Blackmailed Bride

“Are you all right?” A strange voice pierced the dark abyss spinning all around her, releasing her.

“I’m fine.” She devoured the air in great mouthfuls. “I’m fine.”

Someone righted her chair and helped her into it. When she realized who stood above her, she trapped the young man’s hands in hers. “I want to buy the Aidan Heart from you.”

“Sorry.” He smiled apologetically and a contrite expression glimmered from his warm brown eyes. “I’m just the buyer’s agent.”

“Who’s the buyer?”

He nodded toward the back door behind the auctioneer. “Him.”

The dark and mysterious Jonas Shades.

Dizzy, she reached for her hat and gloves, knocking them to the floor. Bending down to retrieve them, her head cleared, returning the room to its original shape. She sat on the edge of the hard chair and closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up and find this had all been a terrible nightmare.

“Now we have item one hundred and fourteen.…” The auction resumed.

Pain ripped through her heart until it seemed as if blood dripped from her chest. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Light-headed, she wavered once as she rose.

She had to think. She couldn’t give up. She’d find the buyer and make him understand he couldn’t have the Aidan Heart. Searching the back of the room, she couldn’t find him. The man seemed to have disappeared. Shakily, she made her way to the entry hall and gripped the auction room’s doorjamb, drawing strength from its solid form.

“Is J.T. in?” A British-accented voice carried like a wave from farther down the corridor. Cathlynn caught a glimpse of the receding figure of a man bundled in a heavy black overcoat, gray scarf and felt bowler.

“Dr. Shades was not expecting you today.”

Dr. J. T. Shades!

Now she remembered where she’d heard the name Jonas Shades. He was the brilliant researcher who’d made waves last year when he’d denounced his sponsoring company’s intentions as fraudulent and ended their association.

What did he need the Aidan Heart for? What could he possibly want with her piece of glass? Her breaths quickened. Her free fist clenched by her side. She stowed the helplessness away in a deep corner, and let anger swell and crest, needing desperately to latch on to something other than the pain mauling her heart.

If Jonas Shades thought she was going home empty-handed today, he had no idea who he was dealing with.

JONAS HAD EXPECTED Sterling Ryder to show up, just not this soon. He turned swiftly into the small room adjoining the living room, plucked the registration card for bidder 168 from the Secretary’s desk and strode through to the door at the opposite end.

The rumors, of course. Alana had threatened to leak the less than idyllic state of their marriage to knowing ears, but she’d been drunk when he’d found her sprawled with the papers—drunk and vindictive. She’d vowed he’d suffer for the isolation she’d been forced to endure. The deal she’d outlined had shades of Satan all over it. He’d wanted to strangle her. In the end, he’d accepted. A little humiliation was nothing compared to the good his research could yield. Had she whispered her secrets out of spite to her cousin Geoffrey, realizing he’d have a keen interest in the outcome?

Jonas ripped open the door in his path.

“Jonas!” He nearly bumped into David Forester, his assistant, who carefully cradled the Aidan Heart in both his hands. “What do you want me to do with this?”

He handed David a key. “Put it in the cellar with the rest of the paperweights. In the safe.”

Without waiting for a response, Jonas forged ahead in the corridor, and let the door slam behind him. His butler and the old man weren’t far behind, but he’d reach the library before they did.

Ah, dear Alana! She’d kept at him and kept at him with her barbs and her threats—until he’d exploded.

Now she was missing. Had been for four and a half weeks. And it wasn’t like her to leave without a scene. Something wasn’t right, but the investigator he’d hired had uncovered nothing. It was as if she’d vanished.

Purposefully or not, she’d conveniently left him with a suspicious lawyer to appease and no devoted wife to prove his wedded bliss. He didn’t like being backed into a corner. And he surely didn’t like the thoughts poisoning his mind—thoughts he wouldn’t normally entertain. But images of the woman sitting at the auction floated back to him.

She could help him.

He turned a corner, feeling as if the walls of the home he loved so much were closing in on him, and pushed open the library door.

She’d had a glow about her that had caught his attention. He’d admired her catlike grace and the self-assurance with which she moved. His attraction to her had been immediate and powerful. A fact Jonas found both intriguing and disconcerting. History repeating itself? How long had it been since he’d allowed a pretty face to turn his head? And what price had he paid?

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Jonas blazed on a light and marched to the fireplace. He threw a log in and watched the sparks fly up like angry bees disturbed from their nest. He’d found her glowing face refreshing after the blasé cynicism he’d grown used to. Her light brown hair with its luxuriant profusion had him thinking of sex, hot and wild. The way the glossy strands caught the fire’s light and reflected gold, he’d wanted to reach out and bury his hand in her hair to harvest the sheer life it exuded. He shook his head to dispel her image. He had to stay in control.

He banged a fist against the mantel, punctuating his determination. But she came back, her image haunting him in the erratic dance of flames in a way he didn’t like.

Massaging the back of his neck with both hands, he saw her eyes again. They were the most beautiful he’d ever seen—brown that shifted to topaz, reminding him of his mother’s tiger’s-eye pendant. Yes, she vibrated with life, and he’d almost forgotten that feeling, dead as he’d been inside for so many years.

Jonas raked a hand through his hair to clear the sensual cobwebs weaving themselves into his brain, and headed for the silent butler by the sitting area. He plucked ice cubes from a bucket and dropped them into a glass.

When she’d turned and looked at him as she took her place at the auction, his whole body had tensed. At first he thought his impression had been a trick of the light, a quirk of his troubled mind, a ghost from his guilty conscience. But the similarities of her face to Alana’s grew over the differences, bringing with them a host of emotions he didn’t want to feel. Anger, betrayal—even hatred.

He poured whiskey over the ice and listened to the cubes crackle and pop.

Sterling’s arrival for the signing over of the trust had only compounded the feeling of powerlessness that had slowly enveloped him since Alana’s untimely disappearance. A feeling he’d felt only once before in his life and had sworn he’d never allow again.

He brought the glass to his lips, then slammed it down on the cart once more. Damn his blasted temper for getting him into this situation in the first place! He refused to lose a life’s worth of work over one ill-timed flash of anger.

As he slugged back a swallow, the pale amber liquid burned his throat. It rested in a fiery ball in his empty stomach, mixing with acid, bringing a caustic squall to life.

He’d watched the way the woman had sat up straight, then leaned forward with anticipation when the Aidan Heart had been raised to the block. The way she’d held her breath, waiting for the opening bid. The way she’d scanned the room, spotting each bidder and assessing them. They way the fear and hope had mixed, bringing her desire to the foreground. And when she’d turned desperate, an uncanny feeling of déjà vu had swept through him. That’s when the mad idea had formed in his mind and wouldn’t let go.

Sterling’s early arrival had served to imprint the idea further. The woman’s cry of outrage as David had placed the winning bid repeated in the chambers of his mind like a ghost’s tormented lament. He didn’t like resorting to a ruse, but he’d make it worth her while.

His future, his life, and those of his siblings, depended on it.

He picked up the bidder’s registration card and studied it. Cathlynn O’Connell. An antiques dealer from Nashua. For now, he’d let her cool her heels. Then they’d talk. If he’d read her right, the bait he’d dangle would be irresistible to this tiger hiding in a sleek cat’s skin.

They’d both get what they wanted.

The idea was so crazy, it might actually work.

CATHLYNN TOOK a few minutes to compose herself, but the raw fury refused to be tamed. She tromped down the hall where she’d heard the voices floating. The farther down she went, the darker and colder the atmosphere got. Soundless shapes reached out for her, then retracted into their dark crevices along the walls and ceilings. Tall candles protected by brass-trimmed sconces hung unlit, question marks along her path. Didn’t Jonas Shades believe in electricity? Maybe his cash-flow problems were as bad as the old lady had insinuated. That would serve him right, after he’d stolen her treasure from under her. Cathlynn snorted silently. He’d snuck away before she could face him with a counteroffer. Now she’d get her chance to face him, and he’d bear the full brunt of her disappointment.

Trailing her hand along the cold stone wall, she moved cautiously on the faded red runner. The stones seemed to come alive beneath her fingers, undulating mute portents into the marrow of her bones.

Beware. The warning pulsed directly into her brain. Her head snapped back to see who stood behind her. Nothing but the entry’s heatless light met her gaze.

Shaking her head to dismiss the creeps crawling over her skin, she followed the sound of muffled voices. She turned back every now and then to make sure she wasn’t being followed, unable to quite shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She passed several more arched wooden doors with black iron hardware and tested the latches. Why were all the doors locked? What dark secrets lay behind the cloistered portals? What skeletons?

The voices got closer. Through the half-opened library door, she spotted Jonas Shades. The arrogant snob chatted pleasantly with his guest as if nothing had happened—as if he hadn’t pulled the rug out from anybody. Cathlynn regained her sense of purpose. Her anger billowed to new heights, and she reacted before thinking.

“How could you?” She cried. “How could you make such an outrageous bid?”

Two men turned toward her with startled expressions on their faces. Jonas recovered from his surprise quickly and stepped toward her.

“Alana, darling, no need for such a fuss.” The rich, deep timbre of his voice floated pleasantly to her, but his smile was near-glacial when he drew her close and kissed her forehead with a featherlike brush of lips.

“Play along,” he whispered.

“What?” Cathlynn tried to pull away, but his hand captured one of hers, and his narrow glare warned her not to defy him. What had her mad impulse propelled her into?

“We can talk about whatever’s troubling you later, darling. Why do you think I bought back the Aidan Heart? For you, my sweet.”

“What are you talking about? How could you? You, you—” As waves of conflicting feelings battered her, the insult stuck in her throat.

“Because you mean the world to me, darling.” His smile held not a trace of warmth and his expression gave her the feeling the words left a rancid taste in his mouth.

Before she had a chance to respond, he turned her toward the distinguished-looking gentleman with the gray hair and neatly trimmed mustache, his palm wide and hot against the small of her back. “Do you remember Sterling Ryder, your father’s lawyer?” Her mouth opened to speak, but he plowed ahead. “No? Well, thirteen years can change a man, can’t they? He’s come from London in time to celebrate your birthday in two weeks.”

“Are you crazy?” What sort of game was Jonas Shades playing? Calling her by a name not hers, and pretending it was normal, the man had to have a screw loose somewhere. Holding the Aidan Heart as ransom for her cooperation, how low would the man go to get what he wanted?

“Darling—”

“What do you—”

“Not now, darling.” His gaze steeled and clouded dangerously. “Say hello to Sterling.”

As he waited for her reply, his fingers tightened with admonition around her waist, making Cathlynn wonder what might happen if she didn’t elect to play along with whatever perverted little game he was playing. Trying to loosen his controlling hold on her, and drown the speck of fear floating to her mind, Cathlynn pasted on a smile and offered Sterling her hand.

She’d play for now. For the Aidan Heart. Then Dr. Jonas Shades would see he wasn’t the only one who could bluster like a blizzard.

“Nice to meet you again,” Cathlynn managed to say, covering her stunned dismay. Who was Alana anyway? And why would Jonas pretend she was her? “How nice of you to come all the way to Ste-Croix for my birthday.”

“Well, this is an important one and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Sterling released her hand and eyed her curiously. “Besides, it will be my last official duty before I retire. I’m rather looking forward to it.”

The last official duty or the retirement? Cathlynn couldn’t help the sarcastic streak turning her thoughts sour. Well, enough of this. Satisfied at having played her part in Jonas’s charade, she smiled at him.

“You could have told me you’d let me have the Heart. It would have saved both of us a lot of trouble, sweetheart.” She gushed the endearment, secretly pleased at his camouflaged discomfort. “Can I go pick it up now?”

“Why don’t you wait a minute? Sterling was just about to go and freshen up. There’s something I need to discuss with you. About the Christmas fete.”

I’ll bet! Ooooh, would he have some answering to do! “All right, sweetheart, but I don’t have much time and a lot of details to see to.”

Cathlynn perched herself on a Louis XIV chair next to Sterling and waited while Jonas rang the intercom by the door. A worn Oriental carpet delineated a cozy sitting area, brightened by a fire glowing in the stone hearth. Three of the four walls held ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, with some of the tomes looking quite ancient. Idly, Cathlynn wondered which of the books she’d have to pull to disclose the hidden access to the dank and musty passageways which surely crisscrossed the bowels of this ugly monstrosity. The fourth wall showcased the fireplace, as well as two tall windows topped with heavy crimson velvet curtains that gleamed like wet blood in the flickering firelight. A garish medieval tapestry decorated the chimney above the stone mantel.

Sterling’s gaze brought her attention back to Jonas’s guest. Curiosity glinted openly in his pale blue eyes. An uneasy feeling quivered in her stomach under his scrutiny, but Cathlynn put it down to having to choke her anger so fast.

“I must say, Alana, you look marvelous,” Sterling said. “The years have treated you well. Why, I remember telling Jonas at your wedding reception, you were a rose that would bloom more beautifully with each passing year. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Wedding reception? Sterling thought she was Jonas’s missing wife! What had she gotten herself into?

“How kind of you,” was all she could think to say. She’d make Jonas pay for this.

“You have put on a few pounds, but it suits you. I always thought you were much too thin.”

Cathlynn bristled at Sterling’s misplaced mirth, and bit her tongue in order to keep her retort civil. The ten extra pounds she carried around were a source of aggravation. They clung to her no matter what she ate or how much she exercised. A failure in her docket of successes. She didn’t appreciate the reminder.

“You seem to have held up quite well, too,” she said. “Men your age tend to go to pot.”

Sterling beamed at the compliment, not realizing she hadn’t meant it that way. Jonas twitched uncomfortably in the background, and Cathlynn nearly gave away her pleasure at his discomfort by smiling. Let him suffer. He’d started this vile charade, not her. She didn’t even know the ground rules.

“Well, one does what one can. I take pride in exercising every day. Sherry, my dear?” Sterling stood up to freshen his glass.

“No, I don’t drink.”

As he poured from the crystal decanter on the mahogany silent butler, Sterling raised a questioning eyebrow.

Jonas stood with mechanical discomfort.

“The calories,” Jonas mumbled.

“Oh,” Sterling said, but his expression gave away his doubt.

“Tell me, Sterling, what’ll you do after you retire?” Cathlynn asked to twist the light away from an obvious faux pas.

Sterling sat down and leaned sideways, closing the gap between them. “I’m planning a grand history tour. I’ve always been fascinated by the stories behind the ghosts who haunt the castles of England. But with as many fingers as your father had in so many pies, there wasn’t time for much else except work.”

“You can get an early start on your retirement, then.” Cathlynn placed a conspiratory hand on Sterling’s arm, noting out of the corner of her eye Jonas’s sharp glare. The ice cubes he dropped into his glass clinked a strident warning. The expensive material of his shirt shifted and stirred fluidly with each movement, but couldn’t hide the caged tension beneath. She forged ahead anyway. “I’ve heard some people from the village say they’ve seen a woman haunting this place.”

“Really, how interesting!”

“A local legend about monks and a sacrificial virgin,” she said, repeating the rumor she’d heard earlier.

As he filled his glass with amber liquid, Jonas shot Cathlynn a look of silent condemnation. Had she gone too far? Some even say he killed her himself in one of his fits of rage.

“It’s only gossip,” Jonas said.

Just then the door yawned open and a uniformed butler with a beaked nose and thinning white hair came in.

“Valentin,” Jonas said with obvious relief. “Please show Mr. Ryder to his room.”

“Oui, monsieur.” The old butler bowed. “If you’ll follow me.”

Sterling picked up the briefcase by his feet and rose. “When can we go over the trust paperwork, Alana? I want to be sure you understand everything for the reversion and signing on your birthday.”

“Tomorrow will be soon enough,” Jonas interrupted. “Supper is served at seven. We’ll see you then.”

Sterling looked at Cathlynn and honored her with a smile that reminded her of a jackal’s glee. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She shivered despite herself and snatched her hand away as soon as she could. There was something about the man that inspired no confidence. How ridiculous, when this old man’s jovial good looks could be mistaken for a trim Santa Claus!

“And Valentin,” Jonas said as the butler reached to close the door, “please return when you’re done.”

“Oui, monsieur.”

The dark glower in Jonas’s eyes, the grim set of his jaw, the coiled sensuality of his movement when he turned toward her had Cathlynn wishing Valentin had left the door open for an easy escape. Not one to lie in wait, she decided to turn the tide in her favor.

“Well, Dr. Shades, care to explain what all that was about?”

“Funny, I was about to ask the same question. What kind of game did you think you were playing?”

“You started it, you go first.” Cathlynn sat back and crossed a leg over one knee, pretending a calmness she didn’t feel.

Jonas turned and walked to the massive English walnut desk nestled in the corner by two banks of bookshelves, giving him height, width and breadth. Did he feel it, too, the strange thickening of air in the room? Did he need the exterior props to shield himself from it? Or did the viscous atmosphere originate with him? He pivoted to face her and skewered her with a dark glare.

“I need a wife.”

“Pardon me?” As her foot slapped the floor, Cathlynn was sure her mouth hung open with disbelief. She leaned forward. Did he expect her to marry him, or just play the part?

“I need a wife,” he said as if it were a perfectly normal thing to say. Chilling apprehension snaked coldly through her. The man was insane!

With his chin cradled over a fist, he cocked his head and looked her up and down. His slow appraising look made Cathlynn feel like one of the antiques he’d put up for auction this afternoon. “Your coloring and height are about right, and you seem to have fooled Sterling.”

“Fooled Sterling about what?” Then it hit her. “You think I look like your wife?”

“Sterling thinks so, and that’s what’s important.”

Cathlynn rose from her chair, sliding her gloves on. “I didn’t come here to discuss my looks, to fool anyone, or to get engaged. I want the Aidan Heart, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Thirteen years is a long time and the changes are plausible,” Jonas continued as if he hadn’t heard her. His gaze lingered disquietingly on the curves of her body. “Alana was raised in Boston, so even your accent works.”

“Thank you for your unadulterated show of approval. Now, about the Aidan Heart—”

“How much is two weeks of your life worth to you?” he snapped sharply, like a man who’d made a decision and didn’t intend to have it contradicted.

“Excuse me?” Again, Jonas’s unmitigated gall caught her off guard. My God, he meant it. She saw it on his face, the uncompromising look of a man used to getting his way.

“Two weeks, how much is that worth to you?”

Cathlynn sank to the chair and sat primly on the unyielding surface, elbows on the armrests. She held her chin high and looked him straight in the eye. “More than you can afford.”

The fluid unfurling of tensed muscles as he rounded the desk and came toward her had her blood tripping through her veins at high speed. What fuse had she lit now?

Cathlynn had the compelling urge to jump up and run, but held her ground. She’d show him she was just as strong as he was.

He leaned down, placing his hands on her chair’s armrest, his fingers brushing her arms accidentally, striking her like hot lightning. He trapped her there with his aura of power and physical might. The heat of his breath caressed her cheek, turning a wave of trepidation in her stomach. His woodsy scent caused a ripple of turbulence along her skin. The cyclone in his storm-darkened eyes pierced her soul and whirled a myriad of sensations, chief among them an acute feeling of danger.

“Play my wife until the Christmas fete, until Alana’s birthday,” he said in a deep low voice that vibrated through her like an approaching storm’s warning thunder. “And I’ll give you the Aidan Heart.”

Chapter Two

“I won’t do it.” Cathlynn ducked under Jonas’s caging arms, and moved toward the door—away from his magnetic aura, from his enchanting scent, from his piercing gaze, which both frightened and exhilarated her at the same time.

“Not even for the Aidan Heart?”

She hesitated, her hand hovering above the doorknob. “You can’t buy me.”

“Yours free and clear in exchange for two weeks of your time. It seems a fair deal for something you want so desperately.”

Damn, he’d pinned her into a neat little corner, hadn’t he? She’d spent most of her adult life looking for the darned thing, and most of her childhood dreaming about it. Now, to get the Aidan Heart, and see her grandmother’s eyes shine once more, she’d have to compromise her standards. She’d have to live a lie when she was known for her honesty. She turned to face him. How far would he go?

“No. I’m sorry, I don’t have two weeks to spare. I have a business to attend to, a grandmother who needs me.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Jonas said after a short silence. Not even a hint of remorse crisped his stern features. He moved to his desk and riffled through the mess of papers on it.

“I already told you. I’m not for sale. From what I hear, you’re not in a position to make such a generous offer.”