Love's Golden Spell. William Maltese

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СКАЧАТЬ before. “I do all my hunting with a camera, remember?” he said, his voice so frosty it froze her to the quick.

      “I want out of here,” she said. A constriction in her heart made further speech impossible.

      She didn’t wait for his permission to leave. She managed to maneuver the sliding door, and then took the hallway to the stairs. If she tripped silent alarms on the way out, she didn’t care.

      She headed for the library, expecting Ashanti to appear out of the woodwork to intercept her. She didn’t see anyone. She did see the Baccarat decanter of cognac standing on one of the elegant library tables.

      She was cold, very cold. The burn of the brandy going down helped. She poured herself another swallow, sitting down in the nearest chair. She was trembling. She shut her eyes, trying to get control of herself. When she opened her eyes, Christopher was in the doorway watching her.

      “What are you staring at?” she demanded, her nerves on edge.

      She expected an immediate sarcastic reply, but he didn’t answer for several long moments: When he did, his voice was strangely distant, even apologetic.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, “but you reminded me of someone.”

      She felt the shivers dancing along her spine. “Of whom?” she asked in a whisper so low she wasn’t sure she said anything. Her breathing stopped. It was erratic when it returned.

      “I don’t really know of whom,” he admitted.

      She wanted to cry out that she reminded him of a thirteen-year-old girl he once knew, but a large lump in her throat wouldn’t let the words slip past. There was little point in bolstering a memory so weak it was beyond recall.

      She was on the verge of tears, and she wouldn’t be able to explain them. She was saved by Ashanti. “Mr. Geiger is here to see you, Mr. Van Hoon,” Ashanti announced.

      “Excuse me, Janet,” Christopher said, and left the room. By the time he returned with the man, Janet had regained her composure. “Janet Westover, Donald Geiger,” Christopher said.

      Donald nodded in her direction. He was in his forties, his short stocky body poured into soiled pants and shirt. His black hair was graying, his lips narrow, his suspicious brown eyes shifting from Janet to Christopher and back again. He was nervous.

      Christopher locked the door. Janet came to her feet, not appreciating the smile Christopher gave her.

      “Don’t mind Janet’s apparent paranoia,” Christopher said. He was talking to Donald but looking at her. “She sees me locking the door and lets her imagination run rampant.”

      Donald was embarrassed. “Maybe I should come back later,” he said, proving he was as ill at ease as he looked.

      “Nonsense!” Christopher said. “Janet is anxious to be entertained, and she hasn’t been pleased with the job I’m doing. Maybe she’ll be more receptive to what you have to offer.”

      “Maybe I should go?” Janet suggested.

      Christopher wasn’t accepting that alternative, either. “Don’t be silly, Janet,” he said. “Who knows, you might find this the most interesting part of your stay at Lionspride.”

      “Really, I—” Donald began but was interrupted.

      “For the moment, we’ll just pretend Janet isn’t here.” Christopher said.

      He was baiting her. He was enjoying her discomfort in front of Donald. He was encouraged by the flashes of anger in her eyes. She had gone through so much that day it was difficult not to strike out at his sarcasm, but she controlled herself.

      “Donald?’ Christopher said, evidently pleased that Janet couldn’t or wouldn’t speak. He went to his desk and slid his paperwork to one side. From one of the side drawers, he took a square of black velvet and spread it over the cleared surface. “Let’s see what we have, shall we?”

      Donald was as glad as Janet that Christopher’s attention had shifted. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small sack closed off at one end with a drawstring. His large fingers expertly loosened the string. He tipped the bag and spilled out a stone onto the black velvet. The stone was a rough octahedron, and it was the color of Christopher’s eyes, complete with dark specks that marred an otherwise translucent surface.

      “Yes, that is nice, isn’t it?” Christopher said. If his attention was diverted from Janet, it wasn’t for long. “Do come on over, Janet!” he insisted. “You’re not going to see this every day. And it’s one aspect of the Van Hoon enterprise that has nothing whatsoever to do with blood sport. Or is it only the killing aspects of the family that interest you?”

      She came to the desk and stood by it, drawn to the gold of Christopher’s eyes rather than to the gold of the bauble on his desk top.

      Christopher took a jeweler’s loupe from a drawer. He picked up the rock and began a thorough examination of it. For a moment, he was totally occupied, and Janet willed herself not to wish that he would find her half as exciting as he found that piece of colored stone.

      “Exceptional!” he said, putting the loupe to one side and rolling the glassy octahedron between his large and powerful fingers. How exciting those fingers would feel lovingly touching her skin, His attention shifted from the stone to Donald, Janet seemingly out of the picture. “What do you think?” he asked. “Thirty-two carats if we shoot for flawless?”

      “Rubel said thirty-four,” Donald answered. “He recommends we do it with a heart cut.”

      “Here, Janet,” Christopher said, tossing her the stone. She caught it purely out of reflex. “What do you say?”

      “What is it? Topaz?” she asked. When she and Bob were looking for her engagement ring, she had seen a yellow topaz. It wasn’t as big as this stone, though.

      Donald gave an audible intake of breath that dismissed Janet once and for all. Christopher’s golden eyes sparkled more than the uncut gem.

      “It’s a diamond, Janet,” Christopher said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. “I thought every woman knew a diamond when she saw one. Aren’t they supposed to be a girl’s best friend?”

      “It’s honey colored,” she said, putting the stone back on the velvet. Donald’s reaction, more than Christopher’s statement, told her it was indeed a diamond. She was nervous with a stone that would cut to thirty-four carats, much heavier (more valuable) than Elizabeth Taylor’s much ballyhooed ring. She rubbed hands together, renewing the warmth Christopher had passed to her through the cool crystal.

      “It’s a fancy,” Christopher said. “Impurities make it that color.”

      “They make it a damned sight more expensive, too” Donald interjected, dispelling the notion that impurities equated with inferior quality, in this instance.

      “Right,” Christopher agreed. “We are always exceedingly pleased when one of these babies turns up.”

      He picked up the telephone on the desk, his gaze on Janet. There was humor in his eyes. Again, he had made her appear foolish. “Bartlet, will you send Samuels around front with the car, please?” he said СКАЧАТЬ