by Dee Davis
A recent acquisition, if she was remembering the scuttle. Something about Danielle Coussy. The woman had never had a chance. Celeste wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Marcus's kiss still burning on her lips.
Marcus was not a pledge-his-troth kind of guy. Love them, use them, and leave them was more his style. And she had been there and done that. On the other hand, at least if she were to get involved with him again, she'd not be caught holding any silly illusions.
"Celeste," her father chastised. "You're not listening."
Marcus hid a grin behind the curve of his hand, but she saw it nevertheless, unsure whether he was laughing at her father or at her. Probably both. Anger replaced passion, the leap not too surprising, since at least where Marcus was concerned the two emotions seemed to walk hand in hand. There was just something so different about him. Something that called to her and infuriated her all at the same time.
"I'm listening, Father." Celeste forced an insipid smile and avoided Marcus's gaze. "Do tell us what you've found."
"There were two men who headed up the Nazi occupation in Avignon. One was SS, the other regular army. And if we accept the idea that the monks at St. Emilion had possession of the ruby, then we move on to Theloneous's confession that he committed the sin of sins and broke his pledge to protect it."
"Conceivably by giving it to the Nazis," Marcus said, frowning at her father.
"It would indeed be a most egregious sin." Her father nodded. "And it is established fact that Theloneous was a collaborator. So—"
"It would follow that the men he did business with during World War II could be the next link in the chain of possession," Celeste finished for him.
"Following that logic, the most likely candidate would be the SS officer." Marcus was twirling his glass of whiskey, the smoky liquid almost golden as it hit the lamplight. "Do you have a name?"
"I do." Cedrik held out a piece of paper. "Heinrich Erikson."
Celeste moved to stand next to Marcus's chair, looking down at the printout, trying to avoid thinking about the strong hands that held it. "He's so young."
"There is no minimum age for evil," Marcus said, his eyes on the photo. "But this isn't our man."
"How do you know?" Cedrik said, frowning.
"Heinrich Erikson is dead. Died just before the end of the war."
"And you know this because?" Celeste found that she, too, was frowning.
"He was friends with my father. Good friends. If he'd had the ruby, I'd have known about it."
There was far more to it than that. Celeste could tell by the look on his face, but she wasn't about to question him here. Not in front of her father. Maybe not at all. Marcus wouldn't be the type of man to share his secrets easily. She shook her head, pulling her thoughts away from the charismatic man beside her. "You said there were two, right?" she asked, her gaze meeting her father's. "Maybe it's the second man."
"I don't know." Cedrik sighed. "He doesn't seem the type. He never gained any kind of prominence in the Reich as far as I can tell. And if Theloneous gave him the ruby, surely he'd have given it to Hitler?"
"If you had it, you wouldn't give it away for anything. Why should this man be any different?" Celeste sat in the chair next to Marcus, her hand only inches away from his.
"So what's his name?" Marcus asked, standing up to refill his glass. Celeste found herself holding her breath, hoping that he'd settle back in the chair next to hers, but instead he walked over to perch on the edge of a rosewood desk. She swallowed her disappointment, reminding herself that this was all a game to him. Check and checkmate. Winner take all. She'd do well to remember the fact.
"Hans Weisbaum," her father said, reading off of the computer screen. "He's Austrian."
"Well, that could explain a lot," Celeste said. "I mean there was certainly no love lost between the Germans and the Austrians. They may have fought with Hitler, but most of them didn't like it very much. Maybe Hans kept the Devil's Delight as a one-up against the Third Reich."
"Or maybe he just liked it," Cedrik said with a shrug. "Beauty has a way of getting under the skin."
"Some more than most," Marcus said, the heat of his gaze sending her nerves dancing.
"Is he still alive?" Celeste asked, her voice coming out on a quiver.
Marcus's slow smile signaled he knew he'd gotten to her.
"I don't know," her father said, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents zinging around the room. "Unfortunately, as I said, he was a small player. Except for his brief command in Avignon, he seems to have pretty much disappeared."
"No death record, I take it?" Marcus crossed his arms, studying the older man.
Cedrik shook his head. "Nothing like that. Which I think is a good sign. I do know that there was family farm near Hallstadt. It's just southeast of Salzburg."
"Actually, I know the place." Marcus said. "Stayed there once with a friend. It was a hell of a party. But it was also a very long time ago."
Maybe Celeste was imagining things, but there seemed to be more to what he was saying than the words belied. Something somber—maybe even a little sad. Or maybe she was seeing shadows where there were none.
"Any chance the old man's still there?" Marcus asked.
"Every possibility. The Austrians are a proud lot and tend not to wander too far from home. My guess is that if he's still alive, he's probably still working the family farm."
"But surely if he had the ruby, he wouldn't have gone back to the farm?" Celeste had never understood the need to hold onto something merely for the sake of owning it. It simply wasn't in her nature. Or maybe it was her own small way of rebelling against her father. Hard to sort those kinds of feelings out. And quite frankly she wasn't all that interested in soul-searching anyway.
"He might not have had a choice," Marcus said. "After the war, it wouldn't have been safe for Hans to try and sell something like the Devil's Delight. First off, it would have marked him as a Nazi, which he most likely would have wanted to avoid. And second off, it would have also made him a thief. And the war crimes tribunals were not something to be taken lightly. No, my guess is that if he had the stone, he would have kept the fact secret."
"But things changed, surely. I mean he wouldn't have needed to keep it secret forever," Celeste said, her gaze encompassing both Marcus and her father.
"No. Marcus is right," Cedrik said. "He would've had too much to explain. And while I do agree that for a while things got better, they've certainly taken a turn for the worse these days. I mean everyone wants retribution. And if you don't have provenance you're going to have a hard time selling anything that could have been plundered during the war."
"But there's the black market. We use it all the time."
"Yes, but we're insiders. As is Marcus. Despite the fact that we play loose with the rules, we still have our own code, and it wouldn't be easy for a man like Weisbaum to gain access to our circle."
"That's reverse snobbery, and you know it. Besides all he'd have to do is mention the Devil's Delight and half the collectors in the world would be sniffing around faster than he could say the word 'ruby.'"
"You're probably right, but that just supports the idea that Hans kept his secret. As you pointed out, if the ruby had surfaced, we'd have heard rumors. And we haven't." Marcus stood up and walked over to the drinks table to pour himself another whiskey. "I think Cedrik is onto something."
"So what do we do now?" Celeste asked, trying to sound as if she didn't really care. "It's not as if we're really working together. I mean after all, we want the stone and you want the stone, and at the end of the day, only one of us can have it."
"I can think of any number of reasons why it might be interesting to work together." He raised an eyebrow, managing to look ruthless and desirable all at the same time. "But our agreement was that once we figured out what the journal had to offer, we'd go our separate ways."
"Right. So how do you want to handle that?" She swallowed the disappointment flooding through her. "M
y father counts to three and we both dive off the side of the boat?"
"It's an idea. But I'm sure we can come up with something more civilized." He'd moved closer, ignoring the fact that her father was still in the room.
"It seems to me"—Cedrik's voice was better than a cold shower—"that it'd would be simpler if the two of you worked together, at least until you manage to actually find Herr Weisbaum."
"Having doubts about your daughter's abilities?" Marcus asked, his tone every bit as cool as Cedrik's.
"Not at all. I simply don't see why our little partnership needs to end just now. For all we know we're on the wrong track altogether. So while you all work on the Weisbaum angle, I'll have another go at the journal."
Marcus's eyes narrowed in speculation as he studied the older man. "And what's to stop you from pursuing the ruby on your own, while your daughter keeps me running in circles?"
"Nothing." Her father smiled, but the gesture lacked humor. "You'll just have to trust me."
"Not likely," Marcus said. "But if you'll agree to stay here with Faust, then maybe I'll agree to let Celeste tag along."
"Tag along?" She tried but couldn't stop the protest. "What do you mean by that?"
"Just what I said, princess. You're not bad at what you do. But I'm better. And so either you tag along, or I'll leave you behind. Your choice. But make no mistake, Cedrik." He switched his attention to her father, dismissing her in the process. "In the end, I intend to win the day."
"Don't underestimate me, boy. I may be an old man, but I'm not dead."
They were glaring at each other now, engaged in a testosterone-driven pissing match. Celeste blew out a breath.
Men.
Slipping out of the open doorway, she walked up the passageway and out onto the deck. The moon had set, leaving the yacht cloaked in shadow. She could see the lights of the coast glittering against the black line of the sea. It wasn't that far. Less than a mile. And she was in good shape.
It would serve them both right if she dove over the side and started the search for Hans Weisbaum on her own. She leaned over the railing, the water below lapping softly against the hull. The idea had originated in anger, but now, suddenly, it seemed appealing. The water was warm and the shore truly wasn't that far away. All she had to do was swim to the shore, make her way to her hotel, gather some clothes and supplies, and hit the road.
It was a bit impulsive, but it beat playing the pawn.
She kicked off her shoes, peering behind her to see if there was any sign of her father or Marcus. Light spilled from the windows, but there was no sign of life. She slipped out of her pants, then her shirt, the night air cold against her bare skin.
She had a moment's hesitation, but pushed it aside, the image of mocking green eyes urging her onward. Tag along, my ass.
She scrambled up onto the diving platform at the stern of the yacht, holding the railing for balance. Sucking in a breath, she lifted her arms, and tensed her muscles to launch herself downward into the water.
But just as her calves tightened for the dive, a hard muscled arm slipped around her waist.
"Going somewhere?" Marcus lifted her up and over the railing as if she weighed no more than a feather. He pulled her close, purposely sliding her body along his before letting her go. She stumbled, but quickly regained her footing, anger mixing with emotions she had no intention of trying to identify.
Ever.
"It seemed a nice night for a swim." It sounded lame. But at least her voice wasn't shaking. "Where's my father?" She looked toward the cabin light, not certain whether she was relieved or annoyed that he hadn't followed Marcus out on deck.
"Let's just say we came to a meeting of the minds."
"How wonderful for you both." She moved toward the pile of her clothing, managing to scoop up her shirt before he managed to stop her. "So why not just let me go? You made it perfectly clear what you think of my abilities."
"Well, for one thing there are currents out there that make it harder to swim to shore than it looks."
"I'm a good swimmer." She jerked free and pulled on her shirt, fumbling with the buttons.
"I'm sure you are." He reached over to help, the act of closing the buttons somehow more sexually charged than if he'd been undressing her. "But that doesn't change the fact that it's dangerous to swim at night. Besides, I would have caught up with you by morning."
"Because you're so much better than I am."
"No. Because while you were out here contemplating a skinny dip, your father gave me the location of the farm."
"You're unbelievable. You'll do anything to get what you want. Even manipulate an old man."
His eyes flashed. "I didn't manipulate anyone. Cedrik Abbot never does anything he doesn't want to. I'm not sure I completely understand why it is he thinks we should continue to work together. But he does. And since for the time being it suits my purposes, I agreed. All of which you would know if you'd bothered to stick around."
"I was protecting my father."
"You were running scared."
"Of what?" She shifted so that they were standing nose to nose, her anger spurring her momentum. "You?" She choked on the word, knowing immediately that she'd stepped into a trap.
"Maybe." His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her close again. "Or maybe I'm not the only one good at manipulations." He bent his head, and she lifted her hand to push him away, but apparently her fingers weren't with the program because they twined around the soft cotton of his shirt, urging him closer.
The kiss when it came was like an explosion. Heat rocketed through her with the power of fission. What was it with this man?
He touched her and everything that mattered disintegrated in the path of her overwhelming desire for him. He trailed kisses along the line of her jaw and the soft skin of her neck. She trembled at the touch and felt him smile. He moved lower, his tongue circling one taut nipple beneath the thin gauze of her shirt. Even with the material protecting her, she could feel the heat.
She arched her back, offering herself to him, knowing that it was probably a mistake, but too much on sensory overdrive to care. His hand slid inside the shirt and underneath the satin of her bra, his fingers tightening on her nipple, pleasure mixing with pain, her body tensing in anticipation.
His mouth moved to her bare breast, drawing the nipple and aureole deep inside his mouth, the moist suction threatening to send her over the edge. With a groan he swung her into his arms and carried her back into the companionway, down the hall until he reached a door at the end. Kicking it open, he carried her inside and then laid her down on the bed.
Celeste started to reach for him, but then stopped, surprised to see the anger reflected in the sea green of his eyes.
"Get some sleep," he said, his voice still hoarse with passion. "We've got a lot to do tomorrow." With that he turned on his heel and left the room, the sound of a key turning in the lock signaling the end of the encounter.
She curled into a ball, fighting angry tears, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened. One minute he was all over her, passion threatening to consume them both, and the next, he's locking her away like she was some sort of medieval chattel.
She leaped off the bed and tried the door handle, rattling it until her arm hurt. Next she tried the porthole that served as a window. It was firmly fastened, and even after she'd slammed it with the back of a chair, it refused to crack.
Exhausted, she down on the end of the bed, wondering if any gem, no matter how rare, could possibly be worth dealing with Marcus Diablo.
And what scared her the most was that the answer was yes— only the reality was that it didn't have anything at all to do with the Devil's Delight.
*****
Marcus stood at the railing, staring out into the midnight wash of the sea. Traces of light like phantom trails glimmered green against the breaking waves, a chemical reaction that never failed to capture his imagination.
"You all right?" Faust had materializ
ed as usual without a hint of his coming. "I heard you yelling."
"She makes me crazy."
"Some women are like that." There was a quiet smile in his friend's voice, and Marcus tightened his hand on the railing.
"I suppose. But not with me. There are too many secrets, Faust. And we've seen firsthand what happens when someone finds out the truth."
"You're speaking of Adelaide."
Adelaide Dumont had been the daughter of a preacher. An innocent beauty whose heart had been as big as the sky. Marcus had fallen head over heels. He'd been young—at least by immortal standards—and he hadn't realized it was possible to feel so strongly for another person.
They'd spent a glorious summer together, doing all the stupid things young lovers do. Reading, talking, dreaming, and of course making love. And then he'd made a horrible mistake. He'd told her his secret, believing that the love they shared would make her understand.
But she didn't. In truth, she couldn't. Looking back on it now, he should have known. Should have predicted. But it was so normal for him—his parentage, his immortality—he'd only thought to share it with her, to open his heart completely. He'd never thought of how it would seem to her.
They'd found her in the vicarage, her father's dueling pistol still in her hand.
"It wasn't your fault, Marcus. She just couldn't deal with the enormity of it all."
"She couldn't handle the fact that I'm the devil's spawn. It's as simple as that. I was the very personification of the evil her father spent his lifetime railing against."
"No. That's not true. Maybe Adelaide saw it that way. But that doesn't make it true."
"And it doesn't change the fact that I will never allow a woman to get that close to me again."
"But if the woman really loved you ..."
"You're saying that Adelaide didn't?"
"You were both very young." Faust's expression was unreadable in the shadows, but Marcus could still hear the concern in his voice.