course. But who were the men who followed you?"
"I don't know, Paul! They broke in, and I took off." The reality of this whole situation was beginning to annoy me, and now that I was away from the heady presence of Luca's luscious voice and beautiful eyes, I no longer felt any conflict. For lots of reasons, the least of which was my career reputation, I had to get the Katerina to the inspector in Glasgow. "Look, I'll call you later, all right?"
"Sylvie," he said, and there was command in the word. "Will you let me see it? One hour, I promise you."
"What will that do, Paul? Except frustrate you?"
"You know better. It will please me. I will not ask you to compromise your values. I will not stand in your way if you must take it to the police. It is only that I have gone to a great deal of trouble to find this gem, and I only wish…. the intimacy of holding it, seeing it. I know you understand that."
A thousand things were pounding through me—Luca's curls and smell of oranges, my reputation, hanging now by a very slim thread indeed, the lingering low roar of airplane engines that seemed to always take a day or two to go away.
As counterpoint, there was Paul's liquid voice, a narcotic that spun over the bones of my spine, easing the tension at each little bump. I sighed, pressed my head to the steering wheel. "I don't how the thugs found me," I said. "This is also a jewel with a pretty serious curse, you know. Maybe I just want to get rid of it." I laughed without much humor. "You know me and curses."
Again there was a long quiet at the end of the line. This one went so long I said, "Are you there?"
"I am here, mon petit chou. I was thinking that it is wonderful to hear your voice again. I have missed you. Terribly."
"I know," I said in sudden honesty. "Me, too."
"Have you forgiven me?"
I thought of our huge scene, in front of the small, quaint church in San Francisco. "Yes. It wasn't you anyway."
He chuckled. "I know."
"Don't get cocky on me, huh?" I looked in the rearview mirror. Still nothing but darkness. "I have to go, Paul."
"Do not go home without seeing me this time, huh? Jewel or no, let me buy you supper one night while you're in Europe? I am staying this week at my cottage on Arran. Come visit me."
"Arran! What are you doing there?"
"I knew you would be in Scotland, Sylvie. Your grandmother told me."
A hard, painful flash of a gorse-covered field on a rocky cliff, myself at seventeen, sent a fist into my chest. "Paul, I don't—"
"You are still angry with me."
"No! I mean, I probably am, but not for the reasons you—"
Lights were coming up behind me, and a sudden tenseness rose in my chest. In a split second, I had to decide: flip the lights off and let the car pass, or take off and try to outrun them on these bad roads if it turned out to be the thugs.
"Sylvie?"
"I think have company," I said, and turned off the lights.
The thugs had been driving a small dark car, which was all I'd known about it. It was hard to tell what this was, coming on the road from the south. Small, nothing fancy about the lights. In the rainy dark, however, I couldn't really tell what it was. Maybe it was a Mini, maybe not. Maybe I hadn't even seen a Mini at the caravan. It was hard to know in the darkness and the rain.
At the last minute, I ducked down to make it appear as if the car was empty. A small dodge, but if it worked, a very easy one. Their car was anonymous. Mine was not.
Holding the phone, I said, "I'm going to take the Katerina to Glasgow," I said. "But I'll meet you on Arran first. Only for an hour, Paul, though, I mean it."
"Thank you," he said quietly. "I'll make your room ready in case you'd like to stay."
"I'm not staying, Paul. I'll just stop in and let you see it."
"All right. When will you be here?"
"In the morning, I suppose. I've got to get some sleep."
"Tomorrow will be very good, then."
"Don't hang up for a moment, please," I said, peeking my head up to see if the car was the one I
"I don't know, Paul! They broke in, and I took off." The reality of this whole situation was beginning to annoy me, and now that I was away from the heady presence of Luca's luscious voice and beautiful eyes, I no longer felt any conflict. For lots of reasons, the least of which was my career reputation, I had to get the Katerina to the inspector in Glasgow. "Look, I'll call you later, all right?"
"Sylvie," he said, and there was command in the word. "Will you let me see it? One hour, I promise you."
"What will that do, Paul? Except frustrate you?"
"You know better. It will please me. I will not ask you to compromise your values. I will not stand in your way if you must take it to the police. It is only that I have gone to a great deal of trouble to find this gem, and I only wish…. the intimacy of holding it, seeing it. I know you understand that."
A thousand things were pounding through me—Luca's curls and smell of oranges, my reputation, hanging now by a very slim thread indeed, the lingering low roar of airplane engines that seemed to always take a day or two to go away.
As counterpoint, there was Paul's liquid voice, a narcotic that spun over the bones of my spine, easing the tension at each little bump. I sighed, pressed my head to the steering wheel. "I don't how the thugs found me," I said. "This is also a jewel with a pretty serious curse, you know. Maybe I just want to get rid of it." I laughed without much humor. "You know me and curses."
Again there was a long quiet at the end of the line. This one went so long I said, "Are you there?"
"I am here, mon petit chou. I was thinking that it is wonderful to hear your voice again. I have missed you. Terribly."
"I know," I said in sudden honesty. "Me, too."
"Have you forgiven me?"
I thought of our huge scene, in front of the small, quaint church in San Francisco. "Yes. It wasn't you anyway."
He chuckled. "I know."
"Don't get cocky on me, huh?" I looked in the rearview mirror. Still nothing but darkness. "I have to go, Paul."
"Do not go home without seeing me this time, huh? Jewel or no, let me buy you supper one night while you're in Europe? I am staying this week at my cottage on Arran. Come visit me."
"Arran! What are you doing there?"
"I knew you would be in Scotland, Sylvie. Your grandmother told me."
A hard, painful flash of a gorse-covered field on a rocky cliff, myself at seventeen, sent a fist into my chest. "Paul, I don't—"
"You are still angry with me."
"No! I mean, I probably am, but not for the reasons you—"
Lights were coming up behind me, and a sudden tenseness rose in my chest. In a split second, I had to decide: flip the lights off and let the car pass, or take off and try to outrun them on these bad roads if it turned out to be the thugs.
"Sylvie?"
"I think have company," I said, and turned off the lights.
The thugs had been driving a small dark car, which was all I'd known about it. It was hard to tell what this was, coming on the road from the south. Small, nothing fancy about the lights. In the rainy dark, however, I couldn't really tell what it was. Maybe it was a Mini, maybe not. Maybe I hadn't even seen a Mini at the caravan. It was hard to know in the darkness and the rain.
At the last minute, I ducked down to make it appear as if the car was empty. A small dodge, but if it worked, a very easy one. Their car was anonymous. Mine was not.
Holding the phone, I said, "I'm going to take the Katerina to Glasgow," I said. "But I'll meet you on Arran first. Only for an hour, Paul, though, I mean it."
"Thank you," he said quietly. "I'll make your room ready in case you'd like to stay."
"I'm not staying, Paul. I'll just stop in and let you see it."
"All right. When will you be here?"
"In the morning, I suppose. I've got to get some sleep."
"Tomorrow will be very good, then."
"Don't hang up for a moment, please," I said, peeking my head up to see if the car was the one I
Similar Books
