He dropped kisses along her jaw, leaving a tingling trail in his wake. When he reached her earlobe, she felt a tiny nip, then his warm breath in her ear. “A bit of wickedness can be fun, aye?”
She shivered. “I still cannot imagine how we can—”
“Do you trust me?” He pulled away just enough to meet her gaze. His amber eyes burned into hers, the most fervent, forthright gaze she’d ever seen. “Do you trust me, leannan?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered.
And she did. No matter that he robbed Roundheads and told half-truths, he was patient and kind, and his presence made the most forbidding places feel inviting. In his own unique way he was the most honorable person she’d ever known. It seemed he always—always—wanted to do the right thing.
He smiled, drawing her attention to that tiny, enthralling chip on his tooth, and it was a moment before she realized she was fumbling with the laces on his breeches.
The smile turned wolfish. His hands moving to assist hers, he said, “This would have been easier in that kilt.”
Which, in this heady, strange, and strangely meaningful moment, struck Kendra as exceedingly diverting. Laughter bubbled out of her, bouncing off the chamber’s walls until her husband silenced her with another kiss.
FIFTY-FOUR
THE RIDE BACK to Duncraven was hardly short, but Kendra was still giddy when she and Trick walked through the tunnel and into the great hall. They were holding hands, and she couldn’t help smiling down at their fingers clasped together. She’d spent a glorious afternoon with her husband.
Seated at a trestle table with a hearty meal before him, Hamish’s gaze went to their joined hands as well. He also smiled, a sigh escaping his lips. “You two put me in mind of my Elspeth, you do. Happy newlyweds you are, and glad I am of it.”
It was true they were happy. True for Kendra, and as she met Trick’s gaze, she knew it was true for him, too. Perhaps he still carried the shadow of recent loss and upheaval, and perhaps she wasn’t finished climbing the wall he’d built between them. But they’d turned a corner today—they had laid the foundation for trust. A foundation they could build on in the days and weeks to come.
“The first time Da’s been downstairs in weeks,” Niall told them with a grin. “Join us, will you? Da has been trying to puzzle out what happened. Did you find any clues?”
Trick handed him the key. “Not much,” he admitted, emptying his pockets. “Just this scrap of cloth”—he gave it to Hamish—“and this piece of glass.” He set the shard on the table with an audible clink, then seated himself.
Kendra sat beside him, and plates were set before them. Seeing nothing sweet on the table, she took a wedge of spinach tart while Trick eyed a platter of meat slices swimming in onions and a savory-smelling sauce.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Mutton,” Niall told him. “Scotch collops.”
“Sounds good.” He transferred a piece to his plate.
“Homespun.” Hamish fingered the dark fabric. “It could have belonged to anyone, but most likely a common worker. Certainly not Elspeth or myself. As for this”—he picked up the curved piece of glass—“it looks to be part of an old bottle. Wine, I’m guessing. Elspeth and I broke our share of them down there over the years.”
Feeling her face heat, Kendra exchanged a look with Trick. And a secret smile. He turned back to his father. “We also found many footprints—they looked to be of four different people, clustered around the chests as they lifted. Three larger sets of prints and one smaller.” He polished off the mutton and reached for another serving. “So more folk than Niall supposed must have known about the treasure.”
“More folk know about it now,” Hamish corrected. His mouth straightened into a grim line. “After the original folk enlisted their help in this crime.”
“The original folk?”
With a sigh, the older man ran a hand back through his thinning hair, a gesture that reminded Kendra of Trick. “Gregor and Rhona,” he practically spat. “My friends. Or so I thought.”
“Da!” Niall’s eyes went wide. “You cannot really mean to accuse them?”
“No one else knew of the place. Or the treasure’s existence.” Hamish’s voice sounded bitter, betrayed. “One small set of footprints—Rhona’s. And three larger—Gregor and two men. One of them wearing homespun. Who else could it have been? The lock wasn’t broken. The thieves had a key.”
“Then they borrowed it or stole it—from you or Rhona and Gregor. Someone could have followed you there sometime. All those years…”
“No one followed. And as for all those years, there were things that happened in those years. Things you don’t know.”
Looking shaky, Niall took a long sip from his pewter goblet. “Such as?”
“Friends do not always get along. The four of us quarreled from time to time. Bitterly.”
The spinach pie had turned out to be sweet after all, swimming in butter with cinnamon and sugar, but the last bite turned sour in Kendra’s mouth. “What did you fight about?”
“For years now, Gregor and Rhona have wanted to sell off the treasure. The office of Town Clerk of Falkland doesn’t pay so well, aye? At least not well enough for the two of them to live as they supposed they should, their best friend being a duchess. But Elspeth and I—we always argued with them, and we always won.”
Niall ran his goblet back and forth on the pitted trestle table. “You were afraid if anything were sold, you’d be discovered.”
“Aye, that was it in part, although Gregor always talked of carting the goods to London before selling them. Among the riches in that great city, he believed the treasure would go unnoticed, and in any case, not be connected to anyone back here in Scotland.”
Kendra ran a finger around the rim of her own goblet. “But you didn’t agree?”
“Royal plate is quite recognizable. But the truth is, we had other reasons
