Page 71 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
“I must say, I’d feel more comfortable if you would put down that blasted gun. I am trembling so much, I can scarcely do as you’ve asked,” she said, moving to her desk.
“You’re a clever girl,” he said. “Give me the bloody amulet. Don’t stall.”
“I have no reason to delay the inevitable,” she said. “I must unlock my desk if I am to retrieve the artifact.”
He nodded stiffly. “Go ahead. But if you try anything, it will not end well for you.”
Concealing her reluctance, she unfastened the latch securing the bottom drawer. She stared down at the gold amulet Gavin Stanwyck had recovered on his last expedition. While extremely valuable, the piece did not possess the historical significance of the supposedly cursed pendant Stockwell had trusted her to protect. With any luck, this artifact would placate the rotter’s greed.
“I have it,” she said. “I will place it in your hand.”
He shook his head. “Set it there,” he said, motioning to the mahogany sideboard.
She complied with the instruction,
He stared down at the amulet. His eyes narrowed as his jaw hardened. Her heart raced as her pulse roared in her ears. Fear gripped her insides. Did he know she’d attempted to deceive him? Had she made a foolish and dangerous error?
“Do not try my patience, Miss Quinn.” Cupping the icon in his stubby-fingered hand, he stowed the piece in an interior pocket of his jacket. “I know what the bloody amulet looks like. Do you believe me a fool?”
Vicious anger gleamed in his eyes. He had no qualms about hurting her. She’d have to play along with his demands and buy time until Matthew and his men arrived. “Of course not. As I tried to tell you, that foul weapon of yours, pointed at me, no less, has left me shaken. I made a mistake. There’s nothing more to it than that. I have no intention of deceiving you.”
“Get the bloody thing. Now.” He ground out the words between his teeth.
“Of course.” She opened the bottom drawer and retrieved the amulet from a hidden compartment. “Here. Take it.”
He scooped up the pendant and stashed it in his pocket. Unscrupulous cur.
He pinned her with his gaze. A chill rippled along her spine. She clutched the back of a chair to keep from shivering.
“You have what you came for,” she said, steadying her voice. “That should end this unpleasant business.”
He slowly shook his head. “That’s not everything, and you know it.”
“Tell me what you’re after.”
“I believe you already know the answer to that question.” His voice dropped low, his words raw and menacing. “Now, Miss Quinn, I need the map.”
“I do not have it. In fact, I do not even believe it exists.” Steeling herself, she hiked her chin. “You’ve all been deceived.”
Silently, she prayed he could not detect the lie. It was imperative that he did not get his hands on the map. Without it, the amulet would be worth scarcely more than a trinket to most collectors.
“Marlsbrook has claimed it?” Raw anger shaded his tone.
“There is no map. I am afraid the professor enjoyed speaking of the finds he expected to make. He developed a tendency to exaggerate in his later years.”
“You’re lying,” he said between nearly clenched teeth. The bull of a man brandished the gun in his hand.
She pulled in a low breath, desperate to calm herself. She had to keep her head about her. She could not allow fear to grip her. She could not fall to pieces.
“In that case, we are both in a fix,” she managed in a quaking voice. “You have demanded something from me that I do not possess, while I expect you to leave me in peace, an admittedly unlikely scenario.” She deliberately glanced toward the professor’s leather-bound journal. A distraction might be just the thing. Stockwell’s rambling observations would be of scarce value to a treasure hunter or a thief. There’d be little harm in surrendering them if it meant she’d be free of this odious man.
“Oh, dear,” she said, as if she was horrified to discover she’d left the professor’s notes in plain sight.
“What is that?” the man demanded.
“Professor Stockwell’s field journal.”
“Give it to me,” he ordered.
