Desire Wears Diamonds

by Renee Bernard

  Michael came home his arms laden with packages. Ashe was no longer willing to act as his muse on shopping expeditions but Michael had found that he didn’t need Blackwell’s guidance. Grace was inspiration enough. He’d run a few important errands during the day, stopping at his lawyer’s to make sure his will left everything in good order for his widow and leaving letters to each of the Jaded should the worst happen. Michael had always been a tactician and he refused to abandon his talents now.

  But when he opened the door to their rooms, he found his wife with her head on her desk. “Grace? Are you unwell?”

  She lifted tear-streaked cheeks to him and he dropped every package without a thought to rush to her side. Michael knelt down by the desk and anxiously took her in his arms, as he had in Bascombe’s garden.

  “What happened?”

  She took one unsteady breath. “Sterling paid me a call.” She reached up to pull the flat of her hand across her cheeks. “And I should say as quickly as I can, that I have no idea why I’m crying! Except that it was so horrible to see him here and—“

  “Here?”

  “Well, thanks to the staff, he only made it into the dining hall downstairs. Apparently you’d made it clear that he isn’t a welcome caller,” Grace said and reached up caress his face. “Thank you for that, Michael.”

  He shifted her to rest against his chest and sighed. “I didn’t expect him to actually give his name…that was a long shot that paid off.” He’d informed Mrs. Clay of the barest facts in the same sitting in which he’d given her the news of his impending wedding. He’d hinted at Sterling’s villainy and his dear Mrs. Clay had filled in the rest, her protective ire fueling an immediate ban of Grace’s brother from her doors. Whoever had let the man into the dining room, it wasn’t Mrs. Clay.

  Michael’s eye caught sight of the heavily laden tray. “I take it from the presence of an entire ginger pudding on that tray that it didn’t go well?”

  “You can tell from a pudding?” she asked lifting her head from his shoulder.

  “Mrs. Clay tends to express her concern with food and that,” he nodded toward the small feast, “is a lot of concern for one very petite lady.”

  “It wasn’t good,” Grace sighed. “Sterling refused to leave when I asked him and Maggie intervened like a guardian angel. Although, perhaps not so angelic when she started screaming like a cat dipped in hot wax. Mrs. Clay struck him with a broom handle before two of the men tossed him out.”

  Michael used every trick he could think of not to laugh out loud. “Brilliant.”

  “It was exhilarating, but…”

  “Why was Sterling here, Grace? What did he want to say to you?” he asked. “Or did Maggie send him running before he could spit it out?”

  “He said he merely wanted to reassure himself that I wasn’t miserable. My brother’s usual dark choice of vocabulary hasn’t lost its bite.” She stroked his arms and shifted against him. “But he was fishing for something.”

  “Did he get what he wanted?”

  “No!” She said, but her voice trembled. “I don’t know! How could I possibly know what he’s thinking? He’s always been difficult to corner but I swear ever since he returned from India, it’s like a demon took his place.”

  Michael lifted her back onto her chair, but held his place looking levelly into her eyes. “India changed so many.”

  “Tell me again that there is nothing—nothing else between you and Sterling that you haven’t shared. I feel like I’m blind and there’s a panther in the corner of the room. I can sense it there but every time I ask you, you tell me we’re alone and that there’s nothing!” She caught at his hands, and pressed them against her heart. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Grace. I would tell you. If I could.”

  “If you could?” She dropped his hands. “In the garden. Do you remember when you said you didn’t know this version of yourself? As if I’d changed you…”

  “You have.”

  “For the better?” Grace’s hands dropped. “You’ve done so much to protect my independence and to—allow me to dream of embracing a better version of myself. But I want you to reassure me that you are better and that I’ve not somehow made your life worse or robbed you of—“

  “Grace!” He pulled her into his arms. “My life was nothing. I’d have thrown it away, it held that much value to me…” And again, Michael had to stop as he’d gone far too close to admitting the worst. Truth be told, I was in the process of laying it down when I met you, Grace. And I still will if it comes to it. “None of it matters. I am better for knowing you. I’m sure of it.”

  “Sterling—“

  “I don’t want to talk about Sterling anymore. He’s meddled and pushed for far too long and I won’t give him any more of us. Not more than he’s already taken.”

  “Michael, I know what he has taken from me. Tell me what he has taken from you.”

  Michael shook his head and led her toward the sofa where they could sit together to talk. “Not yet. Please, let me keep a few small mysteries for just a while longer.”

  “Mysteries?”

  “Grace, I’m asking you to trust me. We are conspirators, are we not? My life is yours. And I won’t keep secrets from you for much longer, I swear. But for now, if ever you cared for me or hold out any affection for my worthless carcass, I’m begging you to wait.”

  “Michael,” she said carefully. “Do you…not know?”

  “Know what?” he asked, instantly wary.

  “That I love you. That it is not a question about holding affection for your carcass, which by the way, I don’t believe is worthless! And that I…from the first moment I saw you, have been quite affected.” She put her hands on either side of his face, cradling him. “I love you, Michael Rutherford, and I trust you without being asked.”

  For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. She loves me. Just like that.

  “Grace, I—should have said how I felt long before now. But I’m not gifted with a knack for prose and how do you tell your wife that you worship her, her every piece and part and mostly, her every unpredictable thought?”

  She smiled. “Just so!” She kissed him on the cheek and stepped back, pressing her hands against her face to cool herself. “We mustn’t start! Mrs. Clay will have noted your return and she’ll be up any minute to make sure you’re not starving.”

  He laughed and picked her up for a playful turn about the room before dutifully putting her back down on her feet. “Shall I tell her I intend to feast on my wife and live off your kisses for sustenance?”

  Grace struck him on the shoulder, “No!”

  “I’ve been spending my days at my sports club to give you privacy to work. Would you…like me to stay home tomorrow?”

  She shook her head. “No. You cannot be tethered and I…I cannot think of wasting hours writing when you are close enough to kiss.” She sighed. “Perhaps in time, do you think I’ll grow used to you, Michael? Will I learn to think and work without being so distracted by the scent of your skin?”

  “That must be true. Although,” he kissed along the line of her shoulder, savoring the peak and then working his way to the sensitive valley where her neck rose in a proud and inviting column, “I won’t rush to it. I like the idea of proving a distraction to my wife—that you might want me.”

  “Might?” She laughed, a sudden flurry of movement and pushed him back until she was proudly astride him on the couch, pinning him beneath her. “How can I relieve you of this doubt, husband?”

  “You already have,” he said as he looked into her eyes. “I want to protect you, Grace.”

  “You are the kindest, gentlest man in the world.”

  Michael closed his eyes. No. Only in your eyes, Grace, and I will spend whatever time I have on this earth protecting the way you look at me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “The next time my wife asks you to leave, may I suggest you obey her as quickly as you can?” Michael offered and then e
njoyed the sight of Sterling nearly falling out of his chair in surprised terror. It had been frighteningly easy to get over the garden wall and enter Porter’s house through the back door. But he was tired of ringing doorbells and pretending to follow the rules.

  Time to make sure I’ve got the Jackal’s complete attention and that he’s not going to waste any of that fury on Grace or the Grove.

  “How the hell did you get in my study?” Sterling asked, rage and fear making him sound weak.

  Michael knew better. Sterling wasn’t weak. He was unpredictable and dangerous.

  “I walked in. Perhaps your housekeeper is too busy to answer the door?” Michael shrugged his shoulders. “I’m amazed you didn’t expect me, Porter. After all, it’s common courtesy to return a call, isn’t it?”

  “You rang the bell?” Porter was still struggling to accept Michael’s silent entry into his study. “Return a call? Oh, that! As if you didn’t have everything to do with the insulting mess of a—“

  “You promised to leave us be.” Michael leaned slowly against the window frame. “Don’t push me, Sterling.”

  “I’ll push where and when I wish.” Sterling’s shoulders relaxed as he warmed to the subject, sure of the solid ground beneath his feet. “Besides I said I wouldn’t bother you. I never said I wouldn’t drop in to make sure my sister was thriving in your loving hands.”

  “You upset her and the staff at the inn. I recall telling you that if you interfered or harmed any of mine before the deadline, all bets would be off.” Michael crossed his ankles. “Or did that slip your mind?”

  Sterling’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I didn’t think of it as interference. And the only one who was hurt was me!”

  Michael smiled. “You look unbruised. Mind you don’t drop in again, Sterling. I already loathe our deal. Don’t give me a reason not to play along.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Rutherford. I still have all the power and you know it.” Sterling deliberately put his feet up on the corner of his desk. “Your presence here proves it! A little demonstration of how easily I can access my sister and you’ve come running to huff and puff and pound your chest to scare me off. You’re the one who is frightened, Rutherford. It is you who has everything to lose.”

  Michael pushed away from the wall and took one step toward the desk. “Look at me, Sterling. What do you see?”

  Sterling’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Beyond a man outmatched by his betters?”

  “Look again.” Michael smiled slowly, deliberately summoning a demonic look to his eyes. It was a trick he’d once used to make a man piss himself with fear and he reveled in the slow crumbling of Sterling’s confidence. “I meant to tell you but you were in such a hurry for the match, for the wedding, for any chance you could engineer to draw us closer to that moment when you could announce your intentions and crow like an idiot—I didn’t want to spoil your fun.”

  “To tell me what?”

  “Let’s play a game first. Tell me what you know about me, Sterling.”

  “This is a pointless exercise! You were a soldier in the East India Trading Company’s army. You live in an inn. You…”

  Michael sighed. “You know nothing that I haven’t told you, which means you don’t know me at all.”

  “I know enough! I know you’re one of the Jaded! I know you can get me that diamond and that you will get me that diamond by midnight on Sunday! You love Grace and unless any of that is untrue, I know everything I need to know!

  “Oh, you’re crafty! And yes, I will do what you ask to spare Grace’s life and give you the diamond but I don’t think you’ve really weighed it out, dear brother.” Michael subtly shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. “May I say, with all due respect, you are a miserable tactician, Sterling.”

  “To hell with you!”

  “Yes. You’ve already kicked open the door. The Jaded hate me for my betrayal of their interests to pursue this marriage. And once we make the exchange, my banishment will be permanent with no hope of forgiveness. I won’t have a friend in the world.”

  “Good!” Sterling blurted out like a malicious child.

  “Not good for you, Porter. You’ve made me deadlier than ever I was before and seen to it that I have nowhere to turn. And it gets worse.”

  “Worse? For you perhaps but I fail to see how your misery is any of my concern, Rutherford.”

  “Because you have a tiger by the tail, Porter.” Michael put his hands on the edge of the desk, deliberately letting Sterling take in the disadvantages of his position in the room, how mismatched they were physically and how there was no chance of him reaching the doorway alive if Michael didn’t want him to reach it. “I wasn’t a soldier, Porter. I was a killer. I was the man the natives never saw and when my commanding officer pointed out a target that he wished removed, I never missed.”

  “Y-you exaggerate to—“

  Michael shook his head. “I was the only man in that dungeon who deserved to be there. I’d have accepted my tortured end with a smile on my face but the innocence of the others—I couldn’t live with another sacrifice for my sins. So I vowed to protect those men at any cost with my last breath. They inspired me to remake myself and when that wall broke away…I lived for the Jaded.”

  Sterling opened his mouth but no sounds came out.

  Michael continued. “Now thanks to you, I don’t have their brotherhood and I’m deprived of that bond. But I have Grace.” Michael stood up straight. “You mistook me for a man of honor and chivalry, Porter, and decided it was a weakness you could exploit. But those things died inside of me in India and the only thing I have left of my humanity is my love for Grace. I am honorable because Grace would have it so.”

  “The treasure…”

  “I’ll give you your diamond and when I walk away, you will be grateful, Porter, grateful because my lovely wife admires a man who keeps his word. But if you think to double back later and trouble me again, I want you to remember exactly what kind of man I am.”

  “Duly noted.” Sterling folded his hands behind his back, as solemn as a priest.

  Michael smiled. “Once you have the diamond, you’ll have to let go of my tail, Porter, and then you’re going to have to pray every day for Grace’s continued health and happiness. Can you guess why?”

  Sterling nodded. “I’m beginning to see the way of it.”

  “That’s right. Because if anything ever happens to my beloved Grace, then my last tether to reason and the restrictions of a moral world are gone forever. Do you think one more soul’s weight on my conscience will matter at the end of that day? Do you think I wouldn’t kill you gleefully and laugh on my way to the gallows?”

  “Aren’t you afraid?” Sterling asked quietly, fear threading through his words. “That I’ll take the diamond and kill you? If you’re such a…threat?”

  “Afraid? Aren’t you afraid I’ll leave detailed notes with evidence of who I’ll be meeting and why so that the police are on your doorstep within hours of my death?” Michael crossed his arms. “We’ll meet late Sunday at a place of my choosing. I’ll send you word an hour before and you’ll come to retrieve your treasure. We shall both leave quite alive and unharmed. For I have an appointment to keep later that night, Porter. And if I miss it, how long will you last?”

  “Unlike you,” Sterling stiffened his spine. “I am a man of my word. You give me what I want and no one will be harmed.”

  Michael sighed. “You’re a villain, Porter. I never had any hope of Heaven, and Hell? Hell is familiar ground. Threaten Grace after our deadline, or anyone I care to claim as family and your next lesson in tactics won’t involve a polite outline of my skills or an explanation of my past.” Michael leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’ll get to Hades in pieces, Porter.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Feint. Lunge. Strike. Feint. Lunge. Strike.

  It was the fluid dance of man and sword that made Michael’s muscles sing in protest as he repeated the for
ms over and over. He had no sparring partner and worked alone. Apparently even in his sports club, rumors of his blackened character still swirled around him and warned off any casual acquaintances. No gentleman would seek out friendship with a man with a damaged reputation—not without risk to his own good name. It was a rule Michael understood and he’d made no effort to breach the lines.

  It’s all over soon anyway. Why drag another soul into the mess or—

  “Fighting ghosts?” Rowan asked, as he came up the outside walk alongside the workout room. The brick gym was open to the courtyard for air and a low wall with columns gave it an almost Spartan feel. “Or a better question, are you winning?”

  Michael lowered the tip of his sword to the sawdust-covered ground and turned to wave at Rowan in greeting. “If I were losing, would I admit it?”

  Rowan leaned through the opening and rested on his elbows. “Weeks ago, I’d have answered that without a thought. But now? You were always hard to read but lately you’ve made me feel like a seer trying to read owl feathers and pigeon bones.”

  “How do the signs look? Have I long to live, doctor?”

  Rowan grimaced at the weak jest. “You’re deliberately killing me. I take it your ribs have healed.”

  “Apparently so. I’ve always healed quickly and it’s been nearly a month, Rowan.”

  “You say that as if it’s an inordinate amount of time, Michael.”

  “I measure things in days and hours. Especially now.” He grabbed a soft cloth to wipe down his blade, ignoring the fact that it was already gleaming. Dr. Rowan West had come for more than a check on his health and Michael simply waited.

  “When do you intend to give him the diamond?”

  And there it is. Not a long wait, after all.

  “How did you know?”

  “It was a guess, until just then.” Rowan held up the note that Michael had sent him yesterday. “That and your final sounding note indicating that things were drawing to a close. It reads like a heartfelt farewell, Michael.”