‘Then ye’d better shoot me,’ the warrior answered. ‘An let the bairns die slowly while the air poisons.’ He stared at them both. ‘Ah’ve hidden the keys. An’ ye’ll nae find ‘em afore the air turns bad.’
Brendon narrowed his eyes. ‘You bastart,’ he grated.
‘Aye, you be right as it happens,’ the warrior chuckled. ‘But ah be a MacFarlane bastart.’
‘How do we know you’ll be a better chieftain than Alistair MacFarlane?’ Malcolm asked.
‘Ye don’t,’ the guard answered with a shrug. ‘But ah cannae be any worse. An’ ah swear ah’ll leave ye and yours alone, if ye dae the same.’
Brendon looked over at Malcolm. He knew the decision had to be the older man’s, but he had no idea what that choice would be. The steward knew that underneath his companion’s affable exterior was a will of steel. Malcolm Mackenzie’s loyalty first and foremost would always be to the Sinclair family. And he would never put any of them in jeopardy.
After about two minutes, Malcolm wiped his brow with the back of his gun-free hand and nodded.
‘Swear,’ the guard insisted.
‘I swear the Laird will leave you and yours alone, if you dae the same,’ Malcolm repeated. ‘And you’ll be recognised as the new Chieftain o’ the MacFarlane Clan.’ He paused before adding wryly, ‘Though it might be helpful if ye told me yer name.’
The warrior nodded, satisfied. ‘It be Duncan. Duncan MacFarlane. Slowly he climbed to his feet. ‘Come wi’ me.’
∞∞∞
‘Dougal?’ The Reverend stood shivering in his sodden cassock, peering into the murky water. He’d surfaced a minute or so ago, and so far there was no sign of the old Scot.
Augustus Shackleford felt like crying. How the deuce was he going to get off the island if old Dougal had kicked the bucket? And now there was an actual possibility the chucklehead was dead, well, the clergyman felt unaccountably wretched.
After another few seconds, he waded carefully back into the loch, shouting ‘Dougal?’ Abruptly a cascade of water was tossed up into the air as the old Scot surfaced abruptly, triumphantly holding something in the air.
‘Ah foond it,’ Dougal spluttered. ‘Ah foond the bloody treasure.’
‘What the deuce are you talking about,’ the Reverend answered crossly, irritation warring with unexpected relief.
Dougal waded ashore and held out his hand. Reverend Shackleford peered at the object lying in the middle of the Scot’s palm. ‘It looks like a ring?’
‘Aye, it does. An’ there be lots more where that came frae. Ah reckon they were in a satchel o’ some kind, until the hide perished.’
The two men stared at each other. In the end, the Reverend said it first. ‘You think this is Edward Colman’s?’
‘Aye, ah dae,’ Dougal grinned.
‘What are the odds?’ Reverend Shackleford found himself grinning back. ‘Who’d have thought our letter could be so close to the truth?’
‘We cannae leave it,’ Dougal continued.
The Reverend bit his lip. ‘You really think it’s Colman’s?’
‘Tae be honest, ah dinnae care. All ah ken is ah saw lots o’ other pieces o’ jewellery on the bottom o’ the loch. The bag must nae hae broke long back else the gold would hae drifted doon deep long afore noo. If we wait, it’ll be lost foreye.’
Right then, we’ll keep looking. There’s no point in keeping watch over the mine. If there’s another deuced guard, we’ve no way of letting them know anyway. I will warn you, I swim like deuced rock, so I’ll not be much help.’
Dougal grinned. ‘Ye stand uptae ye knees in the loch, an hold oot yer robe, like so.’ He bent his arms into a bowl-like shape. ‘An’ ah’ll dae the hard work.’
‘It’s deuced cold though, Augustus Shackleford muttered. ‘I’ll catch an ague if I’m stood in there too long.
‘It’ll be bloody colder come gloamin’,’ Dougal answered, ‘an’ then the bits o’ ye oot o’ the water’ll be a midgie banquet.’
The Reverend grimaced. ‘Best get on with it then,’ was all he said. ‘We want to be off this damned rock before dusk.’
∞∞∞
