by Candace Camp
She was just sliding the rope off when Theo moaned and turned his head. “Theo! Wake up.” She leaned closer to him.
At that moment there was the sound of footsteps slapping along the corridor. Megan glanced at her father in horror. What if they were coming in here to check on their captives?
Frank and Megan darted behind one of the large cabinets, and Frank pulled out the revolver Theo had left him, holding it ready in his hand. They waited.
A cloaked figure came into the room. The person was small, and from that fact and the sway of her hips as she walked, Meg assumed that it must be a woman.
Megan and her father held their breath, afraid the woman would turn and see that two of the captives had been untied. But she did not even cast a glance at the bodies as she walked over to a table. There was a tray on it, and beside it some bottles and small bowls. The woman set a bowl on the tray and poured a dark liquid from a bottle into it.
A scheme began to form in Megan’s mind. She glanced around her for a weapon, and her eyes fell on a small Aztec head carved out of onyx. It would do nicely, she thought.
Picking up the head in both hands, she hurled herself out from the cover of the cabinet and straight at the figure. The woman whirled at the last moment, and her eyes widened behind her mask. She opened her mouth, but before she could draw breath to scream, Megan swung, hitting her on the side of the head. She crumpled without a sound.
“Good girl,” Frank commended her and started back to the captives.
“No, wait, help me get this costume off her,” Megan told him. “I am going to put it on.”
She knelt beside the prone figure, and pulled the mask and headdress from the woman’s face. It was Lady Scarle.
No surprise there, Megan thought. They had, after all, seen her in Coffey’s embrace after she left the museum the previous night. She was probably his confidant and closest assistant.
“Are you going to go in there?” Frank asked, crouching down beside her, frowning.
“I have to. With these clothes on, maybe I can get close enough to free Dennis’s daughter.”
Frank hesitated for another moment, then nodded. “You’re right. It’s the best way. I will untie the men and wake them up if I can, and we’ll join you.”
“I just hope they haven’t been drugged.”
Together, they twisted and pulled, managing to get the cloak off the limp body of Lady Scarle. Over in the corner, the men were stirring, and one of them let out a groan. Megan glanced over and saw that Theo was blinking, his face dazed. The knot in her chest loosened some more, but she did not let herself go to him, however much she wanted to. She had to get back into that room as soon as possible, before the group of worshippers began to wonder what had happened to Lady Scarle.
Frank helped Megan pull on the heavy cloak and tie it in place, then settled the headdress on her. “You are a mite shorter, but that’s good. It will let this heathenish feather robe hide your shoes.”
“There. That’s good.” Megan slid her arms through the slits in the cloak and picked up the bowl of noxious-looking liquid.
Was this the brew that they would drink to induce hallucinations and the proper cooperative spirit? she wondered. Or was it a poison that Coffey intended to administer to her niece? Whatever the man intended, she was going to stop him first.
With a last nod to her father, she picked up the tray and left the room. Behind her, Frank hastened over to finish untying the captives.
Megan glided down the hall, trying to imagine how an acolyte in such a religion would walk. Solemnly, she thought, to match the gravity of the occasion. With pride, of course. She would be proud that she was the woman chosen by Coffey. And, if she was Lady Helena Scarle, she would love having every eye in the place on her, so she would milk every last bit of drama from the moment that she could.
She reached the opened doors into the altar room. Her eyes went first to the altar on which the child lay. She was still stretched out, motionless, and there was no sign of blood on her. Megan let out a sigh of relief. She had thought that there would be no sacrifice until Lady Scarle got back, but she had not been absolutely sure.
The high priest stood behind the altar, his arms spread out, his hands placed on the little girl’s head and ankles. When he saw Megan pause at the threshold of the door, he broke into a loud chant, raising his arms and lifting his eyes to the heavens. Megan lifted her tray higher and strode toward the altar.
She wished she had some idea what she was supposed to do. The more time she could buy her father and the other men, the better. She reached the altar and stopped beside the priest. She kept her face turned down, thinking that surely this was the way Coffey would expect to be approached. It would also serve to keep him from looking into her eyes and seeing that they were not the vivid blue of Lady Scarle’s.
He turned to her, reaching out and taking the bowl from the tray. He said something she did not understand. Megan hoped she was not supposed to answer. He turned back to face the audience and, lifting the bowl over his head, began to declaim.
“Hear us, oh, Inti, god of the sun. We are your children. We are chosen to carry on your blood. Your life. Come to us, and show us the way. Accept this, our sacrifice, the purest of the pure. Bring us the gift of your immortality. And make us your own.”
He brought the bowl down to his lips and drank from it. Megan realized that next he would probably turn to her to offer her the drink and then to his followers. She was not about to drink the foul-smelling stuff, whatever it was, so she had to act now.
Grasping the metal tray on one side with both hands, she stepped forward, lifting her arms, and brought it down with all her strength on the back of Coffey’s head. There was a satisfying clang, and Coffey crumpled, the bowl falling from his hands and hitting the altar, then rolling off onto the floor beyond.
There was a gasp of horror from the people before her, and in that instant, Theo, her father and the other men burst in.
Megan didn’t spare a glance for them as they poured into the room. She leaped forward and shoved Coffey’s sprawled form off Caya, then started to work on the straps that held the child bound to the altar.
The room rang with the sound of flying fists and shouts as the occupants reacted to the sudden appearance of the band of men. Megan ignored the sounds of the fighting, concentrating solely on setting her niece free.
Her fingers fumbled at the knots, but she managed to undo the strap around the girl’s chest, and she moved on to the cord around Caya’s legs. That, too, gave way after much tugging, and Megan bent to scoop the girl up in her arms.
At that moment an arm went hard around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and the cold blade of a knife was pressed against her throat. The hard plates of the high priest’s costume bit into her back.
“Halt!” Coffey’s voice roared out. “Cease, or she is dead!”
Megan had been so intent on freeing Caya that she had not noticed that Coffey had regained consciousness. Silently cursing her carelessness, she looked out over the room. The fighting had stopped, and everyone was standing still, staring at her and Coffey.
Theo took an involuntary step forward, and Coffey pressed the knife more tightly to her throat. Megan could feel a thin trickle of blood run down her throat. The movement stopped Theo in his tracks, still several feet away from them.
“Let her go, Julian,” Theo ordered, his voice tight. “You have not hurt anyone yet. You can still get away with it. But if you kill her, you will go to jail, and nothing, no one, will be able to save you. You will be hanged by the neck ’til you’re dead. I am told ’tis a long, slow way to die. Not exactly your style.”
“You think you can stop me?” Coffey asked, his voice smug. “That your puny efforts will bring me down? I am favored of the gods! I will be immortal.”
“That is the ceremonial tea talking, Coffey,” Dennis said flatly, coming up toward Coffey from the other side of the room. “You won’t be immortal. You cannot. There
is one thing I never told you—the magic does not work outside the sacred valley. That is why you have never been able to keep yourself from aging, no matter what you did.”
“You lie!” Coffey shouted. “You are trying to trick me.”
He had turned his head to watch Dennis, and he did not see the way Theo was edging closer to the dais, but Megan did. She began to weep, sagging against Coffey’s arm, so that he had to take more of her weight.
“Stand up, blast you,” Coffey hissed in her ear.
“I can’t!” Megan wailed, letting loose with loud sobs and leaning even harder against him.
“Bloody woman!” Coffey burst out, shifting his arm to get a better hold of her.
As he did so, his other hand moved away from her throat. Megan seized the moment, thrusting up and back with her head as hard as she could. She connected smartly with Coffey’s chin, snapping his head back and sending pain bursting through her own skull.
Theo threw himself the last few feet at Coffey, and the three of them went down with a crash. The air whooshed out of Megan’s chest as she hit the floor, Theo’s weight half on her and half on Coffey. Struggling for air, she tried to squirm away as Theo grappled with Julian.
A hand grabbed her arm and jerked her away from the men. She looked up to see Dennis. He pulled her to her feet and thrust her away toward their father, then turned back to go to Theo’s aid.
But even as he turned, Theo’s fist thudded into Julian’s face, knocking the golden mask back and exposing his chin. Theo took advantage of the target by slamming his fist into Coffey’s chin, and the man went limp.
Megan’s beleaguered lungs began to work again, and she drew in a grateful gasp of air before Theo jumped up from Coffey’s prostrate form and whirled, pulling her into his embrace.
“Megan! Thank God!”
If she was smothered in Theo’s embrace, Megan did not seem to mind. She clung to him tightly as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I was so scared! I thought I’d lost you!” He rained kisses over her hair and face. “I love you. I love you.”
“Theo…” Megan sighed, burrowing against his chest, warmth spreading through her. She was, she thought, home at last.
* * *
DENNIS’S DAUGHTER, to everyone’s relief, awakened a few hours later from her drugged sleep, groggy and frightened but physically unharmed. She threw herself into her father’s arms and let loose a torrent of tears of joy and relief. She did not move from her position in his lap for the entire time that they sat and related the adventures of the evening to the Moreland family. Megan, sitting beside Theo, with her hand firmly clasped in his the whole evening, could understand how the girl felt.
Not surprisingly, the duke and duchess took everything in stride, undismayed by the sudden addition to their household of a group of strangers. A large collection of cheeses, cakes, cold meats and breads soon appeared on the sideboard in the breakfast room, and the participants in the evening’s raid remembered suddenly that they were starving.
Much later, after the tale had been told and retold many times, and Reed and Barchester had returned from the police station with the news that Julian Coffey was languishing in a cell, charged with a variety of crimes ranging from extortion to kidnapping to attempted murder, the party began to break up.
Dennis and his children left with Deirdre and Frank Mulcahey, and the various Morelands began to make their way toward their own beds. Even the twins were at last calmed down enough to agree to sleep. But Theo, instead of starting toward the stairs, took Megan’s hand and led her toward the conservatory and the door into the garden.
They went down the steps, and he curled his arm around her shoulders. Megan leaned into his side, resting her head against his chest. She would not think about the future, she told herself. She would just revel in the present. Theo had said he loved her, and for the moment that was enough. It would have to be enough.
“Do you think Coffey will get out of jail?” she asked.
Theo made a scornful noise. “Not any time soon. The Morelands may be considered odd, but our word still carries weight. And Barchester told the police the whole story, even the parts that made him look rather foolish. All the followers are now scrambling to shift the blame for their actions onto Coffey, claiming that they were all drugged and unwitting.” He shrugged. “Who knows? It may even be true.”
He bent and kissed the top of her head. “He will pay, believe me.”
“Good. When I think of what he did to Dennis and to you…Of the way he lied—and all those years that we thought you had killed Dennis! I don’t think he could possibly pay enough.”
“What about Dennis?” Theo asked. “Is he going back to South America?”
“Yes. He loves Tanta too much to remain here. But he said he would stay with us for a few days. Not long—his wife is at home, not knowing what has happened or if her daughter is dead or alive. He can’t let her remain in suspense. But he has promised he will visit us in New York and bring his children, too. He believes that it is important that they come to know the outside world, as well as the beauty of their village. We will just have to work very hard to keep their village a secret from the world.”
“Megan…” Theo stopped and turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. The light of the full moon slanted across his face, washing it with pale light.
“Yes?” Megan’s heart sped up at the serious look on Theo’s face, and suddenly her stomach tightened. She was not at all sure that she wanted to hear what he was going to say. Surely he could not send her away, not after what had happened tonight!
“Wait,” she said quickly, holding up a hand to forestall his words. “I want to tell you something first. I love you.”
“I love you, too. That is why—”
“No, let me finish. Loving you is enough for me. I understand you have responsibilities and…I can accept that. I am not saying I like it, but I can—I want to be with you in whatever way I can. I don’t care about your title or my reputation or any of that. All I care about is you.”
“Are you finished now?” he asked patiently, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
She nodded.
“Good.” He bent to kiss her lips quickly. “I am glad you don’t care about my title, because, frankly, I don’t, either. But I do care about your reputation. And mine. Most of all, I care about you and our life together. Megan, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He paused, then went on, “Will you marry me?”
Megan could not stop the smile that burst across her face. “Oh, Theo!” Her throat was suddenly choked with tears. “I love you, too. More than anything. I can’t tell you how much it means that you want to marry me.”
She reached up and curved her hand lovingly against his cheek. “But you will be a duke. You can’t marry a commoner. An American one, at that.”
“Believe me, you are anything but common,” Theo retorted. “And what difference does it make that you’re American? You act as if I’m royalty or some such thing. I’m not. I’m merely me.”
“But your family—you owe it to them to make a good marriage.”
“It will be a good marriage. I promise you that.”
“You know what I mean!” Megan exclaimed in exasperation. “The sort of marriage a duke should make. Your parents—”
“My parents love you. They could not be happier.”
Megan looked at him in surprise. “You mean—you told them?”
“Of course. I talked to Mother yesterday. She gave me this ring.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold ring with a magnificent ruby set in its center.
“It belonged to my father’s mother. She left it to my mother when she died—not because she liked my mother, you understand. Grandmother was something of a harridan and believed that my father had married very much beneath him. That is one reason my mother stuck the ring away in a box and never wore it. But it is tradition that this ring passes fro
m duchess to duchess. And, as you will be the next duchess, she agreed that it would be the perfect engagement ring for you.”
Theo extended the ring to Megan. She saw that his fingers trembled slightly with nerves, and all her insides went as soft as melted wax at the thought.
“Oh, Theo!” Tears glimmered in her eyes, and she raised her fingers to her lips, unable to say more.
“Please take it, Megan. Tell me you will marry me. If the title bothers you that much, I will give it up, make Reed take it. There must be a way I can do that.”
“Oh, Theo!” Megan cried again, the tears spilling out now and rolling down her cheeks, and she launched herself at him, her arms encircling his neck. “Yes! Yes! Of course I will marry you!”
He let out a gusty sigh of relief. “Thank God! You were beginning to worry me.” He hugged her to him tightly, nuzzling into her hair before he pulled back and took her hand, slipping the ring upon it. “I thought you might insist I move to New York and go to work or something.”
Megan let out a watery chuckle. “I don’t care where we live or what you do. I will go wherever you go—China or Africa or the North Pole. All I care about is being with you.”
“Then we are agreed,” he said, adding with a grin, “for once.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Megan warned.
“I won’t,” he promised, bending close and looking into her eyes. “But I plan to get used to loving you.”
With that, he pulled her close, and their lips met in a long, slow kiss.
* * * * *
If you’ve fallen for the delightful Moreland family, you won’t want to miss an early look at the latest volume in the Mad Morelands series, His Sinful Touch, coming soon from New York Times bestselling author Candace Camp and HQN Books!
PROLOGUE
HER EYES DRIFTED OPEN. It was shadowy and dark, the only light a small kerosene lamp on a chest across the room. But even in the dim light, she knew this wasn’t home. Her eyes closed again, the lids heavy. She wanted to sleep again, but she knew she couldn’t. Foggy and befuddled as she was, there was a sharp, insistent fear that prodded her to wake up.