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Julian's amusement faded. He knew that particular tone. Stone didn't use it often or without cause. Whatever had prompted this nocturnal visit was serious. "Aurora, give us a minute."
"But…"
"Aurora." His head snapped about and he regarded her with stony resolve. "Go back to bed. Now."
He saw the way his wife's eyes widened at the harshness of his command, and a twinge of regret shot through him. But the twinge vanished in a heartbeat, supplanted by a wealth of pragmatism. There were some boundaries he would not permit to be crossed, not even by his spirited bride. He had in fact anticipated this very quandary, been fully aware that Aurora viewed his existence as a grand ongoing adventure—rife with excitement, lacking in drawbacks. And he'd known it would be up to him to set her straight, not only to preserve his valued independence but to safeguard Aurora's life. There was, as he'd told her, a difference between adventure and danger. The former was an exhilarating gift, the latter a dark reality. The ability to distinguish between the two was crucial.
So was the notion of setting limits to Aurora's place in his life.
"Rory." Julian gripped her shoulders, met her bold turquoise gaze. "I need to speak with Stone—in private."
"Very well." Unexpectedly his wife complied, gathering up the trailing bedsheets that enveloped her and heading off to the bed.
Julian frowned, watching Aurora's retreat and wondering what had caused her sudden—and totally uncharacteristic—acquiescence.
"That's some bride ye have," Stone muttered, following Julian's gaze. "Beautiful as hell, but is she always so … so…"
"Yes," Julian finished abruptly, jerking about to face his friend. "But you didn't come all this way to discuss Aurora. What's the problem?"
"Macall."
"Macall?" Julian sucked in his breath. "What about him?"
"He's here—in England. He knows about ye marriage, and about who ye married. He's sworn to exact his long sought-after revenge—only now he means not only to kill ye but to steal the black diamond he's now sure ye have. It's no secret he wants yer blood, Merlin. He has for almost a year. And now that he knows where ye are, he won't rest until he finds ye."
"Dammit." Julian's fist sliced the air. "This is one complication I don't need right now. What the hell brought Macall to England? Last I heard, he was combing Malta for me. I kept my departure from there too quiet for him to have learned I was gone."
"He ran out of money, came to Cornwall lookin' for work. Unfortunately yer wedding announcement ran in every bloody newspaper in England. It didn't take long for him to find out ye'd married a Huntley."
"So naturally he assumes I've got my hands on the black diamond."
"Exactly. He hated ye before. Now? Imaginin' ye've come upon the fortune of a lifetime? He's a madman. Nothing would make him happier than stealin' that stone out from under ye—bringing ye to yer knees, then driving a sword through yer belly as he taunts ye with his stolen prize. He's crazy, Merlin. Ye'd best be careful. Damned careful."
"Indeed." Julian raked a hand through his hair. "Where is he now?"
"Not on my tail, that's for sure. I checked behind me a dozen times. Besides, he might know yer in England, but he doesn't know I am." Stone massaged his neck. "Then again, I haven't got myself written up in all the newspapers."
"Very funny. Where was he when last you heard?"
"In Cornwall. Goin' from pub to pub. Gettin' closer to Polperro. My guess is he's hidin' out near yer manor, waitin' for ye to return."
"Probably." A terse nod. "Now I'll be ready for him."
Once again, Stone's glance slid past Julian. "Ye've given Macall more ammunition than he had before," he muttered, gesturing in the direction of the bed.
"I can handle it." Julian yanked open the door. "Thanks for finding me. I'll be in touch."
"Or I'll find ye if need be. In the meantime, keep yer eyes open." Stone moved to go.
"Good ni
ght, Mr. Stone," Aurora called across the room. "Doubtless we'll meet again."
Stone blinked. "Yeah. Sure. Good night." He slipped out the door and disappeared.
Julian eased the bolt back into place, keenly aware of Aurora's watchful gaze. He didn't need to look to know his wife was steeling herself for either an altercation or an inquisition. Curiously that notion elicited as much excitement as it did stubborn resolve. Odder still that, despite all his planning, he hadn't anticipated quite how difficult it would be for him to establish plausible boundaries for his marriage. He was an extraordinarily thorough man, one who conquered the odds by carefully determining them, then finding a way to stack them in his favor, thus minimizing the risk of failure. He'd done precisely that in procuring Aurora's hand. Oh, he'd known damned well their marriage would pose complications to his way of life. Still, he'd expected to find a tolerable compromise, one that satisfied Aurora's craving for freedom—and his craving for her—without thoroughly upending his existence and endangering her life.
What he hadn't expected was the staggering power of their attraction for each other, the insatiable hunger his wife seemed perpetually to ignite within him. It was damned disconcerting, casting him into uncharted waters in which he had no intention of navigating.
