Page 7 of Treasures of Skye

Chapter Five

To Helena’s right, beyond the sea gates, the village Caithlwyn rested along the shore of the loch that emptied into the sea. Tension coiled in her stomach. Atop the cliff, beyond the village, Dunvegan’s towers rose above the trees. According to her map, the castle was modest compared to ones she’d visited before and, unlike many other clans’ castles, no market or villagers’ homes surrounded it.

She breathed so deeply of the air that she could taste the salt. The long path had been interminable. Thank God for Valor. Without him, the trip would have been far longer and much colder.

Memory rose of Kaden’s firm grip on her fingers when he’d helped her mount. Warmth flushed through her. She was accustomed to the attention of men, so gave them little thought. But Kaden made her feel strange. Helena shook off the thought. He’d been kind—something she wasn’t accustomed to—that was all. Still, she wouldn’t forget him. Valor nickered as if aware she was thinking of his master.

Helena patted his sleek neck. “Aye, he’s a good man. I will see to it that ye reach home safely.” Afterwards.

Excitement mingled with her anxiety. Helena thought of the map in her satchel now at the bottom of the loch near Kaden’s home. The picture of map was burned into her memory. But she hated losing the dagger. Pray God she didn’t need it.

Helena urged Valor into the trees, then dismounted. She tied the reins to a tree and patted his neck. “I will return soon, lad. Never fear.”

She adjusted the cowl of her cloak over her head to better hide her face and pulled the cloak tight about her shoulders as she started up the hill. At the top of the hill, the open gate came into view. Head held high, she approached the guards. As expected, two guards manned the entrance. Helena neared and slowed as one stopped a woman ahead of her and checked the basket she carried. With a deep breath, she stepped forward when he let the woman pass.

“Pleasant day, aye, lass?” he asked.

Helena smiled. “Aye. We are blessed with the bright sun after such a cruel storm.”

“Ye are early for the wedding celebration.”

Wedding celebration? She smiled. “I wanted to be sure I wasnae late.”

The man laughed. “Enjoy the celebration. Laid MacLeod has a feast planned that will feed all of Caithlwyn. Mayhap I will see ye inside.” He winked, and she smiled before hurrying past him.

As expected, gaining entrance to the castle had been easy. In truth, it wasn’t getting into the castle that had her heart pounding—who would suspect a young, beautiful woman of stealing the most valued MacLean treasure—but escape with the treasure.

The layout of the grounds was exactly as shown on the map. Walking toward the keep, Helena passed a group of women gathered near the well in the middle of the courtyard. Many carried baskets. Immersed in conversation, they didn’t notice when she scooped up a small wicker basket filled with white linens and continued on her way.

She reached the keep, nudged the postern door open with her hip, and stepped into a small foyer. To the left, a narrow staircase twisted upward. To her right, an arched doorway opened into the great hall. Maids busied themselves setting tables and carrying trays of food and wine from the kitchen.

As the kitchen door swung open, a woman called, “Mary, put more pitchers of ale on my husband’s table.”

Helena froze. She knew that voice. The woman emerged from the kitchen. Helena took a quick step back out of view. The beautiful golden-haired lady dressed in MacLeod colors hurried across the hall to the table nearest the dais.

Gwendolyn.

Malcolm Donald’s prodigal daughter.

Helena’s sister in the Order of the Sinister Sisters.

“Does Malcom know ye are here, Sister?” Helena whispered.

Surely, he didn’t know, for their adopted father wouldn’t easily give up his favorite daughter.

Helena had been Malcolm’s favorite—until Gwen arrived at Glenwood Abbey. It mattered not that Helena had faithfully served Malcolm for two years as a master thief before Gwen arrived, he openly favored Gwen.

Malcom groomed three other young girls as thieves and spies, but Helena and Gwen were Malcom’s secret weapons. Under Malcom’s tutelage, Gwen had honed her skills with bow and arrow and knife. But her real skill came in her ability to root out information. People liked her. Trusted her. Two years ago, Malcom sent Gwen on a mission. She wasn’t seen for six months, and Helena began to speculate that she’d met a bad end. In the eight years that Helena had been in Malcom’s service, she’d seen two other sisters of the order disappear. But Gwen returned and visited with Arabelle, her sister. Twice thereafter, she visited Arabelle, again. But that had been months ago. A little over a month ago, Malcom had taken Arabelle away, and Helena concluded that Gwen had, indeed, fallen while in service to their adopted father.

Now, of all places, to find her here at Dunvegan. Anger twisted through her. Helena’s talent as a master thief could gain her access to almost any place, but if Gwen caught her in the castle, everything she’d worked so hard for this last year would be lost forever.

She couldn’t return to the abbey…to Malcolm. The betrayal—his lies—was too much. Helena had denied the truth for too long. But no more. Malcolm cared only for the riches their talents brought him.

“Moira, we have several racks of lamb in the storage cellar.” Gwen’s voice yanked Helena’s attention back onto her. “Have Manas help ye fetch them,” Gwen told the maid. “It should be enough to feed the laird’s guests. Where is Darby?”

“In the kitchen, my lady,” Moira replied.

Helena watched Gwendolyn walk back to the kitchen door. She pulled it open and called for the lad. An instant later, a lad of roughly ten summers appeared in the doorway followed by a smaller boy.