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  “Janet’s lover.”

  “Aye, ’twas me who helped reunite the true lovers. This was where they met and loved, safely shielded from the prying eyes o’ others at the castle. Janet was so happy.”

  “How could you do that to Connor?” Genevieve’s anger rose to the surface. “Given time, they might have been able to make their marriage work.”

  She scowled. “Never. And look at him now, the heartless bastard. Janet was barely cold in her grave before he sent for ye. But I’m no’ going to let his little plan work. Wi’ ye gone, he’ll at last turn to the poor, grieving widow Catherine Montclair. She’ll make his life utterly dismal, the same as he made Janet’s. Let him live the life he forced on her.” Again she laughed, waving the dirk in front of her.

  Genevieve desperately searched for some escape. The housekeeper had already come within two steps of her.

  Summoning an inner courage she didn’t know she possessed, Genevieve lunged forward and slammed her foot directly into the housekeeper’s knee. She darted sideways toward the door, but Mrs. MacDougal reached out grabbed a fistful of her skirts, yanking her backward. Genevieve let the full force of her body knock into the housekeeper, sending them both hurling to the stone floor. Genevieve managed to roll away but Mrs. MacDougal recovered quickly and charged her again, apparently furious at her unwillingness to go meekly.

  Genevieve turned and dashed for the secret passageway. She’d taken a step or two inside when Mrs. MacDougal crashed into her from behind wielding the dirk. Genevieve wrenched her body to the side at the last moment and the blade slid into her upper right arm. White hot, searing pain enveloped her and she screamed, pushing at the housekeeper with all her strength.

  With a cry of triumph, Mrs. MacDougal yanked the dirk out, aiming it once again at her neck. Genevieve threw herself to the side of the narrow passageway, crashing her body hard against the crumbling wall. The dirk missed her head by a hair’s breath, and sent a shower of small stones sliding to the floor. A bright glint from something lodged in the wall caught her attention, but she had no time to examine it further. Mrs. MacDougal lunged, grabbing her injured arm and twisting it hard behind her back. Genevieve sobbed as an agonizing pain shot through her. Blood, hot and thick, ran down her arm and back, her gown was soaked and sticky. Still, she struggled until she felt the cool metal of the dirk against her throat.

  “Stop.” The housekeeper pressed harder. “Fight me no more, lass. Let me help ye end this as peacefully as possible.”

  Genevieve’s legs trembled, her vision blurring with tears. The housekeeper half-carried, half-dragged her across the floor, the dirk pricking her skin and causing a trickle of warm blood to slide down her neck.

  Mrs. MacDougal led Genevieve to the open window. “Fare thee well, lass.”

  Tears streamed down Genevieve’s cheeks and she hadn’t even realized she was crying. She didn’t want to die like this…like Janet. Without ever having the chance to see Connor again.

  Suddenly the tower door crashed open. Mrs. MacDougal screamed in rage and Genevieve glanced over her shoulder, seeing Connor dart toward her, his face stricken with fear.

  Mrs. MacDougal gave her a push. Genevieve screamed and stretched out a hand to him just as she started to fall out the window.

  “Connor!”

  Chapter 11

  Connor’s heart dropped to his toes when he saw Genevieve at the open window. In the longest, most agonizing moment of his life, he threw himself forward, knocking Mrs. MacDougal out of the way and catching Genevieve’s hand just as she began to disappear over the side.

  He braced his body against the windowsill, holding on to Genevieve desperately and grimacing as Mrs. MacDougal screeched and jumped on his back, brandishing the dirk. The blade sliced into his jacket and pierced the flesh beneath his right shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he jabbed an elbow hard into her stomach, hearing the breath go out of her as she dropped gasping to the floor.

  Sweat beading on his temples, he dragged Genevieve back over the sill and into the room. A quick glance at her indicated she was breathing, but had fainted. He carefully laid her on the floor, then rose to deal with Mrs. MacDougal who still held a dirk and came at him brandishing the weapon.

  “Ye killed Janet and drove John MacDonald away. Ye stole any chance at happiness she had.”

  Connor fought to control his rage. “Is that why ye’ve done this? To see me pay?”

  “Why shouldn’t ye suffer as she did? Janet’s no’ even six months in her grave and ye’ve already brought her here.”

  “I know ye loved Janet and I’m sorry ye lost her. We all lost her. Janet and I were young and foolish when we wed, completely unsuited to each other. And we were both in love wi’ someone else. We never meant to hurt each other, but ’twas simply our lot in life.”

  “How could ye no’ love her? She was perfect.”

  For some reason, he felt obliged to reply. “Matters o’ the heart are more complicated than that. And ye should know, Genevieve is innocent. She didna know I was betrothed to Janet.”

  “It doesna matter. I’m no’ going to let her give ye a moment o’ joy or peace.”

  Connor glanced down at his hands and saw they were sticky with blood. His temper flared again, hot and blinding. “Ye’ve harmed Genevieve. Ye know I may just yet commit murder in this tower.”

  She screeched and threw herself at him, the dirk aimed at his heart. With one hard swipe of his hand, he knocked the knife from her grasp and it clattered across the floor, disappearing into a secret passageway he’d thought long sealed. She came at him again, pummeling and clawing his face with her bare hands. He yanked her off and cast her aside roughly. She slammed into the stone wall and crumpled to the ground.

  “Connor?”

  It was Genevieve lying beneath the window. He turned, his heart lodging in his throat. He knelt beside her.

  “Ye’re going to be fine, my love.” He shrugged out of his coat and then removed his shirt. With one sharp rip, he tore the material down the middle. He took a strip and began winding it around her arm to stop the bleeding.

  She gazed up at him. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Ewan. He told me ye’d come up here to meet me. Imagine my surprise to hear that.”

  Genevieve turned her head toward the passageway. “She found it.”

  Connor paused, holding the strip still. “I saw. I thought the passageway was long sealed.”

  “Mrs. MacDougal opened it years ago with the aid of John MacDonald. Connor, this is where Janet trysted with him.”

  His stomach clenched but he resumed calmly binding her arm. “I’ll have it sealed again.”

  “The treasure is there.”

  His eyebrow shot up. “Treasure?”

  She nodded, biting her lower lip. “I saw it out of the corner of my eye in the stone wall. A red jewel of some sort, wrapped partially in a cloth. Mrs. MacDougal inadvertently revealed it when she tried to skewer me. I think it may be the treasure of Black Gavin. It’s yours now.”

  He slid his arms under her body, lifting her up and holding her close to his bare chest. “My darling, Genevieve. I already have the treasure of Black Gavin.”

  She frowned. “You do?”

  He pressed a kiss on her nose. “Christina Douglas was Black Gavin’s treasure. The legend is that she was more precious to him than a thousand gems. ’Tis what every Douglas man seeks. That treasure doesna lie wrapped in a cloth and hidden in a secret passageway. ’Tis lying in my arms right now.”

  Genevieve sighed. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Connor grinned, a lock of hair falling across his forehead as he pressed another kiss to her lips. “I’ve known the jewel was there all along. It stays where it is to perpetuate the legend. Some day our son will seek out the treasure and find his greatest reward ’tis not in a cold stone, but in the warm arms o’ the woman he loves.”

  Genevieve wound her arms around his neck, pulling his
mouth back to hers. “That’s a beautiful tale.”

  “Indeed, it is.” He held her close and showered feather light kisses across her brow. “A tale o’ true love and magic. At last I’m finally claiming the Douglas treasure for my very own.”

  About the Author

  Julie Moffett is a bestselling author and writes in the genres of historical romance, paranormal romance and mystery. She has won numerous awards, including the prestigious PRISM Award for Best Romantic Time-Travel and Best of the Best Paranormal Books of 2002. She has also garnered several nominations for the Daphne du Maurier Award and the Holt Medallion.

  Julie is a military brat (Air Force) and has traveled extensively. Her more exciting exploits include attending high school in Okinawa, Japan; backpacking around Europe and Scandinavia for several months; a year-long college graduate study in Warsaw, Poland; and a wonderful trip to Scotland and Ireland where she fell in love with castles, kilts and brogues.

  Julie has a B.A. in political science and Russian language from Colorado College and an M.A. in international affairs from The George Washington University in Washington, D.C. She worked as a journalist for the international radio station Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty in Washington, D.C., for eleven years, publishing hundreds of articles before “retiring” to be a stay-at-home mom and full-time writer.

  Julie speaks Russian and Polish and has two sons. She enjoys interacting with readers at her website, www.juliemoffett.com, or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/pages/Julie-Moffett-Author/123804877633091.

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  ISBN: 978-1-4268-9195-3

  First published by Zebra in May 2003 in mass market anthology Then He Kissed Her.

  Copyright © 2011 by Julie Moffett

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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