"Julian—no." Aurora began to struggle, yanking violently but ineffectually at her arm, succeeding only in loosening her bonnet until it fell to the ground.
Macall dragged her closer, his grip tightening until she whimpered. "Brazen little thing, aren't you?" His taunting stare examined the fineness of her features close-up, took in the loose tendrils of red-gold hair that now tumbled down her back. "Do you know, I'm beginning to suspect Merlin had more than one reason for wanting this marriage," he said with a sardonic smile. "I'll have to satisfy my curiosity about that. Who knows? If you're skilled enough, it might persuade me to let you live."
"Think again, Macall," Julian countered icily. "What you have in mind requires two hands, one of which is currently occupied with holding a sword to my throat. Should you remove that hand, I'll find a way to kill you before you draw your next breath, much less touch my wife. So I suggest you forget whatever vile notion you have in mind. Let Aurora go and vent your rage where it belongs—at me."
"Oh, I intend to vent my rage where it belongs. After which both my hands will be free—as will your wife." With a sneer, Macall turned back to Julian. "You really have gone soft, haven't you, Merlin? Who would ever have thought a woman would mean enough to you to render you weak, ensure your undoing? After ten months of trying to hunt you down, I managed to lure you into what was obviously a trap simply by using her as bait. And now I'll get what I want by doing the same. How unexpected—and how effortless." A harsh laugh. "Ironic, isn't it? As a result of your own stupidity, I'll soon have both your prized possessions—the black diamond and your bride." He jerked his chin in the direction of Julian's coat pocket. "Take out the pistol, nice and slow. Then toss it to the ground."
"Why should I? According to you, you plan on killing me anyway." A deliberate pause. "Of course, then you'll have only half of what you came for—your revenge. What about the black diamond?"
"That won't work, Merlin." Macall's dark eyes glittered. "I don't need both you and your duchess alive to get my hands on the diamond, not when she's Aurora Huntley. I could easily kill you, then toss up your wife's skirts right here in this alley and take her brutally and repeatedly until she tells me where I can find the stone. How would that be?"
Julian tasted bile. Slowly, knowing bloody well he had no choice, he complied with Macall's demand, retrieving his weapon and letting it drop to the ground. The bastard was right. If Macall drove him through here and now, Aurora would be at the privateer's mercy. Julian had to stall for time, find a way to save her.
"Good." Macall kicked the pistol across the alley. "Now we can get down to business." He pushed the sword an iota deeper, pricking Julian's skin until blood began to trickle down his throat. "As you yourself just pointed out, I want two things: you—dead at my feet—and the black diamond. The first is a fated reality, and has been since the day you killed my brother. The second is also a reality, but not quite as unconditional as the first. You see, I can either acquire my prize easily or with a bit of persuasion. That, Merlin, is where your choice comes in. If you tell me what I want to know, you'll die with a minimum amount of pain and the duchess here will be allowed to live. If you refuse, your death will be an excruciating one—as will your final memory: seeing me carve your bride into little pieces. The choice is yours."
"There's no choice to make," Aurora informed him, tugging again at her arm. "I'll opt for death if living means my becoming your possession."
"Such brave words," Macall replied. "And such naive ones. Fortunately your husband—unlike you—knows the agony a sword such as this can cause. I trust he'll decide accordingly."
Throughout Macall's tirade, Julian's mind had been racing. His alarm was for Aurora, though not because he gave any credence to Macall's threat to kill her first. The bastard knew firsthand how swiftly Julian struck. If Macall so much as inched the sword in Aurora's direction, Julian would be on him like the merlin on its prey. So that part of the threat was merely a ruse. However, the remaining part—Macall's vow to ravage Aurora cruelly and brutally after Julian was dead—that Julian believed with every sickened fiber of his being. Macall was evil to the core, and formidable as hell.
When he had the upper hand.
When he didn't, however, he panicked, became reckless. More times than not, that recklessness was his undoing. With a modicum of luck, it would be now.
Julian's hooded gaze flickered to Aurora, who was still trying unsuccessfully to free her arm—a futile effort, given that Macall was far stronger than she. However, the son of a bitch did have only a one-handed grasp on her. If there were a way to trick him into devoting both hands to his sword, maybe Aurora could break away and run to safety.
It was his job to provide that way.
Mentally, Julian gauged the distance between his wife and the alleyway entrance, trying to assess the amount of time she'd need to reach safety, finding he was unable to do so as a result of his increasing light-headedness. Dammit. He couldn't lose consciousness—not until Aurora was safe. He had to stave off his own fate long enough to create a diversion and allow her time to flee.
"Hurry up, Merlin," Macall prodded. "You're already sheet white and your coat's stained with blood. Any longer and you'll pass out cold. I want you conscious when I cut open your belly. Now what's it gonna be?"
"I don't have the stone," Julian managed, deliberately antagonizing Macall into action, praying the results would give Aurora the precious minutes she needed. "Neither does my wife."
"Where is it hidden?"
Julian stared right through him. "We haven't a clue."
"Damn you." Macall twisted the sword a fraction, deepening Julian's wound and drawing fresh blood.
Despite the excruciating jolt of pain that accompanied Macall's act, it was just what Julian had been awaiting.
With a choked groan—more real than feigned—he sagged, falling back against the wall, his head dropping to one side. Let the bastard think I'm dying before he can find out what he wants to know, he willed silently. Let him do what he always does under pressure—panic and lose control.
Macall didn't disappoint him.
"Don't you dare die yet, you son of a bitch," he bellowed, retracting the blade a fraction, as if by doing so he could lessen the severity of the wound enough to prolong Julian's life.
Julian seized his opportunity. Slowly, eyes shut, he sagged to the ground.
That did it.
"Merlin—get up!" Macall flung Aurora aside, grabbing Julian's coat to keep him from slumping farther downward, pointing the blade at his heart and shaking him. "Get up, you miserable bastard!"
Julian's eyes snapped open. "Run, Aurora!" he shouted over Macall's surprised roar of anger. "Get out of here!"
Aurora responded instantly, backing away from Macall and taking off like a bullet.
Relief—stark and absolute—coursed through Julian's soul.
His relief was short-lived.
Abruptly his wife slowed, and to Julian's astonishment and horror, she turned, stopping dead in her tracks a mere fifteen feet away. She stared at them, eyes widening with terror as she saw the demented rage on Macall's face, recognized his intent. "Wait!" she cried out as he drew back his sword, preparing to drive Julian through. "Don't kill my husband—I couldn't live with myself if you did. Julian doesn't know where the diamond is. Only I do."
The sword froze and Macall's head shot up, his pupils dilated with shock—and skepticism. "Only you?"
"Yes—only I." Aurora wet her lips, clearly struggling for composure. "As you said, I'm a Huntley. Since you're obviously familiar with the history of the black diamond, you know that 'twas my great-grandfather who stole the gem. The Bencrofts hadn't an inkling—either then or now—where it was hidden."
"Aurora … don't…" Julian rasped. "Do what I said … run … get away from here."
"Shut up," Macall ordered him. He inclined his head at Aurora, reason trickling back into his gaze, replacing the wild-eyed insanity of a moment earlier. "You're asking me
to believe that Merlin married you without ever questioning you about where the stone was?"
"Of course he questioned me—many times. That doesn't mean I answered his questions. There are all kinds of ways of keeping a man's interest, Mr. Macall."
A flicker of suspicion. "Fine. Then if Merlin doesn't know where the diamond is, I can kill him right now."
"No, you can't. Because if you do, I'll never tell you the location of the stone. You can beat me, defile me, even kill me. It won't weaken my will." She raised her chin. "Surely you didn't expect a man like Merlin to marry a fainthearted woman, did you?"
Macall swore quietly, jerking to his feet, dragging Julian up with him. "All right, where is it?"
"Let Julian go."
Curbing his fury, Macall drew a harsh breath, ostensibly considering her request. "Fine. I'll let him go—after you tell me where I can find the diamond."
"I want your word."
A mocking nod. "Very well, you have my word."
Aurora glanced briefly at Julian, their eyes meeting for a split second before she looked back at Macall. Cautiously she studied him, as if judging the sincerity of his vow. Then in a rush of decision, she blurted, "It's hidden in my dressing table at Julian's Polperro manor. My brother dug it up from where it was hidden in the woods at Pembourne and gave it to me on my wedding day. The agreement was that I would share the stone with my husband—after he'd proven his fidelity over a period of one year. Given Julian's restless nature and transient way of life, it seemed prudent to ensure that 'twas me and not my possession that had incited his marriage proposal."
"A cunning plan," Macall acknowledged, his expression probing. "Still, I can't imagine you'd just toss a stone as priceless as the black diamond in a drawer."
"I wouldn't and I didn't." Aurora gave him an indignant look. "I didn't toss the stone into the drawer; I concealed it there. The drawer is locked. So is the jewel case which lies within and which houses the black diamond. I buried the stone at the bottom of the case, beneath all my other valuable jewels."
"It would take a lot of necklaces and bracelets to hide a stone that size."
"I assure you, my collection is more than large enough to accomplish the task. You must know how wealthy my brother is. He's also exceptionally generous. Between the gifts he presented me and the heirlooms left me by my mother and grandmother, I've amassed quite an array of costly and elaborate pieces—not only numerous enough to conceal the black diamond, but valuable enough to make you a very rich man. Rich enough to justify sparing Julian's life."
Macall's eyes glittered at the prospect of acquiring such wealth. "You say the case is locked?"
"The case and the drawer. Each has but one key—I allowed no duplicates to be made."
"Where are these keys?"
"With me." She held up her reticule, gave it an indicative pat. "I keep them in my possession at all times."
"Show them to me."
"If I do, then will you release Julian?"
"Once I know they're genuine, yes." Macall stared eagerly at her bag, the tip of his sword easing slightly away from Julian's chest. "Now show me."
"All right." Aurora lowered her lashes, tugging open the reticule and reaching inside. "Here." She extracted first one key, then another, holding them up for his inspection.
"Throw them over here."
"But…"
"Throw them at my feet. I'll pick them up and examine them. If I'm convinced they're real, I'll let Merlin go."
With apparent reluctance, Aurora tossed the keys to the ground. They landed a foot shy of Macall's feet. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice quavering as at last her courage seemed to falter. "I'm just so nervous, I…"
"Never mind." Impatiently Macall stepped forward to retrieve the keys, thereby easing his sword farther away from its mark and, more significantly, forcing him to release his grasp on Julian's coat.
Julian slumped to the ground the instant Macall's supporting arm was removed.
Macall froze, looking from his captive to the keys, uncertain which prize to seize first.
Aurora eliminated his choice the instant his attention was diverted.
Yanking a pistol from her still-open reticule, she aimed, and without the slightest hesitation fired a shot directly at Macall's heart.
The privateer crumpled silently to the ground.
Silence ensued, descended heavily upon the alleyway.
Julian recovered first, his unfocused gaze assessing Macall's lifeless body. Fighting back unconsciousness, he crawled forward, shoving the sword aside and groping for Macall's wrist. "He's dead." He raised his head, staring dazedly at his wife as she slowly lowered her gun. "When did you … learn to fire a pistol?"
"Just now."
"Just now," he repeated inanely. "Whose…?"
"It's Slayde's," she answered, walking over and dropping to her knees beside her husband. "I took it from his desk. I'm sure he hasn't a clue it's missing. That drawer is kept locked." She gestured toward one of the discarded keys. "I believe that's the key that opens it."
Julian followed her motion, wondering if he were more incoherent than he realized or if this were actually happening. He reached for his wife—the resulting pain inciting a harsh groan and assuring him that this was indeed reality.
"Julian—don't," Aurora whispered, easing him over onto his back. "You're hurt badly." She groped in her reticule, pulled out a handkerchief, and pressed it to his throat. "See what happens when you don't wear a cravat?" she teased, tears gathering in her eyes.
"It's not … that bad…" He caught her wrist. "Rory, how did you manage this? How did … you arrange…?"
"I knew Macall was after you. 'Twas only a matter of time. Stone all but told you to expect him at one of these taverns. So I came prepared." She swallowed, watching as Julian's blood soaked through her handkerchief. "I'm going to get help—armed with my pistol," she added, warding off his protest. "Don't argue. We must get you inside, treat that wound." Pausing, she leaned forward, capturing Julian's hand and pressing his palm to her lips. "I told you earlier, Merlin—I protect those I love. You're an adventurer. I'm an adventurer's wife. You safeguard what's yours. I safeguard what's mine. It's that simple."
Julian stared from Macall's dead body to his wife's beautiful face. "Damn," was all he said before he lost consciousness.
* * *
"Gin—next time, heat this bloody water!" Julian ordered, shoving at the chilly wetness against his throat. "I feel as if I'm bathing in the snow!"
"Ah, he lives," Aurora quipped, leaning against the table and saying a silent prayer. Those were the first two coherent sentences Julian had formed since she'd left him in the alley to race back to the Cove and beg for help.
Once again, it had been Barnes who'd come to her rescue, ordering two burly young sailors to carry Geoffrey Bencroft's great-grandson into the tavern.
Throughout his transport, even after he'd been stretched out across two chairs and left to his wife's ministrations, Julian hadn't opened his eyes.
"'E's lost a fair amount of blood," Barnes had consoled Aurora as she'd bathed the wound, held clean cloths against it to absorb the still-trickling blood. "That sword I saw them men carry in 'ere looked real fierce. It musta cut yer 'usband pretty deep. But the bleedin' seems to be slowin' down now. Don't worry. 'E'll mend."
Aurora was thankful that Barnes appeared to be right.
"No more," Julian protested, shoving at Aurora's hands. "I'll wash later—after you've heated the water."
"I'm glad to hear that," Aurora murmured, leaning over Julian and smoothing his hair off his forehead. "Unfortunately, your wound requires cold compresses, not hot. So you'll have to endure the chill."
Julian cracked open one eye, then the other. "Aurora?" He turned his head a bit, frowning as he focused on his surroundings, the wooden table he was beside, the two chairs that held him. "Where are we?" he questioned over the sounds of clinking glasses and chortling men.
"In the Cove. Tending
to your wound."
Recollection surged forth like the tide. "Macall…" he bit out, jerking to a half-sitting position.
"It's over," Aurora said softly, easing her husband back down. "Macall is no longer a threat. He's dead. I believe his body's been disposed of." A shudder. "In truth, I didn't ask nor do I care. All that matters is you."
"So it really did happen," Julian murmured, gazing up at her, his expression intense as he assessed her state of mind.
"Yes, it happened." Aurora rinsed out the cloth, returned it to Julian's throat with shaking hands. "Mr. Barnes was kind enough to ask two of his friends to assist me. They carried you in, placed you in the quietest corner we could find, then left me to tend to you." A worried frown. "Your wound hasn't stopped bleeding yet. It's slowed considerably, but it hasn't stopped."