Authors: Ruth Wind

Tags: #Suspense

The Diamond Secret (18 page)

Chapter 24

In Hindu mythology, diamond has a great importance. It is the vajra (lightning, the weapon of Indra, main god of the Hindus), and by the six points of the octaedra symbolises the true man who resists to attacks from the north, south, east and west, from the infernal powers and celestial powers. Therefore a diamond bearer is protected from fire, poison, thieves, water, snakes and evil spirits.

—www.diamondgeezer.com

W
hen I awakened, Paul was not beside me. I sat up straight, blinking, and called out his name, listening in case he was in the shower or something.

Only silence greeted me.

I hate it when people leave me sleeping. It no doubt loops back to my mother, and I ought to get over it, but my fear of abandonment is quite strong.

Which Paul knows. It was a trauma even when we were in Nice, long ago. He would not leave me like this. Not while I slept.

Unless he took the Katerina.

With a cynical smile, I stood up and padded across the room naked. The Katerina was still there, as bright as if she was a star, or a lightbulb. She glowed, as if she had some internal source of light.

Next to her was a gray envelope with my name written on it in Paul's continental hand. My heart sunk.

It was hard to read the note at first, because my tears blurred the page. If I'd been looking for the truth of my feelings, I suppose I had them now.

He'd written in English:

My dearest Sylvie,

I know you will be angry with me for leaving you as you slept, but I do it to protect you. This morning, you will look into your heart and you will know what you feel for the world, for yourself. You've made it through your divorce. You have accomplished a major coup by capturing this lost gem. You are beautiful, and brave, and sensual and smart. There is not a woman on this earth who is your equal. You are a tiger, burning bright. The world is yours, my sweet.

The one thing I would ask is that you not let our one digression affect what has been the source of my strength for many, many years. Without you, I am lost. Without me, you have no champion.

I am ever your servant,

Paul

PS I think her name now is Katerina's Heart, don't you?

I picked her up. She was still a very powerful stone, but now it seemed there was a radiance to her, a beauty that had been washed clean of greed and unholy desires.

And it suddenly occurred to me where it should go. What I should do. Lifting the beautiful, storied gem to my lips, I kissed her and said, "Now that I've brought you home, I must ask a petition."

As if she heard me, the spirit of the stone, it felt like it was buzzing in my hands. I pictured the life I wanted, with my love, the one I had longed for all these years. "I will take you to your rightful place," I said aloud. "In return, let me go to mine."

For a long time, we sat in the quiet, Katerina and I, and then I looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly ten.

My father's race! In a rush, I ran to the television and started flipping channels. Surely someone carried the race!

The sound of engines alerted me to the right channel, and I sat down in my robe, the remote control in one hand, the Katerina nestled in my other. The cars were lined up, and the camera panned over my father's, a sleek yellow beauty he called—what else?—Sylvie.

"Go, Dad!" I whispered. And bit my lip for an hour until the race was done.

Gordon Montague, oldest Formula One driver in the world, won.

Chapter 25

April 7, 20—

FAMOUS GEM SURFACES

BUCHAREST (AP)—One of the world's most valuable diamonds, thought lost for decades, surfaced in Romania yesterday. An orthodox priest received a letter giving directions to a grave thought to contain the original remains of a 13th century princess, Katerina Colceriu, whose brutal murder was thought to kick off a centuries-long curse attached to the stone that bears her name, Katerina's Blood.

The diamond, more than 80 carats, was wrapped in a lock of blond hair that had been braided and tied around it, and it was tucked inside a small pouch. Although police searched for clues to the identity of the deliverer, no answers were expected.

A note within requested that the name of the diamond be changed to Katerina's Heart.

T
he airport is the same grimy Jetsonesque place it always is, but nothing can dampen my excitement at being back in France. As I climb out of a cab in the Marais district, the air smells of blossoms and chocolate.

The florist on the corner has giant masses of daffodils, and I ask her to wrap up a huge armful, which I carry in my arms with a bottle of wine up the stairs. The building smells of onions and I can hear the old woman in the courtyard humming an old French love song.

I knock on the door, and there's grumbling with,
"Un moment!"
then the door swings open and Paul gapes at me. His sleeves are rolled up on his arms, and he's had his hands in his hair, and he looks tired.

"Bonjour, monsieur."

He still just looks at me.

I can see I am going to have to do everything. "You know," I say, "there are no guarantees. Maybe you'll meet a dashing beauty who steals you away from me. Maybe I'll fall in love with a gardener. My career is very busy and so is yours, but—can we try to be lovers? Just for a while?"

He steps forward, puts his hands on my face. Speech seems beyond him.

With a little smile, I hand him the flowers. "Would you please kiss me?"

He flings an arm around my neck, bends down and kisses my throat. "Oh, my Sylvie, I have missed you so very much."

"I know," I say, and the world shifts. Sylvie the seven-year-old and Sylvie the twelve-year-old and Sylvie the twenty-eight-year-old, all sigh together as he lifts his head, bends over our lips and gives us all a lovely, long kiss.

"Hey, what's this?" says a voice that startles and thrills me. I pull away from Paul to see my father, hale and tanned, standing in the apartment living room.

With a laugh, I rush forward and give him a hug. "Now you show up, after all the adventures!"

His strong arms practically crack my ribs, and he laughs his big, hearty laugh. He's not reliable, my father, but he's wonderful, and his life has made him the kind of man to whom I can say, "Hey, Dad. I want to introduce you to my new boyfriend."

For a moment, they measure each other, Paul and my father.

Then my father nods. "Nice to meet you."

We all have supper on the Rue de Sévigné, and drink wine, and it's exactly all that I could ask of the world.

At least for now.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-5935-9

THE DIAMOND SECRET

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.SilhouetteBombshell.com

*
The Last Roundup

*
The Last Roundup

**
Men of the Land

*
The Last Roundup

*
The Last Roundup

**
Men of the Land