The Governess's Scandalous Marriage. Helen Dickson
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his features. As she watched him her throat tightened and fear jabbed her in the chest. It was the same man who had drawn her attention earlier. The closer he came brought a waft of gentle cologne that touched her senses and she became aware of his catlike litheness. She could feel the energy flowing from him and could sense the danger. He hardly made a sound as he walked towards her, his eyes never leaving her face, his step surprisingly light for his size.
Linnet had to look up into his face, he was so tall. He was close, so close she could see the fine lines at the corners of his mouth and the glitter of his black eyes behind the mask. They seemed to bore through her, the gaze so bold and forward that her eyes slowly widened and for a brief moment she held her breath, frozen by his steely gaze.
The man saw the wary look of a trapped but defiant young animal enter her transparent eyes, eyes the colour of a tawny owl behind her mask. Her face was uptilted—deep inside he felt something tighten, harden, clarifying and coalescing into one crystal-clear emotion. He found himself wishing he could see her face. Her eyes blazed with defiance. There was an elfin delicacy from the little he could see of her face and a pert little point to her chin. Her lips were full and the straight cut of her gown revealed the curves of her slender body beneath. He knit his brows as he searched her eyes.
‘Do you normally inspect the ladies you meet with such thoroughness?’ Linnet demanded suddenly, with a voice like frosted glass.
An impudent smile curved his lips. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘Not one bit.’
His smile broadened. ‘Whoever you are, you look extremely lovely—as rare a jewel as the one you are holding. Too bad you are a thief. I like what I see.’
Her lips tightened at the chauvinistic remark. ‘Things aren’t always what they seem.’
‘No? My eyes do not deceive me. But please do not be alarmed. You will come to no harm if you behave yourself.’
The sound of his voice, deep and resonant, sent a thrill of fear down Linnet’s spine, and she trembled for some unknown reason. He continued to look at her searchingly—the warm liquid of his dark gaze missed nothing. ‘Behave myself?’ she uttered bravely. ‘If you lay one finger on my person, I swear I will scream.’
‘I have no intention of touching you,’ he replied calmly. ‘Be assured that nothing was further from my mind and to scream would be your greatest folly. What do you think would happen to you if Lord Stourbridge should find you—an intruder, if my judgement serves me correct—in this room, about to steal his greatest prize? A most foolhardy act.’
Linnet’s fear increased, pricking her consciousness that she had been caught in what must seem to be a criminal act. The certainty of what would happen to her was beginning to loom monstrously large in her mind. Her mind tumbled over in a frenzy. What could she do? With the man blocking her way to the door, it was impossible for her to escape. Straightening her spine, she faced him with outward calm, looking at him for a long, thoughtful moment, estimating her chances of getting out of that room with her dignity intact.
‘This isn’t what it looks like,’ Linnet said, hoping to convince him. ‘I wasn’t stealing it.’
‘No? Try telling that to a magistrate. My eyes did not deceive me. I caught you red handed.’ Taking the necklace from her, he held it up to the light, the gold links trailing through his fingers like droplets of shining water. He sighed his appreciation, his casual manner and his outward calm out of keeping with the seriousness of the situation.
‘It’s a beautiful piece—hard to believe it’s been buried for nigh on three thousand years. Do you know anything about it?’
‘No—only that it is worth a considerable fortune.’
He smiled thinly. ‘Of course you do, otherwise you would not be here to steal it. Allow me enlighten you. Jewellery made of lapis lazuli was a status symbol in ancient Egypt. It was a symbol of power and status. The Egyptians believed it offered protection and symbolised truth. They valued it more highly than gold. The scarab you see is believed to ensure resurrection and eternal life and generally to bring good luck. Amulets in the shape of scarabs were used in connection with burials and were intended to protect the dead from all dangers which faced them in the future life.’
‘Really?’ Linnet remarked with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Thank you for the lesson, but do you mind telling me what you are going to do?’
‘What do you expect me to do? You are a common thief—and not a very good one otherwise you wouldn’t have been caught out.’ Holding her gaze, he moved closer. ‘Mention this to anyone, Miss Whoever-You-Are, and you can kiss your freedom goodbye.’
Linnet blanched at the threat and stepped away from him. ‘Will you tell Lord Stourbridge?’ Fear filled her heart, but she would not make a spectacle of herself with weakness and tears.
He looked at her, so small and slender. There was a sweet elfin delicacy to what he could see of her face below the mask. He wondered at the colour of her hair beneath the white wig and he knit his brows as he studied her. She was studying him with equal measure. Drawn to her eyes, peering at him through the holes in her mask, he’d never seen such incredible eyes—they were indeed the unusual shade of tawny, he thought, and they had depth and glowed, almost as if they had hot coals burning behind them. When he had made his presence known, she had looked agitated and her expression had been one of intense fear.
‘I haven’t made up my mind.’
Suddenly a thought occurred to Linnet and her eyes opened wide. ‘Why are you here, sir, in this room? Are you by any chance a thief also?’
‘All I will say is that I am here to claim what is rightly mine.’
‘Which is?’
‘This,’ he replied, indicating the necklace.
‘How do I know you are telling me the truth? People are not always what they seem—and not to be trusted.’
‘You will simply have to take my word for it.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘I give you my word as a gentleman.’
‘A gentleman does not steal other people’s property.’
‘I told you. I am not a thief.’
‘Then I can see we find ourselves in something of a dilemma.’
‘Why? Because you are here for the necklace and you do not like to be cheated out of it? You may not be so eager to take possession of it if you knew more about it,’ he remarked, with a quiet casualness as he admired his possession.
‘What is there to know?’
‘That a curse is believed to be cast upon any person who seeks to own it. The curse does not differentiate between archaeologists or common thieves. Allegedly it can cause bad luck, illness and even death.’
Linnet blanched. Even though the knowledge of the curse terrified her, she refused to let that terror overtake her. ‘You are only telling me this to scare me.’
Shrugging his shoulders, the man shook his head. ‘Not at all. I am merely stating a fact. Ancient Egyptians believed that they should protect their tombs by magical means or curses. Curses are placed on sacred objects and possessions to stop people from disturbing them. Inscriptions on tombs often speak of the deceased coming back to life to seek revenge should anyone dare to desecrate their resting place. The curse is what will happen to anyone who does not heed the warning.’
‘Do you believe the curse exists?’
‘I know of at least two men who took possession of the necklace who met untimely deaths—one violently and the other died of a mysterious disease.’
A cold tremor trickled down Linnet’s spine. The stranger turned his dark eyes on her. She looked away, biting her lip—there was something unpleasant about what he said that put a different slant on the necklace. Telling