CursedLaird (2 page)

He hadn’t always been so self-centered and arrogant.
Caledonia remembered for a split second the younger version of Kip, the one she
fell in love with who enjoyed the adventure of the hunt. Then the reason that
busted their marriage reared its ugly head as she perused the expensive
clothing he wore. The moment they struck a rich find, his motive switched to
money. It became about the money and nothing else with him, and that just
wasn’t her thing. It killed whatever love she felt for him.

“I…” He licked his lips. She could tell he was nervous. His
tongue slurred his words and his cockney accent slipped past his usual prim ‘n’
proper British demeanor. “I heard you scored a retrieval credit for your new
salvage company off Kinnairds Head.”

“It didn’t make the papers,” she said. “How’d you find out?”

“Come on, Cali. You know how small the salvage community is.
Word spreads quickly.” She noted his tone changed as he flashed a perfect white
smile then poured on the charm. “Thought I’d drop by and congratulate you.”

“You could’ve called,” she retorted.

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

“A card would have sufficed.”

“You would have thrown it away.”

“More than likely, torn it up and burned it,” Percy
interjected, cracking his knuckles as he pressed one of his meaty fists into
the palm of his other hand.

Kip instantly stepped back. His eyes widened and he looked
as if he’d bolt for the door at any second. Though she loved the subtle torment
of her ex, she decided to be the bigger person and save him from annihilation—for
now.

“You’ve said your congratulations. Is there anything else?”

“I could use a drink. What do you say to you and I having a
drink together for old times’ sake?”

Caledonia studied his face. With those striking blue
contacts in, she couldn’t read him. Was he telling the truth or did he want
something? Hell, he got practically everything in the divorce—with the
exception of the O’Reillys. What else could he want? Though she knew better,
curiosity got the better of her. She sidestepped Abel and drew out a chair at
the closest empty table.

“Have a seat.” She waved her hand at the table as she sat.
When Percy and Abel both moved to sit as well, she shook her head then tossed
her thick, jet-black braid over her shoulder to lie down the center of her
back. “I think I’ve got it from here, boys. But you’ll hear me scream if I
don’t.”

The pair nodded then strode to the bar, leaned against it
but didn’t take their sea-green eyes off Kip. She noted Poppa had turned and
leaned with his back to the bar, staring straight at them. Kip was not his
favorite person and she couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t hers either.

“What’s the real reason you’re here, Kip?” When he reached
for her hand on the table, she dropped it to her lap. There was no reason for
contact.

“You’re the reason I’m here, Cali.” His shortened version of
her name used to give her chills and make her smile. Now it grated on her like
a Siamese cat’s meow. “I miss you.”

“You miss
me
or my talent?” Caledonia nearly snorted
on her reply. “What’s the matter, Kip? All the
hot
leads dried up? That
tight little first mate of yours can’t read well enough to research the history
books, and help you locate possible sunken treasures on a map?”

Kip straightened in his chair. The muscle in his jaw ticked
and she knew she’d hit a sore spot.

“I can see you’re still angry with me over my employment of
Lillianna,” Kip said. Though his tone seemed calmer as he spoke, she noted he
continually checked Abel’s and Percy’s locations over her shoulder.

“Actually, I couldn’t care less who you employ.”

His expression brightened and she knew she was right. He
came for a specific reason and not a social visit. “Then would you consider
employment with Marine Treasures Salvage?”

Uninhibited laughter burst from her. She couldn’t believe
he’d said that. He offered her employment with the company she helped build
from the ground up. His face reddened and she swore she saw steam rise from his
head. Wiping the tears from her eyes with a napkin, she cleared her throat.
“You’re kidding, right?”

Kip’s chin tilted and he gave a slight nod when he replied
in a cold tone, “I never joke about a job offer.”

“Considering what we’ve been through…” She let her voice
trail as she leaned forward and got as close to his face as she could stand. It
turned her stomach to see him prepare as if she meant to kiss him. Caledonia
swallowed the disgust that threatened to rise, and on a heated breath clearly
voiced her decision. “The answer is no.”

* * * * *

Hours into the night, Caledonia researched her notes,
scoured the internet and studied the history of Loch Tay. Dead tired, she
flopped onto her pillow, leaving everything scattered on her bed. Nothing
magically appeared. No clues as to what lay hidden beneath the surface.
Instinct demanded she dive again tomorrow. Excitement toyed with her brain
causing her to remain awake, though she desperately needed to sleep.

Something tickled her thoughts and kept her brainwaves
frantically searching for an answer. The words of her favorite poem took center
stage.

Thy mighty Ben Lawers surrounds thee

Four rounded forts protect thy sleeping bairn

Chained within the center floats thy fourth

Safe beneath thy watchful eye of Breadalbane

Rest ye weary one fer yer day of release shall come

Lest nay be the month of one when thy favored fish of
Balloch run

Caledonia sat upright, nearly sending her laptop crashing to
the floor. Why hadn’t she seen this before? It suddenly made sense. Shuffling
through her thoughts, she remembered the day she found it. The spirits gave her
a stiff warning that day as well. She remembered running from what she thought
was an angry banshee when she was a child. Until now, she hadn’t thought much
about it.

While playing on the outskirts of the main grounds of
Taymouth Castle, she and the O’Reilly brothers stumbled on a forgotten root
cellar. The memory of Abel falling through the rotted doorway into a
pitch-black hole made her snort. That’s when they learned he was scared of the
dark. She and Percy quickly lit a makeshift torch of dried grass and sticks
then scrambled inside with Abel. They used their torch to light several
partially melted candles they found secured in sconces on the wall.

The simple memory of the root cellar brought a cool
sensation to her skin and the smell of dirt, mud and stale air teased her
olfactory senses. Funny how strong a memory could be. She smiled, thinking
through that day’s adventure.

They spent hours exploring the root cellar. The boys sampled
ale they found still corked in bottles and lined on the shelves. But one didn’t
contain liquid. She discovered a parchment rolled and hidden in an old ale
bottle. The cork disintegrated when she tugged it free. The screech of a
banshee sent her and the boys running from the cellar. She dropped the bottle,
but held on to the parchment as she ran. The boys took off through the woods
but she didn’t stop until she was safely in her room.

She remembered being out of breath as she dropped upon her
bed. The memory of the screech echoed in her head, causing her to shiver.
Get
out! Take nothing with ye least ye be cursed as well.
When she’d finally
shaken off the banshee’s attack, she read the parchment for the first time.
Written upon it were words she didn’t understand but would never forget.

Suddenly she realized these words haunted her and kept drawing
her back to Loch Tay. No matter how many great treasures she and Kip had found
over the years, something always hinted she’d missed one.

Was it hidden in this poem?

Caledonia walked across the room to her dresser. One glance
at her reflection and she knew she was severely in need of rest. A pair of
cerulean eyes stared back at her. Underneath lay a set of dark circles. She
rubbed her tired eyes.

Sleep is overrated.
She took a cleansing breath.

She opened the top drawer and lifted the parchment from its hiding
place. It was in great shape, considering its age. Even as a child she’d known
its worth and had gently pressed it in wax paper, as if it were a delicate
flower she wished to keep forever. It took patience and a Gaelic dictionary to
help her read the words and etch them in her memory.

A chill skittered down her spine and along her arms just as
it had the first time she’d translated the ancient Gaelic script. She rubbed
her arms against the sudden coolness that graced her skin. Were the spirits in
the room with her? Since the day she found the parchment, she sensed a soul
from the past kept an eye on her. But why? What did it want with her?
Caledonia’s eyes widened. Or did it guard this poem for some reason?

That banshee didn’t scream at them until she uncorked the
bottle containing the parchment. Closing her eyes, she tried to envision the
shape she’d seen hovering in the root cellar. Was it an angry banshee, or
simply a woman’s ghost protecting something that belonged to her? Caledonia
shrugged as she opened her eyes. The memory was so faded she couldn’t determine
much about the image, but the words of warning, she’d never forget.

She took the poem and crawled back into bed among the array
of research materials. Quickly, she flipped through the book on Scottish
history. Something she thought she’d seen piqued her interest. She skimmed the
pages until she found exactly what she needed. Balloch Castle once stood almost
exactly where Taymouth Castle now stood. According to the dates she found, it
was torn down around 1805.

Funny, she’d lived here her whole life and never paid much
attention to its history. For years she’d worked to dissect tidbits of history
pertaining to sunken ships around the world in order to locate them. But she’d
never thought to read about her native area. Was there a sunken treasure in
Loch Tay? She leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. Line by line
she deciphered the poem inside her head.

Thy mighty Ben Lawers surrounds thee

She knew Ben Lawers was the mountain range surrounding Loch
Tay. Its beauty added to the perfect backdrop for a loch. The phenomenal
network of hiking and winding bike paths through its rolling hills helped
attract tourists. Not to mention the crannogs. The second and third sentences,
she easily dissected.

Four rounded forts protect thy sleeping bairn

Chained within the center floats thy fourth

The remnants of every crannog found so far were round. She
sat upright and gathered her notepad. What if these two lines pertained to
crannogs in the loch? She drew a diagram of her thoughts, placing four round
crannogs in a circle with a fifth in the middle. Could it possibly be some sort
of fortification guarding something? But what? Caledonia grabbed her map of the
loch and compared the locations of where known crannogs existed with the spot
she intended to dive in the morning. Her heartbeat increased. It sat dead
center of where four crannogs had been located.

She lifted the parchment and reread the second line to make
sure she wasn’t remembering it incorrectly. A sleeping bairn? What did a
sleeping child have to do with this? Caledonia sat back, perplexed for a
moment. That part confused her so she shook it off and continued.

Safe beneath thy watchful eye of Breadalbane

According to the history book, the Campbells of Breadalbane
owned the vast majority of land holdings in the area, including Balloch Castle.
Could it be that this particular clan watched over something—something they hid
within a crannog in the center of the loch? Caledonia’s brain clicked, trying
to piece the puzzle together.

Rest ye weary one fer yer day of release shall come

Rest, weary one, for your day of release shall come? Her
brow bunched. Had they placed a child inside a crannog for some particular
reason? Was this poem not about a treasure, but the death of a child and the
spot they buried him? Her heart sank. Was she about to plunder a child’s grave?
She stared at the last line of the poem and confusion swirled again.

Lest nay be the month of one when thy favored fish of
Balloch run

The favored fish of Balloch was the salmon, which ran every
January. Fishermen from all over still visited Loch Tay in January for the best
salmon fishing around.

“Okay,” she whispered aloud as she gathered her thoughts.
Maybe this poem didn’t mean anything. Maybe a distraught mother, who lost her
son, wrote it and they placed him in a crannog as his tomb. Great. She sighed.
She’d been hooked on a death poem thinking it meant something phenomenal lay
hidden in the bottom of the loch.

Caledonia got out of bed and paced. She walked over to the
window and opened it, hoping the fresh air would clear her head. From her room,
she had the best view of the loch. Moonlight glittered across its surface
giving it a romantic appeal, which made her smile.

Breathing deep, she took in the soothing coolness of the
night and sighed her exhalation. Silence filled the air. Nothing moved except
the breeze. All was peaceful for as far as she could see, so she knew the quiet
fishing village rested for the night.

A yawn overtook her and she decided she needed to sleep.
When she reached to close the window, the breeze gave her one last gift, but
not a peaceful one. A whisper in the form of a sweet, feminine voice rode on
its wings and taunted her tired brainwaves.

Find him, save him. ‘Tis time.

Caledonia froze, knowing the spirits reached out to her.
Find who? Where? As reality hit, she slowly turned and stared at the parchment
on her bed. Did they want her to find this lost bairn? If so, why, and who was
he?