Ransomed Jewels (19 page)

Just as she knew the most wonderful night of her life, the night she’d anticipated for more than seven years, was now a night she wanted to forget had ever happened. All her beautiful memories had been destroyed.

“Linscott,” she heard the major issue to her brother, “get everyone up. I want them in Hunt’s study in fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I want that room stripped from floor to ceiling. I want every picture off the walls and every book off the shelves. Now!”

The major didn’t give Barnaby time to answer. His hard, angry footsteps stormed from the room. She clutched her hands tight around her middle.

“Claire?”

She felt Barn step up behind her, but she couldn’t turn around to look him in the eyes.

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

Claire felt Barn’s hands grip her shoulders, then turn her gently until she faced him. She forced herself not to shrink from his discerning gaze, but kept her back rigid and her chin high.

Barn dropped his hands from her shoulders and stepped back to look at her. Claire knew the moment he realized how desperately she was hurting.

“Ah, Claire. I warned you.”

“Yes, you did.”

Claire smiled a bittersweet smile, then turned away from her brother and walked to the window. The sun was up now. It was a beautiful day.

“Have Watkins get everyone up and send them to Hunt’s study. We don’t have much time left.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute to help. We have to be there in case he finds the necklace. It’s the only way to save Alex.”

Claire held her breath while Barnaby hesitated. She breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him and she was alone.

She stood as long as her legs would hold her, then sank to the floor beneath the window and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t want anyone to witness the silent, complete demise of a heart in agony. It was not something she wished to share with anyone.

Chapter 25

Claire worked alongside the servants, removing armload after armload of heavy books from the shelves and placing them on the floor. The astronomical number of volumes Hunt had accumulated was amazing. But even though some of them were rare editions, priceless in monetary worth, they were worthless when valued against Alex’s life. Which was why Claire watched every move the major made. If the necklace was here, she had to make sure she found it.

She glanced across the room to where he was busy stripping everything from the walls. He was without a jacket or waistcoat, and the sleeves of his white lawn shirt were rolled midway up his muscled forearms. He was the most powerfully masculine male she’d ever seen. As well as the most dangerously angry.

He’d said very little to anyone since she’d entered the room, and had been careful not to cast even one glance in her direction. He was quite successful at keeping his attention centered on the monumental task before him. She was glad. She wasn’t sure she could stand up under his condemning scrutiny any longer.

Barnaby worked with him, taking everything the major handed him and helping lift the objects that were too heavy for one person. Even the draperies from the windows lay in heaps on the floor. The major’s energy seemed boundless, but she knew it was raw fury that drove him.

In the scant hour since Sam had come downstairs, he’d accomplished as much as half a dozen men. He worked as if the hounds of hell were biting at his heels. As if he could burn off the frustration and anger that ate at him.

Claire knew such an effort was impossible. Hard work wouldn’t make anything go away. It wouldn’t take back the cruel words they’d both said. It wouldn’t make what they’d shared good again.

Each pass she made with another armload of books forced her to walk closer to him. She tried not to let her gaze linger too long where he stood on the ladder, but found it impossible. Her eyes were naturally drawn to his powerful physique. To his dominating presence. And each time she caught a glimpse of the fury on his face, she died a little more inside.

More than once she had to swallow past the painful lump in her throat, then berate herself because she’d allowed herself to reach for a future she should have known was impossible.

“Watkins. Remove the books from this wall next,” the major ordered in curt, precise terms. He pointed to the shelves closest to where he stood. Two servants rushed to move a second ladder to the spot he indicated, then Timothy, one of the footmen, quickly climbed the rungs.

She walked to the ladder where Timothy stood at the highest shelves and was forced to look up. From just beyond Timothy’s shoulder, the major’s gaze locked with hers. Her heart slammed against her ribs when she recognized the unyielding hardness in his eyes. He was still struggling to come to terms with what he thought she’d done. She could see it. He was still fighting emotions he was unable to control. Every shred of anger and bitterness she saw on his face was directed toward her.

Oh, she’d expected the questions. Expected to have to explain how she could still be a virgin after seven years of marriage. But she hadn’t expected the accusations. Hadn’t expected him to believe she was at fault for her failed marriage. That was the harshest blow of all. His words still left her heart aching.

Didn’t you once, in all that time, allow him to come to your bed?

She tore her gaze away from him and took the books from the footman’s outstretched hands. It was too late to wish for things that could never be. Nor did she have the luxury of changing the events of her life so things would be different. She would concentrate on something else. On finding the necklace and saving Alex.

The major evidently thought the necklace and papers were hidden here somewhere or he wouldn’t be going to such lengths to empty this room. And if they were, both she and Barnaby were here to make sure they got the necklace to exchange for Alex’s freedom.

Claire set her armload of books on the floor and went back for more. Then more. Then more. Until one wall was done and the other nearly finished.

“Claire, why don’t you sit down for a while?”

Claire turned to see Barnaby behind her. His features were strained, and there was a genuine look of concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Even the major—”

Barnaby cut off the rest of his sentence when she flashed him a hostile look.

“You need to rest. Why don’t you go to your room for a while?”

“We need to be here in case he finds the necklace. We can’t let him have it, Barn. He won’t give it to Roseneau. He’ll let Alex die.”

Barn wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. There was nothing unusual in such a show of affection from Barn. Of her two brothers, he was the most like her. The closest to her. The one who understood her best. He was also the one from whom she’d had to work hardest to keep the problems in her marriage secret.

“We have a few hours yet, Claire. We’re not out of time, and we have a small army watching Roseneau. The minute he makes a move, we’ll know it.”

Claire leaned against Barnaby and welcomed his embrace. It made her feel safe for at least a little while. But she knew it was a false sense of security that wouldn’t last. “Do you think it’s here?” she said, her cheek against his chest. “Do you think there’s a chance Hunt has a safe concealed somewhere in the walls?”

“If there is, Bennett will find it. Even if he has to bring the room down around him.”

Barnaby pushed back a strand of hair that had come loose, then held her at arm’s length. “Get some rest, Claire. You need it.”

“I’ll be fine once we have Alex home.”

Barnaby looked uncomfortable. “That may not be possible, Claire. You know that.”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat. “No, Barn. Not you, too.” She pushed herself away from him and looked into his face for an answer to the alarming fear growing inside her. “Surely you wouldn’t let the major keep it? It’s our only chance to save Alex.”

Claire knew her voice was louder than it should be, and when she looked around, several servants were staring at her. So was the major.

Barnaby led her farther away from everyone, then turned her toward him. “There are a lot of lives at stake, Claire. Alex’s is only one.”

“No!”

Claire pulled out of Barnaby’s arms. She looked at him and for the first time saw a man no different than the major. How had she missed it all this time?

“You don’t care what happens to him, do you?” she said, not caring that her words would hurt him. “You don’t care that he may die.”

“You know that’s not true, Claire.”

“Yes, it is, or you’d know we don’t have any choice but to give the necklace to Roseneau.”

“Claire, I—”

“Linscott! I need your help.”

The major’s voice cut through the tension in the room like a saber on the battlefield. Everyone in the room turned their gazes to him. Including Claire.

She stared at him, struggling to find any softness, any compassion. Any hint of the man she’d lain with last night. A man who would choose Alex’s life over the lives of strangers. She found none. He was as far removed from her as he’d ever been. As if he’d shut her out and locked the door. She clenched her fists and held his gaze, making him look away first.

“It’ll be all right,” Barnaby whispered. “I won’t let anything happen to Alex.”

“Linscott! Now!”

Barnaby gave her hand a squeeze, then went back to where the major stood. The shelves were empty, and after talking to the major, Barnaby ordered everyone to leave. When the room was cleared of the servants, the major walked to the center of the room and studied each empty wall. Claire stood frozen in place. When his penetrating gaze stopped on her, she struggled not to show any weakness but failed when the floor felt as if shifted beneath her.

“Linscott, get your sister to a chair before we have to pick her up from the floor.”

Barnaby rushed to help Claire to the nearest seat, a green-and-burgundy floral sofa someone had moved away from the wall. The major jerked his gaze away from her as if the sight of her was more than he could bear.

He positioned the ladder on the far side of the room, then grabbed a wooden mallet from the floor and climbed the ladder set up before the empty shelves. When he reached the top, he drew back his arm and let it gently fall back against the wall with a thud.

Claire sat on the edge of the settee, her nerves stretched to the breaking point as she watched the major tap the mallet against the wall. The sound was solid, hard, the dull thud the sound of a hammer hitting a barrel filled with dirt.

For many long, agonizing minutes, the pounding continued. Claire stared as if riveted to the major’s arm reaching out and striking the wall. His muscles bulged beneath his shirt, and the further he stretched, the more the material strained over his shoulders.

She remembered the feel of his flesh beneath her hands last night. How his muscles rippled at her touch. How his skin gleamed with perspiration from their frantic lovemaking. She shook her head as the pounding continued. But the visions of him lying on top of her, of his weight pressed against her, of his heat thrust inside her refused to go away.

It seemed to last forever, the pounding. But finally he finished one wall. Barnaby moved the ladder to the other side of the room, and the major climbed the rungs. A strand of hair fell across his brow, and her fingers ached to reach out like she’d done last night to brush it back. The inside of her palms itched to touch his face and feel the biting stubble against her tender flesh. Her lips ached to be kissed like she’d been last night. To feel his mouth against hers, his lips open atop hers, his tongue delving inside to mate with hers.

With each thud of the mallet, her heart thundered harder inside her breast. The steady pounding related every detail about him she couldn’t live without . . . his strength, his gentleness, his unflagging honor, his loyalty.

Each time the thuds stopped so he could move the ladder, her heart jolted as if it couldn’t beat without his urging. And when he continued, her mind ticked off in rhythm all the memories she cherished . . . the night he’d saved her from Roseneau’s henchman, afterward when he’d cradled her in his lap and called her back when he thought she was dying, when he’d held her hand, and carried her to her bed when she was too weak to walk, and forced her to eat when food was the last thing she thought her body could handle.

She remembered the hours they’d talked, the night they’d walked in the garden, the days spent in each other’s company, and . . .

Claire understood why the major’s rejection hurt more than Hunt’s rejection had. She’d taken Hunt as her husband, but she’d never truly loved him. As Hunt had never truly loved her. But she loved Sam.

If only she didn’t. If only she could have been satisfied with kissing him that first time, then never again. If only she could have been content with the way he held her and not ached for something more. But she hadn’t been.

That was why his rejection hurt so much. She more than cared for him.

She loved him.

Her heart stopped with the same suddenness as the thudding of the mallet on the wall. Everything in the room was alive, and Claire wondered if she’d uttered her most secret thoughts aloud. But it wasn’t that. She knew it when she looked at Barnaby and his eyes were riveted on the spot the major had just hit.

He hit it again.

The sound this time wasn’t like a hammer hitting a barrel filled with dirt, but a hammer hitting an empty keg. It was hollow—the sound ringing, then echoing as if there were nothing inside to stop it. The major dropped the mallet to the floor and ran his hands over the spot he’d just hit.

Barnaby stepped closer. “What is it, Major?”

The expression on Barnaby’s face was so intense Claire wondered that he didn’t climb up the other side of the ladder to help investigate.

The major didn’t answer, but deftly moved his fingers over a square area. Claire stepped closer, her heart thudding in her chest. If they found it, she couldn’t let him have it. Alex’s life depended on it.

She looked around the room, searching for something to use to take it away from him. But there was nothing.

She turned her attention back to where he still worked. He ran his fingers over a large spot, then lifted a flap in the wallpaper about two inches in diameter. He looked closer at the circle, then glanced down at Barnaby.

Claire’s heart thundered faster.

“Linscott, there’s a key in the left top drawer of Hunt’s desk. Get it.”

Barnaby ran to the desk and opened the drawer. With the key in his hand, he ran back to the major and handed it up.

Claire watched in silence as the major inserted the key in the opening and turned. With a slight pull, the secret square opened, revealing a safe in the wall that had been impossible to see by just looking.

The major reached inside and removed the contents item by item: a small box, a larger envelope, a thin ledger, and some loose papers. Last to come out was a book. A Bible.

The major climbed down the ladder and took the contents of Hunt’s safe to the desk, where he laid them out.

Claire didn’t think she could stand the suspense. Couldn’t stand knowing the necklace was there. Couldn’t stand to think she might not be able to get it.

The major sat down in Hunt’s chair, and Barnaby stood behind him. Claire took another step closer, her knees trembling, her eyes riveted on the contents.

The major picked up the small box first and opened it. It was the right size for the necklace Hunt had stolen. When he opened it, Claire expected to see the necklace that was responsible for Hunt’s death and Alex being in danger.

The major emptied the jewels on the top of the desk and looked at the contents of the box. The jewels were beautiful and without a doubt worth a fortune, but looked more like Huntingdon heirlooms: two rings, a diamond necklace, and a string of pearls. There were two or three brooches and a beautiful diamond pendant. But she could tell from the look on the major’s face that the Queen’s Blood wasn’t there.