light-headed with her anger but she struggled desperately to conceal it. Her
fate, she sensed, hinged on keeping a tight rein on her emotions.
Waycott chuckled reminiscently. "She did not remain innocent for long, I assure
you. I am accounted a most excellent lover, Sophy, as you will soon discover."
His eyes narrowed suddenly. "But that reminds me, my dear, I must ask you how
you came by the ring."
"Yes. The ring. Where and when did you lose it, my lord?"
"I am not certain." Waycott frowned. "But it is possible the village girl stole
it. She always claimed she was a member of the gentry but I knew better. She was
the offspring of some village merchant. Yes, I have often wondered if she stole
the ring from me while I slept. She was always after me, demanding some symbol
of my love. Stupid chit. But how did the ring get into your hands?"
"I told you the night of the masquerade ball. May I inquire how you knew I was
wearing the gypsy costume?"
"What? Oh, that. It was simple enough to have one of my footmen ask one of your
maids what Lady Ravenwood planned to wear that evening. It was easy to find you
in the crowd. But the ring was a surprise. Now I recall you said that you had
acquired it from a friend of yours." Waycott pursed his lips. "But how does it
happen that a lady of your class becomes friends with a tradesman's daughter?
Did she work for your family?"
"As it happens," Sophy forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly, "we knew
each other rather well."
"But she did not tell you about me, did she? You showed no signs of knowing me
when we met in London."
"No, she never confided the name of her lover." Sophy looked directly at him.
"She is dead now, my lord. Along with your babe. She took an overdose of
laudanum."
"Stupid wench." He shrugged the issue aside with an elegant movement of his
shoulders. "I am afraid I shall have to ask you to return the ring to me. It
cannot be terribly important to you."
"But it is to you?"
"I am rather fond of it." Waycott's smile was taunting. "It symbolizes certain
victories, past and present."
"I no longer have the ring," Sophy said calmly. "I gave it to Ravenwood a few
days ago."
Waycott's eyes burned for an instant. "Why the devil did you give it to him?"
"He was curious about it." She wondered if that would alarm Waycott.
"He can discover nothing about it. All who wear the ring are bound to silence.
Nevertheless, I intend to have it returned to me. Soon, my dear, you will get it
back from Ravenwood."
"It is not easy to take anything away from my husband that he does not choose to
relinquish."
"You are wrong," Waycott said triumphantly. "I have helped myself to Ravenwood's
possessions before and I will do so again."
"You are referring to Elizabeth, I suppose?"
"Elizabeth was never his. I am referring to these." He crossed the chamber and
bent over the basket on the hearth. When he straightened he was holding a
handful of green fire. "I brought them along because I thought you might find
them interesting. Ravenwood cannot give them to you, my dear. But I can."
"The emeralds," Sophy breathed, genuinely astounded. She stared at the cascade
of green stones and then jerked her eyes back to Waycott's fever bright gaze.
"You've had them all along?"
"Since the night my beautiful Elizabeth died. Ravenwood never guessed, of
course. He searched the house for them and sent word to all the jewelers in
London that if anyone came into possession of the gems, he would willingly
double the asking price. Word has it that one or two unscrupulous merchants
tried to produce copies of the originals in order to claim the doubled price but
Ravenwood was unfortunately not deceived. A pity. That would have been the final
irony, would it not? Think of Ravenwood saddled with false stones as well as two
false wives."
Sophy straightened her shoulders, unable to resist the taunt, even though she
knew it would be better if she kept silent. "I am Ravenwood's true wife and I
will not play him false."
"Yes, my dear, you will. And what's more, you will do so wearing these
emeralds." He let the necklace stream from palm to palm. He seemed hypnotized by
the shimmering green waterfall. "Elizabeth always enjoyed it that way. It gave
her a special pleasure to put on the emeralds before she got into bed with me.
She would make such sweet love to me while wearing these stones." Waycott looked
up suddenly. "You will like doing it that way, too."
"Will I?" Sophy's palms were damp. She must not say anything more that would
goad him further she told herself. She must let him think she was his helpless
victim, a meek rabbit who would not give him any resistance.
"Later, Sophy," Waycott promised. "Later, I will show you how beautiful the
Ravenwood emeralds look on a false Ravenwood bride. You will see how the
firelight makes them glow against your skin. Elizabeth was molten gold when she
wore these."
Sophy looked away from his strange eyes, concentrating on the basket of
provisions. "I assume we have a long night ahead of us, my lord. Would you mind
if I had something to eat and a cup of tea? I am feeling quite weak."
"But, of course, my dear." He swept a hand toward the hearth. "As you can see, I
have taken pains to ensure your every comfort. I had a meal prepared for us at a
nearby inn. Elizabeth and I often picnicked here before we made love. I want
everything to be just as it was with her. Everything."
"I see."
Was he as mad as Elizabeth had been, she wondered. Or simply crazed with
jealousy and the effects of lost love? Either way, Sophy told herself that her
only hope lay in keeping Waycott calm and unalarmed.
"You are not as beautiful as she was," Waycott observed, studying her.
"No, I realize that. She was very lovely."
"But the emeralds will help you look more like her when the time comes." He
dropped the jewels into the basket.
"About the food, my lord," Sophy said tentatively. "Would you mind if I prepared
us a small picnic now?"
Waycott looked out through the open door. "It's getting dark, isn't it?"
"Quite dark."
"I will build us a fire." He smiled, looking pleased with himself for having
come up with the idea.
"An excellent thought. It will soon be quite chilly in here. If you would remove
this cloak and the ropes that bind me I would be able to prepare the meal."
"Untie you? I don't think that is such a good idea, my dear. Not yet. I believe
you are still far too likely to dash out into the woods at the first opportunity
and I simply cannot allow that."
"Please, my lord." Sophy lowered her eyes, doing her best to appear weary and
lacking in spirit. "I want nothing more than to prepare us a cup of tea and a
bit of bread and cheese."
"I think we can manage something."
Sophy tensed as Waycott came toward her. But she stood still as he untied the
ropes that secured the cloak. When the last of them came free, she inhaled a
deep sigh [of relief but she made no sudden move.
"Thank you, my lord," she said meekly. She took a step toward the hearth, eyeing
the open doorway.
"Not so fast, my dear." Waycott went down on one knee, reached beneath the hem
of her heavy riding skirt and grasped her ankle. Quickly he tied one end of the
rope above her half boot. Then he got to his feet, the other end of the rope
dangling from his hand. "There, now I have you secured like a bitch on a lead.
Go about your business, Sophy. I will enjoy having Ravenwood's woman serve me
tea."
Sophy took a few tentative steps toward the hearth, wondering if Waycott would
think it a pleasant game to yank her tied foot out from under her. But he merely
went over to the hearth and lit the fire. After he had a blaze going he sat down
on the pallet, the end of the rope in his hand and leaned his chin on his fist.
She could feel his eyes on her as she began investigating the provisions in the
basket. She held her breath as she lifted the kettle and then exhaled in relief
as she discovered it was full of water.
The shadows outside the door were very heavy now. Chilled evening air flowed
into the room. Sophy brushed her hands against the folds of her skirts and tried
to think which pocket contained the herbs she needed. She jumped when she felt
the rope twitch around her ankle.
"I believe it is time to shut the door," Waycott said as he got up from the
pallet and moved across the room. "We would not want you to get cold."
"No." As the door to freedom swung shut, Sophy fought back a wave of terror. She
closed her eyes and turned her face to the flames to hide her expression. This
was the man who was responsible for her sister's death. She would not allow fear
to incapacitate her. Her first goal was escape. Then she would find a way to
exact revenge.
"Feeling faint, my dear?" Waycott sounded amused.
Sophy opened her eyes again and stared down into the flames. "A little, my
lord."
"Elizabeth would not have been quivering like a rabbit. She would have found it
all a wonderful game. Elizabeth loved her little games."
Sophy ignored that as she turned her back on her captor and busied herself with
the small packet of tea that had been packed in the basket. She thanked heaven
for the voluminous folds of her riding habit. They acted as a screen for her
hands when she retrieved a small pouch of herbs from a pocket.
Panic shot through her when she glanced down and saw that she had retrieved
violet leaves instead of the herbs she needed. Hurriedly she stuffed the leaves
back into a pocket.
"Why did you not sell the emeralds?" she asked, trying to distract Waycott's
attention. She sat down on a stool in front of the hearth and made a production
out of adjusting her skirts. Her fingers closed around another small packet.
"That would have been difficult to do. I told you, every good jeweler in London
was watching for the emeralds to appear on the market. Even if I had sold them
stone, by stone, I would have been at risk. They are very uniquely cut gems and
would have been easily recognized. But in all truth, Sophy, I had no desire to
sell them."
"I understand. You liked knowing that you had stolen them from the Earl of
Ravenwood." She fumbled with the second packet of herbs, opening it cautiously
and combining the contents with the tea leaves. Then she fussed with the kettle
and teapot.
"You are very perceptive, Sophy. It is odd, but I have often felt that you and
you alone, truly understood me. You are wasted on Ravenwood, just as Elizabeth
was."
Sophy poured the boiling water into the pot and prayed she had used a sufficient
quantity of the sleeping herbs. Then she sat tensely on the stool, waiting for
the brew to steep. The final product would be bitter, she realized. She would
have to find some way to conceal the taste.
"Do not forget the cheese and bread, Sophy," Waycott admonished.
"Yes, of course." Sophy reached into the basket and removed a loaf of coarse
bread. Then she spotted the small container of sugar. Her trembling fingers
brushed the glittering emeralds as she picked up the sugar. "There is no knife
for the bread, my lord."
"I am not so foolish as to put a blade in your hands, Sophy. Tear the bread
apart."
She bent her head and did as he had instructed. Then she carefully arranged the
fragments of bread and chunks of strong cheese on a plate. When she was finished
she poured the tea into two cups. "All is ready, Lord Waycott. Do you wish to
eat by the fire?"
"Bring the food over here. I would have you serve me the way you do your
husband. Pretend we are in the drawing room of Ravenwood Abbey. Show me what a
gracious hostess you can be."
Calling on every ounce of composure she possessed, Sophy carried the food across
the room and placed the cup in his hand. "I fear I may have added a bit too much
sugar to the tea. I hope it is not too sweet for your taste."
"I like my tea quite sweet." He watched her with anticipation as she put the
food in front of him. "Sit down and join me, my dear. You will need your
strength later. I have plans for us."
Sophy sat down slowly on the pallet, trying to keep as much distance as possible
between herself and Waycott. "Tell me, Lord Waycott, are you not afraid of what
Ravenwood will do when he discovers you have abused me?"
"He will do nothing. No man in his right mind would cross Ravenwood at cards or
cheat him in business but everyone knows Ravenwood will never again bestir
himself to risk his neck over a woman. He has made it clear he no longer thinks
enough of any woman to take a bullet for her." Waycott bit off a chunk of cheese
and a swallow of tea. He grimaced. "The tea is a bit strong."
Sophy closed her eyes for a moment. "I always make it that way for Ravenwood."
"Do you? Well, in that case, I will have it the same way."
"Why do you doubt that my husband would challenge you? He fought a duel over
Elizabeth, did he not?"
"Two of them. Or so legend would have it. But he engaged in those appointments