Chapter Seventeen #2
“What if it had been ye, Rory?” She said, cutting him off. “What if Alec had dreamed about ye? Would ye go find a rock to hide beneath?”
Rory turned his back to her and raised his clenched fists above his head, growling before he turned back around. He released a long breath and met her gaze. “Nay,” he said softly. “I would not.”
She nodded and accepted his offered hand. “I have made my choice. I fight with ye.”
He kissed her hand. “I will never seek to control ye, Alex.” A smile broke the serious lines of his face. “Not that I could, even if I tried.”
She reached up and cupped his cheek. “Thank ye for accepting me as I am,” she said softly.
He pressed her hand against his heart. “I’m terrified something is going to happen to ye, and ye know how I feel about being afraid.”
“Don’t think about it. Run with me headlong into the fray. Alba gu bràth,” she whispered.
He gently ran his fingers down her cheek. “Alba gu bràth,” he said softly.
David cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “We have to discuss our plan.”
Alex gestured toward the place in the woods where Alec had disappeared. “What about Alec? Will we not wait for his return?”
David shook his head. “He’s told me everything we need to know, which is all the support he can provide. His work within the king’s palace is not yet done. He cannot risk his true identity being discovered.”
Alex and Rory joined David and two other men by the fire.
“Alex, this is Paul and over there is Nick.”
Alex smiled at Paul. He was the shirtless slumberer she had spied when first entering the glade.
He appeared to be only a year or two older than she.
His wet brown hair hung in soft curls around warm, dark eyes, which crinkled when he smiled in return.
Nick, on the other hand, didn’t even look up.
His blond hair was also still wet from bathing.
It was slicked back, and his eyes remained downcast while he ran a wet sharpening stone over his dirk.
“Ye all know where we’re going tomorrow and what we’re stealing, but now I am going to tell ye how,” David said.
“Alec has had the displeasure of meeting a man named Richard Ash. He calls himself a merchant but he’s really no better than a peddler.
According to Alec he once had a thriving trade in Flanders, but when King Edward withdrew from his holdings there, he left a slew of unpaid debts.
The Flemish king sought compensation from the English merchants living inside his borders, claiming their profits and what remained of their goods.
Richard returned to England with naught but the clothes on his back.
Understandably, he was furious and went to the palace to seek compensation from the king, but, of course, he didn’t find the king.
Instead, he was greeted by disorder and debauchery—a scene that appealed to him straightaway.
He easily charmed his way into the keeper’s inner circle.
But it was not only the wine and women that drew him to the palace.
He saw opportunity. Since the beginning, he has been plotting how to rob the English king, gathering close a band of allies, which includes castle guards, monks from the neighboring abbey, and, fortunately for the cause, Alec MacVie, who knows the details of Richard’s plan. ”
“So, this Richard has set the heist in motion, but we are going to take it over?” Rory asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” David replied.
Rory shook his head. “But he was wronged by the king the same as us. I see no honor in stealing his prize.”
“Do not give this man yer sympathies so quickly,” David warned.
“Alec has spent time in his company and has found little to recommend in his character. He is callous to those he calls friends, abusive to the servants remaining in the king’s palace, and most disturbing to Alec is Richard’s treatment of women.
He steals for his own selfish gain, and Alec is convinced others will only suffer from his ill-gotten wealth. ”
Rory nodded. He had heard all he needed. Alec was the surest judge of character. Rory had no doubt that Richard was wicked to the core. “What is the plan?”
“Underneath the Chapel House of the abbey is a crypt where King Edward has stored countless treasures, plates, jewels, coin from Flanders and France.”
Alex leaned forward eagerly. “So then, Richard plans to break into the crypt, and we must get there first.”
David shook his head. “Richard has already broken into the crypt.”
Rory threw his hands up. “Then he’s already made off with the prize. Why are we wasting time with all this blather? Should we not run him down and seize it?”
“Calm yerself, Rory,” David said, gesturing to Rory’s tankard. “Have a sip of ale and listen. He’s broken into the crypt, but he hasn’t robbed it yet—not all of it anyway.”
“I don’t follow ye.”
“He broke in last week and remains there still. Every day one of the monks waits by a hole they made in the Chapter House wall concealed by bushes. Every day he passes through one of the priceless treasures.”
“But that’s absurd,” Paul said. “Does he not raise the risk of being caught?”
“’Tis arrogant but not as unreasonable as ye might first think.
Ye see, he’s afraid of being caught—not committing the act, mind ye, but when trying to turn the treasure into profit.
Foreign coin cannot be used at market without raising questions of how he obtained it.
And merchants are unlikely to barter for what would clearly be royal treasure.
Neither Richard, nor any of his cronies, knows how to use what they’ve stolen.
Their plan, at this point, is to hide the pieces until they figure it out. ”
Rory sat back in his chair. “Where are they hiding the pieces?”
“They’re sinking the treasure to the bottom of rivers and ponds and burying it behind headstones.”
“Considering they lack the connections we have, it’s actually rather cunning,” Alex said.
“And requires incredible patience, which is not often a virtue of one so willing to flout the law,” Rory added.
David almost smiled. “I wouldn’t accuse any us of being in possession of that virtue.”
Alex laughed outright. “I suppose ye’re right. We are a reactionary lot.”
“And stubborn,” Rory agreed.
“Not to mention feckless from time to time,” Alex said, laughing.
“Let’s put our foolhardiness to good use then,” Rory said, raising his cup. “Let’s go rob the king of England. Alba gu bràth.”
Everyone but Nick raised their cups in kind. “Alba gu bràth.”
“Now, get yer arses to bed,” David said. “We wake before dawn. ‘Tis two-day’s hard ride to London.” Then he dipped his head and turned, disappearing within the trees.
Paul stood and smiled. “This will be one to tell my grandchildren when I’m old and gray,” he said, chuckling. Then he bowed at the waist to Alex. “I’ve heard of ye,” he said. “’Tis a pleasure to meet the lady agent.”
“The pleasure is mind,” Alex said. She watched him retreat into a different portion of the woods.
Only Nick remained. Alex looked at him expectantly.
She had yet to hear him say a word. She watched while he ran the sharpening stone slowly down the blade of his dirk one last time.
Then he stood, and without even a glance in their direction, he crossed the glade and, like the others, disappeared between the trees.
“Don’t pay Nick any heed,” Rory said. “He’s a good agent, his loyalty to Scotland unquestioned, but he’s hard, ruthless even. A part of me understands why. His family, his wife and three children, were burned alive in their home during the massacre.”
Alex gasped, her heart suddenly aching for Nick.
Rory nodded. “’Tis unthinkable, I ken, but his pain and fury have blackened his soul. Meeting Nick helped soothe the same beast within me. After my parents and sister were slain, I desired vengeance, blood. Now, I fight only for freedom.”
Alex scanned the woods. “They all left in different directions. Where have they gone?”
Rory pointed to the sky. “Into the trees. The Harborage is our haven, remember? A place for us to rest without fear. We’ve built platforms within tree branches. They are concealed by canopies of leaves and underbrush.”
Alex frowned. “Abbot Matthew will hear from me on this matter. All this while an Eden has existed, and I’ve been denied because I’m a woman. ‘Tis unjust. I work just as hard as anyone else. Do I not deserve a bath in a lovely, moonlit pool?”
Rory smiled. “I for one think ye do. In fact, why don’t ye avail yerself of that luxury now?” He gestured toward the empty pool, which glistened in the moonlight on the other side of the glade.
She gazed at the inviting water and started toward it. “I believe I shall.”
“I will keep watch,” he said.
The corner of her mouth lifted into a sensual smile.
“Actually, I insist ye watch.” She boldly turned to face him and eased her tunic over her head.
She met his gaze and stood for a moment, allowing him to feast his gaze upon her body, clad only in her kirtle.
Then she removed the thin barrier and stood before him naked in the moonlight.
He looked at her hungrily, his eyes slowly traveling over every inch of her bare flesh. “Ye’re magnificent.”
She smiled and threw her kirtle at him, then dove into the water. Icy currents swept over her skin. She squealed when she surfaced. “It bites,” she said.
Rory looked down at her. “So do I.”