The Golden Valkyrie

by Iris Johansen

  “But Lance—” she started, but he quickly raised his head and covered her lips with his own.

  “No, you can’t talk me out of it,” he said when he lifted his head. “You’ll have to stay and give me moral support or it’s no go.”

  “Well, I suppose I do have a responsibility to the art world,” she said liltingly, her lips curving in an impish grin. “I guess I could stick around and hold your hand until you see how right I am and how absurdly stupid you’ve been. Who’s going to care a hundred years from now if you were a prince or a ditch digger, when those experts are gazing raptly at your paintings in the Louvre?”

  “Who indeed?” Lance echoed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “We’ll be lolling on adjoining clouds, and you’ll look down and nudge me and say: ‘See, I told you so.’”

  “I hate people who say, I told you so,” Honey said, making a face at him. “I’d never be so crass.” Then her face sobered. “You won’t be sorry, Lance.”

  “I’m glad one of us is so confident,” he said wryly. “I guess only time will tell which one of us is right. I’ll let Alex know that he can make arrangements with the Parke-Bernet Galleries. He’s been after me for years. At least he’ll be happy.”

  “Because he has the good sense to recognize genius when he sees it,” Honey replied promptly. “And, like all good businessmen, he abhors a wasted talent.”

  “So do I,” Lance said, his eyes twinkling. “Which is why I have no intention of wasting yours, sweetheart.” His hand reached up to weigh her breast in his palm. “Are you sure you’re hungry?” he asked wistfully.

  “I’m sure,” she said emphatically, despite the tiny responsive thrill she was feeling at his touch.

  “I was afraid you were,” he said morosely. “I guess we’d better go down and raid that refrigerator. It’s obvious you’re not going to let me seduce you until I satisfy the inner woman.” He gave her a teasing kiss, his face alight with laughter. “And then, my love, I’m going to make sure that the inner woman satisfies me!”

  SEVEN

  THE SUN WAS shining brightly, and Honey felt as if she were glowing with a brilliance that could rival its warmth, as she skipped out on the terrace and took her place at the table.

  Alex glanced up from the official-looking document he’d been examining with a scowl, and his expression relaxed into a warm smile that miraculously softened the hardness of his features. “Well, good morning. I take it that all is well with your world this fine day?” he drawled, throwing the paper carelessly on the breakfast table beside his plate. He reached for the coffee carafe and poured her coffee and refilled his own cup. “Where’s Lance this morning?”

  “Justine is taking some coffee up to that improvised studio you created for him,” Honey said, taking a sip of her coffee. “He wanted to get to work changing the background of my portrait to a storm setting.” She smiled mischievously at him. “He was most displeased with you for not having the cottage cleaned up by now so that we could move back down to the beach. He says the light is much better there.”

  “Ungrateful wretch,” Alex said. “It’s only been three days since the storm, and the cottage was a complete disaster. We don’t have unlimited manpower on this island, you know. Nate’s working as fast as he can.”

  “I know,” Honey said tranquilly, reaching for a warm croissant and buttering it liberally. “And so does Lance, when he thinks about it. He’s just impatient to get on with his work.” She looked up, violet eyes dancing. “He has great respect for your drive and initiative and wishes you’d channel a little toward the cottage cleanup.”

  Alex shook his head wryly. “I suppose I’ll have to phone the mainland and have some help flown out. I learned a long time ago that that red-haired demon refuses to give up when he wants something.” One dark brow arched mockingly. “I guess you’ve discovered that too.”

  Honey felt the warm color surge to her cheeks. “Yes,” she answered quietly, her eyes glowing softly. “I’ve found that out.”

  There was a curiously gentle flicker in the face of the man opposite her before it was masked by the usual guarded cynicism. “You may tell Lance that I’ll be as glad to get rid of him as he will be to go,” he said lightly. “It’s not easy for a man of my proclivities to be odd man out in this garden of Eden the two of you have created for yourselves.”

  Honey’s eyes flew up to meet his. “Have we made you feel that?” she asked, stricken. “Alex, I’m so sorry. How rude you must think us.”

  “Not rude, just crazy about each other,” Alex said dryly. “I can’t fault your manners.” He pulled a face. “Though Lance could have been a little less blatantly content in front of a man in my celibate state. I’m not used to being an observer instead of a participant.”

  That was definitely an understatement, from what Lance had told her of Alex’s marathon sexual activities. He was extremely highly sexed, and required a woman more often than most. Honey had been so involved with her own concerns that she had never questioned why Alex had voluntarily arranged his stay at Londale’s Folly with no willing female to alleviate the abstinence of the past weeks. It must have been as difficult as he’d said, to watch Lance and her together.

  “We’ve been very selfish and inconsiderate, haven’t we, Alex? Will you forgive us?” Honey asked contritely.

  “I will,” he said with a mocking grin. “But only because my ordeal is finally at an end. I’ve imported some company for myself for a few days.” He glanced casually at his watch. “In fact, the helicopter should be arriving any minute now.”

  “Company?” Honey asked, puzzled. Then she felt a chill of apprehension run through her. “The baroness?”

  His brows lifted in surprise. “Bettina? Good heavens, no! The redhead from the Starburst.”

  Honey relaxed and grinned teasingly. “Oh yes, the inventive one who’s really a Scandinavian blonde. Does she have a name?”

  “Leona Martell,” he supplied, rising to his feet. “Would you like to come down to the landing pad and meet her?”

  “Why not?” she asked. She pushed back her chair and stood up. “Lance won’t even miss me until this afternoon, when he finishes the background.”

  “Then I’ll take advantage of your charming company while I may,” Alex said, gesturing grandly for her to precede him.

  Leona Martell was certainly as alluring as Alex had said, Honey thought a little later as she watched him place his hands on the waist of the tiny but voluptuous redhead to swing her out of the helicopter to the pad. Redhead or not, she appeared to be as passionate as even the most demanding man might require, melting into Alex’s arms and pulling his head down to kiss him lingeringly.

  Alex was more than enthusiastic in returning the embrace, Honey observed with amusement. When he did lift his head to see her grinning at him, he pulled the redhead closer and winked impishly over the top of her head. Honey giggled irrepressibly, and Alex’s smile widened as he turned the redhead around to introduce her.

  “Honey, I’d like you to meet Leona Martell. Honey Winston, Leona,” he said as he waved permission to the helicopter pilot to take off. “Leona is a law student at Rice University, Honey.”

  “How do you do, Miss Martell,” Honey said politely, over the roar of the rotors as the pilot started the engine. If this gorgeous redhead was a law student, then she must be an extremely well-to-do one. Those sky-blue slacks and ecru silk blouse practically screamed haute couture, and her rich red, curly hair had been styled and cut by a master.

  The admiration was evidently mutual, for Honey’s words were acknowledged with a distinctly vague pleasantry, while the redhead wistfully eyed Honey’s long, silver blond hair. “My hair used to be almost that color,” she said. “People used to stop and stare at me in the street.”

  “I’m sure they still do,” Honey said politely. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Miss Martell. Many men prefer redheads, no matter what they say in the song.”

  “I’ll vouch fo
r that,” Alex said, carelessly touching a shimmering red curl at her nape.

  To Honey’s amazement, the remark was met by a bitterly resentful glance. It was so swift that it only flickered and then was gone, replaced by a dulcet sweetness. “Then that’s all that’s important, darling,” Leona said softly. “I only recently had it done, and I suppose I’m not used to it yet. I’ve been trying to decide whether to keep it.” She turned with a forced smile to Honey. “What do you think?” she asked brightly. “Would you dye that lovely hair, Miss Winston?”

  Honey shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she said quietly. “But then, I couldn’t afford to keep it as lovely as yours.”

  Alex’s arm slid around the redhead’s waist. “Let’s go up to the house and persuade Justine to make us a fresh pot of coffee,” he suggested softly, his dark gaze lingering intimately on her. He glanced up at Honey inquiringly. “Honey?”

  She shook her head ruefully. She had an idea that Alex had more than coffee on his mind at the moment, and that she might find herself very much a third wheel. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I believe I’ll go down to the cottage and see what progress Nate is making on the cleanup. I’ll see you at lunch, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps,” Alex echoed in a silken murmur that caused Honey to smother a grin as she waved cheerfully and set off down the path to the beach.

  She had no intention of going down to the cottage and harrying poor Nate. It was very likely that Alex had been giving him a difficult enough time in the past few days. It was almost an hour later, when she was strolling barefoot in the cove, that she saw the ship. At first she thought it was a trick of the light. The dazzle of the sun on the water sometimes created strange mirages. Honey stopped and shaded her eyes curiously, expecting to see a cargo ship or tanker on its way to Houston’s ship channel. Her brow creased in a puzzled frown. Surely that white dot on the horizon was too small to be either of those. It looked more like a small launch, and it didn’t seem to be moving. It appeared to be rocking gently on the quiet waves as if it were at anchor. As if it were waiting. She tried to shake off the uneasiness that flooded her as she turned and began to walk slowly back toward the path that led to the Folly. How foolish to get upset over a launch that would probably be gone in an hour or two. It was more than likely just an innocent fishing party.

  Yet it was an odd coincidence that the launch should anchor here, at the only cove that offered access to the island. A little too odd. Honey’s stride quickened instinctively, keeping pace with her thoughts. That was the second out-of-the-ordinary occurrence today. First had been the arrival of Leona Martell, and now the launch waiting on the horizon. Waiting for what?

  There couldn’t be a connection, could there? Leona Martell had come at Alex’s invitation. Still, something nagged at Honey. There was something not quite right about Leona Martell. Honey had been subconsciously aware of something amiss since she’d met her.

  She skidded to a halt and inhaled sharply. Her hair! It was obvious that Leona Martell had liked being a blonde. Her expression had been frankly envious when she’d seen Honey’s hair, and then there had been that strange resentful glance she had thrown at Alex. Why would a natural blonde who was very well satisfied with her coloring suddenly dye her hair red?

  “Oh, my God!” Honey breathed, her eyes widening in horror. Then she was flying up the path to the Folly. She burst through the front door and took the steps to the second floor two at a time and then dashed down the corridor to the improvised studio where Lance was working.

  He looked up vaguely as she burst into the room. “Lance,” she said, trying to get breath enough to speak. “Alex told me once that almost everyone in your immediate circle knew of his passion for redheads, that it was practically a standing joke. Is that true?”

  “What?” he asked absently, his gaze returning to the easel. “Yes, of course it’s true.”

  “Oh, no!” she moaned frantically, and turned and raced from the room and down the corridor to Alex’s room. How criminally stupid of her not to have made the connection at once. Since she’d come to the island, she had forgotten everything but Lance. She’d even been rocked by the blissful serenity of their relationship into forgetting her purpose for being here. She prayed that she’d remembered in time.

  She burst into Alex’s room and frantically scanned the apparently empty master suite, before she noticed the door ajar at the far end of the room. There was only the sound of running water, yet it was enough to send a chill through her. How terribly easy it would be to drown in a bathtub a man who was exposed and vulnerable. Had it happened already? She tore across the bedroom and threw open the door.

  Alex was lying in the center of a huge, blue-veined marble sunken tub that could well have graced one of his ancestor’s seraglios, and he looked up in stunned amazement as Honey bolted into the room.

  Honey gave him a quick, relieved glance, her attention concentrated on the woman on top of him.

  “No!” she cried sharply, and the redhead looked over her shoulder with the same shocked surprise Alex had shown. But she only had time for that one glance, before Honey jumped into the tub with them. She grabbed Leona quickly in a neck lock and jerked her away from Alex with one swift motion.

  “Honey, for God’s sake, stop it!” Alex shouted, struggling into a sitting position.

  She paid no attention, for the redhead was struggling with surprising strength for one who appeared so fragile, and Honey needed all her expertise to subdue her. Who would have believed a nude body could be so slippery? It was like trying to handle a greased pig.

  “Honey, so help me God, I’m going to murder you,” Alex roared. “Let her go, damn it.”

  There was only one way to put an end to this. She spun the redhead around and stepped back a pace for leverage and then followed through with a right cross to the woman’s jaw.

  The redhead gave a guttural grunt, and her blue eyes slowly glazed over. Honey caught her as she started to slump, and heaved her out of the water onto the marble floor.

  “Damn you, Honey,” Alex groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. “Why the hell didn’t you listen to me?”

  “I can’t talk right now, Alex,” she said, levering herself out of the tub. “I’ve got to find something to tie her up with before she regains consciousness.” She was gone before he could answer, but returned an instant later with a cord she’d appropriated from one of the drapes in the bedroom. She efficiently secured the woman’s hands behind her back, then turned to Alex with a grin. “She must have a glass jaw; she’s still out like a light.”

  Alex was gazing at the woman’s unconscious form with dark, mournful eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that, Honey,” he said sadly.

  “But you don’t understand, Alex,” Honey said briskly, reaching over to pick up a towel from the rack above the tub. She began to dry her legs. Then, as an afterthought, she threw a towel modestly over the redhead’s lax, naked body. “She wasn’t what she seemed at all. I’m almost sure she’s a part of the assassination plot against you and Lance.”

  “So am I,” Alex said gloomily, his eyes still on the redhead. “I suspected it from the first night at the Starburst.”

  “You suspec—” Honey’s lips fell open in surprise. “But why didn’t you say anything? Why did you invite her to the Folly?”

  “I told you I’d been taught never to trust anyone,” he said, his moody glance shifting to Honey’s shocked face. “She was a little too eager. When I discovered that she wasn’t a real redhead, it was only logical to assume that she was the Judas goat staked out by the hunters.” He shrugged, his brawny bronzed shoulders gleaming copper. Abruptly it sank home to Honey that he was totally nude. Thank heavens for those mounds of bubble bath! “I decided I’d rather shift the battleground to my own territory and see if I could lure them into my net.”

  “Then why did you tell me to leave her alone when I jumped into the tub?” Honey asked, perplexed.

  His face darkened in a fi
erce scowl. “Because it’s been two weeks, damn it,” he growled. “Why the hell couldn’t you have knocked her out afterward?”

  Honey gazed at him blankly. “Afterward?” Suddenly she started to chuckle, and she sat down on the side of the tub and crossed her legs tailor fashion. Her face was alight with laughter, and her violet eyes danced with impish delight. “Oh, Lord, Alex, I’m sorry. I was afraid she was trying to drown you.”

  He gave her an indignant glance. “I assure you that no woman living would have tried to murder me at that particular moment.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she agreed solemnly, her lips quirking. “But surely she’s no great loss. She wasn’t a real redhead anyway.”

  “She was entirely adequate for the situation,” Alex said dryly. “You owe me one, Honey.”

  “I owe you,” she agreed lightly. “There must be a redhead somewhere in the world whom you can trust.”

  His lips twisted cynically. “I strongly doubt it. But you’re the private investigator—you find her for me.”

  “I just might do that,” Honey said thoughtfully.

  “I imagine there’s some perfectly logical explanation for this scenario,” Lance said politely from the doorway. “Would either of you care to enlighten me?” He strolled lazily forward, interestedly eyeing the unconscious woman. “I suppose this is your lethal Delilah, Alex. Very pretty.”

  “You knew about her too?” Honey asked indignantly. “Why didn’t someone tell me? How do you expect me to perform with any sort of efficiency if you both keep me in the dark?”

  “You weren’t my bodyguard, Honey,” Alex said, leaning lazily back in the tub. “And Lance was more than satisfied with your performance, I’m sure.”

  “More than satisfied,” Lance agreed solemnly, blue eyes twinkling.