Tears welled in her eyes. The large crocodile type. “Oh Cherif, I prayed you’d come back. You don’t know what it’s been like. He made me do it. I only wanted to make you happy. I—”
“Enough!” he roared. “Ye have to the count of five mademoiselle. One…”
“Cherif please, I beg you, don’t do this.”
“Two…”
“You loved me once—”
“Three…”
“If I tell you where it is, will you promise to take me with you?”
“Four…”
“All right!” She broke down, tears rolled down fire red cheeks.
Jacque cocked his head to one side but remained silent and waited.
“You have to ease up a little so I can take you to it!” she huffed. The chameleon changed colors and her features softened as a hand found his shaft, her fingers traveling its length. “Unless you’d rather get a little closer…”
Jacque jumped back as though fire had singed him. “The diamond is the only thing in this house I aim to get close to. Now, lead the way.”
She walked over to the wardrobe standing tall against one wall and turned back to him, her parched eyes drinking him in. “I’ll need to borrow some of that muscle.”
He frowned, unsure of her meaning.
She took a step toward him and he lifted the gun from her abdomen to her head. “I grow tired of ye parlor tricks whore. Give me the diamond or I’ll not hesitate to blow your treacherous head off!”
She flinched. “Must you be so cold? I said I’m sorry. What happened to the man I married? We’re still husband and wife you know. You have to take me with you.”
“The man you married was but a myth, living only in the mind of a dying woman. Sadly, both have ceased to exist.” He grinned adding, “As far as this shell of a union, that’s easily remedied. The king shall—”
Her wicked laughter was unnerving. Damn, but he despised the ear curdling pitch! After several lengthy seconds, she stopped. Lip curled in a viscous snarl, she spat, “You always were a fool, Cherif! The minute you boarded that rotting heap of wood, His Majesty signed your death warrant.”
He couldn’t move. Even though he’d known it was coming, her words carried the impact of a musket shot through his head. The bloodthirsty fop of a king had wasted no time, so certain Jacque would hand over his precious treasure! But how was he to refuse when his family’s lives hung in the balance? Still, he ought to know better than to trust anything that dripped from the pouty lips.
“The stone,” he gritted through tightly clenched jaws.
Sophia’s hand rested on the wall of the wardrobe, the other lifted her petticoat to reveal the soft curve of her leg. “Under here.”
“I will shoot you, save me the trouble of petitioning for a divorce.”
“You’re as much fun as a dead horse. It’s under the wardrobe.” Braiding her arms beneath her bust line she added, “You don’t really intend to give it back to him, do you?”
Jacque said nothing, but braced his back against the heavy piece of furniture and used his weight to move it aside, keeping one eye on the quarrelsome wench the whole time. He didn’t trust her. She’d say or do anything if she thought to profit from it.
“You can’t be that foolish. It’s like leading a lamb to the slaughter—only the lamb blindly takes himself to the altar, while the rest of the herd laughs and whispers behind his back, knowing full well the ignorant oaf is about to become the evening meal.”
Let her babble and say what she would. He was no ignorant lamb. Calloused eyes seared his memory as he recalled the last time he’d looked into the face of his king. Death’s shadow lingered therein, sending a frigid tingle down his back. He’d been no more able to change the king’s will then as he would be now.
Having cleared the heavy furniture from the appointed space, he stared down at the bare floor. Bringing the pistol level with her eyes, he warned in a lethal tone, “I’ve no time for tricks, Sophia. I’ll have the bloody stone—now!” It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he caged the urge to fire the gun and put an end to his misery.
She dropped to her knees in a puff of chiffon and pushed on the floorboards. “Honestly Cherif, I know you don’t believe me and understandably so, but I have missed you. I wish I could take it all back, everything that’s happened…” She paused to turn pleading eyes on him once again. “I, I wish I could make you love me again.”
“Words come easy when you’re staring at the end of a barrel, aye Sophia? But just so the records straight, I never loved you. What are ye doing there?”
“You always did have the manners of an ox.” She glared up at him. “Might I borrow your knife?”
A sly grin echoed his words, “Not even if your life depended on it.”
She chuckled, a sincere laugh that pinched his heart. Happier times raced to the foreground of his mind. Times before they exchanged empty vows, when they’d courted. She’d been fun then. He’d even liked spending time with her.
The dark, degrading memories wafted in like a menacing storm and stomped them out, and he was reminded that the crafty woman was a chameleon, able to change her colors at whim.
“I only meant to lift the board,” she said, still smiling.
Damn, why was he allowing her to do this? To stir waves of desire he’d thought never to feel in her presence again? Merde, he was just a man! With their marital bed so near, her lips so tempting, her cleavage so beautifully displayed beneath the soft ivory lace…
Nostrils flaring in his lusty rage, Jacque dropped to his knees along side her. “Where?”
She leaned forward and singled out the board. She smelled good. Like the vineyard in summer’s zenith. Trying his damndest not to yield to her corruptive charms, he yanked the dagger from his boot and pried the plank free.
He swallowed. Sweat beads dotted his forehead even though it was cold in the old house. Dare he hope to find the king’s treasure after so many disappointments?
Sophia reached in and pulled a trinket box free.
It looked large enough to hold the stone of Sita.
Holding the box in her lap, she looked at him with earnest eyes. “Cherif, I beg you. Let’s take the stone and run away. It would be like old times—”
“‘Tis the old times I mean to forget,” he spat with a swift wrench of the box. He stared at it, afraid to throw open its lid, afraid of yet another dead end.
He took a long, deep breath, exhaling slowly before edging the cover free. His mouth fell open as he stared at the velvety cloth his hand had coveted twice before. Slowly, he lifted the cloth and its contents from its resting place.
Opening his hand and using just as much caution, Jacque unwrapped the cloth to reveal the radiant brilliance beneath. The same awe-struck feeling came over him he’d had the first time he’d seen it. It was breathtaking in its uncorrupted brilliance. The blue diamond shimmered in the dim light of the room. He felt like dancing.
Redemption!
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Sophia asked, leaning closer to have a look. A little too close for his comfort. But she didn’t stop there.
~ * ~
Esa cried until she was sure there wasn’t another tear left in her. He was married! The lying bastard!
She longed for the comforts of home. The things she’d taken for granted like her own bed, with the mattress that was just a little too hard, and her favorite pillow, the one her mother had embroidered her name on. And oh, but what she wouldn’t get for a box of good old fashioned Kleenex instead of the soggy handkerchief to wipe her nose on and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food!
How could he lie to her? Was his declaration of love a lie as well? Of course it was. She’d be a lovesick fool to believe otherwise.
Was that where’d he’d gone? Just up and left without so much as a goodbye? In search of her? His beautiful wife?
Her eyes felt as though they were on fire. She didn’t need to see her reflection to know they were
puffy and red. How long had she been here, crying in the drab guestroom of hotel hell on Twilight Zone lane? She lifted her head and peered out the window. Dusk was settling in.
Was the woman still here, awaiting the return of her conniving husband? Gawd, the thought made her stomach hurt worse than a swirly carnival ride after inhaling the sum of an elephant ear, a candy apple, and a foot long Coney with fries and a Coke!
Would he abandon her now, leave her to her own devices in this frightful century?
Cherif, she’d called him. The name he signed on his paintings. His middle name. The name reserved for those closest to him. An endearment. So why didn’t he encourage her to address him as such? “I like the way ye same my name lass,” he’d told her. And she’d sucked up the sweet sap oozing from his beautiful tongue as though her ears were starved to hear it.
And weren’t they?
Her heart felt as though a building had fallen on it. Her mind reeled with the shock of events over the past few months. “Take me home, please,” she prayed for the hundredth time. Was she doomed to remain in this gloomy century?
She didn’t want to think about it, but was helpless to stop the painful images of Jacque and Sophia in the heat of passion from parading through her mind.
Did he love her?
Of course he did! What other reason would he have for marrying the gorgeous woman? She dropped her head in the bristly feather pillow and cried harder.
All of a sudden, a terrorizing thought chilled her to the bone.
Sophia…the name of her ancestor. Coincidence?
Her mind conjured Jacque’s expression when Larisa had dropped the name. Dear God, she remembered the look! How his face paled, his body swayed as though he would faint.
She’d thought it the heat then, but now looked at it beneath a different light. She sprang from the pillow, dropping her feet on the floor, frozen where she sat on the side of the bed.
He knew her.
Jacque knew her grandmother…and she had just met the offensive woman herself.
Another horrid thought seeped into her mind.
If they were married.
Did that make Jacque her great-great-great-great grandfather?
~ * ~
Sophia looked at him through misty eyes. “Cherif, you must heed my words. You can’t return the diamond to King Louis.”
His first mistake was meeting her gaze. His second was thinking he caught a glimpse of genuine concern therein. He’d been wise to fear an encounter with the cunning wench. He’d sooner face a fleet of English Naval ships then go up against her deceptive tongue.
“The lives of my family depend on His Royalty getting this stone, Sophia.” He started to come to his feet, but her hand found his shoulder and he froze beneath her familiar touch.
“No,” she whispered. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her sultry breath brush his ear. “You’re wrong. The whole time, you’re entire voyage has been naught but a setup. Don’t ye see?”
“Why do ye tell me this?”
Her other hand found his cheek, traced the deep line of his jaw. “Because, I’ve had lots of time to think. Oh Cherif! I’ve been such a fool! I was blinded by greed, I’ve come to realize it’s not wealth I want, but you my love.”
God help him, he didn’t resist when she eased his face toward her, pressed the heat of her lips against his. Losing all sense of reason, he dropped the stone, his weapons, letting them fall where they may and scooped her into his arms.
They fell to the floor, his body hard and eager against hers. Skilled hands found his hair, massaged his scalp, his head, before drifting down his back and cupping his buttocks.
He hiked her skirt up, coveting the smooth shapely feel of her legs as she wrapped them about his waist invitingly. God he’d never wanted her more! The feel of her soft flesh, the hint of red grape in her hair.
“Take me Cherif,” she begged.
Jacque froze. Opening one eye he spat, “Godsteeth! But ye could make the devil believe he was a do-gooder!”
What the hell was he doing? The whole while he’d been kissing her, it was Esa’s face he saw…Esa’s lips he kissed…Esa’s legs he caressed.
But it wasn’t Esa who lay beneath him now.
He leapt from Sophia as though she had a contagious disease.
Wanton confused eyes searched his face. “What’s the matter? Why did you stop?” A hand reached for him but he backed away. Somehow, there didn’t seen enough distance in all of France to keep her at bay.
“I don’t know what got into me.” Was all he said before turning back to find the diamond he’d so clumsily discarded. Foul woman! He’d not succumb to her sinful spells again.
The stone lay a few feet behind him. Ignoring her continuous pleas to remove his clothing and take her there on the floor, he got up to retrieve it. He’d found what he’d come for. It was time to leave.
“It’s not like you to pass up a tupping, Cherif,” Sophia purred to his back. A clicking noise caused him to spin on his heels to face her. The gun was aimed at his heart. “I’ll take that,” she added, extending her free hand.
He cursed his carelessness. Was she adventurous enough to shoot him?
As though reading his thoughts, she smiled and slowly came to her feet. “You think I won’t use it?” She laughed. “Then you are a fool. The king would be only too glad to hear I’ve killed the man that set out to steal his treasure.”
Bloody hell but she spoke the truth. Louis would no doubt throw a party in her honor should she be lucky enough to kill him. And he harbored no doubt the bitch would do it.
“If ye were going to shoot me, ye would have done it by now.” That distracted her long enough that Jacque bought time and stepped close enough to reach out and clutch her wrist. Sophia screamed and lost her grip on the weapon as he bent her hand backward.
Jacque’s hand covered her entire face and he gave her a hard shove. She landed on her back amidst the floral spread on the bed. Before she could move, the cold steel was pressed to her cheek, Jacque’s free hand closed over her throat. “Now then, let’s go and get some of those fancy scarves you’re so fond of tying to the bedpost, eh?”
He helped her to her feet and nodded toward the bureau of drawers he knew she kept filled with frilly silks and scarves. “After you.”
She pulled the drawer open and turned her most seductive pose on him. “You going to tie me up sweetheart?”
Snatching a fistful of various fabrics, Jacque allowed the smuggest of grins to spread his face. “‘Tis the plan.”
“Oh goody!” Lifting her skirt, she sauntered over to the bed and threw herself on her back. She eased her frilly petticoats up in a shrewd attempt to enflame his carnal need. Her tongue ran lazily across her lip. “Mmm…I can’t wait. It’s been such a long time, hasn’t it darling? You don’t know how I’ve craved the feel of your lips upon my body.”
Playing at her game, Jacque stood at the foot of the bed looking down on her. He traced the soft contour of her calf with his fingers before taking a firm hold of her leg and spinning her onto her stomach and straddling her back.
He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “And you don’t know how I’ve craved the feel of my hands around your treacherous little throat!” He took a scarf and placed it in her mouth, of course she needed a little persuasion to open up to him and he took great delight in tweaking her ear.
As soon as she screamed, she was as good as gagged. He brushed aside golden locks and tied it off. “Ahhh, ye hear that? ‘Tis called justice.” He moved to her hands and gathered them at the small of her back, making another knot in a scarf. And finally her feet.
When he was finished, he climbed down off the bed and surveyed his work. “Avast, will ye look at that! Two black and one red,” he said in reference to the scarves adding, “matches ye wicked heart!”
Tapping his pocket to make sure the stone was still there, he moved the wardrobe back in place before picking Sophia up and settling her i
nside. “Goodbye Sophia.”
Twenty Two
Jacque was sitting across from Esa when she awoke. With each creak of the old rocker, she grew more alert, her memory more vivid. “How ye feeling lass?”
Black rage heated her blood and she bolted from the bed to slap the mocking grin from his face. “You lying bastard! How could you?” She raised a hand to hit him again, but he caught her wrist and yanked her into his lap.
She struggled, flinging both fists and feet about like a rabid animal. But she was no match for someone of Jacque’s caliber.
“Let me go!” She sunk her teeth into his shoulder and he winced, but didn’t ease up on his grasp. He repositioned her squirming body so that she was forced to look into his face.
Meeting his apologetic gaze, she lowered her voice and enunciated every word, “Let…me…go!” She tried once again to jerk free, but to no avail.
He deserved all she was throwing at him, and then some.
“Lass, will ye let me explain? I never intended to hurt you.”
“Go to hell! There’s nothing to explain. You’re married. And you actually had the nerve to propose to me. I should have known better than to trust a damned pirate.” She made another attempt to escape from his lap, but he tightened his grip, hurting her arms.
“Be still,” he scolded. “Save your energy. When ye become rational, I’ll turn ye loose.”
“Rational? Me?” She snorted. “Where’s your beautiful wife, Cherif? Shouldn’t you be begging for her forgiveness instead of mine—your freaking mistress!”
“Esa, you’re upset now. When you’re ready to listen to reason, I’ll tell ye all you care to hear. But I can see that I’ve not allotted you enough time to cool ye heels, so I’ll come back later.” He released her just as she attempted to twist her body and she fell to the floor. When he offered his hand, she slapped it away and used the side of the chair to pull herself up.
He looked at her through the eyes a lost child. His gaze seemed to seek understanding and forgiveness, but her stock was depleted of those gratuities and she wasn’t so sure she’d be replenishing her supply anytime soon.
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