"Yes, but—" She broke off, nibbling her lower lip in concern. "But I do not like this, Julian."
"It will all be over soon." He fastened his breeches and sat down in the chair to tug on his boots. "I will be home before dawn unless you have made Waycott so groggy with your special tea that he cannot understand simple English."
"I did not give him as much as I gave you," she said uneasily. "I was afraid he would notice the odd taste."
"How unfortunate. I would have preferred Waycott suffer the same appalling headache I was forced to endure."
"You had been drinking that night, Julian," she explained seriously. "It changed the effects of the herbs. Waycott had only the tea. He will awake fairly clearheaded."
"I will remember that." Julian finished putting on his boots. He strode to the door and paused to glance back at her. A surge of raw possessiveness went through him. It was followed by a shocking tenderness. She was everything to him, he realized. Nothing in the world was more important than his sweet Sophy.
"Did you forgot something, Julian?" she asked from the shadows of the bed.
"Only a minor detail," he said quietly. His hand fell away from the doorknob and he went back to the bed. He leaned down and kissed her soft mouth once more. "I love you."
He saw her eyes widen in astonishment but he knew he could not afford the time it would take to listen to her demands for details and explanations. He went back across the room and opened the door.
"Julian, wait—"
"I will be back as soon as possible, sweetheart. Then we will talk."
"No, wait, there is something else I must tell you. The emeralds."
"What about them?"
"I almost forgot. Waycott has them. He stole them the night he killed Elizabeth. They are in the basket on the hearth, right under his pistol."
"How very interesting. I must remember to bring them back with me," Julian said and went out into the hall.
The old Norman ruin was an eerie, uninviting jumble of stones and deep shadows in the moonlight. For the first time in years Julian experienced the same response to it that he had often had as a boy—it was a place where one could easily learn to believe in ghosts. The thought of Sophy being held captive within the dark confines of this place added fuel to the white hot fires of his anger.
He had managed to keep Sophy from seeing the depths of his fury because he had known it would alarm her. But it had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep his rage from showing.
One thing was certain: Waycott would pay for what he had tried to do to Sophy.
There was no sign of activity around the ruin as far as Julian could see. He walked the black into the nearest stand of trees, dismounted and draped the reins around a convenient limb. Then he made his way through the fragments of the ancient stone walls to the one room that was still standing. There was no glow of light from the narrow openings high up on the wall. The fire Sophy had said was burning on the hearth must have sunk into embers by now.
Julian had great faith in Sophy's skill with herbs but he decided not to take chances. He entered the chamber where she had been held with great caution. Nothing and no one stirred from within. He stood in the open doorway, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. And then he spotted Waycott's sprawled body near the wall by the hearth.
Sophy was right. Things would be a great deal simpler if someone put a pistol to the Viscount's head and pulled the trigger. But there were some things a gentleman did not do. Julian shook his head in resignation and went over to the hearth to stoke up the fire.
When he was finished, he pulled up the stool and sat down. Idly he glanced into the basket and saw the emeralds pooled at the bottom beneath the pocket pistol. With a sense of satisfaction, he picked up the necklace and watched the stones glitter in the firelight. The Ravenwood emeralds were going to look very good on the new Countess of Ravenwood.
Twenty minutes later the Viscount stirred and groaned. Julian watched, unmoving, as Waycott slowly recovered his senses. He continued to wait while Waycott blinked and then frowned at the fire, waited as the man sat up and put a hand to his temple, waited until the Viscount finally began to realize there was someone else in the room.
"That's right, Waycott, Sophy is safe and now you must deal with me." Julian casually let the emeralds cascade from one palm to the other and back again. "I suppose it was inevitable that at some point you would finally go too far. You are a man obsessed, are you not?"
Waycott inched backward until he was sitting propped against the wall. He leaned his fair head against the damp stones and stared at Julian through lids narrowed with hatred. "So dear little Sophy ran straight to you, did she? And you believed every word she said, I suppose. I may be obsessed, Ravenwood, but you are a fool."
Julian glanced down at the glittering emeralds. "You are partially correct, Waycott. I was a fool once, a long time ago. I did not recognize a witch in a silk ball gown. But those days are over. In some ways, I almost pity you. The rest of us managed to extricate ourselves from Elizabeth's spell years ago. You alone remained ensnared."
"Because I alone loved her. The rest of you only wanted to use her. You wanted to steal her innocence and beauty and thereby tarnish it forever. I wanted to protect her."
"As I said, you are as obsessed as you ever were. If you had been content to suffer alone, I would have continued to ignore you. Unfortunately, you chose to try to use Sophy as a means of avenging yourself against me. That I cannot overlook or ignore. I warned you, Waycott. Now you will pay for involving Sophy and we will put an end to this whole business."
Waycott laughed crudely. "What did your sweet little Sophy tell you about what happened here today? Did she tell you I found her on the path by the pond? Did she tell you that she was on her way back from the same abortionist Elizabeth had consulted? Your dear, sweet, innocent Sophy is already scheming to rid herself of your heir, Ravenwood. She doesn't want to bear your brat any more than Elizabeth did."
For an instant, Sophy's words flashed in Julian's head and a lingering sense of guilt shot through him. I do not wish to be rushed into childbed.
Julian shook his head and smiled grimly at Waycott. "You are as clever as any footpad when it comes to sinking a knife into a man's back but in this case your aim is off. You see, Waycott, Sophy and I have gotten to know each other very well. She is an honorable woman. We have made a bargain, she and I, and while I regret to say I have not always upheld my end of the arrangement, she has always been true to her side. I know she went to see Old Bess for a fresh supply of herbs, not to seek an abortion."
"You are indeed a fool, Ravenwood, if you believe that. Did Sophy also lie to you about what happened over there on that pallet? Did she tell you how easily she pulled up her skirts and spread her thighs for me? She's not particularly skilled yet, but I expect she'll improve with practice."
Julian's fury momentarily slipped its leash. He dropped the emeralds to the floor and came up off the stool in one smooth, swift movement. He took two strides across the chamber and caught Waycott by the front of the shirt. Then he hauled the Viscount to his feet and slammed a fist into the handsome face. Something broke in the region of Waycott's nose and blood spurted. Julian hit him again.
"You son of a bitch, you don't want to admit you married a whore, do you?" Waycott slid sideways out of reach along the wall and wiped the back of his hand against his bleeding nose. "But you did, you rotten bastard. I wonder how long it will be until you realize it."