Gift of Gold

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Verity laughed down at him and then gasped as he tightened his fingers around her legs and pushed her bent knees farther apart. The action forced her to sink quickly, more quickly than she had planned, and he rose to meet her. He thrust himself swiftly and deeply into her.

  “Talk about wicked seducers,” she complained in a thick, husky tone as she tried to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

  “Show me how much you want me, sweetheart.”

  She obeyed, glorying in the excitement they created between them, loving the feel of him deep inside her and the sense of possession she felt.

  When their tightly wound spring of passion came apart in a shattering release, Verity collapsed across Jonas, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline in a storm. His body shuddered heavily again and again as he poured himself into her, then he held her fiercely against his damp chest.

  When it was all over Verity opened her eyes and accepted the fact that she was in love with Jonas Quarrel. She was contemplating that when she happened to glance at the clock beside the bed.

  “Jonas, the auction! I almost forgot.” Verity lifted herself quickly, slithering to the side of the bed. “Hurry. It’s due to start in an hour.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She turned at the doorway of the bathroom. “Caitlin’s auction,” she explained impatiently. “Remember? As far as the bidders are concerned, nothing was canceled in spite of all the drama last night. It’s true they all got kicked out of the house, but my guess is they’ll be showing up at the appointed time this morning for the bidding. Those collectors aren’t the kind of people to let a little thing like death and violence get in the way of getting hold of Caitlin Evanger’s last painting. Heck, the story of what happened last night will only make Bloodlust more valuable. And when those bidders show up, I have a hunch Caitlin will go ahead with the auction.”

  “So what?” Jonas reluctantly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and winced. His hand went to the bandage on his arm. His expression was distinctly surly.

  Verity ignored his change of mood and went into the bathroom. “So I think Tavi might be right. I think Caitlin will fall apart if she actually sells Bloodlust. She’s obsessed with it.”

  “Personally, I do not give a damn.” Jonas appeared in the bathroom doorway.

  “Well, I do. Caitlin has been through too much to go under now.”

  Jonas lounged against the doorjamb. He folded his arms. “You’re going to save her?”

  “If I can.” Verity stepped into the shower just as Jonas swore and muttered something under his breath.

  “What was that?” she called over the roar of the water.

  “I said,” he yelled back, “that you just lost your chance at the Most Wicked Woman of the Year award. Talk about innocence!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Verity saw the cops parked in the driveway of the gray house as soon as she and Jonas rounded the last bend of the cliff-edge highway. She sat forward nervously, hoping she wasn’t too late.

  “Hurry, Jonas.”

  “Calm down. This is a crazy idea to begin with, but there’s no point in working yourself up into a frenzy over it.”

  “You don’t understand. Tavi was right to be so worried about the sale of Bloodlust. Nobody knows what will happen to Caitlin if she auctions it off.”

  “If you want my opinion, Caitlin Evanger is a survivor,” Jonas grumbled. “She won’t commit suicide just because Bloodlust is out of her life.”

  “She might not kill herself,” Verity agreed slowly, “but I have a feeling she’ll commit professional suicide. Tavi thinks she’ll never paint again.”

  “No loss.”

  “That’s not true! The woman is a brilliant artist.”

  Verity was charged with anxious energy. She threw open the car door before Jonas had switched off the ignition. Without waiting for him she broke into a run, heading toward the front door of the house. She rang the bell, and when there was no immediate answer she pounded on the door.

  “They’re probably all on the third floor in the room where the painting was stored,” Jonas said, coming up behind her. He reached around Verity and turned the doorknob. The gray door swung inward, revealing a silent hall. “Go to it, heroine.”

  Verity needed no urging. She dashed down the hall toward the stainless steel staircase. The house was far too quiet, she realized as she pounded up the stairs. Jonas loped behind her, keeping up with her without appearing to exert himself. He had a knack for doing everything in a nonchalant fashion, Verity decided resentfully. Even running. The perfect Renaissance courtier. She was already wet under her arms.

  Then she remembered that Jonas did not make love to her nonchalantly. The realization made her feel better.

  Breathing heavily, she reached the top floor and raced down the hall to the studio. The door stood open and as Verity came to a skittering halt she saw that she had guessed right.

  Five very serious people—three men and two women, ranging in age from thirty to seventy—were standing in front of Bloodlust. Their gazes were riveted to the painting. Caitlin stood beside it, leaning most of her weight on her ebony cane. Her striking face looked drawn and grim.

  It was Tavi who turned first to see who stood in the doorway, and her eyes flickered with faint hope. The five bidders paid little attention to the newcomer, and Caitlin merely glanced at Verity and shook her head.

  “You shouldn’t have come back,” Caitlin said. “We’re almost finished here.”

  “I had to come back.” Verity drew in a deep breath and walked into the room. “I’m your friend, remember? One of the only two friends you’ve got.”

  Tavi closed her eyes and a tear trickled down her cheek. “It’s too late,” she whispered. “It was always too late.”

  A portly man in a gray suit spoke up. “I believe the last bid was mine. Are there any more bids?”

  “Not so fast,” Jonas advised laconically from the doorway. He surveyed the room full of collectors. “I know that what happened here last night makes Bloodlust more interesting than ever, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to contain your enthusiasm for a while. Verity is in charge right now.”

  The portly man scowled. “What do you mean, she’s in charge?”

  Jonas smiled lopsidedly. “You’re about to suffer at the whim of a tyrant. It’s an interesting experience.”

  “What the devil is going on here?” one of the women bidders demanded. “I’m here to conduct business. I am prepared to top Rossander’s bid.”

  Verity glanced at her. “Save your money. The painting is not for sale.” There were shocked gasps on all sides. She ignored them and kept walking toward Caitlin. En route she passed the worktable that held Caitlin’s tools. She snatched up a small blade used for cutting canvas. Then she went-straight toward Bloodlust.

  “Hey, wait one goddamned minute,” someone shouted, apparently realizing belatedly what was about to happen.

  “Jonas,” Verity said quietly, not looking back at him.

  “Sorry, folks,” Jonas said mildly. “But I work for her. Anyone moves, he’s going to have to move through me.”

  Five stunned faces turned toward him. No one moved. Verity came to a halt in front of Bloodlust and looked at Caitlin who hadn’t taken her eyes off of her. “You don’t need this painting any longer, Caitlin.”

  “What are you going to do?” Caitlin asked in a dull voice.

  “I’m going to get it out of your life. Permanently.” Verity lifted the small blade and began slashing the canvas into ribbons.

  There were a few screams of protest from the crowd of horrified bidders, but no one dared to try stopping her. There were advantages to having someone like Jonas in one’s employ, Verity thought wryly.

  Methodically she completed her task, taking her time and doing a thorough job. When Bloodl
ust had been reduced to a pile of tatters, she turned to Tavi.

  “Burn it.”

  Tavi nodded and quickly knelt to pick up the pieces of the destroyed painting. She scooped up everything and hurried out of the room.

  “Goddammit,” the man called Rossander said fiercely. “Godammit to hell. You just destroyed a fortune, lady. A fortune. I ought to—”

  “That’s enough,” Jonas said from the doorway. Rossander, who had started to take a step toward Verity, came to a sputtering halt.

  Verity ignored both of them. She was watching Caitlin. “Bloodlust is not going to be the last Caitlin Evanger painting after all, is it, Caitlin? The past is behind you. Now you can start living your present and your future.”

  Caitlin’s masklike face slowly began to crumble. A silvery moisture appeared in her eyes. Verity stepped forward and took Caitlin into her arms, holding the tall woman while the tears streamed down her face. And then Verity, too, was crying. No one moved. A few minutes later, Tavi reappeared in the doorway.

  She went to where Verity and Caitlin stood, put her arms around both of them, and cried, too. She touched Verity gently. Verity looked at her and saw that Tavi was smiling a little through the dampness.

  “Thank you,” Tavi said softly. “I think it’s going to be all right now.”

  Verity nodded her understanding.

  “Auction’s over,” Jonas quietly told the five confounded and irate bidders. “It’s time to leave.”

  Nobody argued with him.

  Three days later Verity left her kitchen in search of Jonas. She had really had it this time. The man had disappeared with a six-pack out of the No Bull’s refrigerator right after he’d finished washing the noon dishes. He knew perfectly well she expected him to give her a hand cleaning out the cupboards this afternoon. She had distinctly told him so this morning. He was supposed to be a handyperson in addition to being a dishwasher.

  Verity made her way up the path toward her father’s cabin with steely determination. She knew exactly where to find both men.

  She was not disappointed. They were lounging on the porch, drinking beer and reading. Her father was immersed in a fishing magazine and Jonas, bare to the waist, was scanning Sequence Springs’s one daily newspaper. Neither man looked up as Verity came to a halt at the bottom of the steps, her hands on her jeaned hips and fire in her eyes.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here?” she demanded. “Practicing for early retirement, are we? I’ve got jobs for both of you and you know it. Dad, you said you’d clean out the freezer this week. So far you haven’t gotten close enough to risk frostbite. And as for you, Jonas, you were supposed to help me clean out cupboards this afternoon.”

  Jonas didn’t look up from his newspaper. “I forgot.”

  Verity was outraged. “The hell you did. Just like you forgot to send out those letters to the museums, the ones I distinctly remember telling you to write yesterday?”

  “I’ll get to them one of these days,” he assured her, turning the page. “I’m in no hurry. I’ve already got a good job. Why should I want to leave it to go do consulting work for some museum?”

  “How about for the very good reason that consulting work would be in your field of expertise?” she snapped. “Not to mention the additional fact that it pays a heck of a lot better.”

  “Dishwashing is my field of expertise and I can live on what I’m making now.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  This was not the first time they’d had this argument. In fact, they’d had a lot of arguments since returning from Caitlin Evanger’s house three days ago. Verity knew in her heart that she had been responsible for starting every one of those arguments.

  She couldn’t help it. She was pushing Jonas and she knew it. But she had to do it. She had to find out how soon he was going to leave. It was easier to force the issue than to wait in cold dread for him suddenly to announce one day that he was departing. Verity had never been the type to wait for fate to overtake her.

  “Leave the man alone, Verity,” Emerson advised blandly. “He’s still healing. That was a nasty gouge he took from that rapier.”

  Verity bit her lip, instantly contrite. “Does your arm hurt very much today, Jonas?”

  “Let’s just say I’m in excruciating pain but bearing up admirably.” He casually turned another page of the newspaper with his injured arm.

  “See? What did I tell you?” Emerson said.

  “If you’re in so much pain,” Verity said, “then you’d better make an appointment with the doctor.”

  “I’ve already got an appointment to have the stitches removed tomorrow. Don’t fret about it, Verity.” Jonas swallowed beer, frowning over a story on the back page of the paper.

  “If you’re in pain, you can make another appointment right now. Use the phone in my office. I pay workmen’s comp for this sort of thing, you know.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think workmen’s comp is going to cover a rapier wound in the arm,” Emerson remarked. “Jonas didn’t even get the injury while working at the No Bull.”

  “Well, if it’s not bad enough to see a doctor about, then Jonas can darn well help me with those cupboards,” Verity said loftily “And after he’s finished, he can get started on those letters I told him to write. There’s plenty of work to be done around here and I intend to see that it gets done, or else.”

  “Or else what?” Jonas asked from behind the paper.

  His total lack of concern was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Already seething with anxiety, frustration, and anger, Verity went up in flames.

  “Or else I’ll fire you and get someone else who knows how to do the job,” she vowed, taking fierce satisfaction from having had the last word. She spun around on her heel and strode briskly toward her own cabin.

  “That does it.”

  Something in the inflection of Jonas’s too-quiet words brought Verity to a halt. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see him crumple the beer can in his hand and toss it aside. The newspaper followed, landing in a heap on the porch as Jonas got deliberately to his feet.

  Verity felt the first trickle of doubt. “That does what?” she demanded aggressively.

  Jonas stood on the top step, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans. His bare chest and smoothly muscled shoulders looked very broad and strong and male in the warm afternoon sunlight.

  “Threatening to fire me is going too far, Verity, even for you. With a woman like you a man has to draw the line somewhere.” He started slowly down the steps. “I’ve put up with a lot from you, boss lady. I’ve tolerated your scolding and your lectures and a lot of bullshit about proper eating habits. I let you talk me into a situation that nearly got both of us killed. All in all, I think I’ve been very indulgent with you. Don’t you think I’ve been indulgent with her, Emerson?”

  “Too right,” Emerson muttered sympathetically. “Very indulgent.”

  “But enough is enough,” Jonas continued, his eyes gleaming with righteous indignation. “I’ve had enough of your nagging and your shrewish behavior. Most of the time, being the gentle, easygoing soul that I am, I try to rise above it. But for the past three days you’ve been impossible to be around. The only time you shut up is when we’re in bed. Unfortunately I can’t keep you in bed twenty-four hours a day. I’m beginning to see why it used to be a man’s goal to keep his woman barefoot and pregnant.”

  “Jonas!” Verity swung her astounded gaze to her father. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”

  “Don’t look at me.” Emerson spread his hands wide. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  Jonas went intently toward her. “You’ve gone too far when you start threatening me with my job. I’ve always given you a day’s work for a day’s pay and you’ve got no legitimate complaints, lady.”

  Verity took a coupl
e of quick steps backward as she realized belatedly that Jonas was dangerous in this mood. “Jonas, don’t you dare touch me. You work for me. You’d do well to remember that. You take orders from me. I’m giving you an order right now and you’d better follow it or I’ll…I’ll...”

  He never paused, just kept striding toward her with a relentless expression on his face.

  For possibly the first time in her entire life, Verity’s nerve broke. She whirled and ran for the safety of her own cabin. She had never seen Jonas in this mood, and age-old feminine instinct warned her that the only safety lay in flight. She would give him a piece of her mind later when he’d had a chance to calm down. She’d chew him up one side and down the other later. She would read him the riot act for his behavior.

  Later.

  When it was safe to go near him again.

  He caught her before she reached the front steps of her cabin. He came up behind her, moving silently, and clamped a hand on one of her shoulders. He spun her around so quickly she lost her balance. Before she could regain it, the world turned upside down and she found herself hanging over a broad male shoulder. She pounded on his back.

  “Jonas, you bastard, I’ll strangle you for this.”

  “One of the first things a would-be tyrant ought to learn is not to make threats she can’t back up,” he advised, striding through the front door of her cabin. “Machiavelli was very clear on that point.”

  He set her on her feet, sat down on the nearest chair, and yanked her over his knee.

  “Jonas, don’t you dare!”

  Verity couldn’t believe it when the flat of his palm landed heavily on her bottom. The tight jeans she wore provided no protection whatsoever.

  She yelled in outrage and pain, and when the second blow came she tried digging her fingers into his thigh and kicking her legs wildly. He was impervious to her struggles and her angry cries.

  “Damn you. Damn you, damn you, damn you.”