Laurel sniffed back fresh tears. She pressed a kiss to Johanna’s cheek, then took off as if the devil nipped her heels.
Ross took off in pursuit, but she was swift. And wily. Before he could close in on her, her small feet pounded through the portal and thumped down the corridor.
Cranston rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Leave the chit be. She’s not going anywhere. As for you, Miss Templeton—I fear your usefulness has reached an end.”
Her fingers curled around the brooch. The small knife offered little defense against the Webley revolver in Cranston’s right hand. However, the ivory comb might still be of use. Tucked within her curls, its piercing teeth would make a potent weapon. But Ross and Munro stood at the ready. If she struck out, the pair wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.
Blast it all, she needed a gun. Connor’s pistol had settled within an arm’s length of his still body. If she could retrieve it, she’d have a chance. Slim, indeed. But, a chance nonetheless.
“Give me the brooch.” Cranston extended a hand. “Matters will be simpler for you if you cooperate.”
She retracted the blade. It was of little use now. “Take it.”
Keeping his sharp focus on Johanna, he thrust the pin into his vest pocket. “I’m tempted to keep you with me. I’d enjoy breaking you.”
His words slithered through her resolve. “You would not succeed.”
His serpentine smile sickened her. “But wouldn’t it be amusing to try?”
“You’ll only waste your time.”
He shrugged. “First, I’ve got to deal with Ella’s unfinished business. I’d taken her for a better shot.” He toyed with his weapon for a moment, as if considering his next move. “The thing of it is, I always knew I’d enjoy killing this bastard. She nearly robbed me of the pleasure. But one must settle for what one can get.”
Johanna edged closer to Connor. His weapon was close. Almost within her reach. “He’ll die soon enough.”
“He’s like a damn cat. Nine lives.” Cranston smiled. “None left after this one.”
The roar of a long gun thundered through the chamber. Ross’s howl of pain blurred with the deafening report. He crashed to the floor, desperately grabbing at what was left of his leg.
A battered figure stood in the doorway. Clothes torn and bloodied. Traces of gray powder streaked his dark hair. Gerard!
His gun was trained on Munro. “Ye’re next. Throw down your weapon.”
Cranston kept Johanna in his sights. “I’ll kill her,” he said almost casually. “You’re outnumbered. Your brother is dying. And Munro will put a hole in you as big as the head on your shoulders.”
The mountain of a man swayed on his tree-trunk legs. He stepped back in retreat.
“Kill him,” Cranston ordered.
Munro held his tongue. Johanna traced the path of the big man’s stare. To a now conscious Connor.
To the gun in the Scot’s hand.
“Kill him,” Cranston ground out the command. “What the bloody hell—”
He snapped his attention to Connor, a heartbeat before the Highlander pulled the trigger.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The acrid stench of gunpowder filled the air. Johanna rushed to Connor, her pulse hammering a breakneck beat.
He’d pushed himself up on an elbow, looking rather pleased with himself. She crouched at his side amid a puddle of her skirts. Joy broke through the shell of misery encasing her heart, and she blinked back tears.
He reached out to brush away a fat drop with the pad of his finger. “Ye weren’t weeping when that bastard had a gun in yer ribs. But now…” Sudden understanding glimmered in his eyes.
“I thought…I thought you were dying.” Oh, how the words pierced her heart. Another tear trickled down her cheek.
“So did I,” he said simply. “It still hurts somethin’ fierce.”
“Hurts…” She shook her head as if that might clear her confusion. “The countess pulled the trigger. I saw her put a bullet in your chest.”
He caught her hand and tapped two fingers against his chest. A metallic ding met her touch. “Brenna’s a clever lass.”
“Armor?” Johanna’s heart slowed its frantic pace. “Beneath your clothing.”
“She sacrificed fine silver platters to make this device. The front and back of my chest are protected.”
“Brilliant.” Her fingers danced over his stubble-covered chin. Despite Brenna’s deflector, he’d taken quite a risk. “Thank heaven that witch did not aim higher.”
“Aye. If she had, I wouldnae be talking to ye now. It was a chance I had to take.” He glanced away, as if that would hide the emotion that darkened his eyes to the color of a forest at dusk. Grimacing, he pushed himself to a sitting position, then to his feet. “The bairn? She is well?”
“I told her to hide. I must go after her.”
Behind them, Gerard had secured Munro and Ross as prisoners. Connor turned to his brother. “Ye’re still as stubborn as ever. I didnae expect to see yer face, looking pale as a specter as ye do.”
“I told you I could still ride since these fools were daft enough to leave their mounts behind.” Gerard nodded to Cranston’s henchmen. “Thoughtful of ye, gents.”