Page 93 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
“We’re wasting our time. I’ll blast the bluidy thing open,” Gerard said.
“And possibly the stone with it.” Connor eyed his brother beneath hooded lids. “Johanna’s theory has merit. Whoever devised this was clever. Damnably so.”
“Perhaps there’s another way of looking at this sequence…perhaps…” Crouching before the box, she deliberated the puzzle. Blast it, what was she missing? “There must be something else, something we’ve overlooked. Cranston wants the book. Why?”
“If the combination’s hidden in that bluidy tome, we’ve no chance of uncovering it,” Gerard said with a scowl. “Not in time to get to the bairn.”
“Could it be hidden in plain sight? So blatant, it’s overlooked.” Johanna pictured the forged inscription, a clever attempt to reproduce the author’s sentiments and hand. Indeed, before Serena had deduced the volume was a fraud, Johanna had believed the words were the product of Mrs. Shelley’s own pen. An unscrupulous dealer might well employ such a notation to increase interest in the eyes of a duped collector.
But in Johanna’s eyes, something about the notation had seemed peculiar from the start. The year etched in ink did not correspond with the initial publication of the novel’s first edition. She’d dismissed her doubts in the beginning. Now, that idiosyncrasy might prove significant.
Had the words served a more nefarious purpose? Were they as much a code as the symbols Serena had uncovered in the text?
“In the book, there is a handwritten note,” she went on.
“A forgery,” Connor said, his face grim. “Serena deduced that.”
“Yes, but why? Why prepare a fraudulent sentiment? Surely there’s a meaning behind it.”
“It’s possible,” Gerard said. “Ye believe it’s a code?”
She pictured the words and numbers in her mind’s eye.For Allegra.8 December 1819. Excitement surged through her.
“The date…the numbers correspond to those in my brother-in-law’s message. The numbers follow the sequence.” She twisted the first gear to the eighth position on a clock dial. The sound of metal against metal met her ears, and it settled into place, just as it had earlier. Leaning closer, she turned the second dial. “December will be replaced by one and two, just as in the sequence I memorized. But December is the twelfth month. This time, we shall combine the two digits.”
Leaning closer, she placed the notch at the top of the dial. “Twelve.” And then, she heard it, the quietsnick, the faintest of sounds, but as joyous as a chorus. The gear settled into place.
She slanted Connor a glance. He met her gaze. The respect in his eyes warmed her, even as she forced herself back to the task at hand. Her breath hovered in her throat as she set the next dial into place at one. Another quietclick. Then the gear, set to eight, settled into place. She’d deciphered the code.
Gerard leaned over her shoulder. “Bluidy hell, she’s done it.”
In short order, she set the two remaining gears into the correct position. The latches released.
Rising, she smoothed her crinkled skirt with her palms and drank in the way Connor looked at her.Daft American author, indeed.
“Which one of you wishes to do the honors?” she asked, motioning to the trunk. “Your treasure awaits.”
Connor cut her a look that heated her to the core, as if he’d realized the precise nature of the treasure he craved. A treasure that had nothing to do with gems and curses.
“God’s teeth, just open the bluidy box,” Gerard said with a glare.
“Ye may have that honor, brother.”
Gerard’s brows formed an inverted vee. “Ye believe the chest is rigged in some way…it’s a trap?”
“Nay,” Connor said, even as he took Johanna by the hand and drew her back. “But since ye’ve left yer bollocks in some doxy’s coffers, I’ll do it.”
Disregarding his protective gesture, she stepped forward. She’d come this far. She wasn’t about to turn away from the first sight of the jewel that had inspired Cranston’s ruthless quest.
A thick, strong arm blocked her. Gerard stared down at her. “He means what he says. Ye cannae take the chance. If ye’re injured, who will save the wee lass?”
The kindness in his eyes startled her. This was a man accustomed to brutality. Yet he showed concern for a child he’d never seen.
“Very well,” she said, peering over Gerard’s brawny limb as Connor revealed the contents of the chest.
“By Satan’s mistress, they were a clever lot.” Connor removed what appeared to be a musket ball, inspecting it before placing it to the side. “They filled the chest with iron. No wonder we damn near broke our backs heaving it out of that hole.”
“But no sign of the stone?” Impatience marked Gerard’s question.
