Romancing the Earl (34 page)

Cate tried to slow her thundering heart. She’d been disappointed so many times. This dovecote could be the resting place of Dyrnwyn or she could walk away from it empty-handed. Again.

Elijah also seemed eager, but was that true or was she simply seeing what she wanted to see? He was trying to be supportive at least, and she appreciated that.

She paused at the arched doorway and inhaled deeply. Summer scents of grass and wildflowers reminded her of days spent outside with her brother when she was younger. He’d learned to dig for treasure—animal bones, coins, whatever he could find—at a very young age and had taught Cate to be observant and curious. She employed those tools now as she studied the entry and looked for a clue.

Nothing leapt out at her from the weathered gray stone. She stepped inside and was amazed at the number of small nesting boxes built into the walls. Hundreds of doves would have nested here. The birds had provided food, of course, and feathers for mattresses. She imagined the smell of the waste in here would’ve been most foul, but then it would have been removed and used for the garden in all likelihood. Could Dyrnwyn be in such an inauspicious place?

Cate moved farther inside, careful not to step on any of the stones that had likely made up the roof, but now littered the dirt floor. Once there had been a hole in the top for the birds to come and go, but there was no telling what that part of the structure had looked like.

Grass had sprung up between the stones, since plenty of light now made its way inside the building. Cate was surprised at how large it was—a good ten paces across—and supposed it would seem even more so if not for the remains of the roof cluttering the space.

Her brother’s words came back to her. He always said to “be methodical.” And so she was. Starting at the left of the door she moved clockwise, studying the stone nesting boxes for any indication. It seemed a futile effort. There was nothing but a steady line of empty boxes marching around the circle. She went from top to bottom, but made a note to have Elijah review the upper portion since his height would give him a much better advantage. So she spent extra time on the bottom half. About a third of the way through, her eyes began to water and she realized she’d forgotten to blink.
 

Taking a sustaining breath, she blinked several times and bent down to look at the lower stones in this section. Was that a blemish in the stone above that box near the bottom? She blinked again and squatted low to investigate it further. A blemish or a mark . . .
 

Her heart began to pound as she drew off her glove and touched the symbol. And yes, it was a symbol. It perfectly matched the “mistake” on the back of the tapestry—the X that wasn’t really an X but more like a poorly drawn sword.

“Elijah!” Belatedly, she realized she ought not to have yelled, but she hadn’t been able to contain herself.

She didn’t turn, but heard him come into the dovecote.

“What is it?”

“Here. It’s here.” She scooted to the side to give him access. “Look at the symbol.”

He knelt beside her, putting one knee onto the dirt. She waited, breathless, for his reaction.

And she wasn’t disappointed.

He grinned at her and her heart skipped. “You found it.”

“I found
something
.” She urged herself to be cautious and pragmatic. But it was so damned hard, especially with him here to share the moment. “Is the stone loose?”

He slipped his fingers into the box and grasped the stone, pulling at it. “I think it might be.” He extracted his knife from his boot and put both knees on the ground to give himself a firmer stance. Using the blade, he carved around the stone in an effort to pry it loose. With a bit of effort, the block came free. He caught it and set it aside.
 

Now the nesting box was twice as large as the others. He leaned close to look at it and then pushed his hand inside. “It’s hollow back here.”

Cate inhaled sharply. Her stomach dropped into her feet. “Is it empty?”

He pushed his arm in farther and his face tensed as he rooted around. “No, there’s something there. I can grasp it, but when I pull it up, I can’t get it free. I need to remove more stones in order to extract it.”

“What is it, a hilt?” She held her breath.

He smiled. “No, but you didn’t expect them to bury it without some sort of protection, did you? It’s a box and it’s heavy.” He withdrew his hand and went to work carving away the stone above the one he’d already removed.

Anticipation flushed through her. “I wish I could help you or that we had a better tool.”

“I’ll get it.” He worked slowly and steadily, removing his coat to work faster. Cate fought the urge to pace as well as the desire to stare at him in his shirtsleeves and perhaps encourage him to remove his waistcoat too. She shook herself and called herself a ninny.

When he’d finally removed three more stones, he sat back on his heels. “Can you see it?”

She leaned over beside him and put her hand to her mouth. There, tucked into a hole behind the nesting boxes was a box maybe a foot wide. She curled her fingers around the aged wood and tried to pull it up, but he was right, it was heavy. “I can’t get it.”

“May I?” he asked.

“Please.” She sat back and watched as he liberated the box, appreciating his endeavors. She couldn’t make out the muscles working beneath his sleeves, but imagined them quite clearly.

He set the box on the ground between them. The wood was old, but in excellent condition. While the container was a foot wide, it was at least four feet long. There was a clasp in the middle.

“There’s no lock,” she said, somewhat stupidly. After everything they’d been through, she expected another obstacle.

“Are you going to open it?” he asked.

“I’m afraid.” She looked at him helplessly as dread snaked up her spine.

“Don’t be.” He gazed at her with encouragement. “This is a moment to celebrate, no matter what you find. You’ve come this far—farther than anyone else before you.”

“I hope so. If it’s not inside, it’s safe to say someone did get here first.”

He shook his head. “You are an exasperating woman. Open the damned box before I do.”

She couldn’t resist smiling at him and wondered if he’d provoked the reaction on purpose. With a silent prayer, she released the clasp and gently opened the lid. As light found its way inside the box, her breath lodged in her throat. There, nestled in a bed of red linen, was a sword.

It was a humble-looking weapon, long, but with a very simplistic cross-guard. The pommel was also simple, except for a small red jewel glimmering in the center. The blade was aged, but not dull, and it looked as though it could be over a thousand years old.

“Dyrnwyn,” she breathed. With suddenly trembling fingers, she curled her hand around the hilt.

The cock of a pistol rent the still summer air.

“Cate, I must thank you for finding the sword. Now, I’m afraid you must give it to me.”

Chapter Eighteen

E
lijah picked up his knife and leapt to his feet. His pistol was tucked into his coat, which was an unfortunate meter away. Not that it would’ve helped since they were well and truly outnumbered as six masked brigands filled the dovecote.

He couldn’t tell which one had spoken, but his attention was immediately grabbed by one of the men—again they were masked—when he snatched Cate by the arm and hauled her up beside him.
 

The villain held a pistol to her temple. “I won’t miss at this range, and ye’re not getting another piece o’ me.” He had to be one of the men Elijah had injured the other day. “Drop yer knife.”

Though it went against every impulse in his body, Elijah let the blade tumble to the ground and clenched his hand into a tight fist. “Let her go. You only want the sword.”

The villain sniffed Cate’s hair. “She’s awfully pretty.”

Elijah snarled and barely kept from launching himself at the man.

“Stop. Do let her go.” It was the crisp, refined voice of the man who’d spoken initially.

Cate turned her head toward him. “Kersey?”

Fury blistered through Elijah as he looked at the man who’d spoken and watched as he removed his mask. “I ought to have known you would recognize my voice, cousin.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, anger filtering into her surprise. “Are you part of this mysterious Order that wants the sword?”

If he was, and it seemed so, he was also behind Matthew’s death. Rage clouded Elijah’s vision and stole his reason. He rushed forward and his fist connected with the man’s jaw in a satisfying blow.

Instantly, two men were on him, pulling at Elijah’s arms and dragging him away from Kersey.

“Don’t make me hurt the gel,” the man holding Cate said.

Elijah froze, his chest heaving and his pulse racing. “If you harm her in any way, I’ll kill you.”

“You have my word she’ll be unharmed.” Kersey went to the box with the sword and bent down.
 

“As if I’d trust you,” Elijah spat. “I hope you have a plan to be very far away from me for the rest of your life because when I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you’d never threatened her.”

Kersey looked up at him, his eyes narrowed in irritation. “I’m not threatening her, you oaf. You’re the one putting her in danger. These men are the worst sort. I’ve instructed them not to hurt either of you, but as you can see, they’re a bit difficult to control. Do Cate a favor and just be quiet. Please.”

Elijah longed to pummel the man senseless, but the situation was exactly as Kersey described. Elijah tried to strategize a way to reverse the power in the dovecote, but the numbers were against them.

“If anything happens to her, your life won’t be worth anything.” Not that it was worth much now, because Matthew’s killer had a name and a face. Elijah’s quest for answers suddenly became a need for vengeance.

Kersey exhaled. “I’ve already said she’ll be unhurt, provided you cooperate. And your cooperation requires you to remain silent. If you cannot, I shall have the men take you outside where you won’t be a nuisance.”
 

With supreme effort, Elijah pressed his lips together to keep from continuing his verbal assault, since that was the only weapon currently available to him. Or it had been, until Kersey had taken that too. Elijah couldn’t risk being taken from Cate’s presence—he wouldn’t leave her alone with Kersey or any of the other criminals.

With a final glare, Kersey returned his attention to the sword. Elijah would bide his time and look for a way to turn the tables. He couldn’t let Kersey escape with the sword—or get away with murdering his brother.

“Kersey, what are you doing?” Cate asked. She shook with anger, fear, and probably shock. Kersey was the last person she expected to be after the sword. “You were behind the theft of the tapestry.”

“Guilty.” He touched the hilt of the sword, his fingertips tracing the jewel at the center of the pommel.
 

“How did you know to come here?”

He glanced up at her. “With the tapestry in my possession, it wasn’t difficult to find someone in Harlech to share information about it. However, once we arrived here, we had no idea where to search. I figured you would show up eventually, and so I waited.”

He’d had to rely on
her
to find it. She stiffened, all of her muscles tensing with fury. “It’s my discovery.
Mine.
You can’t take it from me.” Desperation ate at her insides. She couldn’t lose the sword now.