“She betrayed me. Took me for a fool. But now, I control the stone. I’ve come to negotiate an exchange.”
A malicious gleam lit the countess’s eyes. “How very noble—the woman and the child for the jewel.”
“Nay. I dinnae possess a noble bone in my body. The bluidy bauble is worth a fortune. ’Tis time I reaped the rewards of my efforts.” Connor’s gaze flickered to Johanna’s for the merest of moments. “The lass has value. We dinnae know what she knows. Ye willnae hurt her.”
“Quite so.” The countess shot Cranston a sidelong glance. “There’s no telling what Abbott confided in her. After the bounder obtained the book, he learned its secrets. He reneged on our agreement. Some blather about his conscience and the power the Demon’s Heart would bestow.”
Johanna’s pulse stuttered at the revelation. She steadied herself with a slow, deep breath. Laurel’s father had refused to place the cursed stone in Cranston’s hands. Richard Abbott had tried to protect them all from the evil. And he’d paid with his life.
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “So you killed Abbott—your biggest supplier.”
“I enjoyed that privilege.” The countess’s tones were cool and smooth as silk. “The scoundrel didn’t know what to make of it…at first. I believe he thought I was playing one of the little games he liked.”
“Enough,” Cranston clipped. “Have some decency, will you? There is a child…”
“Bah.” The countess waved away the objection while eyeing Connor up and down like a tasty treat. “This one, well, he might be worth keeping alive. For a while.”
Cranston dug his fingers deeper into Johanna’s flesh, as if he pretended her limb was the countess’s slender throat. She couldn’t see his expression, but she felt the cold rage in his hold.
“Why did Abbott have to die?” Connor delved deeper.
“He ran when he realized we were on to him. Foolish man,” the countess said. “Our associate in London knew what he was up to. She killed his partner.”
“MacInnis?”
The countess nodded. “The coward deserved what he got.”
“And his wife?”
“Plain, dull thing that she was, she didn’t pose a threat. Not at first. Not until the shrew babbled accusations to anyone who would listen.”
MacMasters cocked his head. “So your associate arranged an accident?”
“She’s most clever. Uniquely skilled in her trade.”
“Mrs. Smythe?”
The countess’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “Ever the operative, eh, MacMasters? Truthfully, I know little about her, and I prefer to keep it that way. I’ve no desire to meet with an accident of my own, if you take my meaning.”
“Why did Abbott come to Scotland?”
“This is all rather pointless, wouldn’t you agree?” She flicked an errant tendril of hair behind her ear. “Abbott is no longer a problem. Unlike you, Mr. MacMasters.”
“Release the woman and the bairn. Then we’ll discuss the stone.”
She fixed Connor with a diamond-hard gaze. Assessing the truth in his eyes.
“He’s lying,” The countess said, her voice soft as velvet, yet edged with steel. “He cares for her. This isn’t about silver for his coffers. It’s about her.”
Connor met the accusation without so much as a blink. He leveled his pistol with Cranston in his sights. “Let them go. Now.”
Gunmetal jabbed against Johanna’s corseted ribs. She drew in another low breath, bracing herself against the fear that nearly buckled her knees.
“You dare threaten me?” Cranston’s low tones were eerily calm. Almost civilized. “I’ll kill her. What’s more blood on my hands?”
“Release her. Before I send ye to hell.”
“Ross and Munro have their weapons trained on you.” Cranston ground out the words. “Lower your gun and throw it down. Then the other.”
Connor held his aim. “They won’t take the shot. Not when I can still take yer head off yer shoulders.”
“An excellent point. Those louts would not take that risk.” The countess slid one hand away from her voluminous silk skirt. Gaslight glinted off the polished barrel of a small pistol. She smiled. “But I would.”
A shot exploded in Johanna’s ears.
Connor went still. Deathly so. When he spoke, his rugged brogue was hushed. “Johanna.”
He collapsed. His lids shuttered his eyes.
Laurel’s scream tore Johanna from her terrified haze. Huddled in a corner, hands pressed to her ears, tears streamed down the child’s face. Torn between the longing to comfort her and the need to convince herself that Connor MacMasters had not taken his last breath, Johanna’s heart wrenched in her chest.
Cranston’s hold eased. Seizing the moment, she darted to Connor’s side.
“Ella, have you gone mad?” Cranston bellowed. “He might’ve taken my head off.”
“At times, a woman must take matters into her own hands.” The countess’s icy gaze trailed Johanna. “As I suspected, you do harbor fondness for the Highlander. Don’t grieve too much, dear. You’ll soon join him.”