The Diamond Affair (24 page)

"Do you
think I'll be safe without you? Do you think being separated by thousands of
miles will make you feel better if something does happen to me back here in
Melbourne?"

"That's not
fair, Ruby."

She knew it was a
low tactic but she had to appeal to his most basic of instincts—protectiveness
toward his loved ones. Toward her. "Protect me, Jake. Love me. I can't
guarantee you won't get hurt but I can guarantee that I'll always love you. Isn't
this feeling worth the risk? Aren't I?"

"I—." His
jaw tightened then slackened. And just like that, the wall he'd erected crumbled.
His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes as if against a riot of pain. Then
he opened them and took her hand in both of his and pressed it to his lips. The
lingering kiss was oh so sweet.

"Jake?"

"You play a
hard game, Ruby Jones," he said, voice like sandpaper.

Her heart felt
like it would burst. "So you'll stay?"

He smiled. "I'll
stay." He moved to the bed beside her. "And since I'm staying, how
about you move in with me?"

She reeled back. "Really?
Are you sure?"

He lifted one
shoulder and suddenly looked like a boy who'd eaten too much pie and felt a
little ill. "You did say you liked my apartment."

She touched his
cheek. "I love your apartment, but I love you more."

He leaned down
and kissed her with aching tenderness. "I love you too." Then he
suddenly sprang back. "Hey, I brought you something."

She frowned at
him. He held no flowers or chocolates and he wasn't carrying a bag or a jacket
big enough to put them in. He stood and went to the door. What was he doing? He
craned his neck out, said something she couldn't hear to someone she couldn't
see, then returned. Two burly policemen followed him in.

"You brought
me cops?" she said, one eyebrow raised.

"Better."

That's when she
saw one of the men carrying a large silver case. Jake took it, opened it, then
turned it round for her to see.

"The
Florentine!" She almost leapt out of the bed, wound and all. "The
real one," she breathed. "Oh, it's just as beautiful as I remembered."

Jake nestled
beside her, the case on his lap. "Go on. Take it out."

She looked at the
two cops. They both shrugged so she picked up the Florentine. It was heavy in
her palm, its facets smooth, its color the most exquisite shade of yellow she'd
ever seen.

She flung her
arms around Jake and pulled him as close as her injury would allow. "Oh,
thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You can't
keep it!" the younger of the two policemen said, panic edging his voice.

"She knows,
idiot," his older colleague said.

"I just wanted
to touch it one last time," she said.

Jake smiled. "I
thought you might. It was supposed to be my going away present to you." He
kissed her nose. "But now I guess it's my welcome back gift." His
eyes clouded and he pressed his forehead to hers. "I nearly lost you,
Ruby. I won't make the same mistake twice."

They stayed like
that, comforting each other, until one of the cops coughed.

"What will
happen to it?" Ruby asked, placing it back in the case.

"It'll go on
display in a European museum dedicated to the Hapsburg Empire," Jake said.
"This will probably have pride of place."

"As it
should," she said, staring at the diamond. "It's perfect."

"So are you."

THE END

A message from the author:

I hope you enjoyed reading THE DIAMOND
AFFAIR as much as I enjoyed writing it.  As an independent author, getting the
word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked this book
please consider telling your friends, lending or sharing it, and writing a
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Visit
Carolyn at
http://carolynscott.blogspot.com

Books
by Carolyn Scott

The Diamond Affair

You
Again

Books
by C.J. Archer (the historical romance pen name of Carolyn Scott):

Her
Secret Desire (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #1)

Scandal's
Mistress (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #2)

To
Tempt The Devil (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #3)

The
Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #1)

Possession
(Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #2)

Evermore
(Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #3)

Honor
Bound (The Witchblade Chronicles Book #1)

Kiss
Of Ash (The Witchblade Chronicles #2)

Surrender

Redemption

The
Mercenary's Price

***Read
on for an excerpt of
HONOR
BOUND
, a paranormal historical romance by C.J. Archer***

HONOR BOUND

By C.J. Archer

CHAPTER
1

1583
- London, England

Lawrence Shawe
burst through the apothecary shop's door with far more vehemence than usual. 
Considering he never undertook any activity that required enthusiasm on his
part, it was enough to distract Isabel from her herbs.  She glanced up from the
jar she’d been filling with dried juniper berries to glare at him but the look
on his face dampened her temper.  His cheeks were flushed and his hat sat
lop-sided on his silver-streaked hair.  He'd certainly exerted himself on this
occasion.  Indeed, he might even have been running.

"What is it,
Lawrence?" Isabel asked.  "What's happened?"

"Someone
tried to poison the queen."

She dropped the
handful of berries onto the workbench.  "Dear God, how awful!  Is she all
right?"

Lawrence nodded
and squeezed his finger and thumb into his eye sockets.  When he drew them away
again, he no longer looked exercised, just exhausted.  His reddened eyelids
sagged like old porch roofs over his blue eyes and even his clothes, usually so
fastidiously tidy, had creases.  Creased clothing equated to utter disarray in
Lawrence's book.

As physician to
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, Lawrence would take a poisoning attempt on her
life very seriously.  Any threat to her health was a direct threat to not only
his career, but perhaps even his life if he failed to save her.  As the only
son of Isabel's aged employer, she had a vested interest in Lawrence's wellbeing,
and therefore Her Majesty's health too.

"Perfectly
all right," he said.  "Lady Manningham, however, is quite ill." 
He crossed the rush-covered floor of the small apothecary shop and stood beside
her at the workbench.  He picked up a berry and rolled it between his thumb and
fingers until it crumbled.  "Her Majesty’s Gentlewoman of the Privy
Chamber ate the poisoned sweetmeats intended for the queen."  He snorted
out a laugh as he sniffed his fingers.  "Silly woman.  I’ve told her on
numerous occasions her taste for sweet foods will be the death of her."

Isabel didn’t
think the joke terribly funny considering the circumstances.  Nevertheless she
breathed a sigh of relief over the queen's condition.  "Is there any
remedy you require for Lady Manningham?  You’re welcome to anything from the
shop, of course.  Your father would wish it."

He sprinkled the
crushed remnants of the berry onto the bench and dusted his hands.  "How
is Father today?" he asked.

"The
same."  She sighed deeply and swept up the crumbs with her bare hands. 
"His limbs ache and he’s confined to his bed most of the time, but he
still insists on personally greeting his favored clients."  She smiled. 
Old Man Shawe, as everyone affectionately called the apothecary, would rather
die than give up his work entirely.  Even so, his ill health meant Isabel now
ran the shop and the Shawe household since Lawrence lived elsewhere.  She dealt
with customers and suppliers, servants and apprentices.  She prepared remedies,
dispensed advice and kept the accounts.  Old Man Shawe was apothecary in name
only—and a well-known name at that, bringing new clients from all over
London—but she included him in all the decisions out of courtesy.  It was the
least she could do for the man who had helped her at a most desperate time.

"Have you
been massaging a hot poultice of comfrey into his limbs?" Lawrence asked.

"Every
morning and night."

"Yes, but
with vigorous strokes.  Like this."  He took her arm and rubbed his thumb
along her sleeve with far less pressure than was correct.  "The massage
itself can be more soothing than the poultice."  He used gentle, low tones
as if speaking to one of his ill patients.  She wondered if he spoke to the
queen that way, in and out of bed.  Or so the rumors went.

Isabel pursed her
lips to stop the wicked smile threatening to betray her thoughts.  "Yes,
Lawrence," she said, withdrawing her arm.  "I am caring for your
father as best as I can."

"I didn’t
mean...  I’m sorry, I..."  He blushed, turning his milky cheeks rosy, then
tried to hide it by dipping his head.  "Forgive my rudeness.  I know
you're giving Father the utmost care.  I wouldn’t entrust his health to anyone
else."  He smiled an apology and at that moment Isabel could see why so
many women found him attractive.  He was only a little taller than her but
still handsome for a man past his fortieth year.  With his good looks, pleasant
manner and a favored position at court, the widower was considered a catch by
many women.

Isabel wasn’t one
of them.  She liked Lawrence well enough, but he meant nothing more to her than
a friend and fellow scholar of medicines.  And as her employer’s son, she was
as much indebted to him as to his father. 

"Forgive
me?" he said, with a raise of his eyebrows.

"There is
nothing to forgive."  She moved towards the door at the back of the shop
which led to the rear storeroom and the stairs up to the living rooms. 
"Do you wish to see your father?"

"Yes but I
can only spare a moment.  There is much to be done at Whitehall."

"Of course. 
Poor Lady Manningham.  Has the villain been caught?"

"Not yet. 
Burghley and Walsingham are investigating." 

"I suppose
you’re here because you need a tonic."

"And to see
your pleasant face."  Although his words were playful, he wasn’t smiling. 
In fact, his gaze had turned alarmingly tender.

Isabel laughed in
an attempt to rescue them both from a potentially humiliating situation. 
"Then I’m sorry to disappoint, as I’m sure my face is hideously red from
spending all morning beside a bubbling cauldron."

He lifted one
shoulder as if shrugging off the tension that had threatened to engulf them. 
"But still a pleasing sight, nevertheless."

"You’re too
charming for a humble apothecary’s assistant, Lawrence," she chided. 
"Go use it on one of the ladies at court."

He leaned back
against the bench, smiling.  The moment of tender seriousness had passed and
Isabel wondered if perhaps she had imagined it. 

"Not a
single one of them can match you," he said.

"Now I know
you’re teasing me.  There are many beautiful women at court.  And some very
eligible ones who I’m sure harbor a secret admiration for a handsome
physician."

"I’m not
merely talking about external beauty, Isabel, although you certainly have
that."

She had been
wrong.  Laurence was merely attempting a different tactic.  She quickly rounded
the long counter which doubled as her workbench and scanned the earthen jars
shelved above it.  "If you tell me what was in the poison, I can provide
you with something to counteract Lady Manningham’s discomfort," she said,
returning to a safe topic.  "I assume she didn’t ingest a large dose,
considering she is still alive."

"Fortunately
she merely nibbled on one of the poisoned sweetmeats.  I left her in Doctor
Lopes’s capable hands," he said, referring to Her Majesty’s chief
physician.  "She’s taken a purgation but there is not a lot more to be
done except perhaps a soothing tonic to settle her stomach.  Ah,
horehound."  He pointed to a labeled jar on the lower shelf.

Isabel unstopped
it and carefully poured some of the liquid into a phial.  "It should ease
her pain somewhat."

He took it and
thanked her.  "Add it to Whitehall’s account."

"I’m sure
your father would want me to give it to you without charge, particularly if
it’s intended for Our Sovereign’s lady."