A shiver trickled over Johanna like icy rain slipping down her spine. With a sigh, she brushed away the instinctive warning. Maggie’s words were nothing more than family lore, fanciful tales repeated over centuries to explain the actions of men driven not by rational analysis, but fear.
Such nonsensical talk had no place in the nineteenth century. Johanna bit back her scoffing words. She’d no reason to openly challenge Maggie’s convictions. Let the girl believe what she wanted. The clan legends would have no impact on Johanna’s actions. After all, she was a modern woman. She’d be a fool to succumb to irrational fright. Heaven knew she had enough fear to face—flesh-and-blood villains who used violence and terror to destroy anyone who stood in their path.
At least Connor MacMasters did not place any stock in the legend. His interest in the stone was practical and most likely, mercenary. He knew the ruby’s value and no doubt wanted to claim it. If doing so meant depriving Cranston of his prize, so much the better for MacMasters.
He’d promised her that he’d go after Laurel. But could she believe the word of a man who’d pursued her all the way from London to get his hands on the treasure demanded by his enemy? MacMasters had courage, she’d give him that. He’d protected her. But he’d had reason to ensure she stayed alive. Could she trust him to protect a life that held no benefit to him? Would Connor MacMasters cast aside his own quest in order to save a child he didn’t know, the daughter of a man he regarded as a blackguard?
Even now, Johanna could not fathom the Highlander’s true intentions.
She had to change that. She would insist on being a part of whatever scheme he had in mind. And she’d use any means necessary to derive as much information as she could from the man.
He desired her. He hadn’t been able to hide that fact. Surely she could use that to her advantage. Of course, she’d have to keep her head about her, steel herself against the heady physical response to his touch. When Connor kissed her, her desire ran roughshod over her logical mind. But she’d be prepared this time. She’d know to brace herself against her body’s demands. Dash it all if she wouldn’t do just that.
“Connor has always done things his own way.” Maggie’s tone was firm, but notes of concern laced her voice. “I can only pray his pursuit of the stone does not lead to disaster.”
“Where has your brother gone? I’ve seen no sign of him since our morning meal.”
Maggie’s shoulders lifted and fell. “When he’s in a foul mood—and I assure ye he is—he often takes off on his big beast of a horse. If he’s still on the grounds, ye can likely find him in the stables. When he was younger, guests to Dunnhaven often mistook him for a stable boy.”
A recollection wafted through Johanna’s mind, mingled scents of leather and whisky. Embers of response stirred to flame low in her core. Swallowing hard against her body’s betrayal, she forced a bland expression.
“I should speak with him. I need to know what’s on his mind, what his plans are.”
Maggie’s lips pulled to a sliver, and she nodded. “Aye, ye’d best be direct with him. Understanding subtlety isnae my brother’s strength.”
“Will you take me to the stable, given that’s my best hope of finding him?”
“Of course. But I’ll stay out of sight once I point ye on yer way. If Connor sees me, he’ll say I’m meddling in his affairs.”
“Thank you. I completely understand.”
Maggie swung her long legs off the settee. Worry darkened her eyes. “Ye’ll try to talk some sense into him, won’t ye, Johanna?”
“By sense, I assume you mean leaving the stone in its hiding place.”
“Aye. But more than that, ye need to temper his actions where Cranston is concerned. Connor has reason to hate the man. Good reason. But I’ve no desire to lose another brother to that heartless bastard’s treachery.”
…
The sun streamed through a thick haze of clouds, bathing the grounds and surrounding countryside in shades of pink and pale yellow light. Johanna pulled in a lungful of fresh air and drank in her surroundings. Rugged mountains touched the sky. Decked out in their splendor of red and gold and orange, trees cloaked the mountainside, a brilliant patchwork quilt against the gorgeous peaks. In the valley, a brook gurgled peacefully. Not far from where they stood, a large building, simple in its lines but sturdy in its construction—the stable, no doubt—beckoned her with wide doors flung open.
“Dinnae let him do anything foolish,” Maggie whispered against her ear. “Convince him not to tempt fate.”
Johanna shot her a questioning glance. “Convince him? I’d have better luck telling a mule what to do.”
“Aye, I cannae argue with that. But still, he wants to please ye. I can see it when he looks at ye.”
Johanna met Maggie’s softly smiling eyes. Whatever Maggie had observed in her brother’s gaze, it certainly had nothing to do with abiding by Johanna’s wishes.
“I’ll do my best,” Johanna said, simply because she didn’t know what else to say.