Blackmailed Bride. Sylvie Kurtz

after searching for it for ten years. She couldn’t let it go.

      Licking her dry lips, she flung up her card, not sure how she’d manage to pay.

      Jonas interrupted the auctioneer. A frantic whispered discussion passed between them, and Jonas, nodding once to someone in the back, left through the back door.

      What was going on? Why had they stopped? Dreadful premonition swamped through her. No, they couldn’t stop. It wasn’t legal. She was so close. Her rapid pulse hammered her brain. Her hands unconsciously tightened around the bidding card, scrunching the flimsy cardboard.

      The auctioneer cleared his throat and resumed his pitch. “Ladies and gentlemen…”

      From the back of the room came a bid. A bid so ridiculous it took an instant to register into her brain.

      “What!” Cathlynn jumped to her feet amid agitated whispers. She whirled, knocking her chair to the ground. “You can’t do that!”

      The polished young man who’d closed the front door smiled at her, tilting his head sideways and lifting his eyebrows and shoulders in mock regret. Not a single black hair fell out of place. Not a single crease marred his expensive suit. Not a wrinkle worried his handsome features.

      “David?” Bertha scrunched her eyes and peered at the young man. “Is that you?”

      “Any further advances?” the auctioneer asked. He looked around the room. “Going once! Twice! Last time!” He brought his hammer down. The sound of finality exploded in Cathlynn’s mind. “Sold to number one for…”

      She’d lost.

      Cathlynn couldn’t believe it. After all this time, it couldn’t be true. Her heart banged painfully against her ribs. As her vision narrowed, the whole room swirled into a vortex, twisting everything into rushing black specters speeding toward her. The roar in her ear thundered over her thoughts, dousing them in a quagmire of thick, dark slime. Her limbs shook, ice-cold, numb. She couldn’t find air. She pulled in a harsh gulp. The air vanished before it found her lungs.

      “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