He raised an eyebrow. “A woman that gets right to the point. I like that. So why don’t you tell me what you know?”
Sara clamped her mouth shut.
“The manuscript is already on its way here,” he said, “but I thought we could have a pleasant conversation while waiting for it.”
She didn’t answer.
“Come now,” he said reasonably, “we can do this the easy way and you won’t get hurt. Tell me what I want to know.”
She felt the first probe he sent into her mind like a solid wood door had been slammed into her face. She brought her psychic shield up, reinforcing it with the energy she had gathered earlier.
He laughed. “I like witches,” he said. “You offer a challenge.”
Sara could feel his power trying to wind its way around her defenses. She closed her eyes and envisioned another layer of light shielding her.
“Ah, well then, we’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”
She heard a sharp click and opened her eyes to see a switchblade in his hand. He leaned forward and brushed her cheek with the side of the blade. “You’re beautiful now, Sara. Wonder how Ramsey will feel if you aren’t so pretty?”
She held her breath and steeled herself, but he turned the blade unexpectedly.
“If I had wanted to cut you, I would have,” he said, then touched her throat with the tip. She willed herself not to move.
“Still not afraid?” he asked.
Fear. She must not show fear. He fed off it.Dear Goddess! Help me! Give me courage to get through this! And live!She tugged at the ropes. If only she could free her hands!
Baylor frowned and snapped the knife shut. “You might be more of a challenge than I thought. Did you know,” he asked as he leaned over and yanked a handful of her hair, “that centuries ago, women had their heads shaved, and then their pubic hair also, if the witch’s mark didn’t appear anywhere else? Just before they were burned.”
Sara tried not to wince at his painful clutch. “What are you talking about?”
“Ah, you do speak,” he said and sat back. “You’ve given me an awful lot of trouble, Sara. You’ll have to pay for that. I don’t suppose you’re a virgin still?”
Sara looked away.
“Pity,” Baylor said.
She suppressed an involuntary shudder.Don’t let him smell fear. Why had she been so stupid?She should have asked Lucas for a ride home, just as Michael had suggested. He’d never let her live that one down. A sob caught in her throat. If she lived.
Baylor sighed. “You have—or more precisely, the manuscript has—eluded me several times. The last time all I got was a bunch of papers on the existence of Gwenhwyfar.”
Maybe if I can keep him talking…“Those notes took me hours of research to do.”
“Um. Then I’ll put it to good use,” he answered.
From his feral smile, she didn’t think she was going to like how he was going to do that. Maybe she should learn—now would be a real good time—to keep her mouth shut.
“I see you remember,” he said benignly and continued, “I noticed the hitching post the first time I came out here.” Sara stifled a gasp and he smiled. “Oh, yes. I’ve been here before, watching you. The night of the wolf attack. But I digress. The hitching post. Let’s see, Gwenhwyfar was condemned to the stake, wasn’t she?”
Sara suddenly realized what the hitching post could be used for and her blood chilled. “For being a traitor to her king.”
“Yes. Let’s be accurate,” Baylor answered. “And I have been a god as well as a king. Well…” He paused. “I worked inside a king’s head, anyway.”
Her mouth ran off without her permission. “You’re insane.”
He seemed amused. “Not at all, I assure you. The king was Philippe the Fourth, of France. And he definitely wanted the Hallows. So, in a way, youarebeing a traitor. To me as I was then.”
The king who had ordered the Templars to be arrested and later tortured. She stared at him. She wasn’t even going to ask why he thought he’d been a god. No way. She should just keep her mouth shut.Shut.
