Legacy of the Diamond (Black Diamond 1)

Evidently, the signs of nausea were visible, for the man standing at the wheel pivoted and snatched her up, carrying her to the side of the boat and holding her while wracking spasms seized her, her eyes blinded by tears.

“Papa.” She fought the dizziness, the memories, the unalterable reality. “He’s dead,” she choked out as the roaring in her head intensified. “That monster—he killed him.”

With that, the world tilted askew and everything went black.

Where the hell was Aurora?

Slayde slammed down the pile of ransom notes, having reread them a dozen times and learned nothing in the process.

Bitterly frustrated, he prowled the length of his study, trying to fit the pieces together. It made no sense. Every one of the notes made reference to the black diamond. Yet, if all the kidnapper wanted was the stone, why hadn’t he contacted Slayde and made the exchange, stated his bloody demands? What was he waiting for? Why was he playing with Slayde like a child with a toy?

/> Unless it wasn’t just the gem.

The prospect crept into Slayde’s mind like an odious insect.

Could all those notes be fake? Could whoever had Aurora want something more than just the diamond—something more menacing, like vengeance?

There was only one man who hated Slayde’s family enough to exact such cruel revenge, a man whose thirst to uncover the black diamond and to seek retribution was twisted enough to spawn an action as ugly as this.

Lawrence Bencroft.

Rage surged through Slayde’s veins. The elderly duke was drunk more often than he was sober. Still, that wouldn’t preclude him from…

“Lord Pembourne?”

Slayde snapped about, facing the slight, graying man in the doorway. “Gilbert—how is she?”

The physician removed his spectacles, wiped them with his handkerchief. “Lucky to be alive,” he replied. “Had you reached her any later, she might not have been so fortunate.”

Slayde scowled. “Her injuries are that severe?”

“It’s not her injuries alone, or even the amount of time she spent under water. Her condition prior to the”—Dr. Gilbert cleared his throat discreetly—“accident was deteriorated, to say the least.”

“Stop talking in riddles. Tell me what you found when you examined her.”

“A severe concussion, numerous damaged ribs, several deep lacerations, and a wealth of cuts and bruises. She’s also terribly weak and severely lacking in both food and, most particularly, in water—ironic as that might seem, given the circumstances. In short, she is one very ill young lady.”

“But she’ll recover?” Slayde demanded.

“With the proper food, attention, and—most of all—rest, yes, I believe she’ll recover.” A frown. “Although I’m troubled by the fact that she reverted back to such a deeply unconscious state, despite the fact that I gave her only enough laudanum to dull the pain. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to awaken.”

“That might very well be the case,” Slayde concurred, recalling the girl’s agonized state of mind.

“Well, periodically, she must be roused. Just to ensure that she’s lucid. I explained this to Matilda, who will awaken her in a few hours—unless, of course, she stirs on her own.” The physician shoved his spectacles back into place. “I’ve done all I can, my lord. The rest is up to nature.”

“Please, don’t whimper, child. Whatever it is, it’s over now.”

The crooning female voice seemed to come from far away.

With the greatest of efforts, Courtney’s lashes fluttered.

A heavy-set woman with a neat gray bun was perched at her bedside, leaning forward and frowning as she checked something white that lay directly across Courtney’s brow. “Whatever agony you’ve endured is far more painful than even these wounds,” she muttered, evidently unaware that her patient was conscious. “Poor child.”

“Where am I?” The question emerged in a croak as, once again, Courtney struggled to regain mastery of her body. For the life of her, she couldn’t seem to overcome the pain or clear the fog from her mind.

The woman started. “At last. You’ve awakened.” She sprang to her feet. “His lordship will want to know at once.”

“His lordship?” Courtney repeated vacantly. But her attendant was already dashing out the door.