Sylvie Kurtz - Blackmailed Bride

Sterling’s gaze brought her attention back to Jonas’s guest. Curiosity glinted openly in his pale blue eyes. An uneasy feeling quivered in her stomach under his scrutiny, but Cathlynn put it down to having to choke her anger so fast.

“I must say, Alana, you look marvelous,” Sterling said. “The years have treated you well. Why, I remember telling Jonas at your wedding reception, you were a rose that would bloom more beautifully with each passing year. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Wedding reception? Sterling thought she was Jonas’s missing wife! What had she gotten herself into?

“How kind of you,” was all she could think to say. She’d make Jonas pay for this.

“You have put on a few pounds, but it suits you. I always thought you were much too thin.”

Cathlynn bristled at Sterling’s misplaced mirth, and bit her tongue in order to keep her retort civil. The ten extra pounds she carried around were a source of aggravation. They clung to her no matter what she ate or how much she exercised. A failure in her docket of successes. She didn’t appreciate the reminder.

“You seem to have held up quite well, too,” she said. “Men your age tend to go to pot.”

Sterling beamed at the compliment, not realizing she hadn’t meant it that way. Jonas twitched uncomfortably in the background, and Cathlynn nearly gave away her pleasure at his discomfort by smiling. Let him suffer. He’d started this vile charade, not her. She didn’t even know the ground rules.

“Well, one does what one can. I take pride in exercising every day. Sherry, my dear?” Sterling stood up to freshen his glass.

“No, I don’t drink.”

As he poured from the crystal decanter on the mahogany silent butler, Sterling raised a questioning eyebrow.

Jonas stood with mechanical discomfort.

“The calories,” Jonas mumbled.

“Oh,” Sterling said, but his expression gave away his doubt.

“Tell me, Sterling, what’ll you do after you retire?” Cathlynn asked to twist the light away from an obvious faux pas.

Sterling sat down and leaned sideways, closing the gap between them. “I’m planning a grand history tour. I’ve always been fascinated by the stories behind the ghosts who haunt the castles of England. But with as many fingers as your father had in so many pies, there wasn’t time for much else except work.”

“You can get an early start on your retirement, then.” Cathlynn placed a conspiratory hand on Sterling’s arm, noting out of the corner of her eye Jonas’s sharp glare. The ice cubes he dropped into his glass clinked a strident warning. The expensive material of his shirt shifted and stirred fluidly with each movement, but couldn’t hide the caged tension beneath. She forged ahead anyway. “I’ve heard some people from the village say they’ve seen a woman haunting this place.”

“Really, how interesting!”

“A local legend about monks and a sacrificial virgin,” she said, repeating the rumor she’d heard earlier.

As he filled his glass with amber liquid, Jonas shot Cathlynn a look of silent condemnation. Had she gone too far? Some even say he killed her himself in one of his fits of rage.

“It’s only gossip,” Jonas said.

Just then the door yawned open and a uniformed butler with a beaked nose and thinning white hair came in.

“Valentin,” Jonas said with obvious relief. “Please show Mr. Ryder to his room.”

“Oui, monsieur.” The old butler bowed. “If you’ll follow me.”

Sterling picked up the briefcase by his feet and rose. “When can we go over the trust paperwork, Alana? I want to be sure you understand everything for the reversion and signing on your birthday.”

“Tomorrow will be soon enough,” Jonas interrupted. “Supper is served at seven. We’ll see you then.”

Sterling looked at Cathlynn and honored her with a smile that reminded her of a jackal’s glee. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She shivered despite herself and snatched her hand away as soon as she could. There was something about the man that inspired no confidence. How ridiculous, when this old man’s jovial good looks could be mistaken for a trim Santa Claus!

“And Valentin,” Jonas said as the butler reached to close the door, “please return when you’re done.”

“Oui, monsieur.”

The dark glower in Jonas’s eyes, the grim set of his jaw, the coiled sensuality of his movement when he turned toward her had Cathlynn wishing Valentin had left the door open for an easy escape. Not one to lie in wait, she decided to turn the tide in her favor.

“Well, Dr. Shades, care to explain what all that was about?”

“Funny, I was about to ask the same question. What kind of game did you think you were playing?”

“You started it, you go first.” Cathlynn sat back and crossed a leg over one knee, pretending a calmness she didn’t feel.

Jonas turned and walked to the massive English walnut desk nestled in the corner by two banks of bookshelves, giving him height, width and breadth. Did he feel it, too, the strange thickening of air in the room? Did he need the exterior props to shield himself from it? Or did the viscous atmosphere originate with him? He pivoted to face her and skewered her with a dark glare.

“I need a wife.”

“Pardon me?” As her foot slapped the floor, Cathlynn was sure her mouth hung open with disbelief. She leaned forward. Did he expect her to marry him, or just play the part?

“I need a wife,” he said as if it were a perfectly normal thing to say. Chilling apprehension snaked coldly through her. The man was insane!

With his chin cradled over a fist, he cocked his head and looked her up and down. His slow appraising look made Cathlynn feel like one of the antiques he’d put up for auction this afternoon. “Your coloring and height are about right, and you seem to have fooled Sterling.”

“Fooled Sterling about what?” Then it hit her. “You think I look like your wife?”

“Sterling thinks so, and that’s what’s important.”

Cathlynn rose from her chair, sliding her gloves on. “I didn’t come here to discuss my looks, to fool anyone, or to get engaged. I want the Aidan Heart, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Thirteen years is a long time and the changes are plausible,” Jonas continued as if he hadn’t heard her. His gaze lingered disquietingly on the curves of her body. “Alana was raised in Boston, so even your accent works.”

“Thank you for your unadulterated show of approval. Now, about the Aidan Heart—”

“How much is two weeks of your life worth to you?” he snapped sharply, like a man who’d made a decision and didn’t intend to have it contradicted.

“Excuse me?” Again, Jonas’s unmitigated gall caught her off guard. My God, he meant it. She saw it on his face, the uncompromising look of a man used to getting his way.

“Two weeks, how much is that worth to you?”

Cathlynn sank to the chair and sat primly on the unyielding surface, elbows on the armrests. She held her chin high and looked him straight in the eye. “More than you can afford.”

The fluid unfurling of tensed muscles as he rounded the desk and came toward her had her blood tripping through her veins at high speed. What fuse had she lit now?

Cathlynn had the compelling urge to jump up and run, but held her ground. She’d show him she was just as strong as he was.

He leaned down, placing his hands on her chair’s armrest, his fingers brushing her arms accidentally, striking her like hot lightning. He trapped her there with his aura of power and physical might. The heat of his breath caressed her cheek, turning a wave of trepidation in her stomach. His woodsy scent caused a ripple of turbulence along her skin. The cyclone in his storm-darkened eyes pierced her soul and whirled a myriad of sensations, chief among them an acute feeling of danger.