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“M y grandfather must have been devastated to think he’d been deceived by a counterfeiter. The very thought of it... of how he must have felt... it’s heartbreaking.”

A sudden sadness washed over Macie as she watched Professor Aylesworth at her grandfather’s mahogany desk, silently studying the century-old letter Nell had discovered. Grandpapa had been so meticulous in his research. So scrupulous in his dealings. How could he have been deceived?

With any luck, Aylesworth would be able to correctly interpret her grandfather’s cryptic notes. Her grandfather had regarded him as a calm, cool-headed researcher. Ever analytical, the man possessed a keen-eyed ability to detect the tiny flaws which distinguished a true relic from a clever fraud.

As the pendulum on the clock ticked off each passing moment, nervous tension crept through her body. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her parasol to keep them from trembling.

Holding it up to the light, the professor closely examined the aged sheet of vellum. His brow furrowed, he placed the letter beside the journal pages on the desk and met Macie’s gaze.

“I suspect his notes have been misinterpreted,” he said. “I see nothing of concern.”

“Are you quite sure?” His dismissal of her grandfather’s suspicions seemed premature.

Aylesworth offered a solemn nod. “He has rigorously documented his observations, but it appears he was out of his depth.”

Macie took the missive in hand. “He believed this letter proved the antiquities in question could not be genuine.”

“It would appear he was mistaken,” Aylesworth softened his tone. “Your grandfather often called upon me to interpret documents as well as to offer a rational counterpoint to his conclusions.”

“But he didn’t turn to you. Not this time.” Macie let out a low breath. “Why would he have kept this to himself?”

The professor shrugged. “Andrew Bennington was a proud man. If he thought he’d been duped, he may have wanted to keep the matter quiet.”

“So, you don’t believe his suspicions were justified?”

“At this point, I’d say there’s no reason for concern, Miss Mason.”

“I do wish I could say I was relieved.” She gazed down at her grandfather’s notations—notations which corresponded with the document the professor had so summarily dismissed. “But my grandfather was not one to reach any conclusion without clear evidence.”

“And you believe this is it?” Aylesworth shrugged. “I have to say, I am not convinced. Not yet. But I’d be willing to give the letter a more thorough examination, if only to set your mind at ease.”

“Thank you, but I would not want to impose, much less when you’re preparing to embark on your journey.”

“It will not pose a problem” he said, removing his spectacles. “Once I’m at my laboratory, I will be able to do what needs to be done.”

She shook her head. “For now, I prefer to secure the documents. As I understand it, Professor Hedges is not traveling with your team.”

“He is not,” Aylesworth replied quickly. “What does Hedges have to do with any of this?”

“My grandfather spoke highly of him, just as he did of you. I may seek a consultation.”

“With all due respect to Professor Hedges, he does not possess the necessary expertise. You may trust me to conduct a thorough analysis.” He rose to his full height and came around the desk. “I owe it to Andrew.”

As he spoke, a muscle ticked in his jaw. Macie met his eyes. She saw it then. Saw it so very clearly.

He was lying.

An alarm screamed deep within her. Why had this man—this man her grandfather had long trusted—lied to her?

She reached for the documents on the desk, but he blocked her. Gesturing to the letter, Professor Aylesworth’s mouth set in a grim line.

“Ah, Miss Mason... I wish you had not seen this.”

She took a step back, then another. “Professor, is something wrong?” Macie already knew the answer, even as she managed to speak the words without trembling.

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is.” He plowed one hand through his hair, raking his fingers through the dark strands. “You’ve created this situation, you know. Just as your grandfather did. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

“What... are you talking about?” Slowly, she continued edging toward the door.

With swift movements, he closed the distance between them. His broad back blocked the doorway.

“You’re as stubborn as that old mule was, aren’t you?” he said, nearly under his breath. “I’ll tell you when we’re done.”

“I don’t much care for your tone,” she said, unwilling to betray the sudden fear coursing through her veins. She tightened her grip on her parasol.

“This is all your fault.” His eyes narrowed. “If you’d packed up your camera and come along with me, I would’ve have had this place reduced to ashes before you returned... an accident waiting to happen.” He shoved a pile of her grandfather’s old books to the floor. “So much old, dry paper. So much fuel for a fire.”

“Why are you saying this?” she asked, deciding on the optimal spot on his body to aim her blow.

“You are a beautiful woman.” A tone akin to regret filled his voice. “If I’d had my way, you and I might have soon been warming a bed in Italy. But now, you’ve destroyed everything.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying. You must tell me what this is about.” She tried to keep his attention on her words and not on the subtle movements of her hands as she gripped the parasol.

“Miss Mason, you are a poor liar.” He raked his fingers through his hair again, as if he were agonizing over his thoughts. “If your grandfather had simply let sleeping dogs lie, none of this would have happened.”

“My grandfather trusted you.” Macie gulped against a sudden bitterness in her throat.

“Not enough.” Aylesworth stared at her, contempt in his eyes. “The old fool came to me with his conclusions, and I dismissed his suspicions. But like you, he wasn’t convinced.”

Old fool. The words seemed like a slap to the face. Macie swallowed her anger. She had to know the truth. “What happened then?”

“By the time I went after the evidence, he’d hidden the documents. No one knew where his blasted safe was concealed in this monstrosity of a house.”

“What did you do to my grandfather?”

He slowly shook his head. “Not a blasted thing. My efforts to convince him to entrust the documents to me did not work. Before I could convince him to cooperate, his heart gave out.”

Macie let out a breath she’d been holding. At least her grandfather had not suffered at this cad’s hands.

“So, you are not a cold-hearted murderer.”

“Blasted shame I cannot confirm your theory.” A slight smirk played on his mouth. “If only your grandfather had not shared his suspicions with Professor Smythson.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath Macie’s feet. “You... you killed him.”

“He left me no choice.”

“But why?”

“The day before your grandfather died, he went to Smythson with a document that confirmed the antiquities were not authentic. Trusting fool that he was, Smythson sought my expertise on the matter. After the professor gave me the letter, I destroyed it. For months, I thought my problem had been solved with the strike of a match. But when Smythson got word that a major piece sold to a collector was believed to be a fraud, he remembered what your grandfather had told him. There were more letters, he told me. More evidence. And he intended to find them.” Aylesworth gave his head a dramatically rueful shake. “A bit of poison in his tea did the job. If I’d had more experience, I would have better estimated the proper dose.”

“Dear God.” Macie gripped the parasol tightly. “Why are telling me this?”

“I intend to offer you a choice, Miss Mason. Together, we will take this pile of rubbish your grandfather so carefully assembled, place it in the fireplace, and watch it burn down to the last ash. And then, you will take me to his safe and prove nothing else remains. Then, and only then, will you walk out of this house.”

She struggled against the fear surging through her. “I don’t believe you.”

His eyes gleamed with venom. “I won’t even try to stop you from leaving this room. Unless you’re afraid of what will happen when you reach the stairs. A nasty tumble in all those bulky skirts... I doubt your dainty neck would withstand the fall.” His mouth curved into a serpentine smile. “Shall I prove it to you?”

She dragged in a calming breath. “You don’t have all the documents.” Macie forced herself to meet his contemptuous gaze. “There is another safe. I will take you to it.” Her voice trembled, but she kept her voice strong.

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you now?” He cocked his head, studying her. “We both know what happens when people betray me, don’t we?”

Macie gripped the handle of her parasol. A strike in the face might disable him. But she couldn’t chance it. Not yet.

“My uncle knew,” he went on. “The surly old bastard figured it out. He knew what I’d done. And what I was going to do to you. He thought he could persuade you to sell your grandfather’s papers, as if that would solve this problem. Fool that he was.” His hands went to his throat, nervously toying with his necktie. “I let him meddle in my affairs. Until he went to warn you.”

A fresh wave of horror washed over her. “At the theater?”

Vile amusement played on his mouth. “I’ll never forget the look on his face when it dawned on him... when he realized I’d poisoned him. He didn’t know I’d followed him to the theater. By then, he’d begun to feel the effects. He actually dared to strike me.” Aylesworth swept a lock of hair off his temple, revealing the cut the old man had inflicted. “I could have throttled him with his own cane, but it was more satisfying to simply watch the life ebb from his body.”

My God, such an evil man.

Macie’s pulse thundered in her ears. If she cried out, no one would hear her scream.

There was no one to help her. No more time. She had to get away.

She had to save herself.

Her mind raced. If she struck him with the parasol, he would see the blow coming. Standing so close, she could not muster much force. He could easily block the strike.

And then, she would have no chance to escape.

If she had to use the umbrella as a weapon, the element of surprise would work in her favor. She had to put distance between them. That was her only chance.

“You knew my grandfather, better than most. Surely you, of all people, understand he would not have relied on a single vault to secure such crucial documents.”

He regarded her for a long moment. “Where is it?”

“It’s hidden behind a bookshelf.”

“Take me to it.”

She nodded her agreement as she turned toward her grandfather’s desk. “It’s here,” she said. “Behind the barrister bookcase.”

Aylesworth followed her as she crossed the room. Standing before the shelves, she turned to him and affected a look of helplessness. “I cannot move this on my own. I do not possess the strength.”

He put his hands on a shelf and pushed on the heavy shelves. “If you are lying to me—”

Now.

Macie lifted her parasol, holding it rather much like she’d held her brother’s cricket bat when they were children. Mustering as much force as she could, she whipped around.

Crack.

The umbrella connected with the side of his head. Hard. Bellowing in pain, he spun on his heel.

Again. Macie swung the parasol, aiming directly for his face. Its weighted ribs smashed into the bridge of his nose. He cried out.

Run. Still clutching the parasol, Macie darted from the room.

Spewing epithets, he chased her. Closing the distance between them. On her heels.

His hands clamped over her shoulders. She whirled around, freeing herself. With all her might, she plowed the umbrella into his midsection.

“You little shrew,” he murmured, still fighting to control her.

One hand pinned her upper arm. His free hand wrenched the parasol from her grip.

He dragged her to his body, holding her to his chest. “How very foolish.”

“Go to Hades.”

Instep. Mrs. Johnstone’s firm voice echoed in her thoughts. Macie slammed her heel upon his foot. He grunted in pain. Ribs. She drove a sharp elbow into his side. Murmuring foul words in a voice raw with misery.

Bolting down the corridor as if a phantom were on her heels, she ran into a chamber. Before she could secure the door, he blocked it with his arm. Crashing into the heavy panel, he forced his way into the room.

Blood streamed from his nose. Rage flared in his eyes as he ripped his tie from his throat.

“You made me do this,” he said, each quietly spoken word raw with malice. “It didn’t have to end this way.”

She took a step away from him. And then another and another. Until there was nowhere else to go. Backed against the far wall, she searched for a means to escape. She had only one weapon left. God help her.

She fished the embellished handkerchief from her skirt pocket. Towering over her, he smiled as he curled each end of the tie around his hands.

“They’ll find you at the bottom of the stairs,” he said with an eerie calm. “A broken neck suffered during a tragic fall.”

Macie screamed. Pure instinctive fear wrenched the cry from her lungs.

As he smiled in triumph, she seized the moment.

Macie whipped the cloth across his face. The studded fabric cut into his jaw and nose and mouth.

“Bugger it,” he muttered as he tried to tear the cloth from her hands.

Macie held tight to the cloth, even as she bolted away.

She careened through the door. And straight into the man she loved.

*

Finn stared down at Macie. He’d found her in time. Thank God.

The raw fear in her eyes was like a blow to the gut. “Finn,” she murmured. “Oh, God, Finn.”

He caught her hands in his. “Aylesworth?” She nodded, and he choked out the words that pained him to speak. “Did he hurt ye?”

“No. Not yet,” she said.

Aylesworth stalked out of the room. His face bore the bloody marks of Macie’s efforts to protect herself. Brave lass. By God, he was proud of her.

And filled with rage at the man who’d forced her to fight.

He couldn’t let it get to him. He could not let it make him reckless. Or foolish.

“Ah, the touching reunion.” Aylesworth brandished a stiletto in his right hand. “Pity it will be short-lived.”

“Macie, I want you to leave,” Finn said.

“Yes, do run along,” Aylesworth said with a smirk. “Wherever you go, I’ll be there soon enough... after I settle things with your bodyguard .”

“Go, Macie.” Finn uttered the words as a command. “Now.”

Reluctantly, she went to the stairs. He saw her begin to descend the steps.

Aylesworth lunged. Finn jumped back, avoiding the blade. Another strike of the knife came, and then another. Finn dodged each thrust. The rage in Aylesworth’s eyes betrayed the truth. The man was frantic. Desperate. More careless with each wild attempt at drawing first blood.

Through it all, Finn worked out his strategy. Calculated where he’d land his blows.

Aylesworth lashed out. Finn edged to the side, not quite far enough. The tip of the blade sliced into his arm. The pain scarcely registered in his preoccupied brain, but he heard Macie cry out. The terrified sound tore at his heart. She should not have to see such sights.

He would end this. And quickly.

“I was going to break yer nose again. For old time’s sake,” Finn taunted. “Looks like the lady already took care of that.”

“Bugger off.”

“She gave ye a beating, didn’t she?” Finn jeered.

“I will gut you.” Aylesworth ground out the words between his teeth.

Finn eyed the man’s jerky movements. The angrier Aylesworth was, the more he took the bait. Each thrust of knife was wilder. More imprecise.

“You’re a dead man.”

Finn shook his head. “Not bloody likely.”

With that, he lunged, quick as a whip. Catching Aylesworth’s wrist, he gave a hard twist. Then another. Aylesworth groaned.

Finn wrenched the man’s arm. Aylesworth groaned, but kept his fingers stubbornly clenched around the knife.

“Drop it.” Finn added more force to his hold. “Or I’ll snap yer bloody arm.”

“Go to hell.”

“Not tonight, ye rotter.”

Finn gave the bastard’s captive limb another vicious twist. Aylesworth’s raw cry filled the room.

The blade clattered to the floor.

Finn pinned him in an agonizing hold. “Ye should not have touched her.”

“Bugger off.”

A sudden, piercing pain radiated from Finn’s thigh. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at the ivory handle protruding from his leg.

A switchblade.

Bollocks.

He should’ve known the bastard would have a hidden knife. The cur had always fought dirty.

Shock filled Aylesworth’s eyes. Finn cocked a brow. Had the rotter truly believed a bit of pain would get the better of him?

He tightened his grip, blocking the man’s attempt to take hold of the pocket-sized knife he’d thrust into Finn.

“Ye’re mad if ye think I’m letting ye go after her.”

Aylesworth glared at him, defiant despite Finn’s unwavering hold. “Crude brawler... nothing more.” Blood dripped down the bastard’s face as his mouth twisted into something resembling a grotesque grin. “Finish this, Caldwell.”

“Ye think I should kill ye, eh?” Finn gulped a breath, tamping down his anger and his pain. “The thought is bloody tempting.”

Fear glazed Aylesworth’s eyes. “I will not endure prison.”

“Don’t worry, mate. Yer stay there won’t be long. The hangman will not be cheated out of his due.”

Aylesworth struggled against his hold. “Go to hell.”

“Ye’ll get there first.”

Suddenly, Aylesworth’s leg kicked out, catching Finn below the knee. Another kick landed within a hand’s breadth of the knife.

Bloody hell.

Finn ground his teeth and held the dirty cur in an iron-clad grip. He eyed the bastard, seeing the bloodlust in Aylesworth’s gaze. If he gave in to the throbbing pain, the bastard would win. He’d go after Macie.

By hellfire, this was one fight he couldn’t lose.

Aylesworth was right. It was high time he ended it.

Finn jerked the cur up by the collar and slammed a fist into his jaw. The crack of bone against bone sounded in his senses.

Aylesworth’s groaned. But still, he stood.

Finn aimed his next blow directly to the chin. His knuckles connected with such force he heard the bastard’s teeth rattle.

Aylesworth’s head slumped forward.

He collapsed.

Finn shook out his hand, easing the stinging throb in his split knuckles. He glanced down at the rug, confirming to himself the bastard was out cold. Aylesworth would never hurt Macie. Not as long as Finn had breath in his body.

He heard her cry as she ran from the spot where she’d waited on the stairs. “Finn!” she called. “Dear God, Finn!”

She stood before him, her eyes wide with shock as her attention fell to the knife still lodged in his leg.

“Good God,” she murmured.

“I’ve had worse.”

She looked like she gulped. “You have?”

“Ah, ye always can spot a lie, can’t ye, lass?” He pulled in a breath. Was the room beginning a slow spin? “Macie, I need ye to get something... anything... we can use to restrain this bastard.” He had to work harder for each word.

She rushed to the window and untied the braided cord holding back the drapes. “Will this do?”

“Aye.”

She gathered several of the ties and rushed to Aylesworth to secure his wrists. Finn stopped her.

“Give them to me. I won’t have ye within the bastard’s reach.”

Fighting the dizziness in his head, he crouched at the bastard’s side and bound him hand and foot. Blast it to Hades, his leg throbbed like a thousand banshees prodded him. But he knew better than to remove the blade. It was all that stood between him and a dangerous loss of blood.

Finn heard Logan’s voice before he saw him. “Finn, what the hell happened?” he called as he mounted the stairs.

“Go, Macie. Tell Logan we’re in here.” His voice was getting weak. Too weak to bellow a reply.

As she nodded her response, her mouth pulled tight with concern. “Finn, we’ve got to summon a physician.”

“In due time. Get Logan.”

She hurried away. Moments later, the pounding of Logan’s boots and a woman’s shoes on the wooden floor drifted to Finn’s ears.

Logan rushed in with Mrs. Johnstone close behind. Their gazes landed first on the unconscious man on the floor before pivoting to Finn’s upper leg.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “Well, ye don’t see that every day, do ye?”

Finn threw him a scowl. “Watch over Macie, will ye?”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary.” Mrs. Johnstone crouched to examine the wound. “This doesn’t look like anything that’s going to be the end of ye.”

“Blasted reassurance, if ever I heard it.” Finn forced out the words. There seemed to be two of her, each watching him with a clear look of concern. Bloody peculiar.

Finn felt the room sinking beneath him.

Bollocks. It wasn’t the room.

The strength ebbed from his legs. Suddenly, the walls tilted around him, and he could no longer keep his balance.

Suddenly, he felt Macie’s arms around him. Holding him to her body, she eased his descent. As he slid slowly to the floor, she stayed with him, her skirts flaring out around her as she knelt on the rug beneath them. Pillowing his head on her lap, she gazed down at him. Her emerald eyes brimmed with concern as she murmured his name.

By God, he hoped Mrs. Johnstone was right. He wanted more time. More time with Macie.

Finn drank in her features. He wanted to memorize the sweet tilt of her lips. The soft curve of her face. The caring in her green eyes.

Until the room faded to black.