A lively plot involving a missing black diamond is weakened by sappy characters in this Regency romance by the author of Wishes in the Wind. When Slayde Huntley, Earl of Pembourne, receives notes demanding ransom for his missing sister, he hands the costly but possibly accursed jewel over to a pirate. He quickly discovers that the woman delivered to him is a kidnapped look-alike, and that his sister has been gallivanting about London unharmed. Courtney Johnston, the daughter of a sea captain, is stunned to awaken in the earl's home and to realize that her father may be dead. She and Slayde team up to catch the pirate, who may also be linked to the slayings of the earl's parents ten years earlier. Although readers may enjoy unraveling the trail of clues, the central romance bogs down as the characters talk about their feelings at tiresome length and in clichd terms ("You've spent your whole life being strong for others. 'Tis about time you allowed someone to be strong for you. Thank you for letting me be that someone-even for a fleeting moment"). (Feb.) FYI: A sequel, The Black Diamond, will be published in late '97.
Legacy of the Diamond
Narrated by Sasha Higgins
Andrea KaneUnabridged
Legacy of the Diamond
Narrated by Sasha Higgins
Andrea KaneUnabridged
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Overview
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940192120873 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Tantor Audio |
| Publication date: | 09/17/2024 |
| Series: | The Black Diamond , #1 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
Chapter 1
Devonshire, England
May 1817
It was the third ransom note in as many days, the fifth in a week, but only the second that rang true.
Pembourne:The exchange will be made tonight. Eleven P.M. Ten miles due south of Dartmouth -- in the open waters of the English Channel. Take a small, unarmed boat. Come alone, accompanied only by the diamond. Heed these instructions or your sister will die.
Shoving the terse message back into his coat pocket, Slayde Huntley, the ninth Earl of Pembourne, gripped the wheel of his fishing vessel with one hand, simultaneously tilting his timepiece toward the dim light of the lantern. By his calculations, he'd traveled more than nine of those ten miles. He steeled himself for the confrontation ahead, maneuvering the boat deeper into the fog-shrouded waters of the channel, waters far too choppy for a boat this size.
He should have brought the brig. Every instinct in his body cried out that not only was this craft unsuited for rough seas, its very construction left him utterly vulnerable to the enemy. But the kidnapper's message had been precise. And, instincts or not, Slayde dared not disobey for fear of jeopardizing his sister's life.
Aurora.
The thought of her being held by some filthy pirate made Slayde's skin crawl. For the umpteenth time, he berated himself for falling short in his responsibilities, for allowing this unprecedented atrocity to occur. In the decade since he'd become Aurora's guardian, he'd successfully isolated her from the world and, despite his own frequent and prolonged absences, ensured her safety by hiring an army of servants whose fundamental roles wde's muscles go taut. Eyes narrowed, he searched the murky waters, seeking the outline of a ship.
At last it came.
Steadying his craft, Slayde waited while the ship drew closer.
As anticipated, it was a brigantine, moderate sized, but well manned and, doubtless, well armed. The whole situation was almost comical, he thought, his mouth twisting bitterly. Here he was, miles from shore, alone and unprotected in a meager fishing craft, being challenged by a hostile vessel ten times his boat's size that was now closing in, primed and ready to blast him out of the water in a heartbeat.
And there wasn't a bloody thing he could do to save himself.
Except surrender the gem and pray Aurora was on that ship, unharmed.
"Pembourne -- I see you followed instructions. Hopefully, all of them." The kidnapper's raspy voice cut the fog as his ship drew directly alongside Slayde's. "Did you bring the black diamond?"
Slayde tilted back his head, wishing the mist would lift so he could make out the bastard's features. "I have it."
"Good. If that's true, you'll remain alive. I'll send my first mate down to fetch it."
There was a whooshing noise, followed by the slap of a rope ladder as its bottom rungs struck the deck of Slayde's boat.
"Where's Aurora?" Slayde demanded, his fingers inching toward his waistcoat pocket -- and the pistol he'd concealed there.
"Halt!" the kidnapper's order rang out. "Touch that weapon and you'll die where you stand."
An electrified silence. Slowly, Slayde's hand retraced its path to his side.
The harsh voice commended: "A wise decision, Pembourne. As for your sister, she's being brought topside. Ah, here she is now."
As he spoke, two men dragged a struggling woman onto the main deck. She was of slight build. Her arms were tied behind her, and a strip of cloth covered her eyes.
It could be Aurora -- but was it?
Slayde squinted, intent on discerning the woman's identity. He had little time to do so, for she was shoved unceremoniously into a sack, bound within its confines, and tossed over the shoulder of the first mate.
"Wait," Slayde said as the man began his descent down the ladder's rungs.
The first mate paused.
Addressing the shadowy form on the deck above, Slayde inquired icily, "What proof do I have that the person in that sack is my sister?"
"None," the captain retorted, a taunt in his tone. "It appears you'll have to take me at my word."
Slayde's jaw set. He was on the verge of revoking his earlier claim that he'd brought the diamond with him, ready to swear that it was, in truth, ensconced at Pembourne Manor, when his gaze fell on the squirming sack on the first mate's arm. From the partially open end at the top, several long tresses tumbled free, hair whose color not even the fog could disguise.
A shimmering golden red.
Aurora.
Reassured that his efforts were about to be rewarded, Slayde nodded his compliance, now eager to complete the transaction and be gone. Aware he was being scrutinized, he allowed none of his impatience to show, instead remaining impassive while the first mate completed his descent and paused three rungs above Slayde's deck.
"The diamond, m'lord," the sailor requested, extending his hand.
Wordlessly, Slayde studied him, noting -- with some firs degree of surprise -- the twinge of regret on the first mate's face; it was almost as if the rogue were being forced to act against his will.
"Pleas e, Lord Pembourne," the sailor reiterated, balking beneath Slayde's probing stare, "the stone."
"Very well." Deliberately, Slayde leaned forward, slipping his hand inside his boot. "I'm fetching the diamond, not a weapon," he clarified, taking pity on the cowering fellow. "My Hessian is unarmed." So saying, he extracted the gemstone, holding it out so the first mate could see the truth to his words.
Relief flashed on the weathered features.
"Take it, Lexley," the captain bit out.
With a start, Lexley jerked forward, snatching the diamond from Slayde's palm.
Simultaneously, the woman in the sack began struggling furiously, catching Lexley off guard and toppling from his arms.
With a sickening crack, the sack smashed against the boom of the fishing boat, the impact hurling it outward, where it plummeted down to the railing below.
It hit with a hollow thud.
Slayde lunged forward, grasping nothing but air as the small craft pitched, upsetting his balance and butting the sack yet again, this time overboard.
A glint of silver struck his deck.
Then, an ominous splash as the sack plunged headlong into the rolling waves and vanished.
"Dear God." Lexley made an instinctive move toward the water.
"Get back on board," the captain bellowed. "Now."
The first mate froze. "M'lord -- " He turned terrified eyes to Slayde. "You must..."
Slayde never heard the rest of the sentence. Having regained his balance, he charged forward, pausing only to gauge the distance to the enveloping swells that divulged the sack's location.
Then he dove.
He sliced the surface in one clean stroke and was swallowed up by darkness.
"Please, God," Lexley prayed, staring at the foam in Slayde's wake, "let hi m save her. And God -- please forgive me."
With that, he scooted up the ladder and onto his ship, dragging the ladder in his wake.
Slayde propelled himself downward, groping blindly in the pitch-black seas. The eclipsing combination of fog and night made it impossible to distinguish anything. He could only pray his calibrations had been right.
Perhaps his prayers were heard.
With a surge of triumph, Slayde felt the coarse edge of the sack brush his fingertips. He latched on to it, hauling the cumbersome bag against him, locking it securely to his body. Kicking furiously, he battled both the weight of his own water-logged clothing and the additional constraint of his unwieldy bundle.
After what seemed like an eternity, he broke the surface. Gasping in air, he heaved the sack over the edge of the deck, then hoisted himself up after it.
The sack thudded softly, then lay motionless.
Kneeling, Slayde was only minimally aware of the rapidly retreating brig, far too worried about Aurora to concern himself with the fate of his gem. His fingers shook as he gripped the loosely tied cord atop the sack, cursing as the wet fibers resisted, ripped at his flesh.
He whipped out his blade, slashing the material from top to bottom, shoving it aside to give him access to the woman within.
She lay face down, her breeches and shirt clinging to her body, masses of wet red-gold hair draped about her.
He rested his palm on her back.
She wasn't breathing.
Shifting until he was crouched at her head, Slayde cut the bonds at her wrists, folded her arms, and pillowed them beneath her cheek. Then he pressed down between her shoulder blades -- hard -- finishing the motion by lifting her elbows in a despera te attempt to force water from her lungs.
He repeated the action five times before he was rewarded with a harsh bout of coughing.
"Shhh, it's all right." Relieved as hell, Slayde shifted again, trying to soothe the wracking shudders that accompanied her coughs, determinedly helping her body expel all the water she'd swallowed and replace it with air.
At last, she lay still, unconscious but breathing, battered but alive.
Gently, he eased her onto her back, now taking the time to assess her injuries, simultaneously releasing her from the confines of imprisonment. Broken ribs were a certainty, he thought with a grim scowl, given the force with which she struck the boat. A concussion was a distinct probability as well. Not to mention cuts, bruises -- and Lord knew what else. His mind racing, Slayde tucked aside her hair and pulled the obscuring cloth from her eyes.
Blinding realization was followed by a savage curse.
The young woman was not Aurora.
Copyright © 1997 by Andrea Kane