Connor turned to his sister. “What are ye saying?”
“Really, Connor, ye’re not usually so easily taken in.” Serena MacMasters placed the tome in his waiting hands. Pressing two fingers to her forehead, she etched little invisible circles over the arch of her brow. “Ye never paid attention to the lectures, did ye? Always so eager to get on to weapons training.”
“It’s a first edition. Rare and—” Johanna protested.
“It’s a fraud.”
The pronouncement rushed over her like a rogue wave crashing over a cliff. “Surely you’re mistaken. Perhaps you’ve made a miscalculation.”
The stern set of Serena’s mouth softened, as if she’d read the stricken look in Johanna’s eyes and experienced a pang of empathy. “This book is a forgery, Miss Templeton. A clever one, I’ll give you that. But it is not genuine.”
Connor examined the volume. “Ye’re sure of that?”
Serena nodded. “Whoever is behind this reproduction was quite skilled. An artisan, really. But this is not a first edition, and the inscription is freshly inked.”
“Damn.” Connor placed the book on the table. “So this is worthless? Someone has sent the lass on a fool’s errand.”
“Not necessarily.” Serena flipped the leather-bound tome open to a seemingly random page. “I suspect this book is a means to an end.”
Connor plowed a hand through his dark strands. “Ye believe there’s a code?”
“It is the most logical conclusion.” Dipping a swab in another vial of liquid, this one not quite as pungent as the first, Serena swiped the tip over the text. “Well, that doesn’t help my case, does it?” she murmured as the liquid did nothing but dampen the printed page.
“What is that you’re applying? I was assured you would not damage this book.” Johanna clasped her hands into a loose knot to keep from tearing the volume from Serena’s slender fingers.
Serena’s delicate brows arched, and she shook her head. “This will not inflict any permanent blemish. None that a fool who’d believe this book was real would be able to detect, in any case.”
“A fool…” The words trailed off Johanna’s lips, like a whisper. Serena MacMasters was every bit as arrogant as her brother. Johanna bit back her response. For the time being, she needed the young woman’s assistance.
“I wouldnae expect ye to know the difference. Ye haven’t had the specialized training to make such a judgment.” She shifted her brother a glance. “But others should know better.”
Connor shot Serena a scowl. “Bah, what’s twisted yer drawers?”
“Such language. And with a lady present.” Serena’s soft smile contradicted her scolding tone.
“I doubt she gives a fig. She’s concerned about the bluidy book.” Connor’s stern visage eased. “Now, what is that stuff ye’re using?”
“It’s a secret, a formula Liam and I developed. I could tell ye—” A little grin tugged at Serena’s mouth.
“But then ye’d have to kill me.” Connor gave his head a weary shake. “Don’t ye ever tire of using that line?”
“No, dear brother. I rather like it.” Serena reached across the desk and selected a large magnifying lens shaded with a faint amber hue. Studying the page she’d dampened with her foul-smelling concoction, she pressed her lips taut. Concentration etched furrows in her forehead.
Johanna leaned closer for a better look. “The glass…it’s been tinted. Why?”
Serena’s pert nose wrinkled. “Surely ye don’t expect me to go about revealing my trade secrets, do ye?”
“Of course I would not expect you to divulge secrets, but given the circumstances—”
“My, so very serious.” The corners of Serena’s mouth turned up. “I understand your interest, and ye deserve an explanation. Perhaps later, I’ll have time to explain the particulars of the investigative process. But for now, I can tell you the solution and the lens work together to reveal markings that are not visible without the proper filter.”
When Johanna nodded her understanding, Serena flipped to another page and dipped a swab into her potion. With a careful motion, she swiped the tip over the print. Once again, Serena held the lens over the text. Little lines etched between her brows as she repeated the process. Another swipe of the applicator over a page, and her frown deepened. “Rather frustrating. I’d felt so certain—”
Johanna peeped over Serena’s shoulder, a rather easy feat given the several inches that separated their heights. Unlike her sister, Serena MacMasters was petite, the crown of her head level with Johanna’s chin.
“Ah, there it is. A marking.” Serena’s mouth crooked into a smile. “Beneath the lens. It’s faint, but there’s no mistaking it.”
“Aye, I see it,” Connor said, his voice low and gruff. “A code?”
Johanna peered through the lens, spotting a symbol etched with thin, precise lines. Three diamonds, surrounded by a single circle.
“I can see no other purpose for such a marking,” Serena replied crisply. “A fascinating development. There’s no way to predict how many pages in this volume bear similar icons. The task of uncovering the symbols might well take days.”
Days. The word echoed in Johanna’s thoughts. Such time was a luxury she did not have.
“I cannot abide any delay.” Johanna fought the tension gripping her chest. She had to present the appearance of strength, of determination. Her words could not waver, even as her pulse raced.
Connor met her words with a brisk nod. “The lass is right. There’s no time for ye to search that book for some bluidy code.”
“Indeed,” Serena said coolly, meeting her brother’s gaze. “In due time, I trust I will be afforded the opportunity to conduct a thorough analysis. But for the time being, I understand the need for expediency. Fortunately, I’ve detected something else that may well prove useful.”
“What’ve ye found?”
Serena placed the lens on the desk. “In my cursory examination, I noticed a small flaw in the inner binding. I do not believe the blemish is there by chance. Connor, please hand me the scalpel.”
Scalpel? Johanna bit back the questions that sprang to mind.
Connor placed the thin-bladed implement in his sister’s gloved hand. “What’s caught yer eye?”
“Look…here.” Serena motioned to the binding that secured the back cover to the pages of the book. She pressed the tip of the blade to the seam. “There’s something irregular here.”
“I don’t see it,” Connor said, studying the area. “Ye’ve already found a code. We need to focus on deciphering that.”
“That will come later. For now, we need to take a look at this.” Serena switched the scalpel to her left hand, reached across the table, and scooped up a pair of spectacles. Perching the metal-rimmed lenses over her nose, she leaned closer to examine the book. “This is definitely an irregularity.”
Taking the implement back into her dominant hand, Serena slid the blade beneath the first stitch, then the next and the next. With a flick of her wrist, she loosened the lining at one corner. “There’s something here. Beneath the vellum.”
“Bluidy damnation, ye’ve found something.” Connor stared down at the book, watching as his sister carefully peeled away the paper.
Johanna nibbled her lip, steadying herself for whatever Serena might find. Connor edged closer, his sturdy presence reassuring, as her doubts and fears threatened to swarm.
“What is it?” Johanna’s voice sounded far calmer to her ears than she felt. “A message, perhaps.”
Serena’s brows knitted together in concentration. “It might well be.”
“That conniving fool,” Johanna murmured, unable to hold back her emotion. “Mr. Abbott and his greedy, harebrained schemes.”
Serena set the scalpel aside and took a tweezers in her hand. “I don’t doubt the man was a schemer,” she said, her voice scarcely more than a murmur. She extracted a tiny square from the slit in the lining. Not paper. Not precisely. More of a parchment.
And judging from the fragile appearance of the item, quite aged indeed. “But I don’t believe he composed this missive.”
“What do ye have there?” Connor’s rough burr betrayed his impatience.
“We’ll see soon enough.” Serena placed the frail document on a clean marble tile. With great care, she unfolded the square.
Creases etched deep grooves on the paper. A few random spots that might have been long-faded drops of ink marred the surface. But no words. No symbols. Nothing that might convey meaning.
Johanna rubbed her temples, as if that would ease the relentless throb of tension. Why would someone take such pains to hide a papyrus-thin leaf that bore no inscription?
“Was this the bastard’s idea of a bluidy joke?” Connor turned to his sister. “What is the meaning of this?”
“That’s what I intend to determine,” Serena said, calm and deliberate. Dampening a fresh swab with a concoction that bore the unmistakable scent of citrus, she swirled the formula over the crackled sheet.
Before Johanna’s eyes, the surface of the parchment changed. Faint letters and symbols appeared. Good heavens, what had Serena uncovered?
Serena continued to apply the chemical to the page. Within moments, ink that had faded to a dull gray spread across the sheet. Letters jumbled together in ways that made no sense filled the perimeter. Scrambled, as if deliberately misaligned. Of course. A code. Nearer the center of the document, there were few words. Rather, symbols and curved lines appeared to delineate a path—a map.
An invisible force squeezed Johanna’s heart. The book was worthless, a vessel for a document she’d been tricked into ferrying from London to the Highlands. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Fighting a burgeoning panic, she pulled in a breath. Laurel’s kidnapper expected a ransom, a treasure. Not a forgery.
Unless…unless Cranston had known the book had no inherent value from the very start. Perhaps the map was the blackguard’s true prize.
Connor pressed a hand to her arm. Firm, yet gentle, the touch shored up her strength. The heat of his body penetrated her prim day dress. Ruthlessly, she repressed her awareness of the man. She had to keep her head about her. She must keep her thoughts focused on bringing Laurel home.
Examining the map, she took in as many details as her weary brain could manage. A symbol caught her eye. An ellipse, long and narrow and irregularly shaped. A body of water, most likely. Near the icon, someone had etched a peculiar sign—a heart, precisely drawn and split in two with a long, black-inked dagger.
A clear warning emanated from that icon. A chill washed over her. Whatever this map revealed, the ominous torn heart indicated a destination. A place of danger. Of evil.
“Oh my.” Johanna drew closer, studying the document. The sense of warning grew stronger.
Nonsense. She chastised herself. Whatever had come over her? This was little more than a sketch, a crude rendering of a location. A hiding place, most likely. But of what? She pulled in a calming breath, pushed the primal foreboding aside, and met Connor’s gaze.
“It’s a treasure map,” she said.
His mouth fixed in a grim line. “Aye, it’s a map. But not to a treasure.”
Confusion fogged her mind. “If not a treasure, then what? What does Cranston want?”
Serena lifted the hand lens over the document. After a long, silent moment, she turned to Connor. “Does the lass know about the curse?”
“Curse?” Johanna repeated as the fog thickened.
Connor’s jaw tensed. “She’s got a level head on her shoulders. I saw no need to fill it with superstitious rubbish.”
Serena’s jade eyes narrowed, cat-like. “Nonsense, is it? Our ancestors did not think the tales were without merit.”
“Bah, ’tis nothing more than the babblings of men who sought answers beyond the realm of logic.”
Serena’s shoulders squared, as if she braced for battle. “I am a logical woman. I am a scientist, for pity’s sake. But there are things in this world that deny explanation. Who am I to doubt the conclusions of wise elders many generations before we walked this earth?”
“I don’t understand,” Johanna spoke up. “Curses and elders and superstition…what does any of this have to do with the ransom Cranston demands for my niece?”
Serena’s mouth pulled taut. Casting her gaze to the map, she slowly shook her head, as if engaged in an intense debate with her own conscience. Finally, she turned to Connor.
“Will you tell her, brother? Or must I?”
“Aye, it’s gibberish, but I’ll tell her.” Connor jabbed a finger toward a spot on the map marked by the symbol that looked like a heart torn in two. “We believe Cranston seeks an artifact—a ruby, red as heart’s blood. Throughout the centuries, all who came to possess the stone met with horrible fates. The tragedies spurred wild tales. Talk of curses and powers beyond the realm of possibility.”
A treasure that wrought death and destruction. Rubbish, indeed. Johanna stared down at the icon on the map. Oddly, while most of the ink on the map had faded to a faint shadow of black, the carefully drawn heart blazed deep crimson, the color of blood.
Comprehension washed over Johanna like a storm-roughened tide. “Good heavens, you believe he’s after the Demon’s Heart ruby.”
Connor turned to her. A hint of a scowl marked his rugged features. Was that suspicion in his eyes?
“What do you know of the stone, lass?”
“I came across the legend while researching a story I’d planned to set in the Highlands. The tales and myths of this land certainly provide inspiration for a harrowing plot.”
“You’ve read of its evil?”
“My research revealed some misfortunes supposedly connected to the stone. The curse even claimed a queen, or the legend goes.” She studied Connor’s face, taking in the grim set of his mouth and the hardness in his eyes.
“Aye, she lost her life to the executioner’s blade.”
“Surely Cranston puts no stock in such ridiculous tales.”
Connor’s eyes darkened. “The fool believes the curse is real. But there’s more.”
“The Deamhan’s Cridhe is one of the most powerful artifacts in Scotland,” Serena spoke up, her voice grave. “Perhaps in all of Europe. Many centuries ago, clan elders dubbed the ruby the Demon’s Heart. They believed the gem harbored a unique evil. Now, Cranston seeks to control the power of the stone.”
Johanna glanced at the vivid red heart on the map. Bracing herself against the instinctive warning that crept into the pit of her stomach, she met Serena’s gaze. “Surely you don’t believe such farfetched tales.”
To Johanna’s surprise, Serena’s mouth turned up into a hint of a smile. “If there is one thing I have learned, it is that I do not have a rational explanation for every phenomenon that occurs on this earth. I couldnae say with any conviction that I believe in the curse. But I cannae rule out the possibility that this artifact possesses some power we do not yet understand, unique properties that could be channeled for evil purposes.”
Connor’s dark brows settled into a stern line. “Ah, there ye go rambling on again. Ye’re a woman of science, Serena. How can ye spout such foolishness?”
Serena met his question with scathing focus. “Only a fool believes there’s nothing beyond his rational comprehension.”
“More nonsense,” he muttered.
“Regardless of yer opinion, we must proceed cautiously,” Serena went on. “Whether the Demon’s Heart is indeed the stuff of legend or merely a pretty bit of rock, Geoffrey Cranston believes in its power.”
A cursed gem. How absurd. Johanna drummed her fingers against the tabletop. Did the MacMasters all believe her so naive as to put any stock in such ramblings?
More likely, such talk was a diversion, meant to throw her off the path. After all, if she believed the grim whispers the stone inspired, she’d be more inclined to allow Connor MacMasters and his enigmatic sister to pursue the ruby for their own purposes. Surely they didn’t believe her
fool enough to fall for such nonsense.
Peering over her spectacles, Serena watched her. Quite lovely, that one. Yet the set of her mouth presented the air of a serious scientist, a scholar. Not a charlatan who raved about hexes and the like.
“Ye don’t believe me, Miss Templeton.”
Serena was direct. But that didn’t change a thing. The MacMasters’ interest in this treasure—whatever it truly was—was something they made no effort to conceal. The air of mystery Serena infused into the story made the idea that evil followed the ruby somewhat easier to swallow. A more gullible woman might actually be drawn into the fantasy. But Johanna spun tales for her living. She’d certainly tuck the notion of a cursed treasure away for a future story.
But for now, she had no time for such blather. She needed to get the book and the map to Cranston. The villain could discover for himself whether the ruby would be the source of his doom, or rather, simply a valuable gem that would significantly enrich his coffers.
She met Serena’s frosty gaze. “To be frank, I’d expected an analytical perspective, not the sort of tale best shared around a fire on a gloomy night. I doubt this preposterous curse would draw in a girl fresh from the schoolroom. If Cranston is after the Demon’s Heart, I assure you he seeks its monetary worth, not some despicable supernatural power.”
Serena hiked her chin and gave a dainty and utterly indignant sniff. “You believe I’ve concocted lies to deceive you?”
“No, I do not. As I told your brother, I am familiar with the legend. But a legend is not fact. I put no value on superstitious fears. I will not be deterred.”
Noting the wry twist of his mouth, the spark in his eyes, Johanna shot Connor a glare. He stepped close to Johanna, so near the heat of his body eased the chill that had settled over her.
“My sister does nae possess a deceptive bone in her body. She might believe the ramblings of unsophisticated men who had no way to explain the ills that came their way, but she would nae attempt to lead ye astray.”
Johanna folded her arms at the waist. With a long exhale, she steeled herself against the persuasive notes of his voice. “How convenient that these misfortunes are tied to a valuable gem. I suppose you will now tell me that we must keep the stone from Cranston, just in case there’s some truth to this hogwash about a hex.”
The Highlander Who Loved Me Page 17
