The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
this morning. He told Monsieur LeBon an urgent business matter had come up at home that required his immediate attention. He also instructed us to hold your room for you until you return.”
For the second time in less than ten minutes, Sarah’s stomach took a dive.
“Did he...? Did he leave a message for me?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, ma’am.”
“I see. Thank you.”
The hand holding the phone dropped to her lap. Once again she stared blindly at the dazzling white peak. Long moments later, she gave her head a little shake and pushed off the bench.
Gina needed her. They’d work on her problem first. Then, maybe, work on Sarah’s. When she was calmer and could put this business with Dev in some kind of perspective.
* * *
The scene that greeted her when she walked into the Rebstock’s lobby did nothing to promote a sense of calm. If anything, she was jolted into instant outrage by the sight of a tawny-haired stranger brutally gripping one of Gina’s wrists. She was hammering at him with her free fist. The receptionist dithered ineffectually behind the counter.
“What are you doing?”
Sarah flew across the lobby, her hands curled into talons. She attacked from the side while Gina continued to assault the front. Between them, they forced the stranger to hunch his shoulders and shield his face from fifteen painted, raking fingernails.
“Hey! Back off, lady.”
“Let her go!”
Sarah got in a vicious swipe that drew blood. The man, whom she now suspected was the overbearing, obnoxious ambassador, cursed.
“Jesus! Back off, I said!”
“Not until you let Gina go.”
“The hell I will! She’s got some explaining to do, and I’m not letting her out of my sight until...”
He broke off, as startled as Sarah when she was thrust aside by 180 pounds of savage male.
“What the...?”
That was all Mason got out before a fist slammed into his jaw. He stumbled back a few steps, dragging Gina with him, then took a vicious blow to the midsection that sent him to his knees.
Still, he wouldn’t release Gina’s wrist. But instead of fighting and twisting, she was now on her knees beside him and waving her free hand frantically.
“Dev! Stop!”
Sarah was terrified her sister might be hurt in the melee. Or the baby. Dear God, the baby. She leaped forward and hung like a monkey from Dev’s arm.
“For God’s sake, be careful! She’s pregnant!”
The frantic shout backed Dev off but produced the opposite reaction in Mason. His brown eyes blazing, he wrenched Gina around to face him.
“Pregnant? What the hell is this? When you called me last night, all weepy and hysterical, you said you’d just come back from the clinic.”
“I had just come back from the clinic!”
“Then what...?” His glance shot to her stomach, ripped back to her face. “You didn’t do it?”
“I...I couldn’t.”
“But you couldn’t be bothered to mention that little fact before I walked out on a critical floor vote, jumped a plane and flew all night to help you through a crisis you also didn’t bother to tell me about until last night.”
“So I didn’t choose my words well,” Gina threw back. “I was upset.”
“Upset? You were damned near incoherent.”
“And you were your usual arrogant self. Let me go, dammit.”
She wrenched her wrist free and scrambled to her feet. Mason followed her up, his angry glance going from her to their small but intensely interested audience. His eyes narrowed on Sarah.
“You must be the sister.”
“I... Yes.”
His jaw working, he shifted to Dev. “Who the hell are you?”
“The sister’s fiancé.”
“What!” Gina’s shriek ricocheted off the walls. “Since when?”
“It’s a long story,” Sarah said weakly. “Why don’t we, uh, go someplace a little more private and I’ll explain.”
“Let’s go.” Gina hooked an arm through Sarah’s, then whirled to glare at the two men. “Not you. Not either of you. This is between me and my sister.”
It wasn’t, but Dev yielded ground. Mason was forced to follow suit, although he had to vent his feelings first.
“You, Eugenia Amalia Therése St. Sebastian, are the most irresponsible, irritating, thickheaded female I’ve ever met.”
Her nostrils flaring, Gina tilted her chin in a way that would have made the duchess proud. “Then aren’t you fortunate, Ambassador, that I refused to marry you.”
* * *
Her regal hauteur carried her as far as the stairwell. Abandoning it on the first step, she yanked on Sarah’s arm to hurry her up to their room. Once inside, she let the door slam and thrust her sister toward the sofa wedged into the turret sitting room.
“Sit.” She pointed a stern finger. “Talk. Now.”
Sarah sat, but talking didn’t come easy. “It’s a little difficult to explain.”
“No, it’s not. Start at the beginning. When and where did you meet Dev?”
“In New York. At my office. When he came to show me the surveillance video of you lifting his Byzantine medallion.”
Gina’s jaw sagged. “What Byzantine...? Oh! Wait! Do you mean that little gold-and-blue thingy?”
“That little gold-and-blue thingy is worth more than a hundred thousand pounds.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I was. What did you do with it, Gina?”
“I didn’t do anything with it.”
“Dev’s surveillance video shows the medallion sitting on its stand when you sashay up to the display shelves. When you sashay away, the medallion’s gone.”
“Good grief, Sarah, you don’t think I stole it, do you?”
“No, and that’s what I told him from day one.”
“He thinks I stole it?”
The fury that flashed in her eyes didn’t bode well for Devon Hunter.
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Sarah lied. “What matters is that the medallion’s missing. Think, sweetie, think. Did you lift it off its stand? Or knock it off by accident, so it fell behind the shelves, maybe?”
“I did lift it, but I just wanted to feel the surface. You know, rub a thumb over that deep blue enamel.” Her forehead creased in concentration. “Then I heard someone coming and... Oh, damn! I must have slipped it into my pocket. It’s probably still there.”
“Gina!” The two syllables came out on a screech. “How could you not remember slipping a twelfth-century Byzantine medallion in your pocket?”
“Hey, I didn’t know it was a twelfth-century anything. And I’d just taken the pregnancy test that morning, okay? I was a little rattled. I’m surprised I made it to work that evening, much less managed to smile and orchestrate Hunter’s damned