Chapter Fourteen
Moira stood up suddenly. “We havenae searched all the recesses. There may be other items to find.”
Moving to the recess nearest the one she found the letter in, she stuck her hand in and found naught but a handful of spiderwebs. Again.
She shuddered as she cleared the sticky webbing from her fingers. She hated spiders. She had her brothers to thank for that. They used to put spiders on her pillow when they were young, finding it hilarious when Moira would run screaming from her bedchamber.
It terrified Moira and she usually spent those nights wide-awake with her candle sweeping the space of her bedchamber just to see if there were any more of them wandering about in her room.
The next recess was also empty. As was the next.
But when she stuck her hand in the one after that, her fingers came into contact with something hard and wooden. She felt around the space. She had found a small chest. Her breath caught in her throat. Was this it? Was this the treasure they sought?
“Ye found something?” Errol asked from where he remained sitting on the floor watching her.
“’Tis a chest,” she answered as she pulled it out into the light. It was quite heavy considering its small size.
That got Errol to his feet, and he quickly approached to assist.
The chest was small, with a hinged iron latch keeping it closed.
“Here, allow me.”
“I am no’ going to allow ye to take hold of the treasure,” she snapped.
He rolled his brown eyes at her. “I’ve no plans of doing such.
” He reached for his dagger and brought it under the latch, turning it so it would release.
Once it broke loose, he stepped back and waved his hands toward the chest. “There. I was only assisting ye with the latch. Ye are free to open it yerself and get the first look on what is contained inside.”
She bit her lip, feeling guilty. They had been through a lot together on this trip.
Not once had Errol overstepped his boundaries.
He’d remained well-mannered, even when he had to deal with her nonsense, which was often.
If her sisters were here, they would tell her that she should marry him.
According to them, if she ever found a man with enough patience to deal with her antics and not take her over his knee, then he was the one she was to marry.
Moira had laughed when they’d told her, of course.
She refused to dwell on such notions.
Kneeling on the ground beside the chest, Moira lifted the lid and peered inside. Her heartbeat quickened as she took in the contents. It was full of a variety of different items.
“Look at all this.” She couldn’t keep the awe out of her voice. This find was amazing. It was a true treasure.
Her fingers closed around coins, and she withdrew them, stacking them in piles beside her.
A jeweled necklace bedecked with a large ruby.
Moira was tempted to put it around her neck, but thought twice about it, her mind going to the curse mentioned in the missive they found earlier. Could a necklace be cursed?
She assumed it could be and set it to the side. She didn’t want to take any chances. There was a matching bracelet and ear baubles with smaller rubies that would dangle from her lobes—if her ears were pierced—which they weren’t. A stag figurine carved out of white stone. A lion carving, as well.
A figurine matching the seal they found in the floor was next. Half stag, half lion. It was such an odd combination, but it made perfect sense. It was the blending of their two clans.
Everywhere they looked, the union was alluded to. So, what was it that caused them to part?
At the bottom of the chest there were more coins. She removed them and stacked them near the other ones. When she got to the last few coins, she paused. At the bottom of the chest, laying flat on the red velvet interior was what appeared to be another letter.
“Errol, look.”
He leaned over her and peered into the chest. “Is that another letter?”
“It looks to be. Does it no’?”
“Aye.”
Moira picked it up and clasped it to her chest. “What do ye think it says?”
He shrugged. “Mayhap ’twill tell the rest of the story.”
Her heart felt excited and heavy at the same time. Excited that she found another letter, but sad to ken that she might finally learn the tragedy that had been told in the scenes from earlier. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.
It was funny. She felt a connection to this couple. She didn’t ken them. She didn’t even ken their names, other than their surnames. But, yet she found herself drawn to them. To their story. To their love. To their lives which were cut short way too early. Or at least one of their lives had.
“Are ye going to read it?” Errol asked. Was that impatience she heard in his tone? Mayhap he was just as curious in finding out the rest of the story as she was.
“Aye.” There was no twine wrapped around this letter.
It was neatly folded into a rectangle and appeared to be much sturdier than the other’s she had found.
That was more than likely due to it being stored away at the bottom of the chest. The enclosed space and lack of air helped to preserve the integrity of the parchment.
It was also much larger than the other letters and consisted of several pages.
She began reading aloud. Beside her, Errol listened intently.
The couple had met by chance at a small burn that ran between their two lands.
Immediately attracted to each other, they secretly rendezvoused often.
Meeting at the burn. At the loch, which was on Hart land, where they would swim together, enjoying the sun and the coolness of the water. Stealing kisses. Touches. Caresses.
Moira sighed. It all sounded so very romantic.
Soon, the woman, whose name was Fiona, was with child. Thomas, the man, insisted they wed. He would not have his bairn be born out of wedlock.
They approached their families and were shunned by both. But when their heads had cleared and open minds prevailed, they thought about what a bairn between a Hart and a MacLeod would mean.
Peace.
Unity.
The couple were given a small parcel of land between the two clans.
Their land would act as a bridge of peace bringing the two clans together.
By the time the bairn was born, communications amongst the clans had opened up.
Whilst they had never been fierce enemies afore, they had never really teamed up together either.
This union closed that gap. The two clans joined.
As a united front, they became a formidable force to be reckoned with amongst the other clans in the area.
Moira paused for breath, soaking in the information they’d learned so far.
“This letter is giving us the full history,” Errol said, shaking his head. “Back then we werenae enemies. We were one. Fighting side by side. I dinnae believe it.”
“Ye must.” She held up the letter, shaking it in the air.
“’Tis all written here. It has been here all along, just waiting for it to be found.
” She took a deep breath. “I am almost scared to read on. Right now, they are happy, bringing peace across the land. I ken when I read on, that will all be shattered. And I dinnae wish to see that.”
Errol drew Moira close to his side and gently kissed the top of her head. She closed her eyes, savoring his touch. His scent. When had she crossed the line in seeing Errol as more than just Anna’s older brother? Seeing him as more than a means to an end.
She wasn’t sure, but she kenned that now that she had gotten a taste of what it felt like to be in Errol’s arms, she never wanted to be in the position where he wasn’t nearby ever again.
“Ye ken that things dinnae end well for them. We’ve already learned that. We just dinnae ken the why and how of it. I am sure that by the time ye finish reading we will have those answers.”
“But I am no’ sure I want those answers.”
He smiled and tipped her chin up to him. His eyes bore into hers for a long moment before they dropped to her lips. She darted her tongue out, wetting them. She suddenly felt parched, but not for ale. Would he kiss her?
He looked like he wanted to.
Did she want him to?
Aye. She did. Very much so.
“Kiss me, Errol,” she whispered.
“I shouldnae, Lass,” he said quietly. “But I find the more time I spend in yer presence, the less control I have to deny ye.”
With that, he dipped his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss that she felt all the way to the tips of her toes.
He groaned when she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue entry.
He ran it along the seam of her lips afore sweeping it into her mouth and their tongues twisted against each other in a seductive dance that Moira wanted more of.
When they parted, they were both gasping for air, their chests rising and falling with each ragged breath.
“As much as I am enjoying the taste of yer lips, Lass, we need to stop.” He pointed to the parchment she still clasped in her hands. “We need to finish their story.”
“Mayhap I want to continue our story.”
He chuckled, the sound foreign to her ears. But she found she enjoyed it and wanted to hear it again.
“As do I,” he admitted and she wanted to clap in victory, but she remained still, watching the struggle play across his face. She kenned he was waging a war within himself.
She had too, but gave in long ago, understanding that she would never be able to let this man go.
“If we continue whate’er is building betwixt us, ’twill no’ be done in a cave.”
“When we continue,” she corrected him.
He kissed her on the nose. “Aye. When.”
Happy with his answer, she turned and leaned her back against his chest once again and focused her attention back on the letter, dreading what she kenned was not going to be the happy ending she wanted for the couple.
No matter how much she wished for it, their tragedy had already happened. It couldn’t be changed now.
“Continue,” Errol urged.
Moira found the spot she’d left off and began reading again. The letter talked about the son they’d borne. And a daughter.
Her and Errol’s gazes clashed, his mouth turned down in a frown. “A daughter? We didnae see any mention of a wee lassie being born, did we?”
Moira shook her head. “There wasnae any word about another bairn, laddie or lassie.”
‘Our dear daughter, Agnes, was a lovely lass.
Full of sunshine, she brightened the room wherever she went.
But we ne’er could have fathomed the untimely death she would meet.’
“I dinnae like where this is going,” Moira confessed, but continued reading.
‘ ’Twas a warm summer day and Agnes was playing in the woods near our home.
Her brother, Angus, was busy helping their father in the fields.
They returned, but Agnes didn’t. We set out to find her.
It took hours. But we finally found her broken body.
Dead at the bottom of the cliffs near the sea.’
Moira gasped. “Nay! Their daughter died,” she cried, overcome with sadness. “How tragic and devastating. I really dinnae like this now.”
“Nor do I, but we must continue on. ’Tis the only way we will learn the whole history of our clans. The only way we will be able to mend the pain of the past. Our past.”
‘What we thought was an accident, we soon learned the dire truth.
One that would put our clans at war.
A clansman from one of the border clans had taken our precious lass.
Infatuated with her.’
With sorrow and anger running through her blood, Moira finished reading the heartbreaking story of Agnes and her death at the hands of someone who stole her virtue and her life, discarding her like rubbish on the rocks.
As if that weren’t enough, the clan responsible created a false narrative surrounding the actual happenings.
They killed Thomas, leaving Fiona to deal with the ramifications.
They swore an oath that Fiona was the cause for the deaths of her family members.
The MacLeod’s took possession of Angus and sent her back to the Harts, and shunned her and her clan.
But worse, her clan also turned their backs on her, banishing her from the land she and Thomas had been gifted.
The same land they’d built a life upon. A happy life—until it wasn’t.
She tried to speak the truth, but no one would listen.
They hated her for what she represented.
Hated her for the shame she brought on the clan.
Hated her for the way she broke the peace.
They wouldn’t believe that she wasn’t the one responsible.
It mattered naught how many times she tried to explain.
She mourned alone, roaming the land.
Kenning the only way the truth would ever come to light, she painted their story on the cave, hid the clues, mementos, and treasures throughout the highlands. Kenning one day, someone would find what she’d done, and the truth would be brought to light.
There was still one, final treasure to be found.
‘Where the cliffs meet the sea. Where sand meets salt.
Trees shade the sun. Find the hollow.
Learn the truth.’
Moira swept at the tears that welled in her eyes. “How tragic,” she repeated.
Errol pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve still got one more location to discover, but from what we’ve learned so far, our whole history of being enemies has been based on naught but lies.” He pushed off the floor and paced the interior of the cave. “We need to go.”
*
He paced the banks of the shore far below the cave where Errol and Moira had disappeared into hours ago. Irritation had him clenching his fists.
He couldn’t see what they were doing or what they had found, if aught.
He couldn’t hear their conversation.
The only thing he could do was wait for them to exit and continue on to wherever they needed to go next. His stupid leg wouldn’t allow him to climb the rocks leading up to the cave and there was no other way to get to it. He was stuck here.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
He growled, pulling his hair until pain seared his scalp.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.
He slapped his face. Again and again as his father’s words echoed in his head.
“Ye useless dolt. Ye are naught but a curse. A liability. A disappointment.” That last statement stung the most.
He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears as he rocked back and forth, trying to drown out the voice of the man who had not once ever offered him comfort.
Still, he would come out victorious in this mission. He just needed to be patient.
Making his way back to the trees, he sank onto the ground, leaning his back against one of the thick trunks. He would sleep here tonight, waiting for Errol and Moira to emerge. When they did, this vantage point would allow him to see them as soon as they did.