by Lauren Smith
The thought made Belishaw sick. There was no stopping Sinclair if he chose to bring Jodie here. He couldn’t protect both her and Mikhail. He would have to choose. Unfortunately, there was no real choice to be made. Mikhail at least had a chance to defend himself.
“He lives on the coast in Cornwall, at the old Barrow house.” He gave Sinclair the address.
“Thank you for cooperating, Randolph.” Sinclair stood and disappeared behind the wall of darkness that the circle of light did not penetrate before he returned with a new syringe in his hand.
“But I told you—” Belishaw cursed as the needle plunged into his neck.
Sinclair patted his cheek. “Can’t have you running off to warn your friend, now can I?”
Belishaw blinked once, twice, and all went dark.
14
We need in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.
—Rainer Maria Rilke
Piper crept downstairs to the kitchen, her boots dangling off her fingertips so she could tread as softly as a cat. Mikhail was asleep in his bed. They’d spent all night making love, each time more desperate and hungry than the last. A tide of guilt rolled through her, battering her like waves in a cold, numbing way. But she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She had to do the right thing and go back to London. Dragons and humans didn’t belong together. He was immortal, and she had another sixty years at best.
We have no future. It’s the right thing to do. We have to break this up before we get too tangled up in each other and it hurts even more.
Her hands shook as she reached the kitchen and set her shoes down. The empty room still felt welcoming and warm, which only made what she was about to do even harder. But first she had to find the letters he’d shown her. If she didn’t have those, she might never have a chance of explaining what had really happened and why. She doubted he would have moved them somewhere else; he had no reason to suspect she’d want to take them.
The letters were right where he’d left them, tucked safely in the drawer by the fridge. The clock in the kitchen reminded her with each steady tick that time was running out. But she had to make sure she was right. Settling into a chair, she unbound the twine containing the letters and began to read them one by one. Some were addressed to a woman he called “Dearest Glory.” Elizabeth…
He had loved her dearly, passionately. She was surprised by the pangs of jealousy she felt, even though this had all happened more than half a millennium ago, but she pushed onward. She had to find the letters with evidence of the jewel trade between Belishaw and Mikhail because it could prove his ownership of the jewels. And if she could prove his family’s ownership, Scotland Yard would have to admit he couldn’t steal what rightfully belonged to him, wouldn’t they? There would be a mountain of paperwork involved, but at least he’d be free to leave England with the hoard, and she’d hopefully not be sent to jail for aiding and abetting him in the burglary.
Mikhail, why didn’t you think sensibly and tell Mr. Thorne who you are, the descendant of the rightful owner of the jewels? All this could have been avoided if you’d only thought it through.
Pride, stubbornness, fear of exposure—who knew what his reasons had been for the subterfuge and theft. But it didn’t matter now; what was done was done. Piper opened the next letter, its first words catching her eye immediately.
“My perfect pearl…lit by firelight…my beloved Gloriana.”
Her heart skipped a painful beat. It was no wonder he was slow to trust anyone. To feel that way for someone, only to have her turn on him… Piper just hoped he didn’t see her as doing the same thing.
She finished the last letter and folded it back up, putting them back in order. They were her only evidence of the truth, and she prayed they would be enough. She knew enough of law enforcement to know that the police wouldn’t just take her word that he’d forced her to help steal the jewels. There was video footage of her carrying the boxes to the car, and that in itself was damning. She had to convince them she was innocent, but also that Mikhail had every right to the hoard. It was the only way she could see to clear her name and set him free.
She rebound the letters with twine and searched the kitchen for a pad of paper. She had to tell him what was in her heart, to explain everything. She didn’t want him chasing after her, not to rescue her or stop her from contacting the police.
When she finished she dried her eyes with her hands, then picked up Mikhail’s cell phone and a spare set of car keys for the Range Rover parked out back in the garage. She’d seen another SUV there, which meant he could come after her, but she didn’t think he would, not after she left him like this.
Piper got into the driver’s seat and set the letters down beside her. The jewels were still hidden away in Mikhail’s wine cellar. She had no intention of bringing them back with her. They belonged to the Barinovs, and nothing was going to change that.
She drove out of the garage and down the winding path that would take her away from the one thing in life she didn’t want to give up. But to be with him she would have a life on the run, and that wasn’t fair to either of them, especially when his time with her would be so short.
She bit her lip as the rocky coastline echoed the ragged tears of her heart. That was the real reason she was leaving, the one she had trouble admitting, even to herself. She couldn’t be the cause of Mikhail’s untimely death.
Mating a human was effectively a death sentence for a dragon. This way, maybe someday he would find a dragoness to mate with, one who would live many more millennia beside him. Not just the short amount of time she had to offer, if he was lucky.
Tears stung her eyes. Piper knew she was doing the right thing, she had to be. But the farther away she got, the more it felt like she was the one dying.
After an hour, she pulled off to the side of the road and covered her face with her hands, unable to stop herself from crying. Everything was shattering inside her. The man she’d come to care about, the man who made her feel alive whenever she was with him, would never forgive her. I’m trying to save him, but he’ll never understand.
When her sobs gave way to shaky sniffles, she pulled out Mikhail’s cell phone and called Mr. Thorne at the auction house. The phone rang three times before someone answered.
“Hello?” a familiar voice answered.
“Mr. Thorne, please, whatever you do, hear me out before you call Scotland Yard.”
“Ms. Linwood?” Mr. Thorne spoke softly now. “Do you have any idea how serious this business is? I have professed your innocence, as has your colleague, but those fools don’t believe you were coerced. I watched the footage from the alley myself. It’s clear you were pushed into the car, but these idiots are convinced you are involved. It isn’t safe for you to return, not unless we can prove your innocence. I can hire excellent barristers to defend you, but I don’t want you locked up for the next six months while court proceedings are held.”
His concern for her and his belief that she was innocent in all this touched her. He really was a wonderful, sweet man.
“I might have a way to prove my innocence, but I have to bring it to you.” She rushed on before he could stop her. “I can prove that the man who stole the jewels is the rightful owner of them by right of his family’s lineage. His family was given these jewels by the Belishaw family. You remember Mr. Belishaw from the reception?”
“Er, yes, I do. Go on.”
She licked her lips nervously. “I have letters dating from the year 1559 that prove Queen Elizabeth stole those jewels from a family by the name of Barinov, who owned the jewels because of a treaty between the Barinovs and the Belishaws. These letters can prove that the thief believed he had a right to the jewels. I believe Mr. Randolph Belishaw will corroborate the evidence. Tell me you understand.”
She hoped that if Mr. Thorne agreed, she could have Belishaw meet with the Elwes-Bush family, the people who owned the property where the jewels had bee
n found. Belishaw could mesmerize them to convince them not to press charges against Mikhail and herself, accept the letters as proof of ownership, give up the trove to Mikhail’s family, and take what had been left behind as a finder’s fee.
Mr. Thorne pondered the idea. “Hmmm…I don’t know…”
She hoped her hasty ramblings had made some kind of sense. She knew it would be outing the Barinov and Belishaw families, but she wasn’t exposing them as dragons. The story still worked with both of them being descendants, and with Belishaw’s family’s connections. If she could just get so far as having Mr. Thorne agree to set up a meeting, she was sure the matter could be dropped.
Mikhail should have just come forward in the beginning with the letters and demanded the jewels be returned to him, but the stupid, stubborn man hadn’t thought that through. No, he’d just acted on his emotions, stolen his treasure back, and kidnapped her.
There was a pregnant pause before Thorne finally spoke. “This is highly unusual, but since it is a private sale, there might be some room for negotiation. Do you have original letters, not copies? The museum will need to verify their authenticity.”
She exhaled in relief. “Yes. I know you are a man of honor, Mr. Thorne, and this is a matter of the highest honor. He was wrongly branded a traitor and only officially exonerated upon Elizabeth’s death forty-four years later. But the jewels were never returned to him. By then they were already lost. We must see justice done for his family.”
Mr. Thorne sighed. “As much as I wish to have the rest of the jewels back, I believe you’re telling me the truth. Or, at least, what you believe is the truth. It sounds like the ownership of the jewels is more complicated than we realized. I’m glad you called me, Ms. Linwood. The police have Ms. Harkness under heavy surveillance. They expect you to make contact with her.”
“Yeah, I thought they might expect me to call her, but—”
“Ms. Linwood, we shouldn’t talk here. It isn’t safe. Why don’t I come to you? They’ll be waiting for you in London.”
“Okay. Where should we meet? I’m just leaving Tintagel in Cornwall.”
He took a moment to think before answering. “Go to Boscastle. It’s not too far from where you are. They have a small museum about the origins of witchcraft. Across the street from it is a small pub. You can wait for me there and have some dinner. It should take me about four hours. Once I arrive, I’ll meet you in the pub, and we’ll head over to the museum. I’m acquainted with the owner, and she won’t mind us using the shop to meet. We won’t have to worry about surveillance that way.”
“A museum of witchcraft,” she repeated. What an odd place to meet. Then again, these small English villages had a wealth of interesting historical locales, and she did love history. It would be a nice distraction to see a museum; it might help her stop thinking about Mikhail for just a few minutes. “Okay, I’ll wait for your call.”
“See you soon.” Mr. Thorne hung up.
Piper let out a slow, deep breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Thorne believed her, at least enough for her needs. That had been one of the biggest hurdles she faced. If she could get him on her side, things might work out after all.
As she drove down the winding road, she tried to remain calm. She knew Mikhail would be mad that she’d left and taken his private letters. She would have given anything to be back in his bed, nuzzling him and counting his heartbeats until she fell asleep. The sense of peace she felt with him had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She couldn’t quite explain it, and in a way it seemed like madness.
She didn’t believe in love at first sight and certainly frowned upon the idea of loving someone so fast. It had to be lust, basic physical instinct, not real emotion. Love was built over months and years. Yet even knowing that, it didn’t explain the shattering feeling she had in her heart the farther away she got from Mikhail.
I can’t stay with him. We don’t have a future. She hadn’t forgotten what she’d learned about dragons mating humans. It didn’t end well. She didn’t want to grow older each day while he stayed young forever. No. Not forever. Until she died. Then he would soon follow her. It wasn’t fair to him, to either of them. She deserved to grow old with a man she loved, and he deserved someone who would spend centuries making him happy, not stripping those years away.
A fish may love a bird, but where would they live?
The reality of her departure left her hollow inside. But she’d done what she had to do. He’ll go home to Russia, be with his brothers, and someday find a dragoness.
A bittersweet smile twisted her lips as she remembered how he’d described drakelings. They were born human with a dormant dragon inside them, and for a time aged like normal humans, but at thirteen years the bond to their dragon began to strengthen, and they started to learn to transform. He’d told her how he’d felt the first time he’d learned to fly and how the thought of watching his own children someday having to learn made him both nervous and excited. She’d listened with tears in her eyes as she’d imagined for one shining moment that those children he spoke of would be hers.
But humans and dragons couldn’t have children.
Piper rubbed away the tears in her eyes when she saw there was an exit coming up on the road, along with a sign for Boscastle, but she slowed when she saw a car with its hazard lights flashing.
A man stood beside his car which had a flat tire, and he held a tire lever. A rosy-cheeked boy who looked about five leaned out of the window of the SUV, watching the man. The grim expression on the man’s face almost made her laugh. Many people didn’t know how to change a tire, but she did. She had plenty of time to kill before she reached Boscastle, and right now she needed to feel useful. She drove up beside the man and rolled down her passenger window.
“Hey, I saw your hazards flashing. Do you need help?”
The man straightened and set his lever down. “Actually, yes. My son and I were trying to reach Boscastle when my tire blew. I can’t get any bloody mobile service up here for a tow.”
Piper pulled out Mikhail’s phone. Two bars, better than nothing. “I have service. You want me to call someone?” She smiled at the little boy, who waved at her shyly.
“If you don’t mind, it might be easier for me to make the call.” The man sighed and set the tire lever down.
“Sure. I’ll have a look at your tire while you wait.” She handed the phone to him, and he began to dial. Piper got out and walked over to his vehicle, examining the tire.
That was odd. It wasn’t just flat—the rubber had been slashed.
She turned halfway to speak to the man. “Hey, I think—”
Piper’s last sensation was that of falling to the ground before she was consumed in darkness.
When she came around, her head was pounding. She moaned as she reached up to touch the back of her head with her left hand. It came away sticky. She blinked in the dim light and saw dark blood coating her fingers. Her right wrist ached. She lifted her hand to see what was wrong, but it jerked to a stop with a loud clunk.
She gasped at the sight of the thick iron manacle there. A heavy chain connected her right wrist to a bedpost. She sat up and realized she was on a bed in a dark room. A window was partially open, and the strong scent of the sea came through it.
Where was she? What had happened? The man with a flat tire… He’d knocked her out. Why?
“Oh God…” Had she been picked up by some serial killer or—
The door to the room opened. A man flicked a small light switch by the door, and two lamps beside the bed came on. She got a better look at where she was now. It seemed to be the upstairs room of a small cottage.
“Where are we?”
“Boscastle,” the man said as he approached the bed. There was something familiar about him, she realized.
“Where’s your son?” She had no idea how she’d ended up here, and if he wasn’t afraid to kidnap her and tie her up, what would he do to his own child?
An illusion? She stared at his eyes, feeling an almost hypnotic pull in his gaze. She’d only ever experienced that before with Mikhail. “Wait…you’re a dragon?”
“Very good!” His praise was sardonic, and it made rage stir beneath her skin.
“Then…” Piper struggled to figure something out. “Why knock me out? Why not just hypnotize me?”
“Unlike Barinov, I like to cause pain.”
Piper flinched as he caught her chin in his hand. He leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart. Then he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
“Blood and fear. Two scents that heat a dragon’s blood. But not…not a virgin, not any longer. Pity,” he murmured as he opened his eyes.
Piper peered at his face. She was sure she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t figure out where.
“I waited two hours for you to come around, so forgive my lack of patience now. It’s time we had a little chat, Ms. Linwood.”
Piper tried to ignore the stabbing pain in her head. “How do you know my name?”
“How I know doesn’t matter. What matters is what you tell me in the next ten minutes.” He leaned back against the door.
“What do you want to know?” she asked. Her voice was surprisingly steady, despite the fact that she was shaking on the inside.
“I had expected to find Mikhail Barinov with you. I was on my way to see him, in fact. But my connections at Scotland Yard told me he made a call to Thorne. I realized he—or rather, whoever had his phone—was on the move, possibly with the jewels. Imagine my surprise when I then learned that Mr. Thorne was headed this way too.”
The pieces began to connect. “Is he… Did you…” She was too afraid to ask if something had happened to the older man.