Page 9 of Treasures of Skye

Chapter Six

With the Faery Flag tucked into a second hidden pocket of her cloak, Helena stepped from the treasure room and pulled the door closed. She started to place the torch in this holder beside the door, then froze at the distant murmur of voices.

Who would be coming to this section of the castle for any other reason than to enter the treasure room? Her heart began to pound. If she didn’t lock the room, whoever entered would immediately be alerted that someone had been inside. Quickly, she put the sconce in the holder, then dug into the hidden pocket with the lock picks set and pulled it out. Her fingers trembled as she removed the tools from the small box, then knelt in front of the lock. She set the box beside her and forced calm as she inserted the tools. The echo of bootfalls grew louder.

She should forget locking the door, take her chances and run. Nae. She had the tools in hand. It would take mere seconds. Mere seconds was all it would take for her to get caught. She jammed the tools into the lock and fumbled the tool in her left hand. She stilled, took a deep breath, then, with years of practice, deftly worked the tools until the lock clicked into place. She grabbed the box and shoved to her feet, stuffing the tools and box into the hidden pocket.

Helena pulled the torch from the holder, turned, then halted. She couldn’t leave the way she’d come. That’s the route from which the newcomers approached. Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t come this far only to get caught. She whirled and took the hallway to the left of the treasure room door.

Where did this hallway lead? She tried to recall the mental image of the map, but blood roared so loudly in her ears that she could think of nothing but the rapid pace of her heartbeat. A staircase came into view up ahead on the left. She reached the stairs and hurried down two more floors until the stairs spilled out onto a hallway she hoped was on the main floor. Helena spotted a sconce holder. She left her torch there and kept going. A murmur of voices sounded up ahead. How she wished she had the basket that she’d left behind. Two men rounded the bend.

They neared her, and the shorter of the two—though they were both giants—said, “Afternoon, lass. What are you doing lurking about castle hallways alone?”

Helena tried to hurry past them, but the man stepped in her path.

She halted and flicked a covert glance at the dagger strapped to his belt, then looked up at him. “Out of my way.”

“We mean you no harm, lass,” he said. “Come, tell us your name.”

Her heart thundered, but she said, “Unless you wish to explain to Lady Gwendolyn why you harassed her dear friend, I suggest ye move.”

The man blinked, then a slow smile spread across his face. “I imagine many a lass would like to claim Lady Gwendolyn as their dear friend.”

“I care nothing for what other women might do,” she snapped. “If you wish to chance that I am lying, then get on with it. But be warned, unless you kill me, I will tell Lady Gwendolyn that you harassed me.”

He laughed. “There will be no killing, lass. We only ask a simple kiss for the price your safe passage.” He grasped her arm and tugged her to him.

Helena yanked free the dagger hanging from his belt and pressed the knife point to his belly. He froze.

“Laird McLeod will no’ fault me for killing a man who accosted me.”

Anger flashed in the man’s eyes and, for an instant, Helena feared she would have to stab him. Then he released her. She took three steps backwards, out of his reach.

Stand aside,” she said.

Slowly, they walked past her. Helena turned and watched until they were several paces past her.

“Return my dagger,” the man ordered.

Helena lifted a brow. “Nae. I will keep it for protection. Keep walking.”

His mouth thinned, but his friend said, “Come along, David.”

David’s head snapped his direction. “You fool. Now she knows my name.”

“She has come to no harm,” his friend said. “MacLeod can have no quarrel with us. Let us go.”

David shot her a dark look but turned and strode away with his friend. Helena watched until they turned another bend and were out of sight, then collapsed against the wall, her knees so weak she wasn’t certain she could walk.

She took several breaths, then stuffed the dagger into the pocket with the lock picks and started walking again. She turned the bend and, at the end of the hallway, an arched doorway opened into what she recognized as the great hall.

God have mercy. There had to be another door or hallway before she reached the great hall. She couldn’t enter the great hall. If Gwen saw her… But there was no other corridor or stairway. As she neared, the soft melody of a lyre met her ears and the murmur of voices grew into a low din. Twenty feet from the doorway, she slowed. The room was much fuller than it had been when she’d entered the castle. The wedding feast looked to be well underway.

Hugging the wall, Helena sidled up to the doorway and carefully peered into the room. Serving maids weaved amongst what had to be a hundred warriors. Noblewomen sat at tables near the dais. A few mingled with the men.

Helena hurried past the open doorway to the other wall and pressed her back against the wall, then scanned the side of the room this vantage point allowed. She spotted a postern door and gave thanks. It was only thirty feet to the door. She started to put up her hood, then thought better of it. It would seem strange for a woman to attend a party with her hood up. With a quick prayer, she tugged her cloak more tightly about her and stepped into the room.

She made an immediate right and started toward the postern door. She sidestepped a group of men and came face-to-face with a crisp white shirt covered chest. Helena stopped short and snapped her head up to meet the gaze of the dark-eyed warrior. He smiled down at her. She detected no malice in his demeanor, but even a man who intended only to talk to her could get her caught.