“No! Don’t hurt her.” Johanna bucked against Ross’s restraint. “She has no part in this.”
“Sadly, you are again mistaken.” The gleam in Cranston’s eyes betrayed his enjoyment at the cruel game he played. “The girl may be nothing more than a pawn. But a pawn’s sacrifice may play a vital role on the path to checkmate.”
“Don’t…don’t touch her.”
“You think I would hurt this darling child?” The countess smiled, then shot Munro a look of disdain. “Let her go, you buffoon.”
Munro dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back. Then another.
“Move away,” the countess said. “We no longer require your services.”
“Aye.” He bobbed his head like a marionette whose strings had gone limp. Without taking his eyes from the woman, he sidestepped out of her reach.
The countess’s gaze shot to Ross. “There is no need for violence. Not yet.”
With a grunt of acknowledgment, he released Johanna. Keeping Laurel in her sight, she edged away.
The countess tipped up Laurel’s chin with one finger. “So, my dear, tell me what you would like to do.”
“I want to go home…to London…with Aunt Jo.” Laurel’s voice was clear and steady. Brave girl.
“We would like that as well,” the countess said. “But first, your aunt must give us what belongs to us.”
“I have given you the book.” Johanna fought the apprehension that threatened to shred her fragile composure. “I came a long way to bring you what you required.”
The countess drew a fingertip over Laurel’s rounded cheek. “What have you been taught about telling the truth?”
Laurel looked away, as if she sensed the malice in the countess’s syrupy tones. “One must always tell the truth.”
“Then tell me, why is your dear aunt lying to me?”
Laurel’s face fixed in a frown, and she met the countess’s gaze. “Aunt Jo is not lying. If she is not telling you everything, it is because she knows…how very evil you are.”
Cold rage flared in the countess’s eyes. “Ah, child, you’ve no idea.”
“Let her go.” Johanna swallowed against the bile in her throat. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just let her go.”
“The chit needs to be taught to respect her betters.” The countess slid a hand along her skirts, seeming to smooth them as she’d done moments earlier. But this time, she produced a dagger. The excitement in her eyes betrayed her bloodlust as beams of light from the chandelier glittered over the razor-honed blade.
Johanna’s mind raced. Connor had vowed to rescue Laurel, to be there when Johanna needed him. In her heart, his words rang true. But deadly obstacles surrounded Cranston and his fortress. Connor would come to her if…no, she banished the doubt…when he could.
But that might be too late.
She could not wait to be rescued. She’d come to bring Laurel home.
And she would, whatever the cost.
The ivory hair comb would serve as a first line of defense. But the brooch with its hidden knife was a more effective weapon. How could she access the piece while Cranston and his evil shrew watched her every move? She needed a more powerful distraction, a convincing reason to remove the pin.
First, she needed to buy time.
“If you hurt her, I won’t tell you about the stone.”
“That’s better,” Cranston said. “I know MacMasters took the map. He’d think to look for it, even if you were fool enough to believe I’d gone to these lengths for a bloody book.”
“I don’t know anything about a map. I don’t need one.” Johanna prayed the lie sounded convincing. “You see, I have the stone.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cranston and the countess studied Johanna, as if trying to work out the truth for themselves. Clearly, her declaration had set them off base, and for the moment, she’d gotten the upper hand on the curs. Now, to maintain that slight advantage.
The countess’s flinty stare reflected her distrust. “You have the Demon’s Heart?”
“Yes.” The single syllable was bitter on Johanna’s tongue. The words that followed were no less unpalatable. But they were necessary as a pungent tonic. “Did you really think I’d trust that ruffian with the jewel?”
Cranston surveyed her with an assessing eye. “So, you admit you planned to deceive us.”
“You are a man of the world. Is it reasonable to expect honor among thieves?”
His lips thinned. “You try my patience. You may be too bold for your own good.”
“Meekness is not an asset in negotiation.” Johanna held his piercing gaze. “You specified the book in exchange for my niece. Initially, I took your demand at face value. MacMasters’s involvement led me to believe there was more at stake. I convinced him to lead me to the gem. And then, I took it. A bit of insurance, so to speak.”
Cranston’s gray eyes betrayed no sign of anger. Merely a sharp and admiring—grudgingly so, no doubt—curiosity as to her cunning ways.
“Do you expect me to believe you came here intending to surrender the stone?”