The Black Diamond (39 page)

Aurora kept her head averted, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the viscount's words … not only their truth, but the image they evoked: Julian unconscious, lying in the road, bleeding and alone.

Instinctively her hand closed around the scrap of gold encircling her finger, deriving inexplicable comfort from touching the cool surface of the ring that proclaimed her Julian's wife.

Besieged by worry, she prayed.

* * *

Dawn's first rays were slicing the horizon as Lord Guillford propelled Aurora up the rough path leading through the black cliffs. It had been miles since he'd dragged her from the phaeton, urged her along at gunpoint. Her body ached with exhaustion, her head pounded with worry over Julian's fate—and her own. Yet she forced herself to push onward, praying for a miracle.

Thus far, none had arrived.

She paused, tearing her skirts free of a protruding rock—the dozenth in as many steps. Her slippers were worn, her gown shredded, and Guillford and his pistol were mere inches behind her.

"How much farther must we go?" she panted, blowing damp strands of hair off her face.

"Until I say otherwise," Guillford returned icily, jabbing the pistol against her back.

Aurora glanced back over her right shoulder to assess Guillford's condition—intentionally avoiding the dramatic coastal view to her left by doing so. If she allowed herself to explore that angle, to gaze downward at the jutting rocks and swirling waters below, she'd be sick.

"Don't build any false hopes that I'm going to collapse with fatigue." With a hard motion, the viscount yanked at his cravat, loosening the still meticulously tied knot. "I devised this plan weeks ago in the event Macall failed me. Therefore, I've already walked this entire path—not only to test my endurance but to locate the perfect cove to act as your temporary home. Both efforts proved successful. Now, move."

A twinge of hope—the first in seven hours—flickered in Aurora's heart as she continued on her way, teetering a bit as she ascended one of the cliff's ragged precipices. She wasn't surprised by the viscount's thoroughness; he was an exacting man by nature, most assuredly when his entire future was at stake. But now she knew something she hadn't before: he didn't intend to kill her immediately. Instead he meant to leave her here, presumably while he returned to Fowey, notified Julian of her plight, and bartered for her life. And while the thought of being abandoned here was frightening, it was infinitely more appealing than the alternative. Plus it might buy her some time, give her a fighting chance to escape.

Guillford's next words dashed that filament of hope.

"Lost in thought? Well, consider this: I don't trust you, Aurora. You're too damned resourceful. Thus, I won't be leaving you alone for too long—only long enough for me to travel to Falmouth and dispatch a missive to your husband. During that time, you'll be bound and gagged. When I return, I'll remove your bonds and—perhaps—give you a bit of food and water. I'd prefer to keep you alive and well until I get word from your husband, which should occur tonight."

Aurora paused. "How will Julian know where to contact you?"

"He won't. Nor will he ever know my identity, not if he hopes to live. My anonymous missive will advise him of my terms—specifically, to turn over the black diamond in exchange for your life. It will also instruct him when and where he's to leave the stone and, of course, collect you—a well-chosen location, incidentally, that's several shires away from here. As for how my missive will reach him, I've hired a most eager and discreet messenger who will track your Julian down and await his reply, then ride directly to Falmouth to convey that response to me."

"So you'll be returning to Falmouth after dark?"

"Yes. And once again, you'll be bound and gagged in your little cove. If things go as I expect, Julian's message will be an agreement to my terms. After all, what choice does he have? He certainly won't sacrifice your life, not even for the black diamond."

"But my life is already sacrificed, is it not? It was the minute I learned who my abductor was."

"Sadly enough, that's true. Julian will deliver the stone, but he won't be receiving his bride in return."

Aurora swallowed. "How do you plan to kill me?"

"That, my dear, depends on you. As I said, I don't trust you. On the other hand, I'm not an excessively violent man. So if you behave during my two trips to Falmouth, if you attempt nothing foolish, I'll go the merciful route and simply leave you to your fate."

"Which means flinging me, bound and gagged, in an isolated cove where I'll either suffocate or starve. How generous."

"'Tis far more pleasant than the alternative, I assure you," Guillford said in a steely tone. "Because if you're difficult, if you make any stupid efforts to escape—including now—then I'll be forced to toss you over the edge of the cliff, to be dashed on the rocks below." He leaned forward, fingered one disheveled red-gold tress. "Which would be a terrible waste for one as beautiful as you."

"Don't touch me," Aurora said quietly, yanking away her hair and walking forward.

He followed close behind, his sardonic chuckle chilling her blood. "How principled you've suddenly become. And at such an odd time. We're discussing your death and you're worrying about your virtue. Curious indeed. Well, fear not. While the thought of having you is tempting, I'm far more interested in your money than I am in your body—beautiful or not. Just remember what I said. How you die is up to you."

Again Aurora paused, this time pivoting to face her adversary. "I could refuse to cooperate. After all, you've just told me I'm to die no matter what. Why should I not just remain here, insist you shoot me where I stand?"

"Because my bullet would only inflict great pain rather than death," Guillford returned, his mouth thinning with anger. "I'd make sure of that. In fact, I'd make sure you were fully conscious and alert when you plunged over the edge of the cliff. Tell me, Aurora, are you that brave?" He strode forward, gripping her face and forcing it around and down, until her gaze swept the ragged coastline. "Are you?"

Peering downward, Aurora felt bile rise in her throat. The entire section of cliffs upon which they stood jutted out over the water, angled into a drop that meant instant death. Far below, the currents rushed wildly about, crashing into jagged boulders, lapping against towering columns of stone that loomed on every side, menacing in their domination.

God help her, she was too afraid to die this way.

Raising her head, Aurora stared off into the distance, spying the faraway peaks defining the western tip of Cornwall.
Land's End
, she mused vaguely, glimmers of Mr. Scollard's legends filtering through her mind.

Oh, Mr. Scollard, how I need you now
, she reflected wistfully, realizing for the first time that she might never see her old friend again
. I need your wisdom. I need your faith. And dear God, I need Julian.

In that instant, her gaze was captured by a faint object situated on a tiny island just off the coast of Land's End. A lighthouse.

Graceful, tall, the stone structure brushed the newly lit skies with its presence, beckoning whoever craved its presence.

And oh, how Aurora craved.

Was it just her imagination or did the building much resemble her beloved Windmouth Lighthouse?

As if in answer, a tiny light flashed in the lighthouse tower. Just once—so fleeting one would hardly notice. Then it vanished.

Mr. Scollard, is that you?
Aurora begged silently.
Are you telling me all hope is not lost?

Another glimmer of light, fleeting—perfect. Aurora had her answer.

Giving unspoken t
hank
s, she regathered her strength, called upon her faltering reserves. So long as she was surrounded by her friend, his renewing faith, there was still hope a miracle might occur.

"Have you contemplated the scenery long enough?" Guillford demanded, his fingers digging into her cheeks. "Or do you require a closer view?"

"No," she replied with apparent submission. "I don't require a closer view. You're right—I don't want to die in such a horrid manner. I'm ready to continue our walk."

"Excellent." The viscount released her, gesturing a short distance away with the barrel of the gun. "We have only to go a bit farther—to the top of this peak. The cove is around back, a carefully hidden niche in the stone."

Aurora followed his gesture, noting that their goal was indeed nearby. Flanked by two towering cliffs, the top of the peak was narrow, the space separating it from the larger peaks narrower still.

"The path is quite cramped as it rounds back," Guillford announced. "Only one of us can pass at a time. I was a bit concerned about letting you out of my sight, even for those few seconds—but my concerns were put to rest by the little talk we just had. However, heed what I said and don't do anything foolish."

"I won't."

"Good. Now move." Another hard jab of his pistol.

Raising her chin, Aurora marched onward, taking the forty or fifty paces to the top of the ridge, then flattening herself against it, easing her way around the specified curve.

For a split second she was out of Guillford's reach.

It was enough time for her miracle to occur.

A flash of movement plummeted from the cliff overhead, small stones pelting the path as a dark figure crashed down, landing precisely where Aurora had stood not an instant earlier.

She heard Lord Guillford's shout of pain and surprise, and without hesitating, she scooted back around the curve, her eyes widening as they confirmed what her heart already knew.

Julian.

Having knocked Guillford down, he was in the process of kicking aside the viscount's pistol, sending it sailing across the ground.

The Merlin had struck.

"Get the gun, Aurora," Julian yelled the instant he spied her. "Shoot him."

Reflexively Aurora complied, rushing over and scooping up the pistol, positioning herself as Julian and Guillford rolled away, pounding at each other. Jaw set, she aimed, fully intending to put a bullet straight through Guillford's heart.

The problem was, he was not only a moving target, he was entangled with the man she loved. The slightest error and she could fatally wound Julian.

She couldn't risk it. She had to wait.

The two men were a blur, a violent surge of pummeling fists and frenzied motions.

"Not this time, damn you," Guillford gasped, smashing his fist into Julian's jaw and propelling him to one side. "This time I'm going to win. This time you're going to die."

"You miserable bastard." Julian lunged for him again, slamming Guillford to his back, punching him once, twice, murder raging in his eyes. "When I think of what you intended for Aurora…" Another fervent punch.

Guillford groaned, turning his head wildly from side to side to evade the assault, then jerking upward, his forearm finding and connecting with the wound at Julian's throat.

Julian recoiled and doubled up with pain, and Guillford seized his opportunity, shoving Julian off him … sending him closer to the edge of the cliff. Then, he pounced, grabbing handfuls of Julian's shirt and dragging him toward what was obviously meant to be his death.

Aurora's warning scream froze on her lips as Julian retaliated, breaking Guillford's grip and sending him sprawling to the ground with one hard hurl.

Seeing her chance, Aurora aimed, but before she could fire, Guillford roared to life, coming to his feet and charging forward, clearly intending to thrust Julian over the edge.

Impassively Julian watched the viscount's approach, making no move to evade him—and thereby shattering whatever remained of Aurora's self-control.