Page 105 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
With a huff, the countess uncurled her fingers. Johanna let out a sigh of relief as Laurel darted to Johanna’s side. Catching handfuls of skirt between trembling fingers, the girl smothered a cry against the fabric.
“Now, Miss Templeton, may we resume our talk?” Cranston said, proper as a banker discussing a mortgage.
“Of course.”
“I’ll have the brooch. Now.”
“Very well.” Her trembling fingers rebuffed her attempt at control. Finally, she managed to release the clasp.
“Give it to me,” he commanded.
She extended her hand, displaying the jewel. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
And lethal, given the right circumstance.
Leaning closer, he moved to take the gem, but she closed her fingers around it. Now was not the time for trepidation. She must appear bold. Uncowed. Perhaps as hardened as Laurel’s captors.
“I attempted a gambit but you were too clever to fool,” Johanna said, maintaining control of the brooch. “As soon as you ensure my niece’s safety and my own, I am prepared to declare you the victor in this quest. You will have the stone. You have the book. The girl and I will be on our way out of this hellhole.”
The detached, emotionless hunger in Cranston’s eyes sliced through Johanna’s thin veneer of courage. What did the cur have in mind? Her teeth grazed her lower lip, but she quashed the small movement. The pin pressed against her palm, needling the sensitive flesh, but she held tight.
Slowly, he shook his head. “You misunderstand my intentions. You will not be leaving.”
The countess toyed with the dagger, staring down at her starkly beautiful reflection on the polished blade. “You will tell me everything we need to know. A loved one’s pain…” She tapped a fingernail against the dagger’s point. “Can be most persuasive—to hell with supposed curses.”
Laurel wrapped her arms tighter around Johanna. The child’s terror triggered an ache in Johanna’s heart, cruel as if the dagger had plunged into her chest.
Cranston settled his gaze on Johanna’s mouth. Hungry. Ruthless. Indecent. He traced a fingertip along the curve of her cheek. “I have an aversion to loose ends. But, perhaps, you will convince me you have some use. As you’ve pointed out, I have everything I need. The book. And the ruby. I’ll enjoy taking it from you. Do you like to be overpowered? Is that it, my lovely?”
A vile chill crept down her spine. “I assure you that is not the case.” She bit each syllable between her teeth, infusing the words with contempt.
He shrugged. “At least one of us will enjoy it. So, tell me, what more do you have to offer?”
Johanna choked back her disgust. Her thumb grazed the brooch, locating the tiny lever that deployed the hidden knife. Eyeing the scoundrel’s cravat, she decided upon the precise spot where she’d drive the blade.
With a snap of his fingers, he summoned Ross to his side. “Take the brat to her room. We’ll deal with her later.”
“Yes, sir,” Ross said. Distaste marked his features as he reached for Laurel. Defiant, she planted her feet on the floor, but her small body was no match for the man’s strength. Her heels screeched over the polished wood as he dragged her away.
“Auntie Jo!” Desperation and terror blended in Laurel’s young voice.
Johanna fought the panic rising in her throat. “Go with him, darling. He won’t hurt you.”
In truth, it would be far easier to carry out her plan with Laurel tucked away, out of sight and earshot of the violence. But the fear in Laurel’s voice was nearly more than Johanna could bear.
“Bugger it.” Ross’s curse echoed from the high ceiling. He stopped in his tracks. A familiar deep burr rumbled through the chamber.
“Ye’re a bigger arse than I’d judged ye.” Connor pinned the man with his gaze. “Ye willnae shoot me. Not if ye want theDeamhan’sCridhe.”
Dropping his hold on Laurel, Ross yanked his sidearm from its holster. The child darted to a far corner, out of reach.
Heavy boots thudded against the floor. Connor marched through the massive portal. A sense of déjà vu struck Johanna. He looked very much as he had the first night she’d lain eyes on him. A dashing devil in black, from his leather boots and striking wool greatcoat that emphasized his powerful shoulders. But now, he held a gleaming pistol in each hand.
Her knees wobbled, weak from joy. And fear for the man who’d barged in as if a cadre of blackguards was not pointing weapons at his head.
“MacMasters.” Cranston ground the name between his teeth like an epithet. He caught Johanna by the arm and pulled her to him as a shield.
The countess slid her knife between the folds of her skirts. Her mouth twitched into something that might have been a smile. “What brings you here today? The last time I saw you, I was cleaning your brother’s blood off my blade.”
