Cranston’s features revealed little of his thoughts. “And we are to believe you’ve called upon the power of the stone to protect the brat?”
“Of course you would doubt my warning. But you must heed what I am saying. The incantation is peculiar. Yet, one cannot hear it without understanding its meaning.” Johanna met his cold-eyed gaze. “Would you care to hear just a bit of the sorceress’s words?”
“Do enlighten us, Miss Templeton,” he said.
“Very well.” Johanna paused to drink in a breath. “A ruby pure as heart’s blood, my gift is my shield, eternal and valiant.”
The countess tilted her head, taking in the words, as Cranston rubbed his jaw, seeming to ponder the meaning.
“My wee girl, my vengeance will follow any who dare to harm ye. The innocent shall not suffer.” Johanna pinned him with her eyes. “Shall I go on?”
“That will not be necessary. I’ve heard enough of this rubbish.” Despite his dismissive words, Cranston’s voice had grown tense, even as his complexion paled. “The child will not be harmed, provided that you surrender the stone. You have my word.”
“Very well.” Johanna had succeeded in planting the seed of fear. But she could not deceive herself. His greed would soon outweigh any doubt she’d stirred.
Cranston pulled his mouth into an emotionless line. “Now, tell me the truth. Where is the Demon’s Heart?”
“The gem is well protected.” A miracle, how steady her voice remained. And then, for effect, “No harm will come to it.”
“You expect us to believe MacMasters does not know where you’ve stashed it? The man is not a fool.”
She shook her head, curt and dismissive. “The arrogant boor did not even suspect what I’d done. He’s not nearly so bright as you credit him.”
“This discussion has grown tiresome. Where is the stone?” The countess’s icy gaze fixed on the brooch. For a breath, she went silent, even as an avaricious gleam flashed in her eyes. “My, my, I do believe the conniving little wench is bolder than we’d anticipated.”
Cranston’s brow furrowed. “What in blazes do you mean?”
A Cheshire Cat smile tipped the countess’s mouth. “Her brooch. A breathtaking ruby, indeed.”
His attention snapped to Johanna. Red streaked his pale complexion. “You’ve hidden the stone…right under our blasted noses.”
“Would I be so foolish?” The question was a taunt.
“The brooch.” He ground out the words. “Remove it.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I’ll tear it off you.” Judging from the vigor in his tone, the thought excited him.
“Very well.” Johanna held very still. “But first, have the countess unhand my niece.”
“Give the brooch to me.” The countess dug her fingers into Laurel’s wrist. “Then, you may have the brat.”
Laurel bucked against the restraint. “Let me go!”
“You little wretch.” The countess eyed the blade in her hand. “I’ll teach you to defy your betters.”
Fear spurred every nerve in Johanna’s body to full alert. She lifted her fingers to her hair, brushing against the comb. One move of the countess’s hand, and she’d plunge the sharpened ivory teeth into the bitch’s throat.
Cranston frowned. “For God’s sake, Ella, release the child. I’ve no patience for your theatrics.”
With a huff, the countess uncurled her fingers. Johanna let out a sigh of relief as Laurel darted to Johanna’s side. Catching handfuls of skirt between trembling fingers, the girl smothered a cry against the fabric.
“Now, Miss Templeton, may we resume our talk?” Cranston said, proper as a banker discussing a mortgage.
“Of course.”
“I’ll have the brooch. Now.”
“Very well.” Her trembling fingers rebuffed her attempt at control. Finally, she managed to release the clasp.
“Give it to me,” he commanded.
She extended her hand, displaying the jewel. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
And lethal, given the right circumstance.
Leaning closer, he moved to take the gem, but she closed her fingers around it. Now was not the time for trepidation. She must appear bold. Uncowed. Perhaps as hardened as Laurel’s captors.
“I attempted a gambit but you were too clever to fool,” Johanna said, maintaining control of the brooch. “As soon as you ensure my niece’s safety and my own, I am prepared to declare you the victor in this quest. You will have the stone. You have the book. The girl and I will be on our way out of this hellhole.”
The detached, emotionless hunger in Cranston’s eyes sliced through Johanna’s thin veneer of courage. What did the cur have in mind? Her teeth grazed her lower lip, but she quashed the small movement. The pin pressed against her palm, needling the sensitive flesh, but she held tight.
Slowly, he shook his head. “You misunderstand my intentions. You will not be leaving.”