Disclaimers: as ever.

Thanks for those reviews!

'Just stay there, Nigel! I'll find you!' shouted Sydney.

Then the line went dead.

'Oh hell!' moaned Preston. 'I suppose he hadn't a clue where he was?'

'No,' said Sydney bluntly. 'Not a clue.'

'Oh well,' said Preston, venturing a half smile. 'At least it sounds like he's in one piece. All we have to do is find him - and you're good at finding things, right? You're the world's foremost Relic Hunter, and all that?'

Sydney was not much interested in his babbling. She pushed straight by and slammed her front door, with little regard for Preston's coat tail or limbs, then unlocked a car parked outside in the street. 'Where are you going?' asked Preston lethargically. 'Surely you haven't worked out where he is already?'

'Let's just say I've got a hunch.' Lingering just a moment before she jumped in and drove off, she added: 'are you coming?'

Preston looked at her blankly for a moment, torn between his conscience and a desire for breakfast, before starting towards the car and climbing in the passenger side. 'Where are we going?'

'Nottingham County!' Sydney opened the glove compartment and thrust of modern map of the region into his hand. 'And on the way I need you to find every Y-junction on the map, located in a wooded area… preferably one where there is new road construction nearby.'

'Why on earth…?' began Preston incredulously.

'Because we're going to find Nigel!' barked Sydney with some aggression. 'And because the woman you just called to the world's foremost Relic Hunter says so! And because you might just be able to earn back enough forgiveness for me not to give you a matching pair of black eyes, and bruises in places you never knew could hurt! Now… get map reading!'

…………………………………….

'We should hit the junction in about a mile,' said Sydney.

Preston nodded wearily, keeping his sleepy eyes fixed on the road ahead. After the first three hours driving, he'd insisted on taking over – Syd let him, mainly because she was itching to have a look at the map. She got the impression that cartography was not one of the elder Bailey's talents.

Sure enough, she'd quickly narrowed Preston's forty-two options down to one: a Y- junction in a wooded area, where the split in the road was intersected by a dotted line: a new highway, slicing through the countryside, was due for completion in 2009. That was where Nigel was - the diggers, the trees, the Y-junction, Nottingham County - she just knew it.

'He'd better bloody be there,' grumbled Preston. 'I'm going to kill him if he's wandered off!'

'You lost him!' Sydney shot back quickly. 'I just hope it was worth it! Why did you do it, Preston? Why organise a bachelor party for the brother you constantly argue with, despite barely seeing him once a year?'

'Oh, I don't know,' sighed Preston, his exhaustion unleashing a sudden rush of honesty. 'When he didn't ask me to be his Best Man I was hardly surprised. I know how Nigel…feels about me. But when I heard there was an opening for the bachelor party organiser, I suppose I saw it as an opportunity to get involved, to see his life, meet his friends…'

'You could have done that at the wedding. While try and humiliate him?'

'I didn't go out of my way to humiliate my brother, really!' Sydney discerned Preston's bout of honesty had passed. 'Besides, it is tradition. I would have felt I'd let him down if I hadn't organised a Stag Night! And I think he enjoyed it, really he did. Before he got, um, plastered, he was having a great time chatting to his university friends. I got on like a house on fire with your friend Stewie - lovely guy! A revered professor at the University of Northeast South Africa, you know - he asked me on a study visit! I didn't like that surly Lloyd fellow, though…'

'No, I can't see you and Derek Lloyd hitting it off,' smirked Sydney. 'Was it him that gave you that black eye?'

Preston flinched, lifting his fingers to his injured face. 'I'd almost forgotten that,' he mumbled. 'No, it wasn't Derek…'

'Hey! Pull over!'

'Wha…? Oh, good God, there he is!'

Spying a dark haired figure trotting towards them along the grass verge, and waving his arms wildly, Preston sluggishly applied the brakes, and the car juddered to a halt. Before the wheels had stopped moving, Sydney hurled open the door and leapt straight for Nigel.

'Sydney! I knew it, I knew you'd come…'

He thwacked his arms around her, and planted a moist kiss on her parted lips, with such enthusiasm that he nearly sent her tumbling backwards. Enveloped in his keen embrace, Sydney lifted her hands to cup his face and stared at him for a second, relief mingling with adoration and amusement.

This was not the bedraggled, dejected little creature that she had expected to pick up from the curb. Yes, Nigel looked tired, his skin an unhealthy shade of pale green, and strands of his damp fringe were plastered to his forehead. His clothes were splattered with numerous shades of spludge and mud. He was also wearing a large pair of Rudolf-style reindeer horns, attached to an Alice-band headpiece, which pushed back tufts of his hair into sticky-up clumps. Despite all this, however, he was beaming at her as if this was one of the most wonderful moments of their life together; he was simply buzzing with excitement.

'How the hell did you know she'd come?' asked Preston, averting his eyes from their passion as he emerged from the car, and wondering for the umpteenth time how his ridiculous younger brother managed to evoke such heated ardour from this beautiful, and apparently intelligent woman. 'It seemed like a hell of a long shot to me…'

They both ignored him. 'You found it, didn't you?' asked Sydney breathlessly.

Nigel nodded, uncurling one arm from her waist and slipping a grubby hand into his pocket. He brought out a truly 'honking great' diamond, which sparkled radiantly in the sunlight, capturing all the hues of the rainbow in its icy heart.

Preston, who had been bustling over to see, gasped as the reflective light flashed in his face. 'My God! What have you found, Podge?'

'Elizabeth I's diamond?' asked Sydney, lifting her eyes, dazzled and delighted to Nigel's enraptured smile.

'I think so,' he gushed. 'It was in a little chest, behind the remains of the headstone. After the money in the phone ran out, I nearly despaired but then I saw the…' Nigel dipped his voice to an undertone. 'Then I saw The Stag again. I swear, he had shown me the way to the roadside phone and then he led me to the grave…'

'What is he twittering on about?' butted in Preston. 'He is obviously still drunk! Nigel - did it cross your mind that you might be seeing your own reflection? Have you seen yourself?'

Nigel scowled at his brother. 'What are you on about, Preston?'

'Uh…he's talking about this.' Sydney began carefully untangling the band with the deer horns, tugging Nigel's hair as little she could.

'Eh…ow!' Sydney showed him the offending headgear. 'You bastard!' yelled Nigel, as Preston sniggered into his sleeve.

'You really were quite The Stag!' guffawed Preston. 'Mind you, we all had the horns to wear. Although you were the only one who insisted on keeping them on once the party was over! But, hey-ho, it's all over now.' Betwixt his mirth, he eyeballed the diamond hungrily. 'I wouldn't mind a look at that shiny stone. After all, you'd never have found it, if it hadn't been for me.'

Nigel shuddered with contempt, but didn't answer, instead handing the diamond to Sydney for safekeeping.

'I don't care what contribution you've made to this hunt, you're not taking the stone back in triumph to the British Museum!' barked Sydney, her harsh tone leaving no room for argument. 'It belongs in the Tower of London with the rest of the Crown Jewels. And anything else will go to the Pilgrim Fathers Museum.' Turning her back on the older brother, she grinned at Nigel. 'Can you show me where the grave is?'

'With pleasure,' said Nigel, a flickering smile returning to his lips. He wasn't going to let Preston spoil the thrill of this moment…

………………………………..

'Look,' said Nigel, pointing a shaky finger to a dirt track that branched off from one of the forked roads, 'and…over there.' He swerved to indicate another path, jutting off the corresponding highway. 'It dawned on me that, all together, they do resemble the horns of a stag… sort of. The animal led me right to this very spot, and then vanished!'

Sydney was already crouching at the crumbling rock that had once been a grave marker.

'The road builders would have just bulldozed straight through this without a thought,' she mumbled to herself. As Nigel knelt down beside her, she took and squeezed his hand. 'Somebody - something - wanted the secrets hidden here to be saved before it was too late. Maybe it was the same spirit that led Isaac to his sleeping victim?'

'Possibly,' conjectured Nigel. 'Or it could have been that The Stag himself couldn't bear to see his beloved Queen's diamond crushed forever.' He shivered at the notion that the ghost of a killer could have been his salvation.

'Or maybe you were just blind drunk and this is one hell of a coincidence!' interjected Preston cheerfully, stomping over to behind the gravestone. 'Are you going to dig up anything more, then?'

'Bugger off,' growled Nigel, as Sydney tightened her grip on his hand. Preston grunted indignantly but, seeing the intimacy of their stance, suddenly felt like an unwanted appendage. He turned on his heels and sauntered back towards the road.

As Sydney brushed the dirt from another, larger chest, Nigel outlined the remains of an inscription in the stone. He read it out loud as he traced it:

'Her lyeth The Stag

From whose demise

A people sprung forth

And prospereth still.

That's quite a claim of historical significance!'

'So is this,' said Sydney, cracking the rust-worn lock and flinging open the larger chest. She pulled out a large piece of decaying wood, shaped like half of a curving moon.

'What you think it is?' asked Nigel.

'I'm guessing it is part of The Speedwell's rudder!' said Sydney excitedly. 'If we can authenticate it, this will be proof that The Stag sabotaged the Pilgrim Father's ship.' She held a browning and rotting piece of paper, emblazoned with the red wax seal of the King of England. 'And this is the commission from James - to carry out the dirty deed!'

'Amazing!' Nigel folded his hands gently over hers, so they held the document out and read it together. 'But not as amazing as you, Syd,' he whispered, his thumb slipping down to caress the soft skin of her wrist. 'How did you know where I was?'

'Oh, you know, a little research, a little intuition… and a little divine intervention,' she replied, the tenderness of his touch setting her emotions spinning and mind racing. She been so determined to follow her hunch and find Nigel, and the relic to boot, she'd not given her fear a moment to breath - her most wrenching nightmare that he could be hurt, lost or gone. Now that she had him back, relief flooded her senses, along with an inkling of her oft denied apprehension.

She slowly pulled away, put down the paper and turned to face him.

'You found the relics, Nigel. All I wanted was to find was the man I love.' She rested her palms on his shoulders. 'Never leave me, Nigel - I've lived with loss, I've learned to survive without people I love, but I can never live without you.'

Nigel's eyes widened earnestly. 'Me neither, but you know that. You…know… everything…'

Their lips captured each other's, as their bodies entwined together. Pounding adrenalin rendered them heedless of the violated grave beneath them, the ancient relics at their knees, and the jealous brother who observed them from the shadows.

The moment, like so many in their lives, was perfect. How long had it been now, Sydney wondered, since he hadn't become flustered at her initmacy? How long since she'd realised that the brief sensation of his fingertips could ignite a fire-ball of desire within her, and liquefy her very soul? Hugging him tightly, Sydney's heart lurched with a sudden terror. There lives were too perfect, too good: they were still young, beautiful, in love; they had achieved much, yet ambition still drove them, made life fun, exciting, each day afresh. The day after tomorrow, moreover, they would become man and wife in the eyes of the world, at a romantic beautiful castle; Nigel would look like a prince stepping out of every little girls dream. But the world was a dangerous, deadly place, and history reminded her every day that life was ephemeral. Such happiness as theirs could only be transient, fragile, too easily lost.

'Never leave me, Nigel,' breathed Sydney. 'Never!' Her eyes met his, and detected smouldering desire intermingled with weary confusion.

'What is it?' he asked softly.

Her thin-set lips found a smile. She brushed her fingers through his hair, tidying it a little, and then traced down his cheek, smudging away a blotch of muck that marred his complexion.

'He's here now, he's gorgeous and he's mine,' thought Sydney, swallowing what seemed like uncharacteristic sentiment. 'Whatever happens, I'll have no regrets…'

Nigel still regarded her questioningly, endearingly.

'Oh, it's nothing,' she said after a moment. 'I am just thinking how wonderful our life together will be…will continue to be. Come on!'

She jumped to her feet, hauling him up with her. 'Let's get home. We'll take the chests and come back to document the rest tomorrow.'

'Good plan,' agreed Nigel, relieved at her raising spirits. 'I'm absolutely shattered! I think I'll have a snack and go straight to bed.'

'Not quite,' smiled Sydney, brushing down his jacket. 'As much as I love you, Nigel, you really are in need of a bath! And I'm personally going to make sure that your back is scrubbed properly…'

………………………………..

'So,' said Sydney as they bolted along the highway, one hand resting easily on the wheel. 'What did you guys get up to last night?'

Nigel furrowed his brow, fighting a vicious headache in his effort to recall. 'Um… to be honest, I don't remember much. I suppose I drank rather a lot.'

'You could say that!' interrupted Preston. 'But, come on Nigel, you've got to admit you had a good time. Before you wandered off, that is.'

Nigel shrugged. 'I vaguely recollect chatting to a couple of nice chaps from the mediaeval history department, and sampling a fine bottle of Beaujolais… after that everything is incoherent. I have a memory of, um black leather, and of some sort of moment of violent, subliminal release…'

'Yes, well!' retorted Preston. 'I know all too well what that was. You went absolutely ballistic when I tried to take your reindeer horns off you!'

Sydney's grin spread from ear to ear. 'So that's how you got your black eye, is it? Go Nigel!'

Nigel twisted to his brother in the backseat and, looking at him for the first time since their reunion, spotted the shiny bruise around his right eye. 'Oh,' he said, biting his lip to suppress a giggle. 'I'm terribly sorry. I really wasn't in control of my faculties! Whatever could possess me to attack my beloved elder brother in such a way?' Turning to Syd, he exploded into a laugh. 'Well, actually, I can think of a few things!'

He glanced back at Preston and was surprised, and a little disappointed, to see his sibling didn't look too angry.

'It was all worth it,' said Preston snidely, 'to see you squeal when that leather-clad dancing girl flicked you with her whip…oooomph!'

They all flew violently forward in their seats, as Sydney slammed hard on the brakes, stopping the vehicle dead in the middle of the empty highway. She turned to Preston, aghast. 'The who did what?'

Preston rapidly began to regret his unguarded admission. 'Err…well I didn't think you'd mind too much. You're a worldly woman, Sydney - in the nicest possible way, of course. Besides, once you'd banned the pub golf, I still wanted Nigel to have a memorable send-off, and I thought some hired entertainment might, um, cater to his tastes.'

'To my tastes?' stuttered Nigel. 'What the hell do you mean?' He appealed to Sydney, wary that she might be about to slap them both. 'Honestly! I have no recollection of this.'

'Don't worry,' she replied, and he detected the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. 'I don't blame you.' She turned back to Preston, summoning up the pretence of genuine fury. 'But I would like to know what you mean - catering to Nigel's tastes?'

'Oh, um, well,' ventured Preston bravely. 'You are a commanding woman, Professor Fox. What do you two get up to in the bedroom?'

'That, you will never know, Preston Bailey!' She regarded him with pity as much as anger. 'All I will say is that your brother is a fantastic lover, and he knows exactly the right time to take the lead.' She rubbed her fiancé's thigh affectionately. 'Right, Nigel?'

'Right,' mumbled Nigel, before swallowing his general bewilderment to cast his brother a superior glare: 'Right!'

'Right,' confirmed Sydney, with a resonant air of authority. 'That's all cleared up then! Now let's get home - before something possesses me to whip your brother's backside right back over the other side of the Atlantic!'

As Preston squirmed, Nigel laid his throbbing head on the shoulder of the woman he loved. Sydney, quietly contented, placed her foot on the accelerator and headed back towards the city.

Thanks for reading. Please review this story - I might just continue it with Sydney and Nigel's wedding… :) Katy x