The TV cut away from the reporter to show photos of the jewels. Among the pearls and rubies, he caught a glimpse of a gemstone emerald watch made from a single large emerald, cut into a square box shape, with delicate gold roman numerals inside. A string of wild thoughts raced through him as he recognized what hesaw.
Myhoard…
Mikhail could barely breathe. The jewels,hisjewels, were at the Victoria and Albert Museum. He knew those gems, had gazed at them for hours, burning their vivid colors into his mind so he would never forget. He’d spent five centuries trying to find them again, searching all of England for them, and they’d been hidden away somewhere inCheapside.
She’d never put them back in the royal treasury, possibly because she knew he’d look for them. When he’d finally emerged from his prison, he’d sought word on their last location. What he’d discovered was that the hoard of jewels had been stolen while being transported from the Tower of London to one of Elizabeth’s residences. The robbers were never caught, and the treasure was lostforever.
The listless melancholy that had colored the last five hundred years of his life faded. The jewels were in London. He was going to get them back, and he would finally be able to gohome.
A slow smile curved his lips. This time, there would be no tempting virgin to stand in hisway.
2
The greatest treasures were most often guarded by the slyest and cruelestdragons.
?Adam Nevill,House of SmallShadows
Diamonds are my best friend…The words hummed through Piper Linwood’s head as she stood in the showroom of the Victoria and Albert Museum, staring at the glass-encased display of jewels with longing and fascination. Never in her life had she seen such an impressive and awe-inspiring collection. As one of the premier gemologists in North America, she’d seen hoards that would make a queen emerald-green withenvy.
But all of those paled in comparison tothis.
No one back home in Massachusetts would have guessed she’d end up in glittering, aristocratic London, overseeing a trove of this magnitude. After ten years, multiple jobs, double course loads for classes, and a heavy caffeine addiction, she’d clawed her way up from small-town life to cataloging this remarkablefind.
And I am going to help sell them.She still couldn’t believe it when Thorne Auction House had contacted her for the position, along with her friend and colleague Jodie Harkness. As a consulting gemologist, her job was to identify and place a starting value on each piece in the collection. It was a huge honor. She was only thirty, but they’d chosen her over a handful of even better qualifiedgemologists.
She looked around the exhibit room, full of tourists snapping pictures and taking selfies next to the hoard of jewels, several of them pretending to make a grab for them. A group of blank-faced security personnel protected the collection. Only a small number of jewels were currently on display, and they would rotate the pieces between the vaults and theexhibit.
But this exhibit was temporary. The pieces would soon be sold at auction, so this was the only chance for the public to see them. A camera crew was recording the event, with a reporter standing next to a collection of salamanders encrusted with diamonds andsapphires.
The display room was crowded and warm and noisy. She was more accustomed to a tiny room with a gemological binocular microscope, a set of jeweler’s loupes, a refractometer, and a dozen other tools of the trade she used to assess a gem’s quality. The bustle of so many people made her slightly edgy, especially when they strayed too close to the display. She couldn’t help but feel a little protective of the collection, even though they were secured beneath thick pressurized glasscases.
As she studied the room, her eyes lit on one person and stayed attuned to him as he stood next to one of the glass displays. She shifted her position and frowned, taking in the tall, dark figure, with black slacks and a dark gray sweater that fit him almost regally. Taking a few steps closer, she began to follow him slowly through theexhibit.
He meandered from case to case, like any tourist, but there was a precise, controlled quality to his movements. Whenever he stared at tourists blocking his view of the display case he was currently gazing at, the tourists moved away like startled rabbits. Piper couldn’t help but look at him, fixated on his tall, lean form. He was handsome, very handsome, but in a too-intense sort of way that made her heart pound and her head feelfuzzy.
His hair was long enough to fall over his eyes, but he didn’t brush it away or even seem to notice it. He stood transfixed at the final display in the exhibit case, which contained a bag of partially decayed pearls that had been uncovered where the trove was found. Next to the artfully scattered pearls on a blue velvet cloth was a clock made entirely of emerald. It looked like a pocket watch with an emerald lid that folded down to cover the delicate gold filigree face. The clock’s hands had vanished sometime during the last five centuries, but one could still see the numbers around the dial. A few of the other gemologists who’d seen it believed the housing had been carved out of a single emerald the size of a man’s fist. If that was true, then it increased the clock’s value to nearlypriceless.
With a flush of heat that she tried to ignore, Piper approached the man by the case. He wasn’t dressed like a tourist, and he wasn’t acting like one, either: no pictures, no casual flipping through the exhibit brochure. He stared at the case as though it contained all of his answers. His fixation was unsettling, but she had to admit, it was not unlike her own. Perhaps he was a gemologist? No one else would look at jewels thatintensely.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” she said as she came beside him. Her words came out a little breathless, but he didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t turn to face her the way most men would when a woman spoke tothem.
“The pearls…” he whispered, his tone dark with a smooth but bold Russian accent. “They used to be so beautiful. They gleamed like moonlight trapped in frozen drops of dew.” He raised a hand as though he wanted to reach through the glass to clasp a handful of the age-pinkenedpearls.
The features of his face, which Piper could only see in profile, were cut of marble and destined to break a woman’s heart. This man was as beautiful as the pearls and the emerald clock, but far more dangerous. Jewels were a girl’s friend. A handsome man was not. He looked like the sort who could seduce any woman he wanted and leave herbrokenhearted.
Piper gave her head a shake and focused back on the jewels. Gems would never stand her up on a Saturdaynight.
“If left in the ground without proper protection, pearls will decay, just like any other organic material. They are far more delicate than thegemstones.”
She felt silly rambling to this stranger. This was why she didn’t have a boyfriend. They always said she talked too much about her work and never focused on them. They acted like it was her fault that she’d never really been that into them or theirrelationships.
The man slowly turned to face her, and she was struck by his green eyes, so bright, likeemeralds.
Oh,wow…
Eyes didn’t come in that color of green. They had to be contacts. His mouth—it was a thing of dreams, and its sensual fullness made her want to lean in and nibble his bottom lip and…what was shethinking?
“You understand treasure?” heasked.
