"As it happens," Sophy forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly, "we knew each other rather well."
"But she did not tell you about me, did she? You showed no signs of knowing me when we met in London."
"No, she never confided the name of her lover." Sophy looked directly at him. "She is dead now, my lord. Along with your babe. She took an overdose of laudanum."
"Stupid wench." He shrugged the issue aside with an elegant movement of his shoulders. "I am afraid I shall have to ask you to return the ring to me. It cannot be terribly important to you."
"But it is to you?"
"I am rather fond of it." Waycott's smile was taunting. "It symbolizes certain victories, past and present."
"I no longer have the ring," Sophy said calmly. "I gave it to Ravenwood a few days ago."
Waycott's eyes burned for an instant. "Why the devil did you give it to him?"
"He was curious about it." She wondered if that would alarm Waycott.
"He can discover nothing about it. All who wear the ring are bound to silence. Nevertheless, I intend to have it returned to me. Soon, my dear, you will get it back from Ravenwood."
"It is not easy to take anything away from my husband that he does not choose to relinquish."
"You are wrong," Waycott said triumphantly. "I have helped myself to Ravenwood's possessions before and I will do so again."
"You are referring to Elizabeth, I suppose?"
"Elizabeth was never his. I am referring to these." He crossed the chamber and bent over the basket on the hearth. When he straightened he was holding a handful of green fire. "I brought them along because I thought you might find them interesting. Ravenwood cannot give them to you, my dear. But I can."
"The emeralds," Sophy breathed, genuinely astounded. She stared at the cascade of green stones and then jerked her eyes back to Waycott's fever bright gaze. "You've had them all along?"
"Since the night my beautiful Elizabeth died. Ravenwood never guessed, of course. He searched the house for them and sent word to all the jewelers in London that if anyone came into possession of the gems, he would willingly double the asking price. Word has it that one or two unscrupulous merchants tried to produce copies of the originals in order to claim the doubled price but Ravenwood was unfortunately not deceived. A pity. That would have been the final irony, would it not? Think of Ravenwood saddled with false stones as well as two false wives."
Sophy straightened her shoulders, unable to resist the taunt, even though she knew it would be better if she kept silent. "I am Ravenwood's true wife and I will not play him false."
"Yes, my dear, you will. And what's more, you will do so wearing these emeralds." He let the necklace stream from palm to palm. He seemed hypnotized by the shimmering green waterfall. "Elizabeth always enjoyed it that way. It gave her a special pleasure to put on the emeralds before she got into bed with me. She would make such sweet love to me while wearing these stones." Waycott looked up suddenly. "You will like doing it that way, too."
"Will I?" Sophy's palms were damp. She must not say anything more that would goad him further she told herself. She must let him think she was his helpless victim, a meek rabbit who would not give him any resistance.
"Later, Sophy," Waycott promised. "Later, I will show you how beautiful the Ravenwood emeralds look on a false Ravenwood bride. You will see how the firelight makes them glow against your skin. Elizabeth was molten gold when she wore these."
Sophy looked away from his strange eyes, concentrating on the basket of provisions. "I assume we have a long night ahead of us, my lord. Would you mind if I had something to eat and a cup of tea? I am feeling quite weak."
"But, of course, my dear." He swept a hand toward the hearth. "As you can see, I have taken pains to ensure your every comfort. I had a meal prepared for us at a nearby inn. Elizabeth and I often picnicked here before we made love. I want everything to be just as it was with her. Everything."
"I see."
Was he as mad as Elizabeth had been, she wondered. Or simply crazed with jealousy and the effects of lost love? Either way, Sophy told herself that her only hope lay in keeping Waycott calm and unalarmed.
"You are not as beautiful as she was," Waycott observed, studying her.
"No, I realize that. She was very lovely."
"But the emeralds will help you look more like her when the time comes." He dropped the jewels into the basket.
"About the food, my lord," Sophy said tentatively. "Would you mind if I prepared us a small picnic now?"
Waycott looked out through the open door. "It's getting dark, isn't it?"
"Quite dark."
"I will build us a fire." He smiled, looking pleased with himself for having come up with the idea.
"An excellent thought. It will soon be quite chilly in here. If you would remove this cloak and the ropes that bind me I would be able to prepare the meal."
"Untie you? I don't think that is such a good idea, my dear. Not yet. I believe you are still far too likely to dash out into the woods at the first opportunity and I simply cannot allow that."
"Please, my lord." Sophy lowered her eyes, doing her best to appear weary and lacking in spirit. "I want nothing more than to prepare us a cup of tea and a bit of bread and cheese."
"I think we can manage something."
Sophy tensed as Waycott came toward her. But she stood still as he untied the ropes that secured the cloak. When the last of them came free, she inhaled a deep sigh [of relief but she made no sudden move.
"Thank you, my lord," she said meekly. She took a step toward the hearth, eyeing the open doorway.
"Not so fast, my dear." Waycott went down on one knee, reached beneath the hem of her heavy riding skirt and grasped her ankle. Quickly he tied one end of the rope above her half boot. Then he got to his feet, the other end of the rope dangling from his hand. "There, now I have you secured like a bitch on a lead. Go about your business, Sophy. I will enjoy having Ravenwood's woman serve me tea."
Sophy took a few tentative steps toward the hearth, wondering if Waycott would think it a pleasant game to yank her tied foot out from under her. But he merely went over to the hearth and lit the fire. After he had a blaze going he sat down on the pallet, the end of the rope in his hand and leaned his chin on his fist.
She could feel his eyes on her as she began investigating the provisions in the basket. She held her breath as she lifted the kettle and then exhaled in relief as she discovered it was full of water.
The shadows outside the door were very heavy now. Chilled evening air flowed into the room. Sophy brushed her hands against the folds of her skirts and tried to think which pocket contained the herbs she needed. She jumped when she felt the rope twitch around her ankle.
"I believe it is time to shut the door," Waycott said as he got up from the pallet and moved across the room. "We would not want you to get cold."
"No." As the door to freedom swung shut, Sophy fought back a wave of terror. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the flames to hide her expression. This was the man who was responsible for her sister's death. She would not allow fear to incapacitate her. Her first goal was escape. Then she would find a way to exact revenge.
"Feeling faint, my dear?" Waycott sounded amused.
Sophy opened her eyes again and stared down into the flames. "A little, my lord."
"Elizabeth would not have been quivering like a rabbit. She would have found it all a wonderful game. Elizabeth loved her little games."
Sophy ignored that as she turned her back on her captor and busied herself with the small packet of tea that had been packed in the basket. She thanked heaven for the voluminous folds of her riding habit. They acted as a screen for her hands when she retrieved a small pouch of herbs from a pocket.