She made no objection when Oliver and Bram came with her though. And was doubly glad of their presence when they rounded the second corner and came face to face with Lady Emily, her arm in the iron-looking grip of a man who had to be her brother. They shared the same shade of hair, of eye, of skin. But where Emily looked miserable and frightened, Nigel Scofield met them with a grin that looked absolutely wicked.
“Oh good,” he said. “The Tremaynes. And you’ve finally brought me my silver.”
Oliver kept a silent litany of prayers going upward with every step, and he could tell from the occasional movement of Libby’s lips that she was doing the same. He oughtn’t to have had attention enough to be glad over that, given the circumstances. But he was. Even if things went terribly in the next hour, at least he knew that she’d made peace with her Maker, with the Lover of her soul. The One who called her by name and had led her here, right here and now, to find Him more fully.
Scofield, at least, wasn’t brandishing a weapon at them. He seemed to think when he informed them that his associate had Mabena and Casek held nearby that they’d follow along without a peep.
He was right, of course.
“See how simple it’s going to be?” Scofield shoved his sister off the path and into the sand with so little care that Oliver had to grit his teeth against a rebuke. “You give me that sample, and I’ll return your friends to you. You leave the rest at a prearranged location, and I never bother you again. Tidy as can be. I don’t know why you couldn’t have done it this way to begin with, Elizabeth.”
Libby stepped into the sand without a hitch or a stumble. “I didn’t have it until now.”
“A likely story.”
Where was he taking them? One of the caves, probably. There wasn’t much else on the north end of the island.
“And if you don’t leave the rest for me to take back to civilization, if you think to get the authorities involved, you’ll pay for it. I think I’ll start with that doddering old woman who interfered with my associate just as he was closing in on you the other day, Elizabeth.”
Oliver’s hands curled into fists. “You won’t touch my grandmother.” And what did he mean, she’d interfered? Had she been attacked that day as well? She’d had no knots, no bruising. But they still hadn’t gotten any answer from her on what happened, despite the fact that she’d been awake and chatty this morning. He hadn’t, frankly, thought to press her on it. He’d been too happy to see her alert again, like herself.
Scofield just laughed. An ugly, abrasive thing that didn’t deserve the same name as the sound that spilled from Mamm-wynn’s lips, or Libby’s or Beth’s.
He led them directly to the entrance of Piper’s Hole, which had Lady Emily pulling frantically away. “No. I won’t go in there. You can’t make me!”
He let go of her so abruptly she fell backward into the sand. “You are a disgrace to the family name. You know that, don’t you?” He scoffed. “Afraid of a cave.”
Telford crouched down beside her, slipping an arm behind her to help raise her back to her feet in the shifting sand. He murmured something into her ear that Oliver couldn’t hear, and which failed to bring any calm to her face.
Scofield hissed out a curse and turned his hard gaze on Oliver and Libby again. “My sister will be our lookout. The rest of you come with me.” He’d already taken the three pieces of silverware they’d held—a fork, a knife, a spoon. Not that they would have been much use as weapons, but Oliver didn’t much like the sensation that they were utterly defenseless.
Well, not utterly. They had the Lord on their side. And Beth and Sheridan still out there. Perhaps, if they hurried, they’d have time to fetch the constable—though they wouldn’t know for certain where Scofield had taken them.
Scofield gripped Libby’s arm in place of his sister’s, and a growl slipped out before Oliver could stop it.
Scofield sent him a look dripping deadly amusement. “Down, boy. I won’t hurt your sister unless she forces me to. She’s proven herself quite useful.”
Lady Emily’s brow creased. “She isn’t—”
“Going in there? I don’t mind.” Libby craned her neck around to send Lady Emily a smile that said, Keep quiet. Then looked from her back toward where they’d come from, pointedly. “I’ll be all right, Em. I go into the caves all the time.”
Lady Emily nodded, no doubt realizing that her brother’s mistake was playing to their advantage. Oliver still wasn’t certain who he thought Telford was, but he clearly assumed there was only one Elizabeth here. And knew nothing about Sheridan.
“Don’t disappoint me, Emily.” Scofield moved his glare from her to Telford. “And who are you, anyway? One of Tremayne’s friends, I assume.”
Oliver had to give Telford credit—he appeared entirely unruffled by this turn of events and hadn’t missed a single beat. Now he returned the glare even as he said, “Older brother, actually. Morgan.”
Oliver sucked in a breath. On the one hand, it was a smart move—he and Libby certainly looked like siblings, and his clothing marked him of higher status than most of the islanders. If Lady Emily had told him anything about the Tremayne family, though, if he knew Morgan had died two years ago . . .
But Scofield’s sneer looked blessedly ignorant. “The whole happy family, then. Lovely. Now, in we go.”
In they went. Past the place where Oliver had kissed Libby less than a week ago—though it felt a century past, so much had happened in the interim. Over the boulders into the mouth of the cavern, down the drop. Beside the pool—though the boat was missing.
A few candles were burning on the rocks though. Enough to show him a grumpy-looking Mabena and Casek sitting there, hands and feet tied with rope that would be chafing at more than their skin. How had their captor, who stood behind them with that pistol leveled on them again, gotten the best of Casek? Wearne must have fifty pounds on him.
But he wouldn’t have risked Mabena getting hurt in any scuffle.
“Lorne?” Scofield called out. “It’s just me, with the Tremaynes. As planned.”
Lorne? This was Lorne, the man from the cave last Sunday? But that must mean . . .
The man’s face cracked into a nasty grin. “Hello again, luv. Have you brought us what you ought to have this time?”
Us. Oliver glanced from Scofield to Lorne. Not rivals—or not anymore. They were working together. He wasn’t certain if that made them more dangerous or less.
Scofield held up the silverware he’d confiscated. “Engraved with Elizabeth, just as we thought. Mucknell must have kept it for his wife. I wonder if he even knew it had once been the queen’s?”
“Hardly matters if he did or not. The buyers know, which is all that matters. A queen’s own silver, and with the Mucknell lore added to it besides.” Lorne smiled, then narrowed his eyes. “More than a single set, I hope.”
“There’s a crate, she said.” Scofield sent them an arched look. “I’m thinking Permellin Carn will be a fine place for you to take it. Lorne, you can beach your boat there, load it up. If we hurry, we can still make the rendezvous. The Victoria wasn’t in port yet when I left St. Mary’s this morning.”