"Later, Sophy," Waycott promised. "Later, I will show you how beautiful the Ravenwood emeralds look on a false Ravenwood bride. You will see how the firelight makes them glow against your skin. Elizabeth was molten gold when she wore these."
Sophy looked away from his strange eyes, concentrating on the basket of provisions. "I assume we have a long night ahead of us, my lord. Would you mind if I had something to eat and a cup of tea? I am feeling quite weak."
"But, of course, my dear." He swept a hand toward the hearth. "As you can see, I have taken pains to ensure your every comfort. I had a meal prepared for us at a nearby inn. Elizabeth and I often picnicked here before we made love. I want everything to be just as it was with her. Everything."
"I see."
Was he as mad as Elizabeth had been, she wondered. Or simply crazed with jealousy and the effects of lost love? Either way, Sophy told herself that her only hope lay in keeping Waycott calm and unalarmed.
"You are not as beautiful as she was," Waycott observed, studying her.
"No, I realize that. She was very lovely."
"But the emeralds will help you look more like her when the time comes." He dropped the jewels into the basket.
"About the food, my lord," Sophy said tentatively. "Would you mind if I prepared us a small picnic now?"
Waycott looked out through the open door. "It's getting dark, isn't it?"
"Quite dark."
"I will build us a fire." He smiled, looking pleased with himself for having come up with the idea.
"An excellent thought. It will soon be quite chilly in here. If you would remove this cloak and the ropes that bind me I would be able to prepare the meal."
"Untie you? I don't think that is such a good idea, my dear. Not yet. I believe you are still far too likely to dash out into the woods at the first opportunity and I simply cannot allow that."
"Please, my lord." Sophy lowered her eyes, doing her best to appear weary and lacking in spirit. "I want nothing more than to prepare us a cup of tea and a bit of bread and cheese."
"I think we can manage something."
Sophy tensed as Waycott came toward her. But she stood still as he untied the ropes that secured the cloak. When the last of them came free, she inhaled a deep sigh [of relief but she made no sudden move.
"Thank you, my lord," she said meekly. She took a step toward the hearth, eyeing the open doorway.
"Not so fast, my dear." Waycott went down on one knee, reached beneath the hem of her heavy riding skirt and grasped her ankle. Quickly he tied one end of the rope above her half boot. Then he got to his feet, the other end of the rope dangling from his hand. "There, now I have you secured like a bitch on a lead. Go about your business, Sophy. I will enjoy having Ravenwood's woman serve me tea."
Sophy took a few tentative steps toward the hearth, wondering if Waycott would think it a pleasant game to yank her tied foot out from under her. But he merely went over to the hearth and lit the fire. After he had a blaze going he sat down on the pallet, the end of the rope in his hand and leaned his chin on his fist.
She could feel his eyes on her as she began investigating the provisions in the basket. She held her breath as she lifted the kettle and then exhaled in relief as she discovered it was full of water.
The shadows outside the door were very heavy now. Chilled evening air flowed into the room. Sophy brushed her hands against the folds of her skirts and tried to think which pocket contained the herbs she needed. She jumped when she felt the rope twitch around her ankle.
"I believe it is time to shut the door," Waycott said as he got up from the pallet and moved across the room. "We would not want you to get cold."
"No." As the door to freedom swung shut, Sophy fought back a wave of terror. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the flames to hide her expression. This was the man who was responsible for her sister's death. She would not allow fear to incapacitate her. Her first goal was escape. Then she would find a way to exact revenge.
"Feeling faint, my dear?" Waycott sounded amused.
Sophy opened her eyes again and stared down into the flames. "A little, my lord."
"Elizabeth would not have been quivering like a rabbit. She would have found it all a wonderful game. Elizabeth loved her little games."
Sophy ignored that as she turned her back on her captor and busied herself with the small packet of tea that had been packed in the basket. She thanked heaven for the voluminous folds of her riding habit. They acted as a screen for her hands when she retrieved a small pouch of herbs from a pocket.
Panic shot through her when she glanced down and saw that she had retrieved violet leaves instead of the herbs she needed. Hurriedly she stuffed the leaves back into a pocket.
"Why did you not sell the emeralds?" she asked, trying to distract Waycott's attention. She sat down on a stool in front of the hearth and made a production out of adjusting her skirts. Her fingers closed around another small packet.
"That would have been difficult to do. I told you, every good jeweler in London was watching for the emeralds to appear on the market. Even if I had sold them stone, by stone, I would have been at risk. They are very uniquely cut gems and would have been easily recognized. But in all truth, Sophy, I had no desire to sell them."
"I understand. You liked knowing that you had stolen them from the Earl of Ravenwood." She fumbled with the second packet of herbs, opening it cautiously and combining the contents with the tea leaves. Then she fussed with the kettle and teapot.
"You are very perceptive, Sophy. It is odd, but I have often felt that you and you alone, truly understood me. You are wasted on Ravenwood, just as Elizabeth was."
Sophy poured the boiling water into the pot and prayed she had used a sufficient quantity of the sleeping herbs. Then she sat tensely on the stool, waiting for the brew to steep. The final product would be bitter, she realized. She would have to find some way to conceal the taste.
"Do not forget the cheese and bread, Sophy," Waycott admonished.
"Yes, of course." Sophy reached into the basket and removed a loaf of coarse bread. Then she spotted the small container of sugar. Her trembling fingers brushed the glittering emeralds as she picked up the sugar. "There is no knife for the bread, my lord."
"I am not so foolish as to put a blade in your hands, Sophy. Tear the bread apart."
She bent her head and did as he had instructed. Then she carefully arranged the fragments of bread and chunks of strong cheese on a plate. When she was finished she poured the tea into two cups. "All is ready, Lord Waycott. Do you wish to eat by the fire?"
"Bring the food over here. I would have you serve me the way you do your husband. Pretend we are in the drawing room of Ravenwood Abbey. Show me what a gracious hostess you can be."
Calling on every ounce of composure she possessed, Sophy carried the food across the room and placed the cup in his hand. "I fear I may have added a bit too much sugar to the tea. I hope it is not too sweet for your taste."
"I like my tea quite sweet." He watched her with anticipation as she put the food in front of him. "Sit down and join me, my dear. You will need your strength later. I have plans for us."
Sophy sat down slowly on the pallet, trying to keep as much distance as possible between herself and Waycott. "Tell me, Lord Waycott, are you not afraid of what Ravenwood will do when he discovers you have abused me?"
"He will do nothing. No man in his right mind would cross Ravenwood at cards or cheat him in business but everyone knows Ravenwood will never again bestir himself to risk his neck over a woman. He has made it clear he no longer thinks enough of any woman to take a bullet for her." Waycott bit off a chunk of cheese and a swallow of tea. He grimaced. "The tea is a bit strong."