Days of Gold (7 page)

To her horror, the man started laughing at her.

She ran from him, slammed the door behind her and bolted it, locking him on the roof. She was so angry that if she could have, she would have thrown him off the roof and watched him splatter on the stones below.

The next morning she awoke with the words “three days” in her mind. It was just three days until her birthday and the end of her life as she knew it.

And now, as she sat on the floor, wanting her life to be over, the door opened and Morag entered. “It’s here,” she said as she handed Edilean not just a letter from James but a package.

“Does anyone know?”

“No one. The letter was given to me and only I saw it. You go on and read it now. Mayhap it will cheer you.”

“Yes,” Edilean said, but she didn’t open the package until Morag left the room. Inside was a little bottle with a stopper in it and a red wax seal.

“Darling,” James wrote. “I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to get back to you, but I’ve put a plan in motion. It has taken me a long while to find out what I needed to know, but I did it. You shall repay me for this with kisses.”

Edilean held the letter to her breast for a moment and closed her eyes. He
did
love her!

“You must do exactly as I tell you,” he wrote. “You must follow my instructions exactly or the plan won’t work. You can’t vary it by even an hour, as everything is timed precisely. Do you understand me?”

Even though she was alone in the room, Edilean nodded, then read on.

H
ER BIRTHDAY IS
tomorrow.”

“What?” Malcolm asked his nephew as he scooped out a load of oats.

“Her birthday. It’s tomorrow.”

“Oh, aye. Her. You know, do you not, that she has a name?”

“I heard it, but I don’t remember it.” Angus had been out all night, searching out cattle and checking that none had been stolen. But as he roamed the hills, he kept counting down the hours until Lawler’s niece would have to marry one of those demons Lawler called friends. When it came to the moment, which one would she choose? Old Ballister or the young, bad-tempered Alvoy? That night, Angus had tossed about in his plaid as he’d imagined her alone with one of them.

She’d asked Angus for help—but he’d laughed at her. That thought had haunted him for the last two days. Now, in the afternoon, sitting in the stable and watching Malcolm work, he still couldn’t get his mind around what he’d done.

“What’s eating you, lad?” Malcolm asked.

Angus told him. He sat on the stool, fatigue pulling him down, and he told Malcolm all of it.

When he finished, Malcolm looked at him. “What are we going to do to save her?”

“We are going to do
nothing
!” Angus said. “We have to think of the whole. We have to think of the babies and feeding them. If we thwart Lawler—if we rebel—
we
will be punished, not her.”

“Have ye got that out of your system now?”

“Aye, I have,” Angus said, and as he looked at Malcolm, the tiredness began to leave him. He felt energy moving through his body. “What I thought is that they can’t marry without the kirk.”

“Do you mean to burn it down?” Malcolm asked, eyes wide in horror.

“Nay,” Angus said. “I just thought we’d take the pastor for a night out.”

“He must know that Lawler wants him here tonight.”

“I thought... Mind you, it’s just an idea that passed through my head, but I thought that we might get Shamus to help us make the pastor forget his appointment. If we showed up at the vicarage with a little or mayhap a lot of Lawler’s port, perhaps the old man would forget he’s to be at the kirk tonight.”

“Why Shamus? When did you start to trust
him
?”

“In my eyes this is a sin sure to get me sent to hell. If I have to go, then I want someone with me who
deserves
to go.”

“Excellent idea,” Malcolm said, trying to look serious, but the corners of his lips were twitching in merriment. “But if we stop the marriage tonight, what do we do about tomorrow? And the day after?”

“I don’t know,” Angus said. “I think we’ll have to secret her away and somehow hide her. Then we’ll... Why are these problems put onto
me
?”

“Because you always come up with a solution for them,” Malcolm said. “Do you want me to go with you to see Shamus?”

“Nay. I want you to steal a barrel of port.”

“That will take but a moment,” Malcolm said. “Go on, go to Shamus. You’ll have to use the coins you have hidden in the third stall to bribe him.”

Angus didn’t pause to ask how his uncle knew about those. There was no time to lose.

“What do you mean that you canna go?” Angus asked Shamus as he was eating. They were in the small, dirt-floored old cottage where Shamus lived with his tiny mother and three younger brothers. His four older brothers had left as soon as they were tall enough to stand up to their abusive father. To this day some people still wondered how Shamus’s father had fallen off a cliff in broad daylight. Whatever the cause, no one had been sorry to see him go.

“I have to drive a heavy wagon to Glasgow tonight,” Shamus said.

“Since when are
you
a driver?”

“Since the little miss asked me to do it.”

Angus sat down at the table across from him. “What are you talking about?”

“Lawler’s niece asked me to drive a wagon to Glasgow. What more is there to say?”

“The niece? Not Lawler?”

“He knows nothing about it. I had to meet the wagon two miles from here, and one of my brothers is watching it now. I’ll go when I finish my meal.”

“What’s in the wagon?” Angus asked.

“Six heavy trunks. They’re bronze statues from Greece and she
has someone in Glasgow waiting to sell them for her. I’m to bring back the money and give it to her.”

“You? She trusted
you
to bring money back to her?”

“She likes me,” Shamus said, grinning. “She says I’m the only man in Scotland who has enough courage to help her. She calls me a man of honor.” Shamus was laughing at this very idea.

“How much did she pay you?”

“None of your business,” he said.

Angus thought he saw the girl’s plan. Somehow, she’d got hold of valuable items and was going to sell them. Maybe, if she got enough money, she could buy her way out of having to marry someone she didn’t like. All in all, Angus thought it was a good plan, except that she’d tried to use Shamus. She’d never see a cent of the money. He’d stay in Glasgow, or board a ship, and no one would ever see him again.

Angus had to quickly put together an alternate plan. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “There’s danger on the road. You’ll need someone with you.”

“My brother is going with me.”

“Then I’ll alert Lawler to be ready for the money.”

Shamus gave Angus a vile look. He could see that he wasn’t going to get away with his original scheme. Only if everything was done in secrecy could he sell the goods and keep the money. If Angus told, Lawler would send fifty men after him before he’d gone ten miles.

“You take the wagon,” Shamus said, his face contorted in rage. “You go and sell the old things, then bring the money back here. I’m sure the young miss will be grateful to you.” His tone made it sound as though there was something dirty going on between Angus and the niece.

The last thing Angus wanted to do was to drive a wagon all the way to Glasgow, but he didn’t know anyone he could trust. He followed
Shamus outside the little house, ducking through the short doorway, then went behind the house and saw the wagon.

As he stared, he could hardly speak. It wasn’t a normal wagon, but a very heavy one, seeming to have been reinforced so it could hold a great weight. More extraordinary were the horses attached to it. They were two magnificent Clydesdales, gorgeous animals, with their heavy hooves and thick manes.

As Angus stood there staring in astonishment, he realized why Shamus was so angry. Whoever had arranged this had spent an enormous amount on the rig. The statues must be worth a fortune.

Shamus handed him a piece of paper. “She wrote it. It tells the name, address, and time on it. James Harcourt. Red Lion Inn. Glasgow by midnight tomorrow.”

As Angus put the paper in his sporran, he thought that it was going to be difficult to get to Glasgow by that time. “What’s in the back?”

Shamus threw back the tarpaulin to reveal six heavy, ironbound trunks that had been bolted to the bottom of the big wagon.

“And there’s a coffin,” Shamus said with a smirk.

“A coffin?”

“The little miss told me it was a mummy from Egypt.”

“A... ?” Angus said, a shiver of revulsion running through him. He got himself under control. “Did you look inside it?”

Shamus shrugged. “I wanted to, but the miss said it had a curse on it, so it was better not to look. I took her word for it.”

“As well you should have,” Angus said, throwing the tarp back down and fastening it. He was going to be traveling the roads in the middle of the night with a mummy on board. All for a woman who said she hated him! Angus looked at Shamus and for a moment he felt guilty at thwarting his plans to get away. “Keep the money she gave you to do this,” he said kindly, “and Malcolm will give
you more if you do what he tells you to.” Angus climbed up on the wagon seat. “Tell Malcolm I’ll be back as soon as I can with some money and we’ll get her out of this.”

“Who?”

“The young miss,” Angus said, his voice exasperated. “Shamus, for once in your life, do what’s right. Go now, and tell Malcolm I’ll be back soon.” He picked up the reins. “Do you know where the young miss is now?”

“Morag said she’s been locked in her room for days.”

Angus glanced toward the keep, the top barely seen over the trees. With one more look behind him, he started for Glasgow.

He wasn’t a mile down the road when young Tam came riding up, and Angus’s heart leaped. Maybe the boy would go with him.

“Malcolm told me what you’re doing, and he sent this.” He tossed Angus a package. “Clothes and food. They won’t want to see you in the city wearing that.”

“Would you like to go with me?” Angus asked. “With these beautiful horses?”

“Nay, I can’t. I must stay with her. We can’t let her be forced into marriage to one of those lecherous old men. She should marry a McTern and put the land back in its proper name.”

Angus smiled. “Maybe she could marry you.” As the only child of the second son of the old laird, Tam was next in line to take on the responsibility of the McTerns.

“With you gone, that’s my idea,” he said, smiling at his cousin for the first time in days. “I’ll see you when you get back.” Turning his horse, he lifted his hand in farewell, and Angus sighed. He dreaded the long trip alone.

A
NGUS HAD BEEN
on the road a mere three hours and already he was bored and tired. Because of “her” he hadn’t had much sleep in the last few days and now, because of “her” he wasn’t getting any more. Every time he dozed off, the well-trained horses stopped moving. Twice, Angus woke with a jolt and saw that the beautiful horses were munching on the grass at the side of the road. At this rate, he’d never get to Glasgow. If it had been up to him, he would have pulled into the forest and slept for a few hours, but he couldn’t. He had a deadline to meet. For “her.”

It seemed that it had hardly turned dark when Angus heard galloping horses and a shot fired into the air. He reached for the loaded pistol he had under the seat, but a voice to his right said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The horse behind him had been a distraction. Damn! Angus thought; he’d been lax. Between anger and fatigue, he hadn’t been vigilant. Why hadn’t he found someone to go with him?

He pulled on the reins to the big horses and they slowed to a halt.

There were three brigands, each with their faces masked, pistols held out and aimed at Angus’s head.

“What foolishness is this?” the man who seemed to be the leader asked. “They send one man on a rig like this? Just one of those horses is worth your life.” He put his pistol in the holster on his horse and scrutinized Angus in his outlawed kilt. “You look like a man from one of the old clans. I like a man who stands up against the English. Get down and I’ll let you live.”

It was one thing to try to help a girl he didn’t know, but quite another to give up his life for her. “None of this belongs to me,” Angus said in an affable voice as he got down from the wagon, “so I lose nothing.”

One of the men moved forward and touched the neck of one of the big Clydesdales. “I’ve never seen such beautiful horses. Who’s your master?”

“No man is my master!” Angus said quickly, making the first man laugh.

“Rightly said for a Scotsman. What do you have in there?” He nodded toward the back.

“Things for a museum,” Angus said, backing away from them. For all that they sounded friendly and were saying they weren’t going to harm him, he didn’t trust anyone holding a pistol aimed at his head. The first man had put his weapon away, but the other two still had theirs out. In the back, half hidden in the dark, was a fourth man who hadn’t so much as blinked. His pistol was held at arm’s length and he kept it aimed at Angus.