“Lass, take care. It could be dangerous.”
She paused with her hands on her hips and gave him a droll look. “’The roof has already collapsed. How much more dangerous can it be?” She spun and continued on.
Seema hurried past Errol, giving him an apologetic smile.
“Does yer mistress always disobey orders?” Errol asked.
The maid paused and looked to Moira afore answering. When her eyes met his, they crinkled at the corners. “Aye. Most especially when she is determined like she is now.”
He hummed but said naught further as he trudged behind the women.
The force of the collapsed roof had knocked the door off its frame. Peering inside they could only see the remnants of wet and mildewed straw. The musty smell tickled his senses, and he fought back a sneeze, squeezing the tip of his nose.
“We willnae find aught here.”
“Ye doonae ken that. What if ’tis buried under all the hay?”
Errol frowned. He hoped not.
“Mayhap, but ’tis the first building. Let’s see what else is here and search those.”
When she moved away from the door to continue walking the parameter, Errol sent up a silent prayer of thanks. He had a feeling that he oft was going to regret agreeing to help Moira on her quest for treasure. No matter how much of the bounty, if there even was one, he was going to get.
He watched the sway of her arse as she walked in front of him. The lass was tiny, but her bottom was full and round. Of all the things Errol should be thinking about, Moira’s body wasn’t one of them.
As if he needed to give her brothers another reason to kill him. They would be furious enough once they found out he was traipsing along the countryside with their sister. He would never hurt the lass. Or act untoward to her. He had enough willing lasses to warm his bed that he wasn’t so desperate to bed Moira.
Though he wouldn’t turn her away.
Jesus. He needed to derail his thinking.
“Hello!” Moira snapped her fingers to catch his attention. “Are ye listening?”
“What?” he grumbled.
“’Tis a chapel.”
They’d made their way to the other side. A pair of worn stone steps led to a stone archway. Surprisingly, the archway appeared to look stable.
“This is amazing, is it no’?” Moira breathed, walking through the arched entry, her blue eyes scanning the structure. She spun around, a huge smile on her face. “I have a good feeling about this chapel.”
When they entered, he noticed the antechamber was tiny. Simple. The space couldn’t hold more than eight people and that would be a stretch. A small pulpit that had been knocked over laid on the ground, the stone broken into two pieces.
Moira ran her hands along the walls. Tattered tapestries hung from rusted hooks. Some so threadbare, they’d broken from their hangers and fallen onto the floor. On the far wall, a stained-glass window let in faded colored rays of sunlight.
Errol held back as he watched Moira methodically search the tiny space. Moving around the fallen pulpit, she sought out the treasure but came back empty handed.
Straightening her back, she tucked her plump bottom lip under her teeth.
“It appears there’s naught here. Mayhap we should move to the main building,” Errol suggested.
Moira held up her hand. “No’ so fast. When I found the map, it was in an alcove carved into the stone. It would make sense that mayhap whate’er ’tis we search for would be the same, no?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. But dinnae ye think that such a thing would have been discovered already?”
“Look how long it took me to find the map? How many generations afore me had been in that same room? Stared at those same walls? They had ne’er found it.”
He couldn’t argue with her logic. And that irritated him further.
