staggered to the ground. Leaving Major to wait for the groom, Richard dismounted and grabbed Samantha’s hand. Keeping low, they made it through the kitchen door just as the jeep pulled up to the front of stable.
“Upstairs,” she panted, as they raced through the kitchen and the servants’ quarters and up the back staircase.
At the door just before their bedchamber he let her go. “The blue dress?”
“Yes, please,” she returned, shoving into the spare room and shutting the door behind herself.
He was getting their damned shower fixed tomorrow, if that was the last thing he did. Shedding his coat and gloves and shoes, he scooped up her blue Vera Wang dress and matching pumps, then a dark blue suit with a gray tie for himself.
As he rushed back to the next-door room he could hear Yule down below, informing Reg that the household was just sitting down for dinner. Samantha was already out of the shower, and from the goosebumps covering her bare skin she hadn’t bothered waiting for the water to get warm. She dressed as he stepped into the tiny shower and washed dirt and grime from his hair and face, refusing to wince at the shock of the icy water running down his legs.
“We’re going to be late,” he said, as she finished toweling off her hair and then went to work on his.
“It’s because we were having shower sex,” she announced, putting on her lipstick, rubbing some off, and then deliberately kissing his jaw.
He kissed her back on the mouth before she could straighten. “Thank you for this. Have I mentioned that you’re remarkable?”
Smiling, she helped him knot his tie. “You’re not so bad, yourself. I know you’re not big on public displays of affection, but it was really good shower sex. With soap.” With that she ran back into the bathroom and turned the water on again.
“What are you doing?”
“Ambiance.”
That didn’t make sense, but given the excuse she’d thought up for them, the slightly rumpled look they’d managed actually fit rather well. They headed downstairs and stopped just outside the dining room as inside Eerika described how quaint The Bonny Lass was, and how much they’d enjoyed their meal.
Richard slid his hand around Samantha’s waist and strolled into the room beside her. Tom and Walter were there already, looking very clean and neatly-pressed, as did his aunt and uncle. Reg and Miss Nyland stood to one side of the table, chatting with the four of them.
“My apologies,” Richard said, turning Samantha in a circle and then holding her chair out for her. “We…lost track of time.”
“And you may want to wait until morning to take a shower,” Samantha added, smiling up over her shoulder at him. “I don’t think there’s any hot water left.”
“Well, how thoughtful of you, telling us,” Eerika returned.
So that was why she’d turned the water back on. If Samantha ever decided to go back to the dark side, he was going to be in a great deal of trouble. “A shame you’ve already eaten, Reg,” he said aloud, as footmen marched in with soup and buttered rolls. “Mrs. Yule promised fresh pan-fried bass and wild rice.” He took his seat at the head of the table, intentionally not inviting them to join in, anyway. Yes, he could be that petty when it suited him. He was permitting Reg to get away with a million dollars and a job offer even though his cousin had broken his word, after all. “And some haggis for Tom and Walter to try.”
“Great,” Tom muttered, looking dubiously at the bowl.
Reg looked rather mournfully at the rolls, but Miss Nyland wrapped her arms around one of his. “I am too stuffed to eat a single thing,” she purred. “Perhaps we should retire early tonight, Reginald.”
“Yes, fine. Good night, all.”
“Good night, my dear,” Aunt Mercia said.
They’d done it. They’d saved the treasure, the village, and enabled him to keep the promise he’d made eighteen years ago. He looked up to see Samantha grinning at him, but then she side-eyed toward his aunt and uncle. Right. It would be very like his aunt to comment to her son in the morning about how all the young people had spent dinner in exceptionally high spirits and kept toasting each other.
“Tom and Walter are leaving tomorrow,” he said instead. “Do you have anything to put on the helicopter to London, Uncle Rowland?”
“Must you go?” Aunt Mercia asked, reaching over to cover Walter’s hand with her pale, plump one. “It’s been delightful having you both here.” She smiled. “And Walter here is quite the rummy player.”
“Walter,” Samantha said, her eyes widening. “You didn’t wager anything, did you?”
“We all have our secrets,” Barstone drawled, glancing at Richard.
What did that mean? That they’d landed closer on the morality scale because they’d worked together? Because he’d concealed a theft that had been ongoing for two and a half centuries? The next time Barstone chose to do something that benefitted other than himself or Sam, then Richard would re-evaluate the score in their competition.
After dinner they moved to the formal drawing room and sat to chat well past when his aunt and uncle generally retired for the evening. Even with the benefit of years of practice at being charming, he was impatient and hard-pressed to hide that fact. He wanted to know everything Sam and her unlikely team had done, what Reg and Eerika had said, how the entire plan had gone off. Because after two weeks of tension and stress, he felt…relieved.
Finally, his uncle rose and helped his aunt to her feet. “If we don’t see you before you leave tomorrow,” he said in his usual grand tone, “have a safe journey. I’m certain we’ll meet again at the wedding, whenever that may be, if not before.”
“You’ll know the date as soon as we set one,” Richard contributed, rising to walk them to the door. “Uncle Rowland, would you mind sending your leatherworks portfolio to me in London?”
His uncle’s cheeks flushed, a smile pulling at his heavy jowls. “I’d be happy to, Richard. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking New York could use a high-quality leatherworks shop that’s not tied to west coast chains.”
His aunt took her husband’s hand and squeezed. “We’ll see that you get that portfolio, Richard.”
Once they were gone he headed for the side table where a dozen various bottles of liquor, glasses, and a bucket of ice sat. “Champagne would be more appropriate, but will you settle for a Scotch whisky?” He lifted a single aluminum can from the table. “And a diet Coke for milady?”
Samantha laughed. “I’ll take a tiny drop of whisky. The soda would keep me awake.”
“Nothing would keep me awake,” Tom countered. “Anti-thieving is hard work.”
“It would’ve seemed like less work if there’d been more profit in it,” Walter said, accepting a glass. “But it gave Sam a couple of points in her ‘good guy’ column, so I’ll drink to that.”
“Thanks, Stoney.”
Richard raised his glass. “Thanks to all three of you. It wasn’t what any of us were expecting when we arrived, but admirably done. To us.”
“To us,” the other three echoed, and drank. Samantha made her usual “I hate alcohol” face, but she finished off her finger-width of whisky.
“Your ride will be here promptly at ten o’clock,” Richard said, polishing off his own glass. “And it’s not leaving without both of you on board.”
“Thank God,” Walter commented. “This place nearly froze my ass off.”
“Bed now,” Samantha said, yawning. “See you guys in the morning.”
They all parted at the top of the stairs, and Richard followed Samantha into the spare bedchamber to turn off the trickle of now-cold water. “I thought I might have melted off the wallpaper,” she commented, yawning again. “I should have realized we’d run out of hot way before that could happen.”
“That was a clever touch. And I have no problem at all with Reg and Norway going to bed without supper or a hot shower.”
Once they were in their own room he slipped off his jacket and hung it over a chair before he stepped out of his shoes. Sam headed into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later in an oversized T-shirt and sweat pants. “What?” she asked, looking at his lifted eyebrow. “More for you to strip off me. Plus it’s comfy.”
Putting his hands on her hips, he lowered his head and kissed her. She tasted of fresh mint. “You look good in comfy.”
She ran her palm along his cheek. “Are you and Reggie going to be okay?”
“I think so. I hope so. I offered him a job with Addisco. It seemed to alter things. Though he did go behind my back after he gave his word he was finished with treasure hunting.”
“Yeah, but as far as you’re supposed to know, he didn’t go behind your back. On his own I don’t think he would have gone looking for the cave, anyway. He definitely didn’t want to be there. If you want to keep a relationship with your cousin, you’re going to have to let this whole episode go.”
Sighing, he touched his forehead to hers. “When did you become so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise, dude. I just try not to overwhelm you with it. You totally made your uncle’s week, too, you know.”
“I’m trying to let the past go. I may not need his business advice, but he is my family.”
“I’m going to brag about you to Katie Donner. You have so many more awesome points than Donner does.”
“Mm hm. Keep talking, Yank. But don’t start without me.”
Figuring that what worked for her would do for him, he settled for a pair of sweat pants, himself. They were comfortable, and it had been a bloody long day. After he brushed his teeth he left the bathroom, then paused as a soft snore came from the bed.
If this was what married life with Sam Jellicoe was going to be like, he looked forward to it. With a slow grin he slid beneath the covers and put his arm over her waist, tucking her back against his chest. She never fell asleep before he did. He didn’t know if it was about her still being semi-nocturnal, or her level of trust, or how difficult it was for her to relax, but she’d never fallen asleep before him. Until tonight.
Whatever else had happened here, now or in the past, he was doubly glad they’d made the trip. He wouldn’t be avoiding Canniebrae any longer, because Samantha had made it magical to him again.
The dim light shining beneath the door from the hallway flickered and went out, followed immediately by distant shouts of “power’s oot”. Richard grinned, softly kissed Samantha’s cheek, and shut his eyes.
“It’s not for you.”
Samantha opened her eyes. She wasn’t sure if someone had spoken, or if she’d hung onto the tail end of a dream. Rick breathed softly against the back of her neck, so it hadn’t been him talking.
The fire past the foot of the bed had been roaring when she’d climbed beneath the blankets; now it was a guttering red glow. Man, she’d slept hard. But hey, she’d helped save a village and a cousinly relationship, plus dug her way through a stone wall. And earned a parade, whether Jamie MacCafferty would follow through with that or not.
She settled her head back down, then lifted it again. Two walkie-talkies lay on the floor, side by side, both of them pointing toward the door. Okay. They’d both been really tired when they’d gotten ready for bed, but that seemed…oddly symmetrical.
Scooting carefully from beneath Rick’s arm, she stood. Something had made her wake up, and it hadn’t been a fear thing. She had a really strong instinct for self-preservation, after all. Grimacing, she padded barefoot to the door, stepping over the radios, and slipped into the hallway.
Man, the floor was cold, but going back for shoes or socks might wake up Rick. On the other hand, what the hell was she doing out of bed at zero-dark-whatever? Taking a breath she turned around again – and heard something.
It was an old house, yeah, but that had been a creaking floorboard sound, accompanied by a footstep sound. Changing course, she headed for the main staircase and descended, as usual staying close to the bannister where the steps were sturdier and less likely to make noise.
On the first landing she paused. Dark movement down in the foyer, a human shape – with light-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail. Norway ? That didn’t bode well. Nor did the satchel the wannabe reality star carried over one arm, or the night vision camera she held in the other.
Samantha crouched, watching as Eerika put the camera in the bag, pulled on a dark coat, and turned on her phone to look at a photo. A photo of the old highwayman map.
Crap . Norway had figured it out, then, just as Samantha had. The treasure being moved after Rick had discovered it, the likeliest new hiding place, everything. And she hadn’t told Reggie about it, because she was definitely alone. She’d probably figured it out down in the cave, and had kept it to herself.
“Going somewhere?” Samantha asked.
Eerika jumped, putting a hand to her chest. “What? Oh! You frightened me.”
“I asked if you were going somewhere,” Samantha repeated.
“Oh. Well, I was restless. Just going for a walk.”
Sam had a couple of responses ready for that, but she went with the one that was the least self-incriminating. “You know I find lost treasures for a living, right? Try again.”
Brushing her hair back from her face, Eerika straightened. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I’m going for a walk. Excuse me.”
“Rick was willing to overlook you and Reggie digging through that old cave earlier. Maybe you should check with Reggie, though, before you decide to throw his million bucks and his new job away.”
Abruptly Norway’s shoulders lifted. “Will Dawkin’s treasure isn’t protected by any law. Aside from that, it’s not my money I’m risking. Do you not understand? A two-hundred-fifty-year-old highwayman’s treasure? Not only will it make me rich even after I turn a percentage over to the government, but highwaymen are romantic. I’ll be in National Geographic , Vogue , Elle , People – all of them. And I’ll spend the next three to five years on the telly sharing my story of how the treasure changed my life.”
Hmm. So, she did know something about popular culture in this century. Appealing to Eerika’s sense of fairness or asking her to have some compassion for the villagers, would obviously be a waste of breath. Eerika Nyland had one person in her mind, and nobody else – including Reggie – mattered to her.
“Nothing’s going to stop you from being the Booty Queen , right?” Samantha murmured, easing forward to sit on the step just below the landing.
“Correct.” Norway picked up the satchel again.
“Except me.”
Eerika snorted. “You? I take kick boxing, my dear, and you’re well, tiny.”
Five foot four-and-a-half was not tiny. It was petite. “One time,” she said, knowing she was edging closer to trouble and deciding it was worth it, “I needed to get into a safe closed by a combination lock and a double key mechanism. The safe was on the twenty-third floor of a pretty secure office building.”
“I don’t care what artifact retrievals you’ve made, dear.”
“I’m not finished,” Samantha cut in, more sharply. “I went into the safe owner’s house, past his three dogs, his alarm system, and his cameras, and I took the key off his neck. While he slept. Then I climbed the outside of his office building, cut through a window, cracked his safe, and retrieved the statue I’d been sent after.”
That last part wasn’t quite true, except that Stoney had found a buyer who wanted a particular Rodin sculpture and had paid them a million cash for it. She had retrieved it for someone, and that was what counted for this conversation.
“And I’m supposed to be impressed?” Norway said, just a little shrilly.
“Yeah, you should be. Firstly, there’s no way you make it down to the village before I do. Secondly, even if you did manage to grab a couple of things, I would get them back. Thirdly, if you tried to get some publicity for this, I’d see to it that you look like a liar and an idiot.” She sat forward, elbows on her knees. “I know where you live, I know where you work, and I know where you go. I’m one of those specially-trained people who’s found legit employment in the private sector. I have connections and people who owe me favors. Get it?”
“I—”
“And I’m only bothering to give you this speech because Reggie likes you, and he’s family. To put it bluntly, Eerika, don’t fuck with me, and I won’t ruin your life. Go back to bed and get Reggie to take you somewhere exotic and expensive, and then break up with him. And don’t ever come back to this part of Scotland. I don’t think you’re a good fit for this family.”
“And you are a good fit? Some ex-CIA spy?”
“Who else could keep Rick Addison safe?” Samantha stood, fluidly and in a single motion, and Eerika backed up a step. “Do we have an agreement? Or do I start pushing buttons that cost you your reputation and your job?”
“What do you care about that bloody treasure? It’s my entire future!”
“I care that it’s where it should be. That has nothing to do with either of us. Pitch your producer friend that series about how you hook rich guys. You could still call it Booty Queen , only it would be about your sex life.”
“You’re a bitch,” Norway exclaimed, her hand going up to her chest again.
“Yes, I am. But all you have to do is go back to bed and forget all your theories about some old shit buried in a village, give me back my camera, and delete any map photos still on your phone. So, for the last time. Do we have an agreement, Eerika?”
The tall blonde stomped one foot. “You haven’t left me much choice, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. If we have any part of this conversation again, you’ll be sewing dresses instead of buying them.”
“Fine, then. You win. I do hope you’re happy.” With an obvious hesitation Eerika headed toward her up the stairs.
Samantha snagged the satchel from her as she reached the landing and pulled the camera out of it. “I’ll take that. And the bag. It’s a good size for my shoes. Now let’s see those photos go away.”
“The… Fine.”
As Samantha watched, Norway opened her phone, called up photos, and deleted the ones she’d clearly taken of the map while it had been in its frame. Samantha pointed at one of the paste pearl necklace, held in a dirty gloved hand. “That one, too.”
She followed Eerika up the stairs and waited there until she heard a door open and close down the hallway. Only then did she relax. That had been too freaking close. Whatever had made her get up, ghost or dream or flying walkie-talkies, she owed a drink and a couple of ginormous thank yous.
As she started back to the master bedchamber the floor popped softly behind her. Samantha whipped around, ready to drop damn Eerika. Enough was enough. But the shadow that separated from one of the suits of armor was taller than Norway and wore a T-shirt over a pair of dark sweat pants. “You are definitely getting stealthier,” she whispered.
Rick walked up to her and didn’t stop until he’d wrapped her in his arms. He felt warm and solid in the cold dark. “How did you know she was about to leave the house?”
“My Spidey-senses started tingling.” That was about as accurate as she could be.
She felt his breath in her hair as he lowered his head. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Again.” Shifting his grip to an arm across her shoulders, he headed them back to their bedroom.
“You’re my guy.” It didn’t sound like enough, because it was beginning to scare her how vital he was to her, and just how far she was willing to go to protect him, and to stay in his life. “I like spring. It’s a good time for a wedding.”
He hesitated for a bare moment before he pushed open the door with his free hand. “Good. I like spring, as well.” Rick cleared his throat. “That speech of yours was very Liam Neeson, by the way.”
Samantha grinned. “Well, I do have a particular set of skills.” She scooted back beneath the covers. “And very cold feet. So cold you may decide this whole marriage thing isn’t worth it.”
Rick pulled off his shirt and dropped it beside the bed. “You just saved a village for the second time in one night. I think I can tolerate your cold feet. As long as they’re literal cold feet and not the figurative ones.”
“No, they’re literal.” As soon as he slid beneath the covers behind her, she curled up to press them against his stomach.
“Y – Christ !” With a laughing yelp he rolled, clearly trying to escape.
Samantha straddled him, pinning his hands beneath hers and gazing down at those Caribbean blue eyes. “Not so fast, Brit. Warm me up.”
In a breathless second she was on her back, with him pinning her. “That I can do, cat burglar.”
She grinned. “Meow.”
THE END