“Will you tell her, brother? Or must I?”
“Aye, it’s gibberish, but I’ll tell her.” Connor jabbed a finger toward a spot on the map marked by the symbol that looked like a heart torn in two. “We believe Cranston seeks an artifact—a ruby, red as heart’s blood. Throughout the centuries, all who came to possess the stone met with horrible fates. The tragedies spurred wild tales. Talk of curses and powers beyond the realm of possibility.”
A treasure that wrought death and destruction. Rubbish, indeed. Johanna stared down at the icon on the map. Oddly, while most of the ink on the map had faded to a faint shadow of black, the carefully drawn heart blazed deep crimson, the color of blood.
Comprehension washed over Johanna like a storm-roughened tide. “Good heavens, you believe he’s after the Demon’s Heart ruby.”
Connor turned to her. A hint of a scowl marked his rugged features. Was that suspicion in his eyes?
“What do you know of the stone, lass?”
“I came across the legend while researching a story I’d planned to set in the Highlands. The tales and myths of this land certainly provide inspiration for a harrowing plot.”
“You’ve read of its evil?”
“My research revealed some misfortunes supposedly connected to the stone. The curse even claimed a queen, or the legend goes.” She studied Connor’s face, taking in the grim set of his mouth and the hardness in his eyes.
“Aye, she lost her life to the executioner’s blade.”
“Surely Cranston puts no stock in such ridiculous tales.”
Connor’s eyes darkened. “The fool believes the curse is real. But there’s more.”
“The Deamhan’s Cridhe is one of the most powerful artifacts in Scotland,” Serena spoke up, her voice grave. “Perhaps in all of Europe. Many centuries ago, clan elders dubbed the ruby the Demon’s Heart. They believed the gem harbored a unique evil. Now, Cranston seeks to control the power of the stone.”
Johanna glanced at the vivid red heart on the map. Bracing herself against the instinctive warning that crept into the pit of her stomach, she met Serena’s gaze. “Surely you don’t believe such farfetched tales.”
To Johanna’s surprise, Serena’s mouth turned up into a hint of a smile. “If there is one thing I have learned, it is that I do not have a rational explanation for every phenomenon that occurs on this earth. I couldnae say with any conviction that I believe in the curse. But I cannae rule out the possibility that this artifact possesses some power we do not yet understand, unique properties that could be channeled for evil purposes.”
Connor’s dark brows settled into a stern line. “Ah, there ye go rambling on again. Ye’re a woman of science, Serena. How can ye spout such foolishness?”
Serena met his question with scathing focus. “Only a fool believes there’s nothing beyond his rational comprehension.”
“More nonsense,” he muttered.
“Regardless of yer opinion, we must proceed cautiously,” Serena went on. “Whether the Demon’s Heart is indeed the stuff of legend or merely a pretty bit of rock, Geoffrey Cranston believes in its power.”
A cursed gem. How absurd. Johanna drummed her fingers against the tabletop. Did the MacMasters all believe her so naive as to put any stock in such ramblings?
More likely, such talk was a diversion, meant to throw her off the path. After all, if she believed the grim whispers the stone inspired, she’d be more inclined to allow Connor MacMasters and his enigmatic sister to pursue the ruby for their own purposes. Surely they didn’t believe her fool enough to fall for such nonsense.
Peering over her spectacles, Serena watched her. Quite lovely, that one. Yet the set of her mouth presented the air of a serious scientist, a scholar. Not a charlatan who raved about hexes and the like.
“Ye don’t believe me, Miss Templeton.”
Serena was direct. But that didn’t change a thing. The MacMasters’ interest in this treasure—whatever it truly was—was something they made no effort to conceal. The air of mystery Serena infused into the story made the idea that evil followed the ruby somewhat easier to swallow. A more gullible woman might actually be drawn into the fantasy. But Johanna spun tales for her living. She’d certainly tuck the notion of a cursed treasure away for a future story.
But for now, she had no time for such blather. She needed to get the book and the map to Cranston. The villain could discover for himself whether the ruby would be the source of his doom, or rather, simply a valuable gem that would significantly enrich his coffers.
She met Serena’s frosty gaze. “To be frank, I’d expected an analytical perspective, not the sort of tale best shared around a fire on a gloomy night. I doubt this preposterous curse would draw in a girl fresh from the schoolroom. If Cranston is after the Demon’s Heart, I assure you he seeks its monetary worth, not some despicable supernatural power.”