“Happy birthday, Courtney.”

  It was Slayde’s voice, deep and resonant, that reached her ears, and Courtney looked past Mr. Scollard to see her future husband emerge from the bedchamber, guiding a weak but beaming man into the room.

  All the color drained from Courtney’s face. “Papa?” she choked out.

  Arthur Johnston took the remaining steps on his own, holding out his arms to his daughter. “Courtney—” His voice broke. “Happy birthday.”

  “Oh, God—Papa.” She rushed to him, hugged him fiercely, tears of joy coursing down her cheeks, drenching his shirt. “You’re alive. Dear God, you’re alive. Not just alive, but here. With me.”

  Amid her emotional litany, she heard her father’s murmured assent, felt the trembling of his hand as he stroked her hair. Desperately, she focused on that reassuring motion, the gentle pressure of his palm tangible evidence that she wasn’t dreaming, that this impossibly wonderful illusion was in fact reality.

  It was the slight falter in his touch that brought her head up.

  “Papa, you’re weak. You need to rest.” Capturing his hand, Courtney guided him into a chair, then knelt at his feet, afraid to look away, afraid that, if she did, he’d vanish. “You look so thin, so tired…”

  Arthur Johnston leaned forward, patted his daughter’s cheek. “I’ll mend,” he said quietly. “Just seeing you is enough to ensure that. Now stop worrying.”

  “I’d given up,” she whispered. “I’d stopped praying for this miracle. But it’s occurred nonetheless. The watch…it wasn’t wrong…and today—it wasn’t just Slayde and me that made it start anew. ’Twas you…the fact that you’re here…alive…” Knowing words could never convey all she longed to explain, she tugged the timepiece from her pocket, opened the case. “It stopped the day you went overboard,” she got out, her voice quavering. “Several times, it moved, only to stop again. And then this morning, it resumed—for good.” She studied her father’s beloved face, watching tears glide down his cheeks as he absorbed her words, reached out to touch the precious gift his wife had given him all those years ago. “Here, Papa—” Courtney snapped the timepiece shut and pressed it into his palm. “The watch is back where it belongs—with you.”

  Reflexively, her father’s fingers closed around the engraved case. “Yet another miracle.” He bent to kiss Courtney’s forehead. “Not only have you been restored to me, but now your mother has as well.”

  Still dazed, Courtney struggled to think straight, to ask all she needed to know. “How did you survive? How did you find me?”

  A muscle worked in her father’s jaw. “I owe my life to Lexley,” he said fervently. “It was his loyalty and courage that gave me a fighting chance. He severed as many of my bonds as he dared before casting me to sea. The remaining bonds, I managed on my own. The currents were with me; they dragged me into a peaceful inlet, where I crawled on shore and collapsed for Lord knows how long. Eventually, a fisherman found me, brought me home. He and his family took me in, gave me food and as much care as they were able. I don’t remember much; I faded in and out of consciousness.” Again, Courtney’s father leaned forward, smoothing her hair off her face, pain lancing his weathered features. “I kept seeing flashes of you, crying, weak and bandaged, needing me. And your mother, begging me to help you. Twice, I crawled from the house—I suppose I was delirious with fever—to look for you. Each time, I collapsed. I’d all but given up when Mr. Rayburn located me.

  “Mr. Rayburn?” Courtney gasped.

  Her response elicited that cherished twinkle she loved so much and had thought gone forever. “Um-hum. You asked how I found you. Well, my future son-in-law hired one hell of a fine investigator. Rayburn unearthed me within two days of searching. The news he gave me—that you were alive, cared for—was the best medicine on earth. The next day when Slayde came to fetch me, I was more than ready for the carriage ride from Cornwall to Devonshire. He brought me to Mr. Scollard’s lighthouse. That’s when we decided on this birthday surprise.” A grin in Aurora’s direction. “I never thought Lady Aurora would keep it to herself.”

  Courtney’s head whipped about. “You knew?” she demanded of Aurora.

  A beatific smile. “I knew. In fact, yesterday when you were being fitted for your wedding dress, I managed to sneak Mr. Lexley down here for a little reunion with your father. The three of us and Mr. Scollard had a grand time. And with each cup of Mr. Scollard’s tea, your father grew stronger.”

  “Speaking of which, what’s in that brew, anyway?” Courtney’s father asked Scollard. “I feel more fit by the minute.”

  “Well, of course,” was the matter-of-fact reply. “You need to regain your strength. How else would you be able to walk Courtney down the aisle?”

  “You notice he didn’t answer your question, Mr. Johnston,” Aurora commented. “ ’Tis his way. It means he likes you.”

  “He must. He’s building that cottage for me.”

  “For you?” Courtney’s breath suspended in her throat.

  “Well, certainly for me. You’re not going to need it. You’ll have a huge estate to keep you busy. But I need a place to stay when I’m on shore.”

  “You can stay at Pembourne with us.”

  Her father shook his head. “Not for the amount of time I have in mind. I’ll need a place of my own. Besides, I promised you a birthday gift as well, remember? Even if Lady Aurora did steal away half of it.” He grinned at Tyrant, who was lapping up stray droplets of tea and becoming more energetic by the minute.

  “Papa, you promised me only a week,” Courtney reminded him. “I’d never ask for more than that.”

  “Well, I would,” he replied gruffly. “I want many, many weeks—months—in the years to come.”

  “But—the sea is your life.”

  “Only a portion of my life. I want time for the other portion as well—on land, with you.” A hard swallow. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my grandchildren grow up for all the oceans in the world.”

  “Excellent,” Mr. Scollard inserted. “Because the cottage will be fully built by the time Courtney and Slayde return from their wedding trip.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Courtney’s father replied with solemn gratitude. “You’re an astounding man. From what I understand, you helped Slayde figure out where I was, and for that I’m eternally in your debt.”

  “Don’t be. ’Twas Slayde’s belief, not my vision, that brought you here.”

  “I agree.” Arthur’s gaze returned to his daughter. “Courtney, I’d all but given up, too. Were it not for the remarkable man you’re to marry—who made sure I was found and brought back to you—I’m not sure I would have endured much longer.”

  For the first time, Courtney allowed herself to look at Slayde, having known from the onset that once she did, every shred of her composure would vanish. “Thank you,” she said in an aching whisper. She felt her father squeeze her hands, then release them, a silent conveyance of his approval and understanding.

  Courtney rose, walking toward her future husband, gazing up at him with her heart in her eyes. “I love you,” she choked, her voice breaking as she reached him, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Slayde enfolded her against him, hugging her fiercely to his heart. “You just did.”

  Courtney closed her eyes, savoring the absolute rightness of Slayde’s embrace, the exquisite balm of being surrounded by those she loved, beckoned by a future that held naught but happiness. No other moment can ever be this perfect, she thought fervently. This over-whelming sense of joy was an incomparable, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

  She was wrong.

  Five days later, on her father’s arm, Courtney knew an even greater joy as, clad in exquisite yards of white and silver, she walked down the aisle of a small Devonshire chapel and, before God and man, became Mrs. Slayde Huntley.

  The chapel was filled to capacity, the wedding attended by the entire Pembourne staff—including Rayburn, Oridge, Cutterton, and a swarm
of guards, all of whom were relaxed for the first time in ages, secure in the knowledge that, just this once, neither Courtney nor Aurora had any intention of bolting. At the head of the chapel were Lexley and Mr. Scollard, beaming from ear to ear and, of course, Aurora, her face aglow, her smile wrapping itself around Courtney as it declared them sisters.

  Courtney’s heart swelled as she reached Slayde’s side, saw the pride and love reflected on his handsome face. He held out his hand to her, then paused, giving Arthur Johnston a reassuring look that told Courtney’s father all he needed to know—that his child would be loved and protected for the rest of her life. With an answering smile, her father squeezed Courtney’s arm and turned her over to the man she loved.

  They exchanged vows, Slayde’s voice strong and sure, her own equally certain, their gazes locked as Slayde slid the gold band onto the fourth finger of her left hand.

  “Two halves, now a far greater whole,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his.

  “Far greater.” Tears shimmered on Courtney’s lashes. “Greater than all life’s obstacles combined.” She swallowed. “I love you, Slayde.”

  Slayde’s eyes darkened and, defying protocol yet again, he framed Courtney’s face between his palms, lowered his mouth to hers for a deep, binding kiss. “God, I love you, Mrs. Huntley.”

  As if on cue, the entire chapel rang with applause.

  Chuckling, Slayde raised his head, capturing Courtney’s hand in his. “Come, love,” he said, “I believe our future awaits.”

  With that, he guided his bride into the throng of well-wishers.

  And the Huntley name lived on.

  A Biography of Andrea Kane

  Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty-five novels—including fourteen historical and twelve contemporary novels—that have been published in sixteen countries and translated into more than twenty languages. Whether she’s writing about Regency England, America on the brink of civil war, or New York Police Department detectives caught up in mayhem and murder, Kane’s ability to create unforgettable stories has earned her a loyal worldwide following.

  Kane published My Heart’s Desire, her first historical novel and the first book in the Barrett Family series, in 1991. Others quickly followed, including Samantha, the second book in that series; Echoes in the Mist and Whispers in the Wind (the Kingsley in Love series); and the acclaimed Black Diamond, Thornton-Bromleigh Family, and Colby Coin series. Stand-alone historic romances include Dream Castle (1992), Masque of Betrayal (1993), Emerald Garden (1996), and The Music Box (1998).

  Kane’s groundbreaking romantic thriller Run for Your Life (2000) became an instant New York Times bestseller. This was followed by a series of suspense novels featuring NYPD detective-turned-private investigator Pete “Monty” Montgomery. Kane’s current contemporary series introduced FBI special agents Sloane Burbank and Derek Parker. Other thrillers include No Way Out, Scent of Danger, Twisted, I’ll Be Watching You, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice, and, most recently, The Line Between Here and Gone.

  Kane is a self-proclaimed “cerebral” type, and prides herself on her questioning, analytical mind, which has led to her passion for mysteries. She has spent many happy hours with the classic novels of Agatha Christie, trying to outsmart Hercule Poirot.

  She is also a die-hard sentimentalist. She cries at old movies and believes in striving for happily-ever-after. In Kane’s words: “The idealist in me loves writing romance, and the pragmatist in me loves writing suspense. I feel very fortunate that I’m able to combine the two, and give you books that keep you at the edge of your seat, but at the same time, make you care.”

  Kane lives in New Jersey with her family.

  Andrea Kane as a little girl, with her first puppy, Inky, named for the black spots on his white back.

  An eight-year-old Kane, a proud sleepaway camper for the first time.

  A photo from Kane’s trip to the Thousand Islands (on the border of Canada and the United States) to research and write My Heart’s Desire. Kane toured the area by boat.

  Kane and her husband, Brad, trying to simulate a novel’s cover pose while wearing period clothing.

  Kane and her daughter, Wendi, outside Buckingham Palace during a weeklong research trip to England in 1998.

  Kane and her daughter at Cinderella’s Castle at Walt Disney World Resort. Kane believes that the castle is the most romantic place for creative inspiration.

  The first Kane family cruise, to Bermuda: rough waters but happy faces.

  Kane posing with friends in various period costumes.

  Kane’s publication party and her first book signing for the release of My Heart’s Desire in 1991.

  Kane’s original New Jersey Romance Writers team; she was first conference chair and then president of the organization.

  Kane and Wendi at the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention in San Antonio, in full costume.

  Acknowledgments

  My thanks go out to:

  The Gemological Institute of America, who graciously provided me with both historical and descriptive data on the rare and ever-mysterious black diamond.

  To Bob, for sharing his watch expertise, his vast library of relevant historical books, and, most of all, his time.

  To Brad and Wendi, my ever-present “rocks” of love and support. When words profound enough to express all that you guys mean to me are invented, I promise to be first in line to claim them. ’Til then, thanks and I love you will have to do. So, thanks…I love you with all my heart.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  copyright © 1997 by Andrea Kane

  cover design by Heidi North

  978-1-4532-6554-3

  This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media

  180 Varick Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com

  EBOOKS BY ANDREA KANE

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  Andrea Kane, Legacy of the Diamond

  (Series: Black Diamond # 1)

 

 


 

 
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