Chapter 20 #2
Somehow, he knew what she meant.
“Over here,” he said. “Come.”
He led her to the ancient grove where the damasks were in full bloom. As they walked beneath the brambly arch, they were showered with bright petals.
“How they’ve grown,” she said. “You have tended to them.”
“I have.”
“They were your gift to me, do you remember?”
He didn’t, but he nodded.
“Do you remember what you told me the first time you brought me here?”
He was enchanted by her eyes, swirling with green and bronze.
“Remind me,” he said.
“With these roses as my witness, you are mine, and I am yours.” She smiled expectantly. “That is still true, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” The recognition hoarsened his voice. “It’s true.”
“Good. Now where is the stone?”
Looking around at the multitude of decorative pebbles, he drew his brows together. “Do you have a particular one in mind?”
“I’m referring to our stone. The special one I found?”
Then he knew. “The red ironstone.”
“That is the one,” she said happily. “Where is it?”
“Over here.”
He led her to a rosebush at the back of the arbor, one exploding with silver-pink blooms. At the base was the unusual chunk of rock, burnished by the elements to shades of dusky pink and russet.
The ironstone sat half-buried, exactly the way he’d found it.
He’d left it because it was at least five hundredweight—and because it looked like it belonged there, a relic marking the passage of time.
“There you are,” Finn murmured.
Kneeling, she caressed the rock—and suddenly jolted. He caught her, and she slumped against him, her lashes flickering.
“Finn?” He held her tightly as the others gathered around. “Are you all right?”
Slowly, her gaze focused. “Yes, I-I’m fine.”
“Thank heavens,” Xenia breathed.
“There must be a reason the vision brought us here.” Ethan gave the rock a testing push; it didn’t budge. “Do you think there is something beneath this?”
Shrugging off his frock coat, Grantley handed it to Gigi and rolled up his sleeves.
“Only one way to find out,” he said.
Finn and Nell stood watching as the men tried to move the boulder.
They’d made several attempts, and if the situation weren’t so dire, she would have been amused at their competitive natures.
Like the tale of the sword and the stone, each man had tried to prove himself the worthiest. It was Owen who’d come up with a solution; jogging off, he’d returned with a crowbar and was now planting it as a lever while the other men gripped the boulder.
“What are we going to do if they find the cache?” Nell whispered.
“There’s nothing we can do.”
Finn had run through various options in her head. Any distraction seemed too suspicious. Besides, the men were determined to move the rock and would not be swayed.
“If worse comes to worst, we shall steal it later,” she said under her breath.
Nell gave a quick nod as the ladies joined them.
“This is rather entertaining, isn’t it?” Gigi said.
Xenia’s smile was sly. “The view certainly cannot be faulted.”
She directed her gaze to the men, who’d abandoned their waistcoats and cravats.
Their sweaty shirts and trousers clung to their strapping physiques, and Finn had to admit that it was a very fine view indeed.
To her, Owen was the handsomest of the undeniably virile lot.
Rangy and lean, he moved with the natural grace of a man who belonged outdoors.
He’d lost his hat, his hair a wild mane around his face.
“On the count of three,” he called out. “I’ll work the lever and you push. Any questions?”
“Why are you in charge of the lever?” Grantley asked.
“Because it was my idea. Get ready. One, two, three.”
Owen pushed on the crowbar, his thighs braced and teeth gritted. Finn could see the flexing sinew along his exposed forearms. His forehead sheened with sweat as he maneuvered the iron bar while the others tried to shift the rock.
“It moved,” Manderly shouted. “Put your backs into it, fellows!”
The boulder rolled a few inches forward. Finn hurried over as Owen went to his knees, digging into the newly exposed ground.
“There is something buried here,” he said.
He yanked an object from the dirt. An oilskin pouch.
Pulse racing, she crouched next to him. “What’s inside?”
“Would you like to do the honors?”
He offered her the pouch, and she took it like sweets from a babe. Her guilt turned to apprehension as she felt how light it was—far too light to contain a fortune in jewels. Untying the strings, she peered inside.
Blooming hell.
“It’s a piece of paper,” she said.
Gingerly, she removed the yellowed scrap and unfolded it.
“What does it say?” Owen asked.
She scanned the familiar handwriting and read the words aloud:
What was stolen cannot be given back, but restitution can be made to the living and the blood that follows.
I dared not keep my gift where grasping hands would find it.
Seek it where the two of you were most yourselves: where the water runs pure and together you were unafraid.
This is not the end of my penance, only the next step toward it.
—F. P.
“Who is this ‘F. P.’?” Owen drew his brows together. “What in blazes does this note mean?”
Finn gave him the only truth she could.
“I don’t have all the answers,” she said tightly. “But apparently the quest to uncover Rose’s secrets has only begun.”