Chapter Twenty Five
Jo screamed as Thane dragged her away from the chest toward the door, the tip of a dagger biting into her neck.
“Let her go,” Ian snarled, thundering toward them, his sword raised high.
“Stay back,” Thane growled. The dagger sank deeper into her flesh. She cried out, her neck throbbing.
Ian stopped in his tracks. The color drained from his face. “Jo!”
She felt blood trickle down her throat. “Ian!” Her heart thundered. What was happening? She tried to twist free. “Thane, let me go!”
“Nay,” he hissed in her ear, his hold on her tightening. “Ye’ve brought this on yerself!”
The whites of Ian’s eyes showed at he glared at Thane, his nostrils flaring, the cords in his neck throbbing. “Let her go, or I swear to God I’ll kill ye!”
“Ye’ll have to step over her dead body,” Thane sneered.
“How could ye,” she cried. Tears steamed down her cheeks. “I loved ye!”
“Ye love her, too,” Ian roared. “Don’t deny it!”
“So what if I do,” Thane spat. “This isn’t about love. This is about doing what is right by our clan!”
“Please, Thane, I don’t understand. ‘Tis me, Josselyn. Ye served my father—”
“I did serve him. Clan Fergusson served him. And what did he do when a king’s fortune came into his possession? Did he feed his people? Did he strengthen our defenses? Did he build alliances? Nay! He hid it in a hole while our crops failed!”
“It was ye,” Ian snarled, his face twisted with rage. “Ye betrayed Malcom!”
“Aye,” Thane snapped. “It was me!”
Growling, Ian stepped forward.
Burning pain seared her throat. She cried out.
“Stay back! I’m warning ye. I will kill her.”
Ian shook with rage but drew no closer.
Jo gasped for breath. Emotion choked her voice. “The...Stewart attacked ye...I saw men strike ye!”
“Aye,” Thane spat in her ear. “Yer father nearly ruined everything when he sent ye away. I spent two days in their filthy, stinking prison before the guards would believe that I forged the alliance between the Stewart and Baron Wharncliffe.”
Her heart raced, anger burning through her. “How could ye?”
“I did what I had to!”
Ian turned and seized a fistful of coin and ropes of pearls from the chest. “Ye betrayed yer laird and now threaten his daughter’s life for naught but unusable riches!”
“What does a fisherman know of wealth,” Thane scoffed.
“Yer a fool,” Ian snarled. “This is no ordinary treasure. Laird Fergusson protected his people by hiding it away. There isn’t a merchant out there who’d risk buying or bartering for what is clearly royal treasure.
If yer laird had been as foolish as ye, he would have brought Longshank’s hammer down upon yer people.
Only the Church has the power and connections to use it. ”
“I don’t need a corrupt abbot to turn this gold into seed,” Thane hissed.
Jo screeched with fury. “Enough! I am Toonan’s lady. Unhand me and surrender yer weapon!”
Thane’s vice-like grip on her tightened. “Aye, Josselyn. Ye’re, indeed, lady of Toonan...but not for long.”
He thrust her from him. She stumbled into Ian’s arms while Thane stepped through the doorway. “I’ll come back in four days. Ye should both be dead by then.” He locked eyes with Jo. “I take no pleasure in this.” Then he slammed the door and slid the bolt in place.
“NAY,” JO SCREAMED AND rushed forward, pounding her fists on the door. “Thane, Come back! Ye can’t do this! My parents trusted ye! I trusted ye!”
“Jo, stop!” Ian trapped her wrists and turned her about, crushing her against his chest.
“Nay,” she cried, struggling against his hold. “He cannot get away with this!”
“And he won’t,” Ian assured her.
“But we’re trapped down here. No one will hear our screams. We’re going to die!”
He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Breathe, Jo. I promise ye, we’re not going to die. Thane will not have his victory. Just breathe.”
Her breaths continued quick and shallow, but then her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs.
“Good,” he crooned. Then he ripped the hem of his tunic and pressed it to the slice on her neck. Releasing a long, slow breath, he, too fought for calm.
“How can ye be so certain?” she said blearily while he tore off another strip of fabric to wrap her wound.
Ian pointed to the single chest on the floor. “As certain as I am that yer father did not sacrifice his life for that—even more certain am I that the bishop did not send ye on a dangerous quest north for one chest full of treasure.”
“I...I don’t understand,” she stammered, seizing the emerald crown. “How can ye think this meager, when I was nearly rendered speechless?”
He tied the bandage off, then gently clasped her hand and, once again, began to scan the walls.
“Ye haven’t seen what I’ve seen. Ramsay and I, my brothers, the other rebels, we’ve stolen a lot of gold over the years.
There must be more,” he muttered absently.
“By reputation, yer father was a cunning and cautious man.” He grazed his fingertips over the stones, looking for some kind of oddity.
“He certainly didn’t cart this treasure through yer front gates, nor did he carry it across the Great Hall, into the solar. ”
Her eyes widened as she understood his meaning. “Then, there must be another way in.”
He nodded, a gentle smile curving his lips.
“Which also means there’s another way out.
” Turning in a circle, he scanned the walls, but nothing caught his eye.
Still, he did not doubt his instincts for a moment.
Kneeling, he removed bags of coin and heavy platters of gold from the chest before he pushed against the side, straining to move it, to ensure it did not conceal another trap door.
Jo knelt beside him, running her hand over the newly exposed stone floor. “Nothing,” she said. Standing, she thrust her shoulders back. “No matter.” She planted her feet solidly on the ground, hands on her hips, and joined him in surveying the room. “We must have missed something, that’s all.”
Walking forward, she pushed against the wall in front of her. He joined her, skimming his hands over the stones, pushing as he went to see if any were loose.
“I found something,” she exclaimed, pulling at his tunic.
“Where?”
“Right here.” She dusted off one of the stones. “See, there’s an opening.”
He leaned close, and sure enough, there was a coin-sized hole with irregular edges. Leaning close, he blew into the opening, clearing away the remaining dust. Then, he tried to push his finger inside, but only the tip could fit. “I can’t tell what it is.”
Jo nudged him aside. “Let me try.” Her smallest finger slid into the hole with ease. “I can’t quite...reach...the end.” She sat back, her face slack, and shrugged her shoulders. “It just feels like jagged rock.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Damn it!” His frustration was mounting. “Start again. What did yer father say to ye?”
“Ye ken what he said. He told me that time is the greatest gift ye can give someone.”
He shook his head. “Nay, not that, before that.”
She lifted her shoulders. “He told my mother that she was his queen...”
Again, he shook his head, his mind racing. “Nay,” he gritted, clenching his fists, angry with himself for beginning to doubt his own logic. “Keep going. There was more...”
“She...she unlocked his passion!” The words rushed from her lips, and she gasped. Her mismatched eyes flashed wide. “Ye don’t think...”
A jolt of excitement shot through him. “Do ye still have it?”
Nodding her head furiously, she reached into her satchel and pulled out the white queen, which she thrust at him. “Ye do it!”
He took hold of the chess piece and turned to face the wall. Holding his breath, he inserted the queen, crown-end first, into the hole. It slid inside without resistance.
“It fits!” Jo clapped her hands together. “Now what?” she asked, her eyes dancing with excitement.
He took a deep breath. “We turn it.”
“Can I do it?”
Nodding, his pulse racing, he stepped back.
She came forward, and hand trembling, she grasped the piece and made to turn it, but it didn’t budge. Furrowing her brow, she clasped the queen with both hands and tried again. A vein in her neck stood out as she strained. Then, suddenly, it turned over, and a clicking noise echoed around them.
They locked eyes.
She swallowed hard.
“’Tis a moment for prayer, if ever there was one,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Then, holding his breath, he pushed against the wall with all his might.
Slowly, it inched forward. Chips of mortar and stone broke away, creating a cloud of dust. Beside him Jo coughed and waved her hands to disperse the cloud.
“There’s an opening,” she exclaimed.
Sure enough, there was a space wide enough even for him to slide through. Unsheathing his sword and seizing the torch from the sconce, he sidled sideways through the newly exposed passageway, into another room, and was so struck by what he saw that he nearly dropped the torch.
“Dear God above,” Jo gasped, behind him.
Ian’s mouth ran dry as he circled around, taking in the fullness of their discovery.
The room teemed with treasure. Chests lined the floor in tall stacks.
Bags of coin were heaped in piles. Many had opened, spilling out their shiny contents like frozen streams of silver and gold.
Ian smiled. “This is more like what I expected.”
“Aye,” Jo laughed, her cheeks flushed. “And look over there!”
A grin he could not contain spread across his face as he followed her gaze to the door partly hidden by a towering pile of silk skeins.
He started toward the new door but thought better of leaving the secret passage open into the real hidden treasure room.
Straining, he slid the wall back into place.
Then he rushed to help Jo move the fabric out of the way.
“Please do not be locked,” she murmured and tried the latch. It opened without resistance. A rush of fresh air hit her face.
Ian peered down the long tunnel, certain to bring them to freedom. “Now, that’s truly a beautiful sight to behold!”