Sands, Lynsay - Highland Treasure

“Ye’ve broken camp and are ready to head home?” he asked, reining in before them, and wasn’t surprised by their silent nods. Since they carried little when traveling and slept rolled up in their plaids, there wasn’t much to breaking up camp besides putting out whatever fire had remained by morning.

“What were ye talking about back there? What treasure?” Alick asked as he drew his mount to a halt beside him. “And who was that message from that ye received this morn?”

Rory raised an eyebrow in surprise at the second question. “Did the messenger no’ tell ye when he gave it to ye?”

“Nay,” Alick said grimly. “And he did no’ stay long enough to be questioned either. Just rode up, tossed it at Conn, said to get it to Rory Buchanan and rode off ere anyone could even move. Since I was coming to check and be sure we were still leaving today, I brought it in to ye fer him.”

Rory grunted at this news, but before he could comment, Conn suddenly tilted his head to the side and stiffened.

“Riders,” Alick muttered after a moment.

They all looked toward the opposite side of the clearing, but no one was yet visible through the trees. Even so, Rory urged his horse farther along the trail so that they would be hidden from view. The others followed suit and they sat their mounts, silent and still in the cover of the woods, to see who was approaching. It wasn’t long before a large contingent of soldiers charged out of the trees on the other end of the clearing, riding for Monmouth’s gates.

“Think you ’tis FitzAlan?” Alick asked.

“Nay,” Rory said with a frown. “There are no nobles among that rabble. They are soldiers every one.” He watched silently as half a dozen men broke off from the group and crossed the drawbridge, leaving the remaining men waiting outside. Rory then turned his horse and spurred him into a gallop again. He had a feeling the men had something to do with the message he’d received and that it would be a good idea to find the treasure mentioned in it and head north as quickly as possible. With that thought in mind, he kept up the pace for the half hour it took before they reached the point of the trail where the river ran over it. Rory crossed the shallow flow of water and then stopped and glanced around, searching the trees on either side of the path.

He wasn’t surprised when Alick immediately moved up beside him again. To forestall the questions he knew were on the tip of his brother’s tongue, he said, “The message ye brought me was from Lady Mairghread de Valance, Baroness of Kynardersley. She is Lady Sinclair’s sister.”

“Jo’s sister?” Alick asked with surprise.

Lady Jo Sinclair was their sister Saidh’s dear friend, wife to Laird Campbell Sinclair and the only Lady Sinclair they’d met.

“Nay. Lady Bearnas Sinclair. Cam’s mother,” Rory answered, his tone distracted as he scanned the woods around them, searching for the sign the message had mentioned.

“Oh,” Alick muttered. “So the message was from Cam’s aunt, and she wants you to collect a treasure and take it to Sinclair,” Alick reasoned out, and when Rory didn’t comment, he asked, “What are ye looking fer?”

“There is supposed to be”—Rory paused and smiled—“a ribbon.”

“A ribbon?” Alick asked, moving up beside him. “I do no’ see—”

His words died when Rory pointed out the thin, white ribbon tied around the trunk of a tree on their left. There was a narrow trail next to it, leading deeper into the woods that would have been easily missed without the ribbon to mark the way.

“I do no’ recall Cam mentioning an aunt, but even so, what would she be doing in England?” Alick asked, shifting uncomfortably on his mount. “Mayhap ’tis a trick or a trap.”

“Mayhap,” Rory agreed, aware of the way the suggestion made the other warriors all now sit up in their saddles, eyes alert as they searched the surrounding area for signs of trouble.

They were all silent for a minute, listening to the bitter wind whistling through the trees, and then Rory turned in his seat to eye the four men with them. “Fearghas and Donnghail, you two stay here and keep an eye out. Fetch us if ye catch wind o’ trouble.”

He waited long enough to see the men nod, and then added, “The rest with me.”

Rory urged his horse down the new path, but his hand moved to his sword, ready to draw it at the first sign of trouble. The narrow trail, if it even could be called that, forced them to ride single file. They took it at a walk, Rory leading the way, Alick behind him and Conn and Inan following to guard their backs. No one spoke and they all eyed the surrounding forest warily until Rory came to the edge of a small clearing where a cart sat unattended. The moment he stopped, Alick moved up on his right to get a better look.

“Where’s the horse?” Conn asked in a rumble. The warrior had urged his mount up on Rory’s left, leaving Inan to guard their back.

Rory’s narrowed gaze swept the area. A horse must have been used to bring the cart here, but there was no sign of one now.

“What exactly did Sinclair’s aunt say in her message?” Alick asked, his voice grim and eyes sharp as he awaited the answer.

“That she had heard we were in the area, and knew from her sister’s correspondence that the Buchanans were dear friends to the Sinclairs. As such, she begged our help. A great treasure waited at the end of a trail we would find by a white ribbon tied around the trunk of a tree just past the river in the woods outside Monmouth, and she would be forever grateful if we saw that treasure safely delivered to Sinclair.”

“Forever grateful, eh?” Alick muttered, twisting his head to check the trail behind them. “No mention of a reward?”

“Nay.”

“Well, if ’twas a trap, they’d probably mention a reward as a lure,” Alick pointed out.

“Aye,” Rory murmured, and then gesturing for Conn and Inan to wait in the cover of the trees, he urged his mount cautiously out of the woods and crossed the small clearing until he could look down into the cart. There was something in the bottom, a lumpy bundle covered by a large fur. Rory hesitated, and then took another look around the woods before leaning down to snatch up a corner of the fur and tug it aside.

“What is it?” Alick asked, urging his own mount up next to the cart.

Rory didn’t bother to answer. His brother was already close enough to see. He grabbed one of the four lumpy bags that had been hidden by the fur. His eyebrows rose slightly at the lack of weight to the item. It wasn’t light as a feather, but not heavy enough to carry any kind of jewels or gold. Cloth of some sort was his guess, proved true when he opened the bag and peered inside. Blue velvet lay at the top, concealing the cloth beneath it. Rory took a moment to feel the bottom of the bag to see if there was anything solid inside, but all he felt was more cloth.

Pulling the strings to close the sack, Rory hung it from his saddle to keep it out of the way as he swiped up another bag. Like the first, it was light, carrying mostly cloth and something he would guess was a brush by the shape of it when he squeezed the bottom.

“Clothing?” Alick guessed, eyeing the bag he held, and when Rory grunted in the affirmative, he asked, “Then where is the treasure we are to transport?”

Rory opened his mouth about to admit he had no idea when movement drew his gaze to the opposite edge of the clearing. They watched in silence as two men on horseback moved out of the woods. They were English soldiers and moving at a snail’s pace so that a full minute seemed to pass before they were fully out of the trees and a third horse appeared behind them. This one carried a woman, though they could see none of her beyond the fur-lined silver-blue cloak and matching coif and veil she wore.