She took it off so she wouldn’t lose it at the gym, and went to teach her class.
Chapter 3
Seda glanced apologetically at Hugh as they waited for the airport shuttle that would take them to their hotel for the night. They’d made it from London to Atlanta, then were stopped trying to get through customs. Hugh’s forged passport and ID card were flawless and he’d whisked through with no problem. Seda however got nabbed by a sniffer dog right after she’d picked her suitcase off the baggage carousel.
Apparently some sealed eighteenth century spice jars she’d picked up for a client still had their eighteenth century spices in them. And then the authorities took so long deciding if she was a smuggler or just an idiot, that they missed their connecting flight.
Instead of seeming upset, Hugh looked around him in wonder as they stepped out into the muggy Atlanta air.
“The sky,” he said, trailing off as if that was all the sentiment he could think of.
She squinted up at the clear, dark blue expanse, the blinding red-orange sun glaring back at her as it hovered just above the horizon. “Yes, we get all that in California, too,” she said.
Even in the late evening it was hotter than blazes and sweat trickled into every crevice, but she was glad to be out from under London’s gray dome.
“It seems higher,” he said, shaking his head. “Bigger.” He looked positively beatific as he gazed straight up at the sky.
“I guess you don’t remember much about Italy,” she said. “I’m sure they have hot, sunny days like this.”
His rapturous expression slid into one of sour disgust. “I never made it to Italy,” he reminded her. “That rogue made off with my money and left me to gather dust in the attic before I ever had the chance.” He smirked. “Serves him right that no one wanted to buy his painting. Hopefully he spent at least as many years in a box as I did.”
“I know you’re still mad, but if I’m right and he’s meant to be with Jade, you’re probably going to have to face him again. Are you going to be all right with that?”
She didn’t like the new look on his face one little bit. She was glad it wasn’t directed at her because it definitely could come close to killing. She prodded him and he snapped out of what she hoped wasn’t a murderous reverie.
“You really can’t be violent in this time,” she said. “No duels, not even a glove slap, okay? I’d go crazy without you if you went to prison.”
He stopped snarling and pulled her close. “I’ll do my best,” he said noncommittally. “I don’t want to be away from you, either.”
A message pinged on her phone and she saw that the painting was due to be delivered to Jade that day. A shiver of excitement mixed with trepidation went down her spine. What if she was wrong again?
Being the reincarnation of a crazed, man-hating witch was the worst. She’d only realized it after the Viking in the painting she’d bought for Audrey popped out and had to do Audrey’s bidding until he realized he was in love with her. Seda must have gotten cocky and hadn’t spent enough time analyzing the dreams she had about the various men who’d been cursed and was certain Hugh was meant for Jade.
But Seda’s attraction to him had been undeniable and she soon realized he was her fated love. That was nice and all. Really, it was amazing. But her confidence in her abilities to read the dreams she had of her wicked past life was shaken. If Jade wasn’t the one for Daniel, she’d have to find a way to repossess Daniel’s painting until she could figure out who was.
She nervously called Jade to tell her she should be expecting a giant package. As the phone rang she wondered if she should tell her to be prepared or see what fate had in store. She had a sudden, awful thought that Daniel might really be a rogue miscreant bastard and all the other rude names Hugh called him. She’d always assumed that was his bitterness at being betrayed, but what if Jade might be in danger if Daniel popped out of his painting?
“Didn’t you say Daniel was a pirate?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“I did,” he replied. “A bloody wretched pirating, thieving, wine merchant.” He didn’t bother to keep his voice low and a couple of people raised their brows at him.
She was about to offer a thankful prayer that Jade’s phone would go to voicemail, but Jade answered it at the last second. Her crisp, businesslike greeting was like a cool breeze. Seda wished she could be as put together and perfect as Jade.
“Oh, hi, Seda,” she said. “Sorry I’m a little out of breath, I’m walking uphill to the house after teaching a class.”
Of course she was. And she didn’t sound the least bit out of breath. Seda vowed to join one of Jade’s health centers the second she got home.
“I just wanted to let you know I’ve got a replacement painting on the way from Italy.” She knew from the way Jade had acted when she was in London that she was in complete denial about everything so Seda decided to go with it and let her think it was only an ordinary painting. Just in case Daniel wasn’t released. There was a long pause on Jade’s side and Seda added, “To replace the one I bought in England. You know, the one that… got ruined?”
“Oh right! Great. I can’t wait to see it.” There was a scuffling sound and then a gasp. “Is it giant? I might be looking at it right now.”
“The delivery people just ditched it? With no signature?”
“Outside the gate, no less,” Jade said, not sounding very impressed. She grunted as if she was trying to pick it up. “It weighs a ton.”
Seda was outraged, then remembered how cheap Audrey had said the painting was. It probably wasn’t sent with any fanfare at all, but Jade could never know that or she’d reject it without ever looking at it. That girl only wanted the best, which usually meant hella expensive.
“I’ll have their heads for this,” she continued, trying not to giggle. “If there’s even the slightest scuff, you need to tell me so I can file with the insurance.”
Jade sighed. “Sure. Listen, let me go so I can figure out how to get this thing in the house.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Seda said, wondering if she could somehow be held liable for that. “But yes, better get it in the house.”
After she ended the call she was still livid that the delivery people just chucked it in front of Jade’s gate. The thought that some hoodlums might have made off with Daniel turned her blood to ice. She may never get peace from her past life if she couldn’t make everything right with these poor cursed men.
“Not that there’s any hoodlums in Jade’s neighborhood,” she muttered.
“What’s that, my darling?” Hugh asked.
She forced herself to believe everything would work out this time and smiled at Hugh. “Nothing,” she said, taking his hand. “The shuttle’s finally coming. Let’s go get checked in and then get some room service.”
He returned her smile with a devilish grin of his own. “Perhaps we’ll actually get to eat it this time,” he said.
She felt her cheeks heating up in the most delightful way. “Hmmm. I hope not.”
Chapter 4
Jade walked around the giant, brown paper package and tried to at least haul it inside the gate. She managed to get it in her front yard and then looked despondently at the long path to the front door. Uphill, of course. She’d wanted an amazing view and that meant living up high. She walked all the time, much to her neighbors’ and Reynolds’ dismay, but she rarely carried anything heavier than her gym bag and yoga mat. She was strong, but not massive, antique-painting-up-a-hill strong.
It was still light out, though barely, and she didn’t think there would be any gardeners around. Still, she knew where they kept their tools.
“I bet I can get this monstrosity up in a wheelbarrow,” she said.
She hated to call one of her neighbors or Reynolds for help. Hated calling anyone for help when she knew if she just thought it through and gave it the old heave-ho, she could get the thing to her back porch. After she scampered to the gardener’s shed and returned w
ith the wheelbarrow, she quickly realized it was way too big to fit.
“Well, that was dumb,” she said, scuffing at the wrapping with the toe of her shoe. “What in the heck could you be of?”
Curiosity got the best of her, wondering if it was a landscape or a portrait. She prayed it wasn’t the world’s biggest bowl of fruit. Carefully peeling back a layer of paper, she saw it was stapled securely into a heavy cardboard box. When she poked through the box with her keys, she encountered a thick layer of burlap. She hissed with frustration and shoved it onto the wheelbarrow so that it teetered precariously over the sides and front. Taking baby steps and leaning over to press down on it to keep it centered, she got to the back porch, winded and sweaty.
“That was another workout altogether.”
She grumbled and grunted as she shoved the package off the wheelbarrow, finally letting it lean against a pillar. She slumped against it, not even caring anymore what the subject of the painting might be.
Lies, she was burning with curiosity. Seda had the best designer eye of anyone she knew and she wanted to see what was under all that wrapping. It was technically inside, well, under the veranda at any rate. As Jade looked at the dozen winding, paving stone steps that led from the pool area up to her back door, she knew she’d never do it on her own.
“You can just stay out here all night, then,” she said, not sure why she was so irritated at an inanimate object.
She knew it was Reynolds who was the source of her bad mood. It had lifted a little during her class, but it was back with a vengeance. With a sigh, she began tearing at the packaging. Hopefully a serenely beautiful piece of art would soothe her ravaged nerves.
When she finally pulled away the last bit of burlap, she stumbled backward with a frightened squeal, covering her face defensively. Then she laughed at herself for acting so silly. It was only a painting. A ridiculously lifelike painting of an extremely angry looking man.
What was Seda thinking? This was supposed to go in her dining room for goodness’ sake! No one could enjoy a meal with that gazing murderously down at them. It was hideous. She decided to leave it to molder in the sea air overnight and then fire Seda first thing in the morning. She wasn’t going to waste another iota of her energy on getting it up the stairs and into the house. In fact, she was positive she wouldn’t sleep a wink with such a beast in close proximity to her.
She stomped away, only wanting a protein smoothie and a hot shower, when she stopped halfway up the steps and looked back down at the painting. From a safe distance, the man didn’t look so full of rage. It might have even been fear on his face from that angle. It really was a remarkably good painting, if the subject’s face seemed to change emotions depending on where the viewer stood. She’d taken a quickie online art course so she could carry on intelligent conversations at parties, and knew enough to realize the painting must be worth a fortune.
“And he’s not really half-bad looking, either,” she mumbled, taking a step down as if being drawn to it.
The subject of the painting had dark rust-colored hair that looked like it was tied back, but with wild wisps flying around his chiseled features. He sported a slightly darker, scruffy beard that couldn’t hide his full lips. Even from the ten or so feet away that she stood, she could see his eyes were a deep, lustrous brown that seemed to want to convey something to her.
And his body. Well. Every brush stroke seemed to carve out another muscle. She worked in the fitness industry so was constantly surrounded by hard-bodied men. It didn’t usually phase her. But the way the painted breeches hugged this man’s thighs … She coughed and averted her gaze, feeling foolish for getting embarrassed about ogling a painting.
“Okay, you’re not so scary,” she admitted. And even if she didn’t want him hanging in her formal dining room, she couldn’t let him molder in the sea air overnight.
“And it’s an it, not a him,” she told herself firmly, blushing once again at thinking of the painting as a man. Reynolds must have gotten further under her skin than she thought. Even though she asserted to herself that the painting couldn’t hear her, she still called down to it. “I just need to call my neighbor. I concede defeat on this. There’s no possible way I can get your big hunk of canvas up these steps.”
She called her neighbor as she made her smoothie, then decided she may as well enjoy it on the veranda. She wasn’t worried about the painting or anything. She certainly wasn’t drawn to getting another look at it. As soon as it was safely indoors she meant to toss the burlap over it and leave it until Seda came back and had it hung for her. She grunted as she realized she’d somehow decided to keep the thing. Maybe not for the dining room, though. But thinking about those eyes and how they’d all but beseeched her through the canvas and she knew she had to keep such an extraordinary work of art.
When she got halfway down the steps she squeaked in shock, stopping short and dropping her smoothie, the glass shattering on the paving stones. The painting was destroyed. She’d barely been inside ten minutes and now the canvas lay in tatters around the shattered frame. Footsteps scuffled from behind a cluster of potted palms and she held up her phone as if it would work as a weapon.
A hand waved from behind the plants. “Don’t be frightened,” a deep, somewhat scratchy voice called.
“You killed my painting,” she shrieked back, praying her neighbor would hurry the hell up so they could present a united front against this psycho. Realizing she still uselessly brandished her phone, she started to tap out 911 instead.
“No, madame,” the voice called. It cleared away some of the rasp in its throat and stepped tentatively out from behind her tropical display. “I did not. Please don’t be frightened.”
Her eyes refused to believe what she was seeing. She glanced at the shredded canvas and saw that it was only the outer parts that clung to the broken frame. The actual painting stood by her palm trees. Or rather, the man from the painting stood by her palm trees. Flesh and blood and moving toward her. Instead of hitting enter on the call to 911, she flung the phone at him and screamed.
***
Before she could reach the top step and lock herself in the house until the authorities arrived— which she realized wouldn’t happen since she tossed her phone in her extreme shock— the man had her locked in his big, muscular arms.
“Please,” he grunted. “Don’t be afraid. I will not harm you. Believe me when I say I’m as shocked as you are. I don’t know how this happened, but I must say I’m glad to be free.”
She elbowed him hard in the side, getting him to release his tight grip. Whirling around she looked him over from head to toe with wild, disbelieving eyes. But it had to be true. The same dark auburn hair, the same soulful brown eyes, the same beard. Those lush lips he’d displayed in the painting were now pressed together in trepidation. His coat and shirt clung to his broad chest and he wore the same thigh-hugging breaches. She dragged her eyes upward before she could blush and hauled back her fist to punch him square in the throat. Seeming to sense her intention, he grabbed her fist, encasing it almost completely in his big hand. As she shot out with her left fist, he grabbed that one, too.
He dropped her hands and backed up several feet before she could kick him, then held up his own hands in a placating motion.
“I said I will not harm you. I beg the same consideration.”
“Wh-what— who are you?” she asked, reaching behind her for the door handle. Could she get inside and lock it before he could get in? It seemed he was cheetah fast the way he’d made it up the steps after her. “What’s going on?”
Inconceivably, he bowed. “I am Daniel Kincaid, at your service, madame. I beg your pardon for causing you to be alarmed.” He tipped his chin behind him at the ruined remains of the painting. “I was trapped in that for hundreds of years, but other than that, I don’t know what is going on, so I can’t answer that question.”
Hundreds of years? “Are you English?” she asked, too dumbfounded to do anything other than
try to place his accent.
“By birth, but Italian by descent,” he said, finally rising out of his deep bow.
“You were in the painting,” she said. Her brain felt less useful than her phone, which rested on the bottom paving stone in two pieces.
He nodded and smiled, causing the last few wits she still had about her to give up completely. He no longer looked angry like when she’d first glimpsed the painting. He didn’t look scared anymore either. He looked… good enough to eat. She shook her head and blinked, thinking she must have fallen down the stairs and bumped her head. Hard. None of this was really happening.
He— Daniel, he’d said his name was— grabbed her elbow, quickly apologizing. “You were swaying,” he said. “You looked as if you might faint.” He kept his hand under her arm as he led her down to one of the chaise lounges. She looked at him and shook her head some more until he picked her up under her knees and laid her out on the chaise. “You really looked like you might topple at any moment,” he said, kneeling down beside her. “How can I assist you, madame?”
“Stop calling me madame,” she croaked. “My name is Jade. Now get back into your painting.”
He shuddered and went pale. “I have to say I’m not sorry that I can’t do that. I don’t know how I was freed, but I can’t imagine ever being in such a hellish nightmare again. I’d rather be dead.”
She looked past him at her phone as pieces fell into place bit by bit, then sat bolt upright, almost hitting him in the chin with her head. “My neighbor,” she gasped. “He’s coming to help me get the painting into the house.”
Daniel looked at her worriedly. “There is certainly no longer any need for that.”
“Right, Einstein, but he can’t know anything about this— this unbelievable insanity.”
Renaissance Rogue (Cursed Painting Book 3) Page 2