Touch of a Thief (27 page)

Then, as if from a great distance, she heard it—a
basso continuo
melody so low, it was on the farthest edge of sound. Perhaps she didn’t even hear it with her ears. Perhaps the vibrations in her chest shuddered up her spine to roll slowly around her brain and then out her ears instead of in. She stumbled.

“No. I’m not all right,” she admitted.

Only Quinn’s arms kept her from collapsing.

The diamond’s seductive tones wove a spell around her, setting her palm stinging. Her breathing hitched. Pleasure shot through her, arcing from her breasts to her womb and pooling between her legs, as if Quinn had touched her special spot with his tongue.

She grasped Quinn’s lapels with both hands and clung to them like a drowning victim going down for the last time. He was her only anchor to reality in the face of the diamond’s potent and sensual power.

“Baaghh kaa kkhuun,” she whispered. “It’s coming closer.”

“All
right, that’s it. We’re done.” Quinn gathered Viola in his arms. “I’m getting you out of here. You’re in no condition to do this.”

She leaned on him and sucked in a deep breath. She almost agreed with him. She hadn’t located Chesterton yet and was already in danger of losing herself to the diamond’s seductive summons.

Then she realized if she focused on the solid thump of Quinn’s heart, it drowned out Baaghh kaa kkhuun’s voice. She stopped trembling and wrapped her arms around his waist. Viola pressed her ear against his chest and drew from his strength. One thought formed in her mind with clarity and brilliance that outshined the finest jewel.

She loved this man.

Come ruin. Come scandal. Come desertion or disaster she couldn’t yet imagine.

She loved Greydon Quinn.

He needed her to do one small thing for him, to pluck the jewel from a man who had murdered, and would do so again to possess it. Then she must hand it over to Greydon. Such a simple thing, really, when weighed against the love she bore him. She could do it with her eyes closed, if need be.

She tipped her face up to him and he kissed her. Their breaths and souls mingled, tangled together, inseparable. When their lips parted, she smiled up at him, her vision clear, her mind unfettered by the diamond’s drone.

“I’m ready, Quinn. I can do it.” She glanced down the walk at the shadowy figure moving in their direction. “That’s him. I need to you do something for me, though.”

“What?”

“Whistle something.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anything. Whistle. I need to hear you.”

Quinn broke into a jaunty version of “Rule Britania.”

The diamond’s low buzz began to drown out Quinn’s tune.

“No, not that.” Viola steeled herself against the Blood of the Tiger’s voice. “Hum something. A love song.”

Quinn switched to the haunting “The Water Is Wide
.”
The deep hum of unsatisfied love and longing rumbled in her chest and the diamond’s sound faded.

“Much better,” Viola said, hooking her hand through his arm and walking toward Mr. Chesterton. As far as he would be able to tell, she and Quinn were two lovers strolling the dark walks in search of the perfect trysting spot.

Mr. Chesterton came closer, almost meeting them on the narrow path.

Another few steps, and Viola pretended to catch her toe on an exposed root and stumbled forward, clutching at Mr. Chesterton in what she hoped was a convincing approximation of someone who didn’t want to end up facedown in the dirt. As his beefy hands caught her shoulders, her hand snaked into his waistcoat and she palmed the silver snuffbox.

“Darling, are you all right?” Quinn grabbed her and pulled her back to him, taking the box from her and secreting it in his pocket in a smooth motion. “Thank you, sir, for your assistance.”

He hustled Viola away. “You really ought not have so much sherry after supper. Come, dear, let’s get you home.”

Her feet barely touched the ground as Quinn propelled her along, but they hadn’t gone ten paces before Mr. Chesterton bellowed at them to stop.

“Yes, you two,” he growled. “Turn around.”

Viola’s heart sank to her toes as she and Quinn faced Mr. Chesterton. Starlight glinted on the muzzle of a pistol. She hadn’t considered that Chesterton might be armed.

Quinn stepped in front of her to shield her. “What seems to be the trouble, my good man?”

“You know.” Chesterton’s voice dripped malice. “Tell your doxy to fork it over.”

“Now see here—”

“No, you see. Thought you’d take advantage of a man in the dark, did you, you and your light-fingered wench? Almost worked, too. Give it back now.” When Quinn didn’t move, Chesterton raised his gun. “The dead are easy to search.”

“Our mistake, sir,” Quinn said quickly, fishing in his pocket and coming up with the silver snuffbox. “Here you are and no harm done.”

He flipped the box toward the large lilac bush next to Chesterton, the silver flashing as it turned end over end.

“Run!” Quinn turned and gave Viola a shove down the path.

She lifted her skirts and ran, knees and elbows pumping. Quinn was right behind her, his footfalls in time with hers. Brush rattled behind them, the fragrance of crushed lilac sweetening the air. Mr. Chesterton rooted in the bush for the snuffbox, swearing a blue streak as he sought it frantically.

A shot rang out. The slug ripped through the clump of birch Viola ran past, setting the stand of spindly trunks shivering. Her feet sprouted wings and she poured on more speed as the path took a sharp turn. Quinn, behind her, urged her on.

Viola’s side began to ache. She couldn’t draw a deep enough breath to continue. When she faltered, Quinn scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder.

Though there were no sounds of pursuit, Quinn didn’t stop till they reached the brougham where Sanjay waited in the driver’s seat. Quinn yanked open the coach’s door and tossed Viola in.

“Drive!” he bellowed at Sanjay from the coach’s step, not bothering to wait till he was in and the door closed.

Sanjay snapped the reins over the geldings’ backs and the brougham lurched forward, clattering over the cobbled streets into the night.

Quinn closed the door after himself and settled into the tufted velvet beside her. Yellow light from the street lamps cast him in stark relief followed by deep shadows as the brougham raced from one post to the next.

Still dragging in shallow breaths, Viola was overwhelmed by despair. Her chest ached. All the trouble. All the expense. All the chasing around the capitals of Europe and, in the end, they’d still lost the diamond.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

“What for?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “In case it’s escaped your notice, we lost the diamond.”

Quinn shoved a hand deep into his pocket and came up with a silver snuffbox. “You mean this diamond.”

He opened the box and she heard Baaghh kaa kkhuun’s low drone. She recognized its voice, but it was fainter than before. She didn’t have to fight against its pull. Her love for Quinn had driven the lust for the stone from her heart. It no longer beguiled her with mesmerizing seduction.

“How did you—”

He snapped the box closed and the diamond’s song faded to such a soft buzz, Viola wondered if she only remembered what it sounded like.

“I simply flipped Mr. Chesterton my Uncle Bertram’s old snuffbox instead. Silver containers all look alike in the dark.”

Viola wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck. “You’re brilliant. Now Sanjay can return it to the temple and it won’t trouble anyone anymore.”

“You’re content to let it go?” he asked as he pulled her into an embrace.

“More than content.” She was so relieved and happy, she had no thought for anything but the man whose strong arms surrounded her.

As they barreled through the night toward Quinn’s town house, neither of them noticed their progress was being shadowed by another coach a couple blocks behind them.

Viola and Quinn left Sanjay to unhitch the horses in the stable behind the town house. Quinn had tried to help, but the prince insisted that so long as he bided on English soil, he must maintain the carefully constructed ruse that he was merely a servant.

“Besides, I owe you a great debt, sahib. You have returned a great treasure to my people,” Sanjay said, his heart shining in his dark eyes.

Viola noticed Quinn didn’t acknowledge Sanjay’s mention of the Blood of the Tiger going back where it belonged. They walked in silence through the back door of the town house and through the kitchen.

“You are planning on returning the diamond to Amjerat, aren’t you?” Viola asked, once they headed down the corridor toward the front parlor. She hoped the stone hadn’t gripped his heart with the same lust she’d felt for it.

“I was planning on it,” Quinn said softly as he helped Viola off with her cloak. “But as Robert Burns says, ‘The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley.’ ”

“What do you mean?”

“ ’e means, Peach, that even a fancy-arsed bloke like ’im can’t see all the twists and turns ahead.” Willie rose from the shadow of one of the wing chairs with a blunderbuss tucked in the crook of his arm. “Aw, now, milady, don’t pull such a face at ol’ Willie. Surely ye knew I’d be ’round to collect what’s due me. Did ye not promise me payment for the information ye wrung from me this afternoon?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have come here, Willie,” Viola said, peeping around from behind Quinn. Every fiber of his body rippled with tense watchfulness as he’d put himself between her and Willie. Viola knew he was regretting that, for the second time that night he’d insisted Sanjay keep his revolver. “You won’t get the red diamond.”

“ ’ell, no, and I wouldn’t want it. What would a simple feller like me do with such a thing? I’ve been waitin’ ’ere since ye left this evenin’ cause there’s somewhat else I’ve a mind to have.” Willie’s smarmy smile turned hard. “Ye didn’t think ye’d get rid of me with just one little ruby, did ye? I want that fistful of uncut stones the lieutenant’s been talkin’ so free about. Be a love and nip off to get ’em for me, yer ladyship, while I keep me old blunderbuss pointed at your lover’s most important parts.”

“This is outrageous!” Viola said, hoping to awe him with aristocratic indignation as she had on a few other occasions.

“Stow it, milady. Lest me finger slips and I accidentally hit something the lieutenant holds more dear than jewels.” Willie laughed raucously at his own wit.

“Go on, Viola,” Quinn said quietly. Willie must not have heard the cool menace in his tone, but Viola did. “You know where I keep them.”

Reluctantly, she left the men in the front parlor and padded up the stairs to Quinn’s bedchamber. She knew better than to try the safe. True to form, he’d left the fortune in jewels in his stocking drawer.

She dumped the contents of the stocking on the damask counterpane folded over the foot of his bed. Willie didn’t know how many gems there actually were, so she quickly culled out the least precious ones to return to the stocking, careful to salt in a small ruby, two emeralds and one of the diamonds so as not to rouse his suspicion.

She returned the best of the jewels to another stocking in Quinn’s chest of drawers, then headed toward the door.

She jumped when a loud bang sounded below her and she was showered with tiny splinters of wood. The blast of the blunderbuss blew a fist-sized hole in the floor a couple feet from where she stood.

“Quinn
!” Viola ran for the stairs and pounded down to the first landing. She had a clear view into the parlor, where Quinn and Willie fought for control of the weapon. Though it was only good for one shot, the blunderbuss made a formidable club. Willie laid about him, smashing a blue and white porcelain vase and reducing a small Louis XIV table to kindling.

“Viola, stay back!” Quinn shouted.

She sank down on the steps, peering through the banister rails, unable to tear her eyes from the fight boiling in a tight circle. She wanted to help Quinn, but she realized she might be a distraction. She bunched her skirt between her fingers and hoped Willie’s next blow didn’t connect with Quinn’s head.

Quinn feinted right, then delivered a crushing left to Willie’s jaw. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor.

Viola breathed a sigh of relief and started to rise, when a loud crash froze her in place. The front door flew wide and swung drunkenly from its ruined hinges. A stream of peelers in dark blue uniforms pushed through the opening and surrounded Quinn and the downed Willie in the parlor.

Hubert Fenimore, the man Viola had seen accepting the fake diamond on the queen’s behalf, stepped through the front door and strode into the parlor with a self-important flip of his long cloak.

“Excellent work, Lord Ashford,” he said, giving Quinn the slightest of bows. “You have handed us the Mayfair Jewel Thief on a silver platter.” Fenimore pointed at Willie’s unconscious form. “Gentlemen, arrest that man.”

The peelers picked up Willie and carted him out the front door, knocking his noggin on the jamb a couple times as they went.

Viola watched in shock, her thoughts scrambling wildly.

Quinn must have told Fenimore he was working with the Mayfair Jewel Thief. There was no other way Quinn’s old schoolmate could’ve known about his involvement with the notorious criminal.

He meant to turn me over to the authorities
. She doubled over as if she’d been gut-punched.

She’d loved him. She’d trusted him.

And he’d betrayed her.

That was far worse than Neville’s feckless inconstancy. Neville’s rejection was only a by-product of the way her cousin had stolen her family’s position and means.

This time her heart was robbed.

It was only dumb luck that the official had mistaken Willie for the notorious thief. And only a matter of time before Quinn corrected the erroneous assumption.

Sick at heart, Viola pulled off her serpent ring and left it on the landing. She crept back up the stairs and then down the servant’s back staircase. She slipped into the alley behind the row of town houses skirting the stables to avoid Sanjay as she moved through the shadows to the main street, hoping to hail a hansom.

She clutched the stocking to her chest, wishing she’d been more generous with Willie’s share of the jewels because they were now hers. There wasn’t time to waste on a more equitable division of the treasure she’d earned.

The real Mayfair Jewel Thief had to disappear.

Quinn and Hubert watched the peelers carry Willie off. Once they were out of earshot, Hubert cleared his throat noisily.

“Of course you realize, Ashford, I cannot publicly acknowledge your part in the thief’s apprehension.”

“Naturally,” Quinn said. “I would prefer you didn’t.”

So Hubert intended on claiming the reward for the capture of the Mayfair Jewel Thief for himself. He was welcome to it. Especially since Willie would screech his innocence once he regained consciousness. No one would believe such an uncouth bungler could be responsible for the string of thefts that could only be described as elegant crimes.

Quinn hoped fervently that Viola would remain safely upstairs till he was able to shuffle Fenimore out the door, lest the man reconsider his assumption.

Hubert’s pale eyes fixed him with a stare. “We understand each other then. There is another matter.”

“Yes. I trust you were able to secure a decree reinstating Prince Sanjay’s rule,” Quinn said.

“Oh, that. Here it is.” Fenimore pulled a document from his waistcoat pocket bearing the royal seal. “It is in our best interest to show our benevolence as we settle the troubles in India now. I assume your prince will aid us in quelling the unrest.”

“He will lead his people well,” Quinn said, knowing Sanjay might not lead them in the direction Fenimore wished.

Fenimore held the document out, but when Quinn reached for it, he drew it back.

“Chesterton is dead,” Fenimore said flatly.

“What?”

“His body was found in Vauxhall shortly after your brougham left the pleasure garden. A single wound. Likely a saber of some sort. A military weapon.” Hubert arched a brow at Quinn. “Any idea who might have killed him?”

Obviously Chesterton’s buyer for the red diamond wasn’t amused by Uncle Bertram’s empty snuffbox.

“No?” Hubert said. “I have a theory that includes you, my friend. I assume you are in possession of the real red diamond. No stone was found on the body.”

He continued to wave the decree that would reinstate Sanjay back and forth, as if Quinn were a cobra to be charmed. “A swap then. The red diamond for your friend’s kingdom.”

Honesty, Viola always claimed, was the best policy. For a thief, she was quite a stickler for truth. Quinn hoped it would serve him well as he pulled the snuffbox from his pocket.

“Here it is.” He held it out to Hubert, careful not to hand it over since he was not yet in possession of the document. “Whether you believe it or not, Chesterton was alive when I last saw him this evening. I have no trouble turning the diamond over to agents of the Crown, but be warned. Baaghh kaa kkhuun has some strange properties.”

The men made the swap, the box for the paper, in a swift simultaneous move.

“Nothing good will come from that diamond being in England,” Quinn said. “I urge you to encourage your superiors to return it to the temple of Shiva from whence it came.”

Hubert laughed. “You think my superiors will ever know the stone now in the queen’s vault isn’t the real thing? No, old chap, I’ll keep your secret about Chesterton’s killing and you’ll keep mine. This diamond will never see the inside of the Royal Collection and it damn sure won’t be returned to some heathen temple.” He opened the snuffbox and stared down at the stone. “It’s mine.”

Hubert picked up the diamond with his bare hand.

“No, Fenimore, don’t!”

The man closed his fist over the jewel, his eyes blazing. “You realize what this means, don’t you? I’ll be able to leave that grubby little government office and do anything I damn well please. Why, I could buy and sell you, Ashford! Along with most of the ton, come to that.”

Fenimore’s whole frame shuddered but he didn’t loosen his grip on the diamond. He cocked his head as if listening intently. “Do you hear that?”

Quinn didn’t hear anything, but he recognized the distracted, enthralled expression on his old schoolmate’s features. He’d seen the same look on Viola’s face when the stone called to her. The diamond had unleashed its seductive power.

“Let it go or it’ll take you, man.” Quinn leaped forward and tried to force Fenimore’s hand open.

“No! It’s mine.” Unnaturally strengthened by the Blood of the Tiger, the smaller man shoved him away with such force, Quinn sailed through the air and smacked against the mahogany paneling.

He slid down the wall and landed with a thud on the hardwood floor. When he fingered the back of his head, a tender lump was forming. Quinn gave himself a shake, wondering if he’d lost consciousness for a moment.

He scarcely recognized Hubert. The whites of Fenimore’s eyes glowed with an unnatural light and his irises paled to the color of three-day-old suet. The hand in which he clutched the diamond began to tremble violently.

“I can’t let it go,” he slurred. Fenimore stared at his own fist, then began shrieking and trying to pry open his fingers with his other hand. Blisters bubbled along his skin.

He collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony.

Quinn started to go to him to try to wrest the diamond from him, but a pair of strong arms grasped him from behind. Sanjay had slipped into the room as silently as a python slides over a rock.

“No, sahib,” Sanjay struggled to hold Quinn back. “It is too late. When the diamond feeds on a soul, it is too strong to resist. If you touch him, Baaghh kaa kkhuun will only consume you as well.”

Fenimore’s spine arched and his jaw clenched. The convulsions stopped suddenly and a long stream of air hissed from his lips. Then his entire body relaxed, save for the fist that clutched the diamond.

“He is gone,” Sanjay said. “It is safe to remove the stone now, but do not touch it with unprotected skin.”

Quinn knelt beside Fenimore and pried open his fingers. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to lift the diamond from the hole it had burned in its victim’s palm. He dropped the stone back into the silver snuffbox and closed the lid.

“Take the damned thing,” he told Sanjay. He stooped to retrieve the document that reinstated his friend’s rule in Amjerat. He must have dropped it when Fenimore and the diamond’s malevolent force flung him across the room. “And take this as well.”

Sanjay’s dark gaze flicked over the document. “You have done it, my friend. The cost has been great, but you have restored my kingdom and my people’s treasure. I owe you more than I can repay. How may I serve you?”

“For now I’ll settle for you running to fetch a doctor. A singularly stupid one, for choice. Someone needs to certify that Hubert died of heart failure or some virulent case of the pox.” He ran a hand over his face, feeling suddenly tired enough to sleep for a week. “Viola, it’s safe. You can come down now.”

There was no answer.

He headed up the stairs calling her name, but stopped on the landing when he felt something crunch under his boot heel. It was misshapen from his weight, but he recognized the mangled silver and gold as her serpent ring.

Her wedding ring.

Panic seizing him, he ran the rest of the way up the stairs.