Gift of Fire (23 page)

Jonas shook his head. “I can’t believe Yarwood’s got any real psychic ability. The man’s a con artist, pure and simple.”

“One who apparently believes in his own con.”

“They’re the most dangerous kind.”

Verity looked at Jonas. “Are we going into that hidden tunnel tonight?”

“I’m going in. But I think you ought to stay here.”

“We’ve already been through this, Jonas. I insist on coming with you. I’m warning you, I’ll follow you if I have to.”

“I don’t like it, Verity.” But it was obvious that he had no real hope of talking her out of it.

“We’ll both be very careful.” She rose to her feet. “Ready when you are.”

“Verity…

She was already at the tapestry, moving it aside. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Jonas.”

“For better or for worse?” he asked softly.

She saw the intensity in his golden eyes. She looked away again nervously. “We’d better hurry if we want to get any sleep tonight.”

“Little coward,” he muttered. He picked up the flashlight and switched it on. You stay two paces behind me at all times, and you don’t touch anything or step anywhere I haven’t already touched or stepped.”

“Yes, O Great Psychic Hunter of the Night.”

“Give me any lip and I’ll tie you to the bed and leave you there while I explore this tunnel.”

Verity shut up and smiled her most dazzling smile. Jonas sighed and picked up her discarded cane. He hefted it experimentally and stepped into the stone passage.

“Is it still there?” Verity asked as she followed him into the tunnel.

“Is what still here?” His voice was a soft echo in the passageway.

“The skeleton.”

“Of course it’s still here. Where did you think it might go?”

She refused to glance behind the stone door. “I was just checking. What are you going to use the cane for?”

“As a probe for booby traps.”

“Good idea.”

“Thank you,” he replied sarcastically. “I don’t know how much good it will do. I think I’m better off relying on my psychic ability and these footprints that Digby or his buddy left behind. As long as we step where someone else has already stepped, we should be safe.”

They prowled slowly along the hidden passage, following the old footprints in the dust. Jonas said little as he led the way.

After following the angling corridor for some distance Jonas stopped and crouched in the dust, examining a series of steps that led downward abruptly. “The tunnel continues down between the walls to the lower level.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Be careful on these steps. They’re narrow.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to twist this ankle again. Do the footprints come from that direction?”

“Yeah. Digby must have come up these steps a few times. It looks like someone else might have, also. It’s hard to tell with all this dust, but I’d swear there are at least two different sets of shoe prints here.”

“Digby and whoever killed him.” Verity shuddered.

“Probably.” Jonas straightened and started down the steps. “I think these stairs bypass the first floor. Looks like we’re going down farther than one level.”

“Did Renaissance homes have basements?”

“This one did. It was a combination storage facility and dungeon. I was going to check it out tomorrow.”

“Maggie Frampton did mention a torture chamber, didn’t she?”

The stairs led down into what seemed an endless darkness. Jonas’s flashlight cut a brave swath of light, but it left a great deal of darkness untouched. Verity told herself that she was not claustrophobic and was not afraid of the dark. But she had to admit that something was sending uncomfortable chills down her spine.

The stairs stopped abruptly. Jonas halted on the last step and shone the flashlight along a new passageway. “The way this corridor is designed, it could wander all over the whole villa,” he complained. “We could spend weeks exploring it.”

“We don’t have weeks, we’ve only got a few days.” Verity glanced ahead into the eerie shadows. “Why build a hidden corridor that just wanders around the house? There must be other exits besides the one in our room.”

“Looks like Digby or his friend found one.” Jonas was studying the footprints in the dust.

“What do you mean?” Verity moved closer.

“One set of prints seems to come straight out of this section of wall. Probably another hidden door. The others come from farther down the passageway.”

“Let’s see if we can find the mechanism that activates this tunnel door. I wouldn’t mind having an alternate route out of this damn passageway.”

Jonas played the flashlight over the stone walls. “With any luck the design will be the same one used on the door that opens into our room. Ah, here we go,” he added with sudden satisfaction. “Another testimonial to the Renaissance love of harmonic proportion and symmetry. The mechanism for this door is in exactly the same position as the one at the other end of the corridor. Stand back.”

“Be careful. Jonas.”

“I will, but I don’t think this exit is booby-trapped. The other one wasn’t.” He traced a path between stones, pausing at various spots to push carefully. He was finally rewarded by a groaning sound that was almost human. A seam appeared in the stone, and then a heavy stone door swung slowly inward.

Verity gasped in shock as Jonas shone the flashlight into a room that looked like a wax museum’s chamber of horrors.

“This is the love nest Maggie shared with Digby?” Verity asked in stunned amazement.

“And you called me kinky,” Jonas chided as he stepped into the room. It was full of grim machines, chains, manacles, and other assorted implements of terror. He aimed the bean of the flashlight at one wall. “Nice collection of whips.”

“Jonas, how can you stand this place?” Verity followed slowly. “If these horrible things are really left over from the Renaissance, then some of them must carry some terrible vibrations.”

“I’m not picking up a thing,” Jonas said cheerfully. He touched a long chain dangling from a wall. The chain ended in a wrist manacle. “Not a damn thing.” He turned the manacle over and studied it with the flashlight. He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Verity demanded.

“Made in Hong Kong. More fake antiques, honey. Just like the stuff in the bed-and-breakfast place.”

“Well, that’s some relief, I suppose.” Verity glanced around disapprovingly. “Imagine collecting this kind of fake antique, though. It’s disgusting. I can’t envision the twisted mind of someone who would enjoy making love in a place like this. Maggie seems like such a nice person. And as for Digby, I had pictured him as a respectable if somewhat eccentric scholar. I never dreamed...” She broke off. “Jonas, this throws a whole new light on Digby Hazelhurst.”

Jonas grinned. “Can’t wait to finish this consulting job and write the definitive biography of the man.” He found the light switch and flipped it on. “Hazelhurst obviously considered this room important enough to have wired for electricity.” Jonas took a whip off the wall and examined it with great interest.

“I’m not sure a reputable publisher would even print a biography of Digby. Jonas, for heaven’s sake, put down that whip.”

He laughed softly, drawing the lash through his fingers. “You can learn a lot from a respectable scholar like Hazelhurst.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Jonas.”

Jonas gave the whip a gentle flick and Verity jumped in startled reaction as the lash curled itself around her waist. It didn’t hurt a bit. Jonas tugged gently on the whip handle and drew her toward him.

“This is not amusing,” Verity announced in regal tones. She caught the tip of the lash and started to unwind it from her waist. “It’s made out of velvet,” she exclaimed in amazement. “No wonder it didn’t hurt.”

“Want to experiment with some of the other stuff?” Jonas asked, looking far too hopeful.

“I most certainly do not.” Verity finished unwinding the lash from her waist. “Put that back this instant.”

“You never let me have any fun.” He replaced the velvet whip.

Verity studied the floor. “Maggie’s kept this area clean, I see. Sentimental reasons, no doubt. I wonder what she and Digby did in here.”

“The sort of kinky things that would make a little prude like you turn fire-engine red, I’ll bet.”

“Talk about weird.” She put down a manacle she had been examining and looked at Jonas. “Now what? Back into the corridor?”

“I don’t think so. It’s getting late, and you need your sleep. I think we’ll go on back to our room. But no need to do it the hard way.” He walked across the torture chamber and opened the door. “Might as well use the main route. No sense going back through that stone-cold passage.”

“What if someone notices us wandering around?”

“We’ll just say you wanted a drink of water and I came along to keep you company.”

They found their way back to the second floor of the south wing without incident. But when they passed the door to Elyssa’s room, the sound of angry voices caught their attention.

“That’s Yarwood in there with Elyssa,” Verity observed as they hurried past. “Wonder what they’re fighting about.”

Jonas gave the closed door a thoughtful glance. “I don’t know, but it sounds serious.” He stopped to listen.

Verity frowned. “Remember what Caitlin said about Yarwood being dangerous? Maybe we should interrupt.”

“The last thing any sane person does is get involved in an argument between two people who are sleeping together. You did tell me that Yarwood and Elyssa are having an affair, didn’t you?”

“That’s what Slade said. Yarwood sounds furious, doesn’t he?”

Preston Yarwood’s raised voice was barely audible behind the wooden door.

“You hot-assed little bitch,” Yarwood shouted. “What the hell do you mean, you want to call things off between us? I’m the one who turned you on to your psychic potential in the first place, remember?”

“Now, Preston, you know this isn’t a personal thing. I admire you very much, but Saranantha says I must seek another mate.”

“Fuck Saranantha! I know what you’re up to. You want to screw Quarrel, don’t you? I’m not about to let you dump me like this just so you can hop into bed with some jerk you think has stronger psychic powers.”

“Preston, please there’s no need to shout. I’m only following Saranantha’s advice. She is my spirit guide. You know that.”

“I’ll shout if I feel like it, goddammit. And don’t use Saranantha as an excuse. You’ve got the hots for Quarrel because you think he’s got psychic power. Well, I’ve got news for you, I’m the only real psychic around here. Quarrel’s a fraud.”

“He is not!”

“He hasn’t found that treasure, has he? He’s a fraud, all right. I don’t care what those lab people said. I knew it all along. I had my suspicions when I was at Vincent, and I’ve been proven right. Quarrel hasn’t found a damn thing for us. If you want to sleep with a genuine psychic, you sleep with me, you little bitch.”

Verity looked at Jonas, her gaze uneasy. “He sounds furious. What if he hurts her? I’m going to knock on the door. I’ll pretend I wanted to talk to Elyssa and didn’t realize there was anyone else in the room with her.” She raised her hand to knock.

Jonas grabbed her wrist. “No, you are not going to knock on the door. You are going to leave the whole situation well enough alone.” Jonas pulled her firmly along the corridor. He got her as far as their room and was thrusting her safely inside when the door down the hall opened with a crash. “Move it, Verity.”

Verity had no choice. She moved.

Jonas got the bedroom door shut behind them and sighed in relief. He leaned back against it and arched his brows at Verity. “I guess Yarwood found out that Little Miss Sunshine is out scouting for new sperm donors.”

Chapter Twelve

One storm had passed during the night, but another was on the way. Verity stood beneath dripping pine boughs and gazed out over the cold gray waters of the Sound. In the distance she could see a Washington State ferry gliding gracefully past the scattered islands.

She had felt a compelling need to get out of the chilly villa this morning. There had been obvious tension in the air. Some of it had been generated by Elyssa and Preston Yarwood, who were apparently still at odds with each other. Oliver Crump had seemed more preoccupied than usual and Slade Spencer had retired to the salon after breakfast. He had not expressed any interest in further exploration of the villa. Verity had the feeling he was bored with the game.

Doug Warwick had taken the launch over to the small town on the other island, saying he had to make a call to the broker who was handling the deal on the villa. Maggie Frampton, as usual, was involved in the endless housecleaning that the villa demanded. Maggie’s whole life seemed to revolve around the villa.

Verity had thought about joining Jonas as he worked his way through the lower level of the villa but she’d changed her mind at the last minute. She wanted to be alone for a while. She wanted time to think.

When the ferry glided out of sight, Verity turned and continued her hike along the perimeter of Hazelhurst’s island. Her thoughts were filled with Jonas. She couldn’t get rid of the feeling that she had failed to give him something he badly needed.

That something was reassurance.

The realization that he might need that just as much as she did was hitting her hard. She had been worrying so much about her future with him that she hadn’t realized he might be harboring a few fears and concerns, too.

He had apparently been well aware of her emotional withdrawal these past few weeks; he’d tried often enough to get her to tell him what was wrong. And he had been genuinely upset that she hadn’t told him about the baby as soon as she suspected she was pregnant. Then, when she hadn’t immediately accepted his marriage proposal, he had been hurt and angry.

Jonas had a right to harbor a few uncertainties. They had surfaced yesterday afternoon when Verity had failed to show any real jealousy over Elyssa’s outrageous request.

He was a man who had lived a restless, rootless life for the past few years, a man plagued by ghosts from the past and the constant threat of being overwhelmed by a talent he couldn’t control. Such a man needed as much reassurance as he could get from the woman he loved. There were too many other factors in his life that were not the least bit certain or reliable.