AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She cleared her throat. “My brother gave it to me on our fifteenth birthday.”
He stiffened. “Kilbourne?”
“Yes.”
Maximus looked down, thinking. The murderer had been cautious. Maximus had only discovered the first drop nearly ten years after the murder. By tracing back through the sale of the drop, he’d realized that the jewel had only been originally sold months before. Unfortunately, that drop had been a dead end—quite literally. The owner of the original pawnshop where the emerald drop had been sold was found lying in a pool of his own blood.
Maximus had bought the last pendant over three years ago. Likely the murderer had begun to realize that Maximus was collecting the jewels—and that they might provide a link back to the murderer.
But if Artemis was correct, then the jewel she wore had come into the possession of her brother before the other drops had begun to be sold.
Before the murderer knew how dangerous the jewels were to him.
Kilbourne might have the clue to help him find the murderer. He might even know the murderer himself.
Maximus’s head snapped up. “Who did your brother get it from?”
“I don’t know,” she said simply. “He never said. I didn’t realize it was a real emerald until I tried to pawn it a couple of months ago.”
He stared at the emerald for a long moment before rising from the bed and going to the iron box on his bedside table. He took the key from a hidden drawer in the table and opened the box. The top held a shallow tray, perfectly fitted to the inside. He’d had it lined in black velvet. On it lay what remained of his mother’s most prized possession: the Wakefield emeralds.
He felt Artemis come up beside him to look, and then she took his hand and pressed the emerald pendant into his palm. He wrapped his fingers about her hand for a moment before letting go, suddenly realizing what she’d given him: the missing piece to Old Scratch. With this he might be able to find who the man really was. Maximus swallowed, reluctant to look at her, for it wasn’t only gratitude that swelled within his chest.
Gratitude was the least of the emotions he felt for her.
He laid the pendant in its place beside her sisters.
“There’s one still missing,” she said, leaning her head on his arm.
The pendants lay in an arc around the central chain with one noticeable gap.
“Yes. The one Old Scratch wears at his throat.” He closed the box and locked it again. “When I have it, I intend to have them all reattached.”
“And then you’ll give it to Penelope,” she said quietly.
He flinched. Truly, he’d never thought that far ahead. Finding and restoring the necklace, bringing his parents’ murderer to justice, and achieving some kind of redemption occupied all his thoughts. He hadn’t considered what—if anything—came afterward.
But she was right. The necklace belonged to the Duchess of Wakefield.
He turned to look at her, this woman who had given her body and perhaps her soul to him. This woman who knew him like no other on earth. This woman he could never, never honor as he should.
As he wanted to. “Yes.”
“Penelope will like it,” Artemis said, her voice very calm, her beautiful eyes wide and unblinking. She was always brave, his Diana. “She loves jewels, and the emeralds are magnificent. She’ll look gorgeous in them.”
Her very bravery broke something inside of him. She showed no trace of jealousy, no rage that he might bed another woman, and somehow that made him want to break her, too. To make her say how obscene this was. To make her put her rightful claim on him.
“She’ll be magnificent,” he said cruelly. “Her black hair will make the emeralds glow. Perhaps I’ll buy her emerald earbobs to match.”
She watched him steadily. “Will you?”
And he knew somehow, no matter what happened, that he’d never buy Penelope Chadwicke emerald earbobs. “No.”
He shut his eyes, breathing. If she could withstand this, then so could he. At least he’d have her—no matter that it would be only partially and badly. He could not give her up, so he vowed to take what he could of her.
Maximus closed and locked the box before taking Artemis’s hand and pulling her gently down beside him in the bed. He arranged the covers over her as tenderly as if she were a queen and he a lowly cavalier. “I’ll ask your brother in the morning.”
She huffed and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know you think Apollo is a murderer, but he couldn’t have been part of your parents’ murder. He was much too young.”
