Ransomed Jewels (23 page)

A searing pain shot through his head and took him to his knees. He struggled to keep from giving in to the blackness that wanted to overpower him. Only Claire’s pained cry reached through the hazy fog surrounding his brain and kept him from succumbing to the darkness.

Chapter 30

“No!”

Claire saw Sam fall to the floor, saw the bright red blood stream from a cut above his eye and fought the welling panic rising inside her.

“Enough!” Roseneau shouted, pulling Claire’s attention from where the major was slumped on the floor.

“The necklace, Lady Huntingdon. Now! Or I’ll shoot both the major and your brother and leave you to bury them.”

Claire nodded as Sam anchored his hand against the arm of a chair and staggered to his feet. The blood still ran from the cut on his head and his face was unnaturally pale. She should have turned away from him before he rose, but she didn’t.

Her gaze locked with his, studying every feature on his face. From the sharp angles she remembered tracing with the pads of her fingers. To the hard form of his lips that had kissed her with such abandon. To the steel gray of his eyes that had turned almost black in the height of passion. Eyes that now looked at her in anger and rejection. And she was forced to face—as she’d always known she’d have to—a look that would haunt her for the rest of her life. A look that had the power to destroy her.

“The necklace,” Roseneau said, his hand outstretched, the glare in his eyes lethal.

“
No
,
Claire
,” she heard Sam whisper again from behind her.

With a trembling hand, she slowly reached her right hand into her pocket and pulled out the red velvet bag.

“
Don’t
, Claire.”

She clutched the bag in her hand one last second, then held it out to Roseneau.

“Keep our friends detained, Louis,” Roseneau said, tucking the velvet bag into the inside of his jacket. He walked across the room and turned when he reached the door. “Good day, Lady Huntingdon. Major.” Roseneau paused. “A special farewell to you, Lord Halverston. I’ve so enjoyed our time together.” Then he left the room.

Claire fought to stand up under the painful weight pressing down on her. Every part of her felt numb. A cold empty void gaped open inside her as the minutes ticked by until this was over. Louis and the second gunman kept their pistols aimed at them. No one moved. Claire, because she couldn’t. Alex, because he was too weak. Sam, because moving would have brought him closer to her, and she could tell from the clenched fists at his side and the hostile glare in his eyes, he feared what his reaction might be. He thought she’d betrayed her country.

When enough time had passed that Louis was assured Roseneau had escaped, he and the other gunman made their way to the door. With a mocking salute, they exited the room, locking the door behind them.

Claire breathed a shuddering sigh, then rushed to where Alex sat. “Watkins, help me. We have to get out of here. Alex, can you stand?”

She heard Sam work to open the door while she leaned down where Alex was crumpled against the side of the settee. “Hurry, Alex. Before they come back.”

She reached out her hands to assist Watkins, then pulled back when Alex made no effort to try to rise.

“Why would they come back, Claire? You’ve given them everything they want.”

His spiteful words were like a slap in the face. The look of disappointment in his eyes contained the sting of a painful blow.

Claire stepped back and watched as her brother struggled to his feet without her help. He took several labored breaths, then turned to face her. “Pray to God you didn’t do this for me, Claire. How do you expect either of us to live with ourselves knowing the necklace you gave to Roseneau guarantees the deaths of innocent British soldiers?”

Claire fought to breathe. She staggered backward and would have fallen if Sam’s hands hadn’t clamped around her shoulders to steady her. She spun away from him as if his touch burned her and looked upward. Upward into Sam’s hard, unreadable glare.

The air caught in her throat, and she stepped away from both of them. “You would rather I let you die?” she said, staring at the desolation in her brother’s eyes.

“What do you think?”

The floor fell out from beneath Claire’s feet. Her plan had worked. The risk she’d taken had been successful. And yet she felt as if she’d failed. On legs that trembled beneath her, she walked to the open door.

“Claire, wait,” Sam said, grasping her arm as she walked down the long hallway to the stairs.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

She shook his hand off her and walked down the stairs, then out into the late afternoon sunshine. Her carriage waited across the street where she and Watkins had left it a lifetime ago. But she couldn’t expect to ride home in it. Alex would need it, and she wasn’t strong enough to survive hearing him refuse to ride in the same vehicle with a traitor. Instead, she turned the corner and began the long walk home.

“Claire, don’t.”

“I’d like to be left alone, Major. Go back where you’re needed.”

“I’m needed
here
.”

Claire spun around and fired every hurtful word festering inside her. “No. You’ll never be needed here. Go back where men exist who live by the same set of rules as you. Where what Hunt did was, if not admirable, at least acceptable, regardless of the one life that was destroyed. After all, what is just one life? Isn’t that how you feel? Isn’t that how my brother feels? It was obviously how Hunt felt. Just one life was not that significant. Regardless of whose life it is. It is only
one
life! And Heaven help the fool who goes against such a philosophy. Where the attempt to save just one other person is considered the greatest of travesties.”

Claire couldn’t hold back her anger and gave vent to the fury raging inside her. “Well, Major. The one life that was destroyed was important to me. Very important. Because it was
mine
!”

She faced him squarely and pointed back in the direction they’d come. “Now, go back and console my brother because I didn’t allow him to die for a noble cause. Go back and commiserate with him because he’s still alive and Roseneau has escaped. Go—” She glared at him so there would be no mistaking how serious she was. “Go to hell, Major. And leave me alone.”

Claire stared at the hard expression on his face, then spun away and continued down the street. Only Barnaby’s voice sliced through the blood rushing inside her head.

“Claire, stop.”

Barnaby’s voice came at her from somewhere, but she refused to stop. If Alex’s reaction had been so vehement, Barn’s would be twice as severe. He was, after all, an agent of the government everyone believed she’d betrayed.

“Claire! What’s wrong?”

Claire walked a little faster to escape a confrontation with her brother, but it wasn’t necessary. The major must have halted him before he reached her. His words sifted through her anger even though he stayed far enough away from her not to intrude.

“Linscott. Help Watkins get your brother to the carriage and take him home. Then send another carriage round for your sister.”

Claire listened to Barnaby’s heavy boots knock on the cement walk as he ran to follow the major’s orders. She kept walking. With each step, she prayed everyone would leave her alone so she wouldn’t be forced to look at the condemnation in their eyes.

Claire walked on. Her heart sat in her chest like a heavy boulder.

The traffic was heavier as she walked through London’s busy streets. She forced her feet to take one step after another and not stop. Oh, how easy it would be to curl up beneath one of the huge linden trees lining the walk and close her eyes and never wake up. How easy it would be to wend her way through the throngs of people rushing about at the end of a busy day and get lost in all the confusion. That was how she felt. Lost. Even though there were crowds of people around her.

She reached the end of the walk and stepped onto the street. The major’s hand clamped around her arm and pulled her back as a team of horses raced by.

“Bloody hell, Claire! Watch where you’re going.”

His voice sounded angry, his hold on her tighter than she was sure he intended. She understood his animosity was in response to what he thought she’d done. Yet, what choice had she had? To hand the necklace over to the major, knowing he would let Alex die rather than give it up?

No. Using it to free Alex was a risk she’d had to take. A risk she’d take again if she had to.

Claire pulled out of his grasp and continued on her way, not sure where she was going or why. Only knowing she needed to be far away from where she’d been. From where she was. She walked faster.

He was close behind her, his presence like a looming thundercloud. His closeness as enveloping as a thick fog from which there seemed to be no escaping. She raced onward, hoping he’d leave her be. Knowing he wouldn’t.

Claire ignored the slowing of a carriage on the road beside her and walked faster.

“Claire, one of your servants is here with a carriage. Get in and he’ll take us home.”

She was suddenly consumed by an unquenchable desire to run as far away as she could. Suddenly desperate to put as much space between herself and Sam as she could. Loving him hurt too much. Losing him hurt even more.

Before she reached the next corner, he turned her around, picked her up, and carried her to where the carriage waited for them.

“Get us home. Now!” he ordered, then lifted her into the carriage and jumped in after her.

“What the bloody hell are you trying to do?” he bellowed the minute the carriage lurched forward. “Get yourself killed?”

Claire grabbed handfuls of her skirt and wadded the material in her fists. Her head throbbed as if someone had fired a cannon inside it. “Of course not, Major. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything so accommodating. I plan on living a long eventful life to make up for the years of loneliness Hunt forced me to endure while he raced to the country every spare minute he had to spend time with his loving wife and family. I plan to wake up every day with the renewed vow to think of no one but myself, to make no sacrifices that aren’t beneficial to me alone. But most important, I plan to put immediate effort into forgetting these past weeks ever happened.

“Then, if I’m very, very lucky, I might be able to forgive the Marquess of Huntingdon for everything he did to me. And forget how much I love—”

Claire’s heart slammed against her ribs. She’d almost said it. Almost revealed her innermost secret. A secret that would not only give him greater power over her, but would expose a heart already broken and bleeding.

“How much you love who, Claire?”

She forced herself to look at him, to meet his gaze and hold it, while inside her heart was aching with a pain that, at times, stole her breath.

“I want you out of my house before nightfall, Major Bennett. The servants will be at your disposal to help you pack and transport your belongings wherever you wish. But, I want you gone.”

The carriage turned a corner, then stopped in front of her town house. Before the major could open the door, Claire reached for the handle and pushed.

The door opened, and Claire jumped down without help. She raced past the startled servant and through the open door a footman held for her. She ran across the entry hall toward the stairs, then stopped with her foot on the second step. She lifted her hand from the oak railing of the winding staircase and touched the hard lump nestled in the pocket of her skirt.

She turned as the major came through the door. She hadn’t intended to look at him, didn’t want the hardened steel gray of his eyes to be the last memory she had of him, but it was too late. Their gazes locked, all the confusion and hurt laid bare for them both to see.

Without flinching, she walked to the center of the hallway and placed a small red velvet bag on the ornately carved receiving table.

Sam’s startled expression was plain to see, his gaze moving from the bag on the table back to her.

She turned and walked away.

“Bloody hell, Claire.” Sam’s hard, quiet voice stopped her on her way up the stairs. “Do you know the chance you took?”

“No, Major. I only know that I lost.”

Chapter 31

Sam hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from her as she retreated up the stairs. He held the red velvet bag she’d risked her life to protect, and listened to her muffled footsteps as she walked down the long hallway. When she reached her room, she softly closed the door behind her, shutting herself off from him and everyone else. If he lived another hundred years, he’d never forget the haunted emptiness in her expression. The hurt. The . . . loneliness.

She carried herself away from him with the same regal grace he’d witnessed the night she’d accompanied Hunt to Roseneau’s ball. It was a defense posture. He knew that now. The cloak of armor she wrapped around herself to keep all the hurt from showing. To keep from exposing her loneliness to the world. For seven years she’d played as magnificent a part as any actress on stage. She’d convinced the world that her marriage to Hunt was perfect. That there was not a hint of unhappiness. And all the time, she’d been dying inside. Because all she wanted was to be loved.

And she never was.

Sam wanted to go to her, but he couldn’t. Not until he took care of the more urgent problems. He swiped the back of his hand across his cheek and wiped the blood that still trickled down the side of his face, then looked up as Barnaby hurried down from his brother’s room. Sam motioned for him to follow, then went into Hunt’s study and closed the door behind them.

Barnaby walked to the small table that held decanters of Hunt’s fine liquors and poured them each a glass. He handed one to Sam and took a swallow from his own. “Where’s Claire?”

“She went up to her rooms.”

“Is she all right?”

“This hasn’t been easy on her. It’s going to take time. How about your brother?”

“I got Alex settled and sent for Bronnely.”

“How badly is he hurt?”

“I think he may have a broken rib or two, and it doesn’t look like he was fed too regularly. He’ll be fine once we get some nourishment down him. How about you?”

Sam took the clean handkerchief Barnaby held out to him and pressed it against the gash above his eye. “I’m fine, but we don’t have much time. I need you to find McCormick.”

“Why? Roseneau’s got the—”

Sam reached in his pocket and held out the red velvet bag. Barnaby looked down at Sam’s outstretched hand, then up to his face. His eyes opened wide. “What the—”

“Your sister switched bags.”

“She what! Do you know what could have happened to her if he would have discovered what she’d done?”

Sam nodded. “Only too well. We’ve got to get this to McCormick. Take every available man with you. We only have hours before the Russian emissary arrives. Negotiations begin tomorrow. Offering to return the Queen’s Blood will perhaps prove we’re negotiating in good faith.” He held out the necklace, and Barnaby took it.

“What about you? What if Roseneau comes back?”

“He won’t. Once he realizes he doesn’t have the necklace, if he’s smart he’ll take himself where he can never be found.”

“Do you want me to take the papers to McCormick, too?”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll keep the papers. Hunt thought they might hold a key to our traitor’s identity. I want to study them first before I hand them over. Maybe I’ll see something Hunt missed. Besides, McCormick doesn’t know they exist.”

Barnaby nodded his assent, then looked down at the velvet bag in his hands. “Would you like to see what cost Hunt his life and caused such a nightmare for so many other people?”

Barnaby didn’t wait for Sam to answer but opened the bag and pulled the diamond-and-ruby necklace from its hiding place. He laid it out on top of Hunt’s oak desk and stepped back. The sight of it stole Sam’s breath.

“Bloody hell,” Barnaby said in a reverent whisper. “Those are the most beautiful jewels I’ve ever seen. They’ve got to be worth a bloody fortune.”

“Yes,” Sam answered. “A . . .
bloody
. . . fortune.”

Barnaby didn’t say any more. He carefully put the necklace back in the bag and tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll return as soon as I can. You can’t take any chances, Bennett, so lock up after me. Even if Roseneau doesn’t come back himself, we can’t be sure he won’t send someone.”

Sam nodded and walked out with Barnaby.

“Watkins!” Sam ordered when the front door closed behind Barnaby.

“Yes, Major?” Watkins said, rushing down the stairs.

“Has Doctor Bronnely arrived?”

“Yes, Major. He’s with Lord Halverston now.”

Even though Claire wasn’t aware that Alex was there, Sam knew when she calmed she’d be thankful. Sam knew it would be easier to protect Claire and her brother if they were both in the same place. The last thing they needed was to underestimate Roseneau. There was an outside chance he would retaliate when he realized Claire had deceived him.

“I want every door and window in the house locked and barred. Even the windows in the attic.”

“Yes, Major.”

“Have someone stand guard at every entrance—the footmen, gardeners, servants, all of them. Tell the stable hands to lock the carriage house and watch the back of the house. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Major.”

“Lord Barnaby will be back shortly and he’ll bring more men with him. Until then, don’t let anyone in.”

Watkins nodded, then rushed to issue orders to the staff. Sam walked to the stairs, taking note of every pounding thud of his heart. He wanted to laugh, or shout, or rail at the Heavens. Each one of those emotions raged through him when he relived what he’d just gone through. What she’d put him through. What she’d—

He stopped.

With one foot still on the floor and one resting on the first step, he froze where he was. He’d never felt like this before, even in the midst of the most dangerous mission or after. And never when there had been a life in danger. He’d never lost control like he was doing now.

He’d been a master at evaluating every situation. A master at handling anything thrown at him. He always followed his gut instinct to adapt to the unknown. But today he’d almost lost control of the situation, and he shouldn’t have. This was no different than any other mission he’d been assigned. Except Claire had been involved and . . . he could have lost her.

I could have lost her.

Every ounce of energy rushed from him, stealing with it the air he needed to breathe.

I could have lost her.

He reached out a trembling hand and clenched his fingers around the stair railing. For an agonizing second, he thought he was suffocating. Bloody hell. He could have lost her. And if he had, he wasn’t sure he could have gone on. He wasn’t sure he’d want to. Because . . .

Sam dropped his head back on his shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut. Blood roared inside his head as he came to grips with what he’d known for weeks now. He loved her. He loved Claire more than life itself.

He needed to go to her. Needed to make sure she was all right. Needed to set things right before he sat down with the papers in his pocket. The papers that might identify the traitor.

Sam reached the top of the stairs and walked down the hall. Did she have any idea the risk she’d taken? The danger she’d been in? Every time he thought of her facing Roseneau on her own, he broke out in a cold sweat. She couldn’t possibly have been sure that he wouldn’t look inside the bag. Or kill her when he realized she’d switched necklaces.

And I would have lost her.

By the time he reached her room, he was nearly as angry with her as he’d been when he thought she’d given Roseneau the necklace. He knocked, then waited, but she didn’t bid him enter. He knocked harder. When his second knock went unanswered, he sucked in a deep breath and opened the door.

It took him a second to find her. She wasn’t sitting in front of the fire Tilly had started for her, or resting in bed. But standing by the window with her back to him.

She didn’t turn when he entered her room, only looked over her shoulder to where he stood, then looked back out the window as if ignoring him could make him go away.

“Please leave. I don’t want you here.”

“I know you don’t.”

Sam stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. At the soft click, she spun around.

“I asked you to leave. If you don’t, I’ll call Watkins to have you removed.”

“Watkins doesn’t have time. He’s busy watching the house in case Roseneau comes back.”

Her face showed the slightest hint of concern. “He won’t come back.”

She seemed confident, but Sam noticed the question in her voice. “Most likely not. He’d be a fool if he did. He knows it’s too late to get the necklace, and without it he has no choice but to run. England’s no longer a safe place for him.”

She paused as if thinking over his words, then asked, “What did you do with the necklace?”

“Your brother has it. He’s on his way to give it to McCormick.”

He stepped farther into the room, not stopping until he was so close to her he could touch her. “Are you all right?”

He waited, but she didn’t answer him, so he said, “Your brother thought it best to bring Lord Halverston here to recuperate. He’s in a room down the hall. Bronnely’s with him now.”

She nodded, then turned away from him. “Have you discovered the traitor’s identity?”

“Not yet.” Sam placed his hand over the papers in his pocket. “I’ll look at the papers when we’re finished here.”

“Then don’t let me keep you, Major. I consider everything between us finished.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Sam saw her shoulders sag. “Please don’t make this difficult.”

Sam couldn’t stop the laughter. “Nothing about what we’ve shared has been anything
but
difficult, Claire.”

“And impossible.”

“Is it?” He stepped closer until her back was pressed against his chest. “Who do you want to forget you love?”

“No one.” She took in a shaky breath that emphasized the hopelessness in her voice.

“Do you know how afraid I was when I walked into Roseneau’s room and saw you with that pistol in your hand? Do you know how afraid I was at that moment that something might happen to you? That I might lose you?”

She tried to step away from him, but he stopped her by anchoring an arm against the window. Then he turned her to look at him. The confusion on her face was almost comical.

“Do you know how afraid I was when I thought you’d given Roseneau the necklace?”

“What I saw on your face wasn’t fear, Major. It was far worse.”

“Yes. Because unlike you, I knew what your brother’s reaction would be. I didn’t know you’d switched bags but I knew, even though you thought saving Alex was your only choice, it was a choice no one would be able to live with. Especially you.”

“I could have lived with it.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he said, leaning in so close he could smell the fragrant soap she’d used to wash her hair. “Every time the papers published a casualty list from the Crimea, you’d hold yourself to blame for every name. You’d think each one of those men would be alive if only you’d given the necklace to me instead of Roseneau. What you’d done would have haunted you for the rest of your life, and you’d never have a peaceful night’s sleep until the day you died.”

She lowered her gaze to a point in the center of his chest. The worry lines on her face deepened. Sam brushed the back of his fingers across her forehead and down her cheek.

“Who do you want to forget you love, Claire?”

She shook her head.

Sam placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head until she had no choice but to look at him. “Who, Claire?”

“Don’t ”

“Ah, Claire,” he said, lowering his head until his cheek touched hers. Then he whispered in her ear, “It’s too late to fight it.”

He wanted to kiss her. Needed to kiss her. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her to him, then lowered his mouth to hers and took her.

He could count the seconds she fought him. Could tell how long she tried to keep from giving herself to him.

He knew the exact instant she yielded.

With a small cry, she wrapped her arms around his neck and met his kisses with full surrender.

Claire fought him as long as she could. She struggled not to give in, not to reveal by her kisses what she dare not speak in words. But the second his warm, inviting lips touched hers, she lost all control. She wanted his hands on her. Wanted his body pressed to hers. Wanted the feel of his touch burning every part of her. And she met his kisses with a greater urgency.

How could she reject the love she’d discovered? How could she not take what she was desperate to have? What Sam offered?

With a soft cry, she clung to him and kissed him with all the emotion she’d denied was a part of her. He held her close, his chest heaving like he’d run a long race, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.

“Oh, Claire,” he whispered. “Who can’t you forget you love?”

“Don’t ask. Just want me. Just . . .”

She reached up to kiss him again, and he took what she offered. He pressed his mouth to hers while his fingers worked at her clothes.

“Tell me, Claire,” he said, bringing his mouth back to hers, kissing her with a desperation that matched her own.