Maggie laughed, a lilting, cheerful sound. The giggle touched Johanna’s heart, even as it triggered a keen longing. How wonderful to grow up in such a large and loving family, with brothers and sisters whose smiling eyes betrayed their caring even when their voices were gruff or teasing. Seeing Connor and Maggie’s affectionate banter, she missed her own brother and sister all the more. Peter and Cynthia had been grand playmates and confidants when they had been children. Comfortable within their parents’ well-kept home, they’d been nearly inseparable. Until they grew up and distance, both physical and emotional, had come between them. And now, Cynthia was lost to her forever. But she would find Laurel. She’d bring her sister’s darling child to safety.
“That may well be true. But Gerard’s timing is perfect. Mrs. Bailey’s prepared quite a feast in honor of our guest.” Maggie’s smile lit on Johanna. “I trust ye’ve a taste for Scottish fare.”
“There’s no time,” Connor spoke before Johanna could reply. “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Maggie and Johanna uttered the question at the same time. The word echoed in Johanna’s mind. Her stomach wobbled a bit, but she took a calming breath. Surely she’d misunderstood.
He fixed his attention on his sister. She’d gone pale. Slowly, she took a step back, as if removing herself from the field of battle.
“Maggie, I expect ye to see to Miss Templeton’s comfort while she’s here. She’s not to feel like a stranger.”
His words shredded Johanna’s composed veneer. She whipped around. Facing him, hands on her hips, she met his level gaze.
“While I’m here? I’ve no intention of staying put while you run off after that stone.”
His head moved slowly side to side. “Yer intentions don’t mean a damn thing. I’m not dragging ye into a viper’s nest.”
“You cannot stop me. My niece—”
He stared down at her, the look in his eyes as unyielding as his flinty rasp. “Yer presence will endanger the bairn. It’s a complication I don’t need.”
Anger rippled through Johanna’s veins. “This is not your battle. Cranston is expecting me to come for Laurel. Not you.”
“I’ve pledged to bring the child to safety. I cannae protect ye and the girl at the same time.” His voice was low and gruff, his words hard and piercing as a stiletto.
“I do not need your protection. I would value your assistance, but I will not stand by like some helpless damsel in distress while you charge into a fight that is not of your making.”
“The battle between the MacMasters clan and Cranston and his bastard thugs has been in the making for a long time.”
“Whatever you have planned, I am going with you.” Johanna layered her tone with ice and steel.
“Out of the question.” His words boomed like a king’s edict. The gall of the man.
“What’s this about?” Gerard ambled toward them. The taut set of his features contradicted his easy movements. How much of the discussion had he overheard?
“Nothing that’s of concern to ye.” Connor’s glare might have intimidated another man, but his brother only shrugged.
“If Miss Templeton needs an escort, she may consider me at her service.” Gerard kept his expression dispassionate. “Whatever ye require, Johanna.”
“Like hell ye will,” Connor said, his expression hard as flint. “She is to remain at Dunnhaven, under MacMasters’ protection. I won’t chance her safety.”
“I am under no one’s protection.”
Connor turned to her. “I willnae discuss this beyond the walls of the house. Others could be lurking about.”
“Do you see danger everywhere?” she challenged him.
“’Tis a fact of life when ye’re a MacMasters. Come inside. We’ll continue this discussion there.”
“I do not consider this a discussion. But if it pleases you, we may continue within the walls of that fortress you call a home.”
He whipped his brother a glare. “I need a word with ye.”
Gerard folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “There is not a damned thing wrong with my hearing. Speak yer mind.”
Connor marched to where his brother stood. “Yer presence is not needed. She’s not some cow-brained lass ye need to rescue, straight into yer bed.” His rough-edged tones were low, purposefully quiet. But Johanna’s keen ears made out each word.
“To hell with ye.” Gerard snapped around and marched toward the stables.
Connor turned his gaze on his sister. “Ye need to gather another dress or two for Miss Templeton. And whatever else she might need.”
“Aye, Connor.” Maggie cast Johanna an impish smile before scurrying into the house.
Without another word, Connor led Johanna into the house and escorted her into a room lined with bookshelves from ceiling to floor. Leather-bound volumes, precisely shelved, filled the walls. Windows adorned with stained glass graced the north wall. Upon closer look, she realized the colorful panes featured skilled depictions of Highland flora and fauna, lending the room a warmth she hadn’t anticipated. A grand library, the stuff of an author’s dreams. If only she wasn’t too incensed with Connor to drink in the enchanting space.
“This room was my grandmother’s pride and joy,” he said, pride coloring his deep tones. “She was a learned woman. Independent as they come. She poured her energy into this collection.” He moved with an effortless grace to an immense mahogany desk. He leaned against the piece, deceptively relaxed. “Ye said this was not a discussion, Johanna. Ye’re right. A discussion makes sense. But the notion that I’d deliver ye to Cranston is damned absurd.”
If only he didn’t study her with such intensity, she could cast aside his remarks. As it stood, the determination in his gaze spurred a flicker of uncertainty. She extinguished it, steeling herself against him.
“I can’t say that I give a fig about yer opinion, Mr. MacMasters. I know what must be done.”
“Ye need to stay as far from that bastard as ye can. Ye’re not one of the lasses in yer tales, and I’m not some daft hero willing to die to save ye.”
Something in his eyes flashed, contradicting his words. Connor would do whatever it took to protect her. Heaven knew he’d already proven that. But he didn’t want to face that choice. She understood his reluctance, better than he believed. But that changed nothing. Even a brave, bold man like Connor MacMasters could not guarantee her niece’s safety if Cranston realized he’d come for the child in Johanna’s place.
“I don’t need you to defend me. After we find Cranston, I won’t need your help. At that point, you can turn and walk away.”
“Like hell I will. I’m no coward, lass. But I understand damned well what you’ll be dealing with, something ye dinnae ken.”
The granite set of his features made it clear he would not be swayed. Unless…unless he believed her indispensable. If only she possessed something Cranston wanted. Something beyond the book and the damnable stone.
Something precious only she could offer.
Her mind whirled. Surely the sequence of numbers her brother-in-law had noted in his correspondence was significant. Perhaps the digits were a code. Or something else, some key to the treasure Cranston was willing to kill to possess.
She’d burned the letter from Mr. Abbott. Only she knew its contents. Only she could offer that information to Laurel’s kidnapper.
She steadied her voice. Any sign of hesitation would weaken her cause. “The book is worthless to Cranston without me.”
“The man wants the stone. He knows full well what he’s after. Unless ye possess the ruby, ye’re of no use to him.”
“I’ve reason to believe there is another component…a key to the jewel’s powers, so to speak. Cranston requires my presence. There can only be one reason for his demand.”
Connor’s handsome features settled into a scowl that might’ve silenced a banshee. “What is this foolishness? This morning, ye did not believe in the stone’s powers. Now ye’re speaking of spells to contr
ol it?”
She slowly shook her head. “Not a spell. But a code.”
“Ye believe the code is a means to finding the stone?”
“Yes.”
The word hung between them for a long moment. His eyes narrowed. Hardened. “It’s written in that journal of yers?”
“Of course not. Do you take me for a fool?” She tapped a finger to her brow. “It’s right here. In my memory.”
He stared down at her. “Ye expect me to believe ye’ve been carrying around a bluidy code in yer head?”
“Precisely.” Quite a wonder her voice remained steady.
His mouth thinned. “And ye did not intend to share this revelation with me?”
“Of course not.”
He rubbed his neck as if he had a twinge. “So, how is it ye were privy to this information? Or do ye intend to withhold yer source as well?”
“It’s quite simple, actually. Shortly before I received word that my niece was being held for ransom, a letter arrived in the post. From my brother-in-law.”
Connor eyed her skeptically. “And this letter…it included crucial intelligence?”
“Indeed. In revealing its existence, I’ve already gone against his instructions, which were quite clear. I would not have disclosed any of this to you had I not felt it a matter of dire importance.”
“Ye believe the code possess some hidden meaning?”
“It leads to the treasure.” She infused her words with certainty. “At least, I suspect that to be the case.”
Connor’s forest-green gaze penetrated her defenses. When he looked at her, the doubt in his eyes shook her to the core. He didn’t believe her. Not quite.
“Tell me what the conniving cheat told ye, Johanna. Whatever it is, ye can trust me.”
Johanna studied him, keeping her expression deliberately placid. “I can trust no one with the information I have been entrusted with. No one.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest. “Ye know I will not betray ye or the bairn. Ye must tell me what ye know.”
“No. There is no other option.” Johanna pulled in a steadying breath. “Cranston expects that I will deliver the ransom. I suspect he knows about the letter.”
“So I’m to believe there’s no choice—ye must go to that blackguard? And all because ye can recite some blasted secret code—a code I cannot confirm exists because you will not reveal it to me?”
“That is correct, Mr. MacMasters.”
His scowl darkened. “I’d tell ye what I think, but I wouldn’t want to offend a lady’s ears.”
She cocked her chin. He would not intimidate her. “I must find my niece. You will not stop me.”
“Ye think ye will make it to Cranston unscathed? God’s teeth, he’s not inviting ye to take tea and biscuits with him. Ye dinnae ken what he is capable of.”
“I am well aware the man is vile and without conscience. But that changes nothing.”
Emotion flared in eyes dark as molten jade. Anger. And something more, as cryptic as the symbols in the damnable book. “And ye insist on putting yerself within his reach?”
She held his gaze. “I will rescue my niece. With you. Or without you. You can take that as a vow.”
He watched her for a long moment, an eternity, or so it seemed. Reaching for a decanter on the desk, he poured whisky in a crystal glass and downed it. “I’ll deliver ye to the jackal.” He pinned her with those green eyes of his. “But it will be on my terms.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Johanna saw the resistance flickering in Connor’s eyes. He still regarded her with suspicion. Not surprising, really. But she’d planted the possibility in his mind, the chance that she possessed knowledge of the blasted stone that he did not. Like a burr beneath his saddle, the need to discover the truth would bedevil him until he had his answer.
Even so, her stomach twisted in knots. He’d been undeniably courageous, protecting her at every turn. But she could not reveal the code. That potentially crucial bit of information was the only advantage she possessed. By all rights, she should not have disclosed its existence until she could use it as a bargaining chip with Laurel’s kidnapper.
What choice had Connor given her? She had to convince him she was indispensable. Laurel needed her. Even if he rescued the girl from Cranston’s clutches, she’d be absolutely terrified if Johanna was not there to reassure her.
Pity she had no practical skills to employ against the blackguards surrounding Cranston. She’d no experience wielding a dagger, and truth be told, she’d fired a pistol twice in her lifetime. Oh, she’d be capable of pulling the trigger, but her accuracy was up for debate. Even seduction was not a talent she possessed. If Connor’s resistance to her limited charms was any indication, she’d have little chance of bending Cranston or his henchmen to her will with batted lashes and a feminine sway of her hips.
The only asset she possessed at this moment was the knowledge Mr. Abbott had entrusted to her. Though Connor wasn’t entirely convinced that the code was more than a figment of her imagination, he wouldn’t leave her behind. Not now. At the moment, that was all that really mattered.
Lowering her gaze, Johanna moved to the desk. “Sherry?” she asked, touching a crystal decanter filled with burgundy liquid.
“Aye.”
She half-filled a small glass and took a sip. The rich, potent warmth eased her nerves. If only Connor wouldn’t look at her with that perceptive, intelligent gaze that seemed to strip away her mental armor.
He turned to the shelves and pulled a tome from a shelf an arm’s length higher than his head. “I’m going after the stone.”
“There’s no time. We must—”
He removed another volume. A mechanical groan rippled through the room, a dull protest like the grind of iron gears in need of oiling. Johanna cut off her protest, gaping in amazement as the shelves shuddered. A massive volume trembled on the shelf, quaking to the edge until it plummeted to the floor near Connor’s feet. The shelves retreated back, disappearing into the recesses behind the wall. With another fierce metallic moan, a massive cabinet marked with a combination dial emerged. The vault slid into the span the bookcase had occupied and settled with a thud.
Offering no explanation, he manipulated the lock. The door swung open.
Good heavens! She’d never seen such an armory. Long guns, revolvers, palm-sized pistols. Mechanized weapons she could not even identify. All at Connor’s disposal.
He coolly removed a rifle, appearing to test its weight. Light gleamed off its polished stock. He met her questioning gaze. “The stone is our best chance. Without it, we have no leverage. Cranston won’t harm the girl. Not while he believes he has something to lose. But if ye have nothing to barter, he’ll show no mercy.”
“But the book—”
“The book may be more dangerous than the stone. There’s been no time to determine if other codes are hidden within the text. But one thing is clear—someone inscribed that book—someone who knew about the Demon’s Heart.”
Her heart lurched into her throat. For a breath, words would not come. She would not leave this place without the ransom. Finally, she managed to speak. “Cranston has made his demands quite clear.”
“Ye will deliver the book to him, but first we must secure the stone. He cannot be allowed to get his hands on both.”
Her pulse slowed its thunderous beat. “Very well. I understand your strategy.”
He propped the long gun against the desk. “Ye need to trust me, Johanna.”
Taking a pistol and a derringer from the vault, he placed them on the desk and turned back to the armory. He selected one of three elegant walking sticks. With what appeared a careless motion, his thumb ran along an intricate carving on the ebony wood. The rod split, revealing several inter-connected pieces. With a few deft movements, Connor expanded the components and transformed the cane into what appeared to be a crossbow. With a hint of a smile, he displayed the intricately engineered weapon.
“Most
impressive,” she said. “Designed by your kin, no doubt.”
“We cannae take credit for this. One of our associates in Edinburgh thought it up.”
“I presume you know how to use it.”
“Aye.” His expression softened as he looked at her for a long moment. He set the crossbow with the other weapons. “It will go better for both of us if ye have a bit of faith.”
“I’ve learned to rely on my own backbone.”
He leaned closer, the look in his eyes challenging everything she believed true. “Is that so?”
A dark little laugh escaped her. “I’ve never found a man worthy of my confidence, Mr. MacMasters.”
“That’s a bluidy shame.” He swept a fingertip over her cheek, brushing the sensitive flesh of the lips he’d kissed so ardently that morning. “Well, Miss Templeton, I suppose I’ll have to prove ye wrong.”
…
Johanna Templeton was going to be his undoing. If his cock got its way, Connor would have her in his arms…in his bed…before they even went after the damned ruby. But it was the desire she stirred deep within that troubled him. Being near Johanna had unleashed a fierce need. Not only for her luscious mouth, but for her trust, for her respect. When he was around her, he wanted to be her hero. A blasted knight charging to the rescue. He’d never claimed a chivalrous bone in his body. And this was a damned inconvenient time for such ridiculous notions to fill his brain.
Heroes took risks smart men didn’t. Heroes fought with their instincts, not their intellect. Heroes sacrificed their own safety to protect a lass like Johanna.
Heroes died.
God above, he’d never been a coward. He’d squared off against evil men, and he’d won the fight. He’d never shirked from harm’s way.
But he’d faced danger on his own terms. Calculating his odds. Assessing the shrewdest strategy to achieve his objective and walk away. He’d never rushed headlong into it.
Until he’d caught his first glimpse of Johanna.
She didn’t want to put her trust in him. Hell, he wouldn’t blame her, if he were in her shoes. A bairn’s life was at stake. In Johanna’s heart, that wee lass took precedence over recovering a long-hidden relic.
The Highlander Who Loved Me Page 21
