Page 106 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
“I’ve come for the woman and the bairn. We’ve a score to settle.”
“How intriguing.” The countess appeared to drink Connor in. “Do tell.”
Connor eyed the countess. Blandly, as if she bored him. “Ye’re both bluidy dolts. The cunning American lass had ye goin’ with her merry tales. Blasted incantations and a pretty stone. A conniving one, she is. She’s played ye for fools. Just as she did me. That polished bit of rock isn’t theDeamhan’sCridhe. It cannae be. Ye see, I have the stone.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
While confined in the carriage with Cranston’s henchman, Johanna had conjured images of Connor charging to the rescue like some chivalrous hero of old. Strong and courageous and protective. Or so the scene had played out in her imagination. She never would’ve dreamed he would commiserate with Cranston and the she-devil who’d threatened Laurel. Surely he was playing a role, a misdirection of sorts. Still, his description nipped at her.Daft American lass. Indeed. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words from his lips.
Her heart raced, even as her knees ceased their wobbling. Despite the way his words chafed, Connor’s brash confidence filled her with pride. But pride was not a weapon against scoundrels. Whatever Connor’s strategy, she had to keep her head about her.
Cranston’s fingers dug into her arm. Tension radiated through his body, the inborn wariness of a predator facing off against a powerful threat.
“Ye believed her?” Connor pressed on, not yet closing the distance that separated them. To his left, Munro aimed a long-gun at his chest. “She weaves quite a tale. Damnable shame ye cannae believe a word from her mouth.”
“If she lied, I’ll find out soon enough.” Cranston’s speech was even and precise, but the tautness of his grip belied his outward calm.
“She betrayed me. Took me for a fool. But now, I control the stone. I’ve come to negotiate an exchange.”
A malicious gleam lit the countess’s eyes. “How very noble—the woman and the child for the jewel.”
“Nay. I dinnae possess a noble bone in my body. The bluidy bauble is worth a fortune. ’Tis time I reaped the rewards of my efforts.” Connor’s gaze flickered to Johanna’s for the merest of moments. “The lass has value. We dinnae know what she knows. Ye willnae hurt her.”
“Quite so.” The countess shot Cranston a sidelong glance. “There’s no telling what Abbott confided in her. After the bounder obtained the book, he learned its secrets. He reneged on our agreement. Some blather about his conscience and the power the Demon’s Heart would bestow.”
Johanna’s pulse stuttered at the revelation. She steadied herself with a slow, deep breath. Laurel’s father had refused to place the cursed stone in Cranston’s hands. Richard Abbott had tried to protect them all from the evil. And he’d paid with his life.
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “So you killed Abbott—your biggest supplier.”
“I enjoyed that privilege.” The countess’s tones were cool and smooth as silk. “The scoundrel didn’t know what to make of it…at first. I believe he thought I was playing one of the little games he liked.”
“Enough,” Cranston clipped. “Have some decency, will you? There is a child…”
“Bah.” The countess waved away the objection while eyeing Connor up and down like a tasty treat. “This one, well, he might be worth keeping alive. For a while.”
Cranston dug his fingers deeper into Johanna’s flesh, as if he pretended her limb was the countess’s slender throat. She couldn’t see his expression, but she felt the cold rage in his hold.
“Why did Abbott have to die?” Connor delved deeper.
“He ran when he realized we were on to him. Foolish man,” the countess said. “Our associate in London knew what he was up to. She killed his partner.”
“MacInnis?”
The countess nodded. “The coward deserved what he got.”
“And his wife?”
“Plain, dull thing that she was, she didn’t pose a threat. Not at first. Not until the shrew babbled accusations to anyone who would listen.”
MacMasters cocked his head. “So yourassociatearranged an accident?”
“She’s most clever. Uniquely skilled in her trade.”
“Mrs. Smythe?”
The countess’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “Ever the operative, eh, MacMasters? Truthfully, I know little about her, and I prefer to keep it that way. I’ve no desire to meet with an accident of my own, if you take my meaning.”
“Why did Abbott come to Scotland?”
