There were no ribald cracks about kinky lady torturers as Verity and Jonas made their way through the room and out into the hall. In fact, neither said a word all the way back to the bedroom. Verity was feeling quite cold as she removed her parka, and the chill was not a result of the villa’s lousy heating system. She shouldn’t have said anything about Oliver Crump, she decided morosely. It was obviously a subject best left alone.
Jonas locked the door of the bedroom, his movements precise and careful. Then he tossed the flashlight into his duffel bag and sat on the edge of the bed. Eyes narrowed, he watched Verity as she collected her nightgown and robe.
“Do you really believe I’m just using you?” he finally asked.
Verity busied herself with the buttons of her blouse. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry because you were making a fuss about Oliver Crump.”
“You’ve never been absolutely sure of me, have you? You can’t forget that the reason I came into your life in the first place was because I knew you could help me control my damn talent. That’s why you’re stalling about marrying me. A part of you is scared to death that the only real tie we have is a psychic one.”
“That’s not true, Jonas. We have a lot of other ties, as you’ve pointed out.”
“We sure as hell do. Including the fact that we’re both about to become parents.” Jonas raked his fingers through his hair. “I guess I shouldn’t have made that scene about Oliver and his crystals.”
“No, you definitely should not have snapped at me the way you did,” Verity said stiffly. “I like Oliver. He’s sweet and genuine. I was only trying to tell you that if finding the stupid crystal really means so much to you, he might be able to help.”
“I didn’t want him linking with you, goddammit.”
“I don’t ‘link’ with him. Not the way I do with you.”
“Well, what do you do with him when you play with those crystals?” Jonas demanded. He shot to his feet and began pacing the room. “I saw the way the two of you were touching each other when you were trying to cure Maggie’s headache.”
“I’m not sure what was happening, if anything. But I got the feeling Oliver can somehow tune into crystals and I...I can help him. A little.” Verity sank down on the bed, hugging her nightgown and robe.
“The same way you help me in the time corridor?” he demanded harshly.
“No. it’s much different. It’s not personal the way it is with you. There’s no sense of direct contact. I’m sorry, Jonas. I can’t really explain it.” She glowered at him. “What’s the big problem here, anyway? I thought you didn’t believe in the power of crystals.”
“I think I believe in the power of one particular crystal,” he said bluntly. “The one that man in the vision left behind here in this villa. We need it to find out what’s going on in that little room at the end of the passage.”
“I don’t think we should try to find out what’s going on in that room, Jonas. I don’t like it. I don’t like any of it.”
He came across the room to stand in front of her. “I have to know, Verity.”
She looked up at him. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I just have to find out the truth. I won’t be able to rest until I solve this thing.”
“Even if it means involving me and Oliver Crump?” she taunted.
Jonas caught her arms and hauled her to her feet. “We don’t need Crump.”
“I’m not so sure. I don’t know anything about crystals. He’s the one with the expertise.”
“We can do this without him, dammit.”
“How do you know? I’m the one who seems to be able to use the crystal, and I’d like some professional advice from Oliver.”
Jonas’s jaw was set rigidly. “You want to work with Oliver Crump on a professional basis? All right, I’ll allow you to work with him on one condition.”
“Jonas, I don’t think you understand the situation. I’m doing you the favor. You’ve got no right to set conditions on how I do it.”
“The hell I don’t,” he snapped. “Before you try anything with Crump and his damn crystals, I want your word of honor that you’ll marry me.”
Verity’s eyes widened in amazement. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Let me get this straight. You won’t let me work with Oliver, not even to help you find that crystal, unless I agree to marry you?”
“I love you, you redheaded witch,” he said in a thick voice. “I’m not going to risk losing you to some other man who might be able to latch on to you with a psychic connection. I’d rather call off the search for the crystal than take that chance.”
Verity stood very still in his grasp, trying to marshal her thoughts into some coherent order. “You think if I agree to marry you that would keep me from getting lured away by another psychic?”
“If you agree to marry me, you’ll honor your promise. I know you, Verity.”
“Not well enough, apparently, if you think you have to blackmail and threaten me in order to get me to marry you.” She smiled suddenly.
He stared down at her, his eyes wary. “Verity?”
“I love you, Jonas, I’ve told you that a hundred times. I’ll marry you.”
He folded her close with a low growl of relief. “Jesus, it’s about time, lady.”
Verity leaned her head on his shoulder and relaxed into his warmth. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and savored his lean strength. “You know something, Jonas? When I first met you I would never have guessed that you’d be the marrying kind.”
“And I had the impression you’d opted for professional singlehood. We both had a lot to learn about each other.”
“I hope we’re doing the right thing.”
“We are,” he told her with grave assurance. He raised her chin with his finger and brushed his mouth across her lips. “Believe me, the only option we have open is to get married. I couldn’t stand living with any other alternative. I realized that the night you told me you were pregnant.”
He moved his lips lightly across hers again, and then he began to deepen the kiss. His arms tightened around her and Verity was pulled snugly against the taut outline of his thighs. He deliberately widened his stance and urged her closer so that she could feel his heat. His manhood, trapped beneath his jeans, pushed against the gentle curve of her stomach. Verity gave herself up to the passion that always seemed to flow so easily between them.
“It’s going to be hard to think of myself as a married woman,” she murmured against his throat.
“Don’t worry, I’ll remind you every chance I get.” Jonas picked her up and settled her down on the bed.
“Jonas?”
“Yeah?” His voice was a lazy, sleepy growl in the darkness.
“If we’re going to get married, I think we should do it right.”
“Right? What do you mean? There’s only one way to do it. You get some blood tests, a license and a ring, and you say a few words in front of a duly constituted authority. Then you get to go to bed. What’s the big deal?”
“I want a nice wedding. A big wedding. With a cake and a fancy dress and everyone in Sequence Springs in the church.”
“I should have known.”
“It’ll be fun,” Verity assured him, her enthusiasm rapidly growing as she envisioned the details. “It’ll also be the only chance I ever get to wear a beautiful formal wedding gown.”
“Verity, up until quite recently, you never even planned to get married at all. Why the sudden interest in cakes and wedding gowns?” Jonas complained.
“I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things lately. If I’m going to get married, I want to do it right,” she stated stubbornly.
“Honey, it takes time to organize a big wedding,” Jonas argued reasonably. He put a possessive palm on her belly. “And time is something we haven’t got.”
“Laura can help me. It won’t take long at all to get things organized. And it’s not like we have to keep the baby a secret. Everyone in Sequence Springs is going to know I’m pregnant as soon as I make an appointment with my doctor.”
Jonas sighed heavily. “I really don’t think we need to go through all this.”
“It’s what I want, Jonas.”
“Stubborn little tyrant.” He rolled onto his side and reached for her. “The things I do for you, lady.” He dropped a warm, hungry kiss on the pulse point of her throat.
“You won’t really mind, will you?”
“I’ll survive. And I understand it’s important to humor pregnant ladies.” He moved his mouth slowly, teasingly down to the valley between her breasts.
“Thank you, Jonas.”
“Don’t thank me. Just be prepared to get out of the wedding dress and into your black lace nightie right after we cut the cake.”
Verity giggled, feeling suddenly euphoric. “I love you, Jonas.”
“Love you, too, tyrant. And I’ve just given you the ultimate proof. If I didn’t love you to distraction, I sure as hell wouldn’t put up with the nonsense of a big wedding.” His tongue was suddenly hot and wet in the small depression that dimpled her stomach. His fingers slid between her thighs.
Verity shivered with pleasure and turned her head so that she could kiss the scar that marked the strong curve of his shoulder. She and the baby would be safe with this man. He would protect them and care for them. She knew that now with deep certainty.
Jonas was now bound to her as surely as she was bound to him.
It was nearly dawn when Verity awoke. Not that a person would know it by looking out the window, she thought as she turned her head on the pillow. It was pitch black outside. The storm had arrived in a flurry of rain and wild wind.
“Doug and Oliver won’t be able to get back here until this lets up,” Jonas observed as he stretched and sat up on the edge of the bed. “Could be hours before they can return. Maybe a full day.”
Verity watched him as he moved about in the shadows. She knew what was going through his mind. “You’re going to spend every spare minute hunting for that treasure, aren’t you?”
“Damn right.” He shrugged into a denim shirt and reached for his jeans. “But first I want to take another look at the boat in the cove.”
“Jonas, it’s dark outside. You won’t be able to see a thing.”
He glanced at his watch. “Should be getting light by the time I get there.” He disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments. When he returned he came toward the bed. He bent over and caged Verity between his arms, his eyes intense in the shadows. “You stay in here until I get back. I don’t want you wandering around this place without me.”
“You don’t really think Yarwood would try to hurt me, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think. Everything in this joint is crazy. So you’re to stay put until I return.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Don’t worry. This shouldn’t take long. I’ll be back in plenty of time for breakfast. Nobody will even know I’m gone.” He straightened and grabbed his new jacket.
Verity sat bolt upright. “You’ll ruin that coat in this rain.”
“What the hell good is a jacket you can’t wear in the rain?”
He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out his knife. He tried to be subtle about it, but Verity saw what was happening. She bit her lip and said nothing. In truth, she was rather glad he was not going out into that wild storm unarmed.
“You don’t think whoever owns that boat will still be there, do you? Nobody in his right mind would be camping out there in this storm.”
“On the whole, I’m inclined to agree with you on that last part. Which brings up some interesting possibilities.”
“Such as?”
“Such as maybe whoever owns that boat is staying right here in this villa. There’s plenty of room around here. A man could hide out for days in this monstrosity. Even if you knew he was there and you went looking for him, it would be hard to find him.”
Verity’s mouth fell open. “Good grief. I never thought of that. You’re right. He could hide in one of the other wings and stay hidden for as long as he wanted. Be careful, Jonas.”
“I’ll be careful.” He started for the door. “Get some more sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
“Sleep? Are you kidding? Now that you’ve told me you think some weirdo is running around in one of the unoccupied wings?”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned that,” he mumbled as he went out the door.
“No, you certainly shouldn’t have mentioned it.” But her words were lost, cut off by the softly closing door.
Verity fell back against the pillows, scowling. There was no way she was going to turn over and go to sleep, not now. She had always been an early riser anyway. Verity threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, wincing slightly at the slight soreness in her thighs. Jonas had been in one of his more energetic moods last night. The man had a way of leaving his mark on her, she thought wryly as she headed for the bathroom.
And now he wanted to put a ring on her finger. Talk about being marked for life. But when she looked in the bathroom mirror she was surprised at the warm and secretive smile on her face.
A vast sense of relief flooded through her.
The decision had been made—she was going to marry Jonas. Now that she’d decided to take the step, she wondered why she’d stalled for so long. She should have trusted her intuition, the same intuition that had sent her straight into his arms the very first time.
There were no guarantees in this world. It was true that her relationship with Jonas had some bizarre twists, and there were some questions for which there would never be any real answers.
But she loved him and he loved her. For better or worse they were linked together. And now they were going to have a baby. All in all, marriage seemed reasonable, even right, under the circumstances.
A strangely familiar restlessness hit Verity as she emerged from the shower and started to dress. She had just put on the red crystal earrings and was reaching for her shoes when she felt a sudden, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“Oh, Lord. Not morning sickness,” she begged aloud. She held her breath and the sinking feeling slowly faded.
She was starting to relax when she realized that her earrings were growing very warm. Verity tensed. She immediately associated the warmth generated by the crystals with a disturbing occurrence of some sort. She looked around the room uneasily. Everything appeared to be perfectly normal, but she could not relax.
The earrings stayed uncomfortably warm, and the restless feeling became overpowering. She had felt this way yesterday when she’d been driven out of the villa for a walk, and had found Elyssa at the bottom of the cliff.
“Oh, no, not again.” Verity tried to ignore the growing sense of urgency, but to no avail.
Then she thought about Jonas outside by himself and she leaped to her feet, heading for the door.
Not Jonas, please don’t let anything happen to Jonas!
She was out in the hall, running instinctively toward the staircase before she realized that Jonas was all right. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she sensed that it was not Jonas who was drawing her.
But something was wrong, terribly wrong. The crystals blazed for an instant in her ears and then cooled slightly.
Verity continued down the stairs, turning down the hall to the kitchen. If Maggie was up she might be able to reassure Verity that everything was okay.
But Maggie was not in the kitchen. That in itself was unusual. Verity had learned that the housekeeper’s habits were fairly predictable. By this time of day Maggie should have had a pot of coffee made.
Verity found herself visualizing Maggie Frampton as she emerged from the kitchen. Her un
easy feeling grew stronger when she pictured the woman in her faded housedress and old metal necklace. She climbed the stairs again and walked down the long corridor to the end of the south wing.
There was no answer when she knocked on Maggie’s door. When she tried the handle, Verity found the door unlocked. Unable to resist, she pushed it open and called out softly, “Maggie?”
There was no response. Verity turned away, aware of the cold draft in the hall. She started down the stairs. When she reached the first floor, she kept on going.
On some half-conscious level she knew she was heading for the infamous torture chamber, but she could not explain why. She only knew she had to look for Maggie there.
A weak light burned in the basement hall. The door to the chamber of kinky delights was closed. The moment Verity touched it she knew she didn’t want to see whatever was on the other side. She also knew, however, that she had no choice.
Reassuring herself that her imagination was truly out of control this morning, Verity opened the door.
She faced pitch darkness. Hardly daring to breathe, she ran her palm along the wall, searching for the old-fashioned switch. Finding it, she reluctantly flipped it on.
Two things registered at once.
Maggie Frampton lay on her back on the floor, beneath the wall of whips. There was a pool of blood beneath her head, and she was not moving.
The second thing that hit Verity like a blow was that the stone gate opening onto the hidden passageway was ajar.
For a shocked instant, Verity could not move. A wave of nausea suddenly overtook her. With an extreme effort of will she made herself cross the room to where Maggie lay.
There was a weak pulse in Maggie’s throat and Verity swallowed heavily with relief. At first glance, she had been certain that Maggie was dead. The amount of blood from her head wound was terrifying.
A faint, half-familiar odor made Verity wrinkle her nose as she bent over Maggie. She knew that acrid scent, she realized suddenly. She had smelled it briefly the night she had been attacked outside the bathroom of the bed-and-breakfast inn. It was the odor of stale smoke.