Chapter 19

With no more than the hand over her mouth, Hugo held her hard against him, but Sorcha knew it would be both foolish and useless to struggle. When the door opened, she heard nothing but sensed only a change in the air. He shifted her a bit as he turned, so she could see the guard, still standing stiffly, still looking the other way, obviously unaware that anyone else was near.

Hugo lifted her and carried her through the opening, letting the door shut silently behind them before he set her down. Then he caught her hard by the shoulders and turned her to face him, his grip bruisingly tight.

"What the devil do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice clearly under tight control, as if he feared it might otherwise somehow reach ears on the other side of the thick door. "You promised not to leave the castle."

"I said I would not leave without you," she said. "And I followed you, but why is my father here? And Ranald? And what was all that about encampments?"

His fingers tightened until she winced, but he abruptly released her, saying, "I cannot talk now, because I must get back before the others miss me. Doubtless they think I'm checking on the guards, and I'll certainly have something to say to that one standing like a stone out there. I have much to say to you, too, so you will remain here until I return. And if you cannot look me in the eye then and swear you did not so much as touch that door again, I'll put you straight over my knee. That's a promise this time, and you should know by now that I keep my promises."

He did not await her reply but turned away. Then she heard the almost silent click and knew she was alone. The darkness closed heavily around her, but she was glad he had gone and glad, too, that she had not been able to see his face. Not that she had needed to see it. His fury had radiated from him, and he'd frightened her.

She could still feel her heart pounding, could almost hear it. For anything else she could hear, though, she might have been the last person left in the world. She had never known such total lack of human voice or footstep. Not even a shadowy rustle of a small creature going about its ordinary business disturbed the unnatural silence.

In truth, she decided, the last thing she wanted to hear in that clinging darkness was the sound of a rat or mouse or even another human—not until Hugo returned—because anyone else would have less right to be there than she did.

While her attention had been fixed on the rituals, she had forgotten her sore feet, but she felt them now, and although the idea of sitting on the tunnel floor did nothing to cheer her, imagining the walk all the way back to Roslin decided the matter. Feeling her way, she sat down and leaned against the wall to wait. As she rested her hands in her lap, she felt the stiff message from Adela in her sleeve.

As angry as Hugo was, the thought of telling him about the message was daunting, but she had no choice. That she had promised to consult him was reason enough. That neither she nor Adela dared trust Waldron was even greater reason.

She would tell him about the message at once. In his present mood, she doubted he would be reasonable about it. But he would listen, and if she could not persuade him, perhaps she could distract him from scolding or punishing her.

But when he returned, torch in hand this time, he did not come alone. The fair-haired man came, too. Although he no longer wore the circlet, Sorcha scrambled hastily to her feet and swept him a low curtsy.

"The lady Sorcha Macleod," Hugo said grimly. "Little though her behavior recommends her, my lord, I thought you should first meet her privately rather than before the family. This gentleman, as I see you already suspect, lass, is my cousin Henry of Orkney. As I told you, sir, she saw and heard far too much tonight for our safety or her own. The fault is mine. She followed me through the tunnel."

Still in full curtsy, head bent, Sorcha tensed as an icy chill swept through her. She had not spared a thought for what her actions might mean for Hugo.

Gravely, Prince Henry of Orkney said, " 'Tis a serious matter, cousin. But as you assume responsibility, I'll expect you to deal with it. I'd suggest some degree of severity, but I don't doubt you can persuade her to hold her tongue. She is Isobel's sister, after all. You may rise, Lady Sorcha," he added sternly.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, looking at him as she rose. When she stood before him, she added sincerely, "You need have no fear, sir. I'll not betray you."

He held her gaze for a moment, nodded curtly, then said to Hugo, "See to it then. You have my leave to do whatever you deem necessary."

Then he was gone, and she was alone again with Hugo and the fervent hope that Henry had not been suggesting that he murder her.

"Did you touch that door?"

She looked him in the eye. "You know I did not."

"And you know what you deserve for this," he retorted.

"I know what you think I deserve," she said, taking a wary step backward but resisting the impulse to place protective hands on her backside. "I do deserve your reproaches for putting you at fault with Prince Henry, but whatever you mean to do, I wish you will just get on with it. I've something I must tell you."

"It is true that if I skelp you here, no one else will hear your cries," he said thoughtfully. "Mayhap that would be best."

Tensing, she glanced at the torch he held, wondering what he'd do with it.

"If you look at the walls, you'll see holders along the way," he said, reading her thoughts easily. "Shall I use one now, or would you prefer to tell me your news first? I should perhaps warn you," he added gently, "that it had better be important."

"Adela wants to escape," she said. "I got a message. I was going to tell you when you came home tonight, but…" She swallowed. "I should have, of course."

"But you decided instead to see if you could discover where I was going. So you did spy on us last night from the laird's peek."

She licked suddenly dry lips. The conversation was not going as she had hoped, and she had just given him another excuse to punish her. Even so… She squared her shoulders, reached into her sleeve, and extracted the message.

"You'd better read this," she said, unfolding it before she handed it to him since he could not do so while he held the torch.

He shot a frowning look at her, then quickly read the message. Looking at her again, he said, "How did you get this?"

"I cannot tell you," she said. "I promised I would not."

"Aye, well, I can guess," he said. "Ivor Ross has a brute of a cousin who serves Waldron. Doubtless Gil brought it to you."

She met his gaze. "Whoever brought it is not the one at fault here, nor will I say who it was. We must rescue Adela, sir. I know Countess Isabella expects you to confront him tomorrow and demand his presence at Roslin to answer for his crimes. But by all you have told me, I doubt he will obey her."

"He will resist to the end," Hugo agreed. "I just hope he does not barricade himself inside Edgelaw. A siege can be long and expensive."

"Well, I don't want Adela stuck there even one more day," Sorcha said bluntly. "I mean to help her. I told you I would consult you first, and I have—"

"Just what do you imagine you might attempt that I could not prevent?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I just know I'll keep trying, because I won't abandon her. I had hoped for your help, though, because the very fact that she has sent for me proves she is not with him willingly."

"Do you know how much this cost?" he asked, holding the message out.

"That paper, you mean?"

"Aye, 'tis made from linen cloth. It is very expensive and must be imported from France or Italy, so how do you think your sister came by it at Edgelaw?"

She hesitated. She had not thought about how Adela had acquired the paper, but she recognized the course of his thoughts because her own had taken a similar path. "Your cousin must have got some from his French kinsmen."

"Do you think he just leaves it lying about where anyone can use it?"

"I think he gave it to her and helped her write that," Sorcha said. "Adela makes her letters better than I do, but she always asks for help spelling out her recipes. I doubt she has written a message to anyone before. And she would never feel obliged to explain so much. I think he told her exactly what to say."

His gaze sharpened. "To what purpose?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Mayhap he has grown tired of her."

"More likely, he is still using her as bait."

She nodded. "The way he intended to use her and Isobel at Ratho."

"And the way you used yourself to draw me to Ratho," he said gently.

"Then you think his purpose is to lure me to Edgelaw, to hold me as well."

"I'll say this much for you, Skelpie, you are not slow-witted. But you see why I cannot let you go, even if I had the smallest inclination to do so."

"But I don't see that," she said. "If we prepare against such an outcome, you can keep me safe. And we cannot ignore this, because we could be wrong about it."

"What if he wrote the thing himself and has no intention of letting her go?"

"Adela made those letters," she said. "And he will certainly let her go as far as that tower if one can see it from the hilltop, in case anyone is watching."

He frowned, but he was no longer frowning at her.

She held her breath.

He said, "Waldron will set his own watchers if he has not done so already."

"You told Sir Michael that you'd set extra guards," she reminded him.

His eyes narrowed, and recalling how she happened to be aware of that particular fact, she snapped, "Don't look at me like that! I was at the laird's peek, and you can say or do whatever you like to me for that later, but for now—"

"For now," he interjected, "I need to think more about this. Also, there is still something we must do here before we return to the castle."

She tensed again, but to her surprise, his lips twitched and a twinkle lit his eyes. "I'm glad to see you show some respect for my right hand, Skelpie, but that is not my intent now. You gave Henry your word that you would keep silent, and he said that I must deal with you, so—"

"So, if you are not going to beat me, what are you going to do?"

"What you heard was Henry giving permission for me to tell you enough to convince you of how important it is that you keep your word."

"Mercy, I thought he was giving you permission to murder me."

"I may yet do that," he said dryly. "But first I want to explain what you saw in the cavern, so you'll want to sit again. I'm going to put up this torch."

She stared as he turned. He had surprised her before but never like this.

Hugo set the torch in a holder and leaned against the wall opposite her. He would have liked to sit beside her, but he knew he'd be wiser to maintain some distance, lest she say something that stirred him to beat her or kiss her. God knew that in the past half hour he had yet again been sorely tempted to do both.

Hands clasped around bent knees, she gazed solemnly up at him.

"Have you heard aught before about the Knights Templar?" he asked her.

She frowned. "I'm not sure. They were characters in stories Aunt Euphemia told us about Crusaders when I was a child. But I don't know much about them."

"The Order started during the Crusades," he said. "If you like, I can relate more of its history another time, but near the beginning of this century, the Pope declared all its members heretics. When King Philip IV of France tried to arrest the Templars in his country, many of them fled here to Scotland, to the Isles."

"What has that to do with the ceremony tonight?"

"The men who came here dispersed," he said. "Some helped the Bruce win at Bannockburn. Others went to ground, seeking safety in new lives. But they did not forget the Order. Originally, all Knights Templar swore a vow of chastity, but those who came here realized that to continue serving the Order and those it served, they had to set that vow aside. Otherwise, in a land most of them did not know, recruiting new members they could trust as implicitly as they trusted each other would be impossible. Then, when the living ones all died, the Order would die with them."

She nodded. "But family is family. So if they could father and train children, and educate them from birth, the Order might survive."

"Aye," he said. "Those early Templars made that decision before they scattered, and each swore an oath to keep the Order secret and pass on its signs only to their sons. But the Kirk still sought to find and kill them. Years passed before they felt safe enough to meet, and by then most had lost track of one another."

"But you found them."

"Some of them," he said. "Some months ago, we learned who most of those early ones were, and we managed to identify some of their descendants. The men you saw here tonight are leaders amongst those active descendants."

"My father?"

"Aye, your great-grandfather was a Knight of the Temple."

"But the Crusades are long over," she said. "What service do Templars perform now that they must still act in such secrecy?"

Hugo had not been able to decide how much to tell her, but as he met her steady, intelligent gaze, the decision made itself. He trusted her as he trusted himself, because she made decisions the way he did. She would do what she believed right and defy the consequences, but her sense of honor was as strong as his own. So the only secrets he could not tell her were the very few he had sworn unequivocally to take to his grave. It was as plain and as simple as that.

"The Templars were the world's bankers," he said. "Their Paris treasury was immense, containing gold, silver, jewelry, sacred relics, and other valuable items of every description. King Philip IV manipulated the Order's downfall with the aid of Pope Clement. On Friday the thirteenth of October, 1307, Philip ordered his men to arrest the Templars and seize their treasury."

"Friday the thirteenth?" Her eyes widened. "Is that why Father believes that day is unlucky?"

"Aye," he said. " 'Twas a dreadful day, because the men Philip captured—and there were many—suffered the worst the Inquisition offered. Many died or committed suicide as a result. But those whom Philip failed to capture vanished, and the Templars' enormous Paris treasury vanished with them."

"So it came here, too, with them?"

"Aye, first to the Isles," he said.

"Where is it now?"

"That I cannot tell you," Hugo said. "At least a portion of it was hidden here at one time. I also know that the hills hereabouts contain other caves, including one the great Wallace hid in at one time, and another where the Bruce supposedly hid. But, thankfully, I am not burdened with knowledge of the treasure's present location."

He waited for her to ask the obvious: Who did know? But instead, she said, "That treasure is what Waldron seeks then, but why does he believe it should belong to the Vatican?"

"Because, according to the Kirk, the Templars served as the Pope's army. But Templars serve God, not His Holiness."

"Were they heretics, those early ones?"

"Nay, they just controlled too much money to suit Philip. He owed them a vast sum, you see, and he did not want to pay it. He was not the only such debtor, either. By then, the Order's wealth had grown for nearly two centuries. The Knights lent huge sums of money to many heads of state."

"But if they lent most of it out—"

"They still had plenty left," he said. "Moreover, the services they provided continually added to their wealth. Their treasury must have been enormous."

"Do you mean to say you don't know how enormous?"

"I do not," he said. "I don't even know that all of it came to Scotland. Portions of it may well have gone elsewhere."

"But why come here at all? Were there not other havens closer to Paris?"

"The Templars were safe here because the previous year the Pope had excommunicated Robert the Bruce. So Bruce paid no attention to the order to arrest them if, as an excommunicate, he even received it. He valued Templar military skills and let it be known that any Templar seeking sanctuary could find it in Scotland."

"Mayhap the men who came here divided the treasury amongst themselves."

He shook his head. "Their leaders hid it, and I think it stayed in the Isles for a long time because Edward of England controlled all Scotland south of Edinburgh then. Eventually someone did move it, but by then most of those who knew of its existence had died. And apparently the men who moved it died without passing on their knowledge, so it lay hidden again for years."

"Hidden here."

"Aye, some of it, at least. And now Henry looks to use the cavern for our council meetings if it remains safe for him to do so."

"But the men I saw tonight did not enter it through the castle."

"There are other entrances," he said. As he spoke, a thought struck him and then the glimmering of an idea. He said, "There was only one entrance at first, but it resembled a well rather than anything more useful. Only heaven knows how the man who found the place did so, so we decided to create something more practical."

"Where is the original entrance?"

"Buried," Hugo said. "Too many folks knew of it. All are loyal to the Sinclairs, but we decided to make a change. I am not going to try to describe for you where the others are, either," he added with a smile. "Perhaps one day I'll show you, although the less attention they receive, the better."

"How many people know about the one from the castle?"

"To my knowledge, only Michael, Henry, you, and I do, but it is possible that Isobel does. You must not speak of this with her, though. Not only do I not know how much she knows, but to discuss the Order with anyone other than me, or in any place less private than this tunnel, would be to invite trouble for all of us."

"I won't," she said.

"I believe you mean that," he said. "You need to understand what such a promise means, though, because not only am I trusting you but Henry is, too, and revealing the smallest detail of what you've learned tonight to the wrong person could lead to disaster. Therefore you must learn to avoid certain topics altogether."

"Not speak of the treasure at all, you mean. But that is easy, since no one knows even to ask about it." She frowned. "But you mean things like the cavern and the council, as well."

"Aye," he said. "But secrets connect to things that seem not to be secret at all, so you must train yourself to avoid topics that may lead to the dangerous ones."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Even to let slip that you saw your father tonight could stir trouble," he said. "If someone should mention the cask room, you'd be wise not to show that you know what he is talking about. Keeping secrets is difficult, lass. That is why I told Henry what you had done. He is my liege lord, and if you let something slip, I will have to bear the responsibility just as I do for your being here tonight."

"But you could not have known I would follow you!"

"I brought you to Roslin," he said simply. "I stirred your curiosity."

"Sakes, if they fear discovery so much, I'm surprised Henry did not just order you to murder me and then hang you for it," she said.

"They trust me, lass, and I trust you. I know you won't fail me."

Sorcha's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she thought she would cry. He had been so angry with her, and yet he believed he could trust her. And he could; he certainly could, because she would die rather than betray him. But there was one detail she feared he might not have considered.

"I cannot fail Adela either," she said, forcing the words out. "How can you be sure I would not reveal your secrets to Waldron to save her?"

His expression did not change. He said simply, "Because you are wise enough to know that if you did tell him, he'd have no further use for either of you. He would kill you both. However, since you mention that possibility and since I'm not particularly keen on marrying her, I may have to think again about allowing you to meet her at the peel tower tomorrow."

"Sakes, you've already said you won't do it."

"Aye, well, I've been reconsidering that. But whether I allow it or not, it is past time to go back to the castle."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to tell if he was just teasing her, not wanting to reveal her eagerness if he was. On the other hand, Hugo rarely made statements he did not mean, even when he did tease her.

He reached out a hand to her. When she took it, it wrapped warmly around hers as he helped her to her feet, and he retained his grip as he looked into her eyes.

She gazed solemnly back at him, willing him to say that he would let her meet Adela and bring her back to Roslin.

"If I do allow it," he said, reading her thoughts again, "I cannot go with you. They expect to see me at Edgelaw, and Waldron will expect to do any negotiating he does there with me. Nor can I provide you with a large escort. Not only do they command you to go alone but nearly every man I have will go with me or remain at his post to guard the glen and Roslin. But I do have one I can send with you. No watcher will see him, and we must assume that Waldron will send watchers."

"But if you fear that they mean to capture me—"

"We'll see that they don't."

There was more. She knew it. "You have a plan."

"Aye, I do. Waldron is too dangerous to leave there. He threatens all of us."

She grimaced. "So to you, as to him, I shall be just the bait."

"You know better than that."

"Do I? I know you wish you had not promised to marry Adela. I know the countess says you flirt with every woman you meet. What more should I know?"

He looked at her, and suddenly she was far more aware of the energy crackling from him than she had been just a moment before. She was aware, too, that she trod on dangerous ground.

"W-we had better go now," she said.

"Aye," he agreed. Taking the torch from its holder, he turned back to the door into the cavern and took an unlit one from the holder there. Lighting it from the one he held, he extinguished the latter.

As they walked, she said quietly, "I'm sorry."

She thought he chuckled, but clearly her mind was addled.

He said, "I'm curious to know just why you are apologizing."

She sighed. "I'm sure you must be, because I've done so many things to vex you. I was apologizing for starting all of this."

"Do you wish you hadn't?"

She started to say that of course she did, but the words stopped on her tongue. If she hadn't sent the messages, she might never have met him. She certainly would not be walking now with his arm so comfortably around her.

Still, her conscience pricked her. "I cannot say I wish that, but poor Adela! I hope she never learns that only your sense of honor compels you to offer for her."

"I am not feeling at all honorable right now," he said.

"Why not? You've done naught that is dishonorable."

"Perhaps not, but I'm about to," he said gruffly. The arm around her shoulders tightened, turning her toward him as he reached to set the torch in a holder. His free hand caught her chin, and his mouth came down hard on hers.

He was angry again. She could feel it in every line of his body. His arm held her tight, and the hand at her chin shifted to cup the back of her head as if he feared she would try to pull away. She melted against him instead, pressing her body against his, and parting her lips willingly when his tongue moved across them. He thrust it inside, moaning softly when she moved her own tongue to taste it, then to tease it. It felt natural to do that, as if she had done such things with him always.

The hand that held her so tightly moved down her back, pressing her against his hips. She could feel his lust.

Every movement, his or her own, stirred her blood and sent it racing through her body. Her nipples hardened and her breasts swelled until they strained against her bodice. When his stroking hand moved to cup the left breast and his thumb brushed its nipple, she was the one who moaned.

As abruptly as he had kissed her, he released her. He did not speak. He just stood, looking at her, and his eyes seemed dark, his thoughts impenetrable.

"Let's go," he said then, and she nodded silently.

He did not put his arm around her again. Her lips felt swollen. Her body sang.

When they reached the entrance to the castle, he stopped before working the latch to say, "Take care once we are inside, lass. We cannot return together, because it is too late. My aunt may still be up, even so, and it would not do for her to see us together. Nor would it be wise to let your father or mine see us just now."

"My father is staying at Roslin?"

"Aye, he will arrive with Michael tonight."

"But what about all the others?"

"Returning to Edinburgh with Henry. No one will know they went any farther than to supper at his house near Holyrood Abbey. Hush now, not another word until you are safe in your own chamber," he added, opening the door.

Near the foot of the secret stairs, he picked up the torch she had left on the floor there and set it in the holder. The one he had carried through the tunnel still burned steadily enough to light their way upstairs.

At the doorway to the cask chamber, Sorcha had a sickening thought.

"Wait! I forgot about Kenna. What if she has raised an alarm?"

"She won't, lass, not tonight when we have guests arriving. She'll have been busy all day and will have expected you to send for her if you needed her."

Hoping he was right, she stood impatiently while he eased the door open. It was too late to expect any servant to come to the cask chamber, if any ever did come there, but she had expected him to put out the torch. Only as he stepped boldly into the chamber did she realize that no one would question his being there.

"I'll go first," he murmured as they crossed the room. "I can delay anyone heading to the stairs from the hall whilst you go up. Then you need worry only if you meet someone coming down who demands to know where you've been."

"The only ones who might do that are my father or Isobel, or mayhap the countess," she replied in the same tone. "But, pray, sir, do not leave before you tell me what you have decided about tomorrow."

"I'll send you with Einar," he said, his hand on the latch. "But do exactly as he tells you, Skelpie, and take no risk but that of meeting Adela and returning with her to him. The most dangerous time will be whilst you are alone in sight of the peel tower. We'll have no way to know how many may be inside. Which reminds me," he added. "If Adela is there, no matter what she says, do not go into that tower."

"I won't. But you know, sir, I doubt it would ever occur to your cousin that Adela may have wanted to save Isobel and me, and the baby, so he must believe she warned him as she did only to save him. What if he has simply decided to free her?"

"His intent does not matter, nor should you think about that. You need only meet her. If anything bad happens when you do, or beforehand, run back to Einar. If you can't do that, try to be civil and avoid more trouble until I can get to you."

"I will," she said.

"I'll send Kenna to you when it is time to go," he said. "You won't want to arrive before midday, and I must arrange a few things before you leave. As for my dishonorable behavior tonight, I was going to apologize, but I don't think I will."

He let go of the latch then, put his hand at the back of her head, and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he opened the door, looked out, and left the cask room.

She followed quietly as he returned to the hall level and put the torch in its still-empty holder. Then he strode to the archway and waved her on up the stairs.

Hearing men's voices in the hall, Hugo glanced back to see her disappear around the first curve of the stairway before he went in. His aunt was not there, but his father, Michael, Macleod, and several others sat at the high table with goblets, jugs, and platters of food in front of them.

Michael grinned, "We have arrived, cousin. Come, greet my guests."

Hugo obeyed, but at the first opportunity, he approached Macleod and said he'd like a private word with him.

Sorcha reached her bedchamber without incident. Two cressets burned softly there, her bed was turned down, and the night shift she had borrowed from Isobel lay neatly across the coverlet.

She took off her clothes, washed her face, blew out the cressets, and got into bed. She had meant to think about the ceremony she had seen, to try to fix in her memory such details as she could remember, but try as she might, she could think only of Hugo's "dishonorable" behavior and her own mad betrayal of Adela.

Hugo insisted Adela was not in love with him, and to Sorcha's own knowledge, according to her father's notions, love was no reason for marriage. But she did wish Hugo had not been so frank about his feelings. Her guilt was powerful enough without living the rest of her life knowing she had forced him into a loveless marriage. When men said sacrifice was noble, she did not think they meant sacrificing someone else's happiness. The tears came then, and her face was still sticky with them when Kenna came in to waken her the next morning.