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“I half thought that the two of you were attempting to trick me. How fortunate for you that you really went and fetched the thing. Toss it to me. Now.”
“Let her go first and tell me where Lady Charlotte is.” Sir John demanded. “Only then shall I give you the diamond.”
“You are hardly in a position to be making demands,Ashbrooke,” mocked Henri. “If you do not do as I say at once you mother’s blood will be on your hands just as much as on my own. The only difference will be that I can quite easily live with such a thing on my conscience. I somehow suspect that you cannot.”
“Let her go this instant, or I will throw your wretched stone into the sea,” snapped Sir John, barely mastering the fearful impulse that demanded he give Toussaint whatever he wanted. Instead of tossing the necklace to his cousin, he held it clenched in his fist, the priceless diamond swung on its chain, hanging over the foaming brine.
Toussaint’s eyes were riveted on the gem. In the moment of his distraction, John pulled his pistol and leveled it at the man in one smooth motion.
“Release my mother or I will shoot you where you stand.” John growled. He had the satisfaction of seeing Toussaint’s face blanch with consternation. It was a difficult shot, with his mother held as close to the man as she was.He could make it.John knew he could. He held the firearm steady.
“Do not,” Henri insisted in a more reasonable voice. “We can make a fair trade, can we not,mon Cousin? Her life for the gem, that is equitable, is it not?”
“And Lady Charlotte?”
“No! You must choose.”
“Jean, I have lived my life,” his mother said. “Do not let him take Charlotte. She is a good woman. The right woman for you,mon Cheri.”
John ignored his mother’s words. Such a choice was unthinkable. He would not leave either of them to this villain.
“Drop. The. Knife,” John said uncompromisingly, holding the diamond outstretched as he edged ever closer to the cliff’s edge. The height was dizzying, but he did not flinch.
Toussaint stared at him for a long moment, during which it seemed that no one dared to breathe.
“I care nothing for this cursed rock, Toussaint. I will drop it,” John threatened. “You may succeed in bloodying my mother. But I will kill you. That much is certain. How much do you value your wretched life?”
Toussaint seemed to consider. He greedily eyed the glittering gem. Finally deciding that John truly meant to follow through with his threat to toss the diamond into the sea, he released his hold on Collette. “Charlotte is in the cove below. Now give me the diamond.”
“Go and fetch it.” John replied, tossing the gem back towards the way they had come. It skittered over the rocks.
Toussaint glared furiously at him, but had no choice but to retrieve the priceless gem from where it had fallen. He shoved Collette violently away from him. John darted forward to catch his mother, when a second shot rent the air.
* * *
34
Toussaint staggered and fell, screaming. He was shot in the thigh. Truthfully a few inches to the right, and the man would have been shot in the groin. He fell to the ground bleeding.
“Carlton?” Ashbrooke called, hoping upon hope that somehow the manservant had recovered enough to come to his aid.
“No,” said a resolute feminine voice. Lady Charlotte emerged from the shadows, a smoking pistol in her hand. Her golden curls were wild, her dress was torn and she had the beginnings of a bruise on her cheek. She looked like an avenging angel in the moonlight and Sir John was nearly overcome with relief.
John made to rush to Charlotte’s side, but Henri shrieked with rage, and dove towards her with his knife. His desperation giving him strength despite his injury. The swift flash of the blade felt like a dagger to Sir John’s own heart. He raised his pistol, but there was no way to make the shot without hitting Charlotte.
Charlotte screamed.
With her fearful cry ringing in his ears, John dove to deflect the keen edge of the blade. He pushed Charlotte behind him, calling at her to stay back. He once again leveled the pistol, but he was too close. Toussaint threw up his arm and deflected the barrel of the gun. The shot went wide. John reached for the knife, struggling desperately with his cousin. He was larger than Toussaint, but Henri seemed a man possessed. His fury and desperation, coupled with the benefit of his weapon, overcame John’s natural advantage in a fight.
The unthinking, homicidal rage shining in Henri’s eyes spoke of madness. He turned the blade upon his cousin screaming with fury. John met the charge, driven to a state of primal wildness very far removed from the smooth and sophisticated English gentleman he had always claimed to be. He thrust Toussaint back forcefully, only dimly aware of the sharp lash of pain when the knife tore a deep gash in his arm. His own blood spilled hot on his face. He twisted the hand that held the knife viciously. It fell to the ground. John dared not stop the fight simply because his enemy was disarmed. Instead, he landed a savage blow to Henri’s jaw that sent him stumbling back.
Toussaint roared and lunged at John, his rage blinding him to the fact that the struggle had brought them both closer to the edge of the cliffside. John narrowly avoided Toussaint’s lunge, throwing himself to the side. Toussaint’s momentum carried him over the cliff’s edge with a short, horrible scream.
Sir John rose to his feet. He stood panting. The blood cleared from his eyes and the roar of fury faded from his ears. He peered over the edge just in time to see a great splash of waves rise up from where Toussaint had fallen.
“Mon Dieu.” Collette gasped, fairly dragging herself to her son’s side. Sir John reassured his mother, giving her a supporting arm to lean on.
“It is alright,Maman. Everything is going to be alright.”
