Happy New Year and ... welcome to my first post of 2013.
If you haven't yet read my December ancestral mystery release - Topaz Eyes - here's a chance to read the beginning.
What's it about:
A peculiar invitation to Heidelberg
embroils Keira Drummond in the search for a mysterious collection of
extraordinary jewels once owned by a Mughal Emperor; a hoard that was last
known to be in the possession of Amsterdam
resident, Geertje Hoogeveen, in 1910.
Who among the progeny of Geertje – hitherto unfamiliar third
cousins brought together for the quest – can Keira rely on? Distrust and
suspicion among them is rife.
Which one is greedy, and determined enough, to hire thugs to
tail her… and worse… as she travels to Vienna
and Minnesota? Can Keira even trust Teun Zeger - a
Californian she is becoming very drawn to – as they pair up to unearth the
jewellery?
As they follow a trail of clues, will they uncover the full
collection before the hired gun kills them? Details remain furtive and
undisclosed until danger and death forces their exposure. And who harbours the
ultimate mystery item that is even more precious than the Mughal jewels?
Greed, suspicion and murder are balanced by growing family
loyalty, trust, and love.
Keira Drummond
had found the bizarre request to return to Heidelberg, Germany,
impossible to resist. After almost six years, little had changed on the street
named Steingasse as
she sat looking down towards the Brukentor –
the towers of the old bridge spanning the River Neckar with their
distinctive helmeted tops.
Still tremendously busy, Steingasse
was too narrow for the clutches of tables adorning both sides. Even in the
middle of the street it was difficult to see the cobbles, the pedestrian
traffic a constant procession undulating along its length, since it was one of Heidelberg’s most popular
tourist areas.
Sipping
her coffee, she now had great reservations over accepting the strange summons
and couldn’t fathom the compulsion she’d felt to comply, because caution
normally imprinted itself on her forehead. Now she was in Heidelberg, the circumstances surrounding the
request were even more nebulous, and so shrouded in secrecy. Apprehension that there
was something underhand about it sat heavy in her stomach. She’d yet to meet
her host, and presently wasn’t convinced she wanted to.
“Frei,
or besetzt?”
The abrupt question, in halting
German, startled a smile from her. Free, or occupied, the tall man beside her
was asking? A curve to her lips lingered as he stared, his focus intent. Dull
flutters skittered inside her. Something about the man tripped a little switch,
yet glued her mouth. Shut. The words free, and occupied, adopted whole new
hues.
Her nod was infinitesimal.
Sharing tables in places like this
was the norm; in fact, the waiting staff positively encouraged it, liking their
tables groaning with potential tips. She already shared with a Norwegian couple
who’d been happy for her to take the third seat at the table: the only table in
the vicinity with spares. It would be downright mean of her to deny this man
the fourth.
“Danke.”
His thank you nod encompassed all of
them as he glided a small package and an envelope onto the tabletop, before shrugging
out of his dark grey jacket.
With no conscious intention of being
nosey, it was difficult for Keira to ignore someone who dominated her airspace
as he shuffled around in the impossibly tiny gap. She contemplated the
swallowing of his throat when his glance alighted on her, and then halted.
Interest flared, a widening of his grey eyes accompanied a hint of a smile,
just crinkling the corners of his mouth. Blinking a few times, she considered
looking away but found she couldn’t. It wasn’t impossible, she just didn’t want
to, and it seemed neither did he.
Without breaking eye contact, he
fumbled the jacket over the back of the wrought-iron chair and then squeezed in
as best he could, a tighter smile coming her way.
Irritability, or perhaps
frustration, draped over him as much as his business clothing, the slight pull
at his brows not something she could miss. Before tugging her gaze away, she
returned his smile. She doubted it was the lack of privacy on the street which
bothered the guy, or he’d have moved on to a quieter place.
Alongside her, his fingers idled
then tapped on the table edge as he surveyed the area, his head lifting to
appreciate the architecture, much as she had done a few moments earlier. Taking
stock over his shoulder, by bowing his torso to an uncomfortable angle, he was
also able to view the towers, but before Keira could catch it his envelope
slipped off the table edge, dislodged by his extended fingers. Bending to grasp
it at the same time as he did, she barely avoided a brow collision. Sheer male
and a hint of some kind of herb, assailed her nostrils. She savoured it before
they both moved; his now smiling mouth within centimetres of hers.
“Danke.”
Deep and throaty, the single word of
thanks rippled towards her. She answered in English as she held out the
envelope. “No problem. Here you go.”
“You’re English?”
“Scottish. And you’re American?”
The man laughed, his teeth bright
against the tan of his skin. “I am, though how could you tell my German was
non-native?”
One moment of shared amusement was
enough. Sitting back in her chair, as he did, they began a casual conversation.
Mischief lurked behind her answer. “Mmm. Let’s see which might offend the
least. Hesitation? The wrong ‘a’ sound maybe? Or perhaps it’s just the fact
almost everyone around here isn’t a German native, including most of the wait
staff.”
The raising of his brows stoked a
nice little fire. “How can you possibly make such a judgment?”
“I worked at a wine bar, only a
couple of streets away, for the best part of eight months, right here in the
heart of Heidelberg’s
tourist areas. Though, it was almost six years ago.”
Something about his steel drum gaze,
the twinkle perhaps, indicated she’d impressed him.
“No restaurants to wait tables on in
Scotland?”
“Oh, sure. I waited on plenty of
tables there, too. I attended the university here in Heidelberg, as part of my languages course
and, in the nature of things, had to finance my way. But don’t get me wrong. A
job like that was the best way to improve my fluency.”
“Yeah, but how did you manage if
most people around were non-German?”
“Did I forget to say my boss was
German?” Memories of the slave driver he’d been brought forth another smirk. “I
absorbed a dictionary worth of very nice words from him, I can tell you. And
not the German I learned during seminars along at the university.”
A slight pause descended, the waiter
having arrived at the table. Keira studied the man when his attention moved to
their server. His thick hair was mid-brown, short, yet not so cropped she’d be
unable to slide her fingers through. A nice idea, but she’d no time for
dalliance so why did these errant imaginings even enter her head? Still, she
couldn’t help notice the polite smile he flashed at the waiter before glancing
at her half-full coffee cup. His pointing finger, and questioning glance, she
took to mean did she want another: her simple headshake all he needed before he
placed his beer order in halting German. Economical with words he, nonetheless,
seemed a generous person.
Assessing the character of strangers was a
favourite pastime, and it always pleased when her judgment was spot on.
“Are you impressed? I just ordered
me a beer.”
“I’m guessing your German’s
limited?”
“How much can anyone learn in
transit from London?”
Dark laughter rippled down her nerve endings, though there was an abashment
that didn’t seem to match, because the man oozed masculinity. He flashed a
small phrase book taken from his back pocket.
“My German is worse than
non-existent, and doubly embarrassing since my father was of Dutch descent. Not
the same as German, I know, but I believe some of their words are quite
similar. ”
Her laugh rang along with his, since
it was so easy to join the bandwagon of his mirth. “No lessons in Dutch at your
grandma’s knee?”
“Not a word. The only thing I’ve got
that’s Dutch is my name.”
Keira expected him to introduce
himself. Yet, opportune or not, he didn’t. His gaze lingered, though, just
enough for her to wonder if it was what he expected of her. She chose to resume
the topic of his Dutch ancestry. Her own association with Holland went way back, but in many ways her
knowledge of the language was no better than his. “You’ve never visited Holland?”
“Nope. Never visited Holland: never visited Germany before either. Till around
midday today, I’d never stepped foot in mainland Europe.
The closest I’ve been across the Atlantic have been visits to London.”
“Heidelberg is beautiful, I’m sure you’ll
enjoy being here.” Confidence that he would rang through her tones. It was a
fabulous place to visit, especially for a first visit to Europe
– the architecture and old world splendour spectacular to view.
The man’s smile faltered, his eyes
momentarily clouding as he re-pocketed his phrase book. “Nice thought, but I’m
not so sure I’m going to be here long enough to see the best of it.”
“Your beer, sir!” The waiter’s
chirrup in English halted their conversation when he appeared at the man’s
elbow.
The stranger slid his package and
envelope towards her, clearing off enough space for his beer stein, since the
table was so small. A long pull at the frothy drink brought a satisfied smirk
to his face as he appreciated the chill of it. “I needed that.”
“Even businessmen are due time off to
gallivant just a little, surely?”
A twitch at one side of the man’s
mouth indicated unease with her statement. As a translator she often had to
work one-to-one with people, and though in no way a psychologist, she’d gotten
very good at reading expressions, especially when people couldn’t formulate the
words they needed or were unsure of the meaning of something. Something puzzled
the stranger.
“There’s the hell of it. I’m not
here on business. You?” His personal question sounded as tentative as hers.
“No, I’m not here on business and
not for tourist reasons either.” Keira’s mood dipped, the reminder of her
summons spoiling what was proving to be a pleasant interlude with the stranger.
A bit of mystery hung, and hovered,
as she sipped her coffee and the man glugged his beer. His thirst appeared
great, though he wasn’t in the least bit apologetic about being so driven to
drink. She wished his tongue wouldn’t do that nice little lip-wiping after each
sip. Silent sighs did nothing to quell the temptation to lick off the beer
froth herself. Hmm. She hadn’t been in any kind of relationship for months. Too
long, obviously, since she eyed up this stranger with such relish.
The man’s head whipped back, a
question coming at her in parts, as he again tongued off more beer froth. “If
you were a tourist… with only a few hours to spare… what would you do
first?”
She laughed at his intent stare.
Something lurked in his gaze; most likely nothing to do with a desire to tramp
the cobbled streets of Heidelberg.
Any innuendo wouldn’t embarrass her, though, since she was just as guilty of
ogling. “Hmm. I guess that depends on your tastes.”
His eyes danced over the rim of his
stein as he hesitated, his beer mug held aloft. “Apart from quenching my
obvious dehydration, what do you recommend to see in the near vicinity of Heidelberg?”
Keira became an enthusiastic
guidebook during the next while as she gave him some pointers – all within a
short walk of the Old
Bridge.
The
American’s responses were equally animated until their easy conversation
suddenly faltered. Toying with his beer glass in one hand, he reached for his
envelope in the other. Concentrating on the white paper with fierce intensity,
he fiddled with it as though weighing it up both in his fingers and in his
mind. A tense and awkward silence permeated the air around the two of them,
which was ridiculous really as the area thronged with noise and busy movements.
Abruptly, he snagged her gaze, his
eyebrows a neat little frown. His words rushed out as he set down his beer
before wafting the envelope. “Look. I know you don’t know me, but… if you’re
not busy this evening? With friends, or some kind of appointment, or whatever…”
She couldn’t look away. Could do
nothing but wait. Was this total stranger about to ask her for a date? Or
translate for him? Definitely the disappointing one of the two possibilities.
Except? Could this be an escape clause from the appointment she did have, and
now didn’t want to attend?
His words hung in the air. Agitation
of some sort held him in a tight grip. Strangely, Keira felt it appealing to
witness his hesitation, maybe even vulnerability?
“See, I’ve been given this
invitation right out of the blue, and I wondered if you’d like to accompany me.
If you’re not busy elsewhere?”
The envelope pinged free of his
fingers when a woman at the table behind him stood up, her overstuffed bag
bumping his arm, but the plummeting invitation was only one casualty of the
collision. In her embarrassment to apologize profusely, in what Keira guessed
to be some Eastern European language, the woman grasped the falling envelope
and set it awkwardly onto the table, dislodging his beer stein. Keira squirmed
as a wash of pale gold liquid sloshed right over the envelope, and headed
towards her lap. More apologies, and an even fierier red face, ensued as the
woman extricated herself, and flurried off.
Grabbing napkins from the centre
stand, Keira swabbed the soggy envelope free of beer, before she swiped the
remainder of the flow off the table.
“Don’t worry about it.” The guy’s
grunt barked out as he peeled a card free of the saturated wrapping.
Keira’s breath hitched when she
glanced at the invitation being uncovered, her eyebrows wincing at the
distinctive gilt-edged border and flowery script. This stranger had one of
those invitations, too? An invitation which looked exactly like the bizarre one
she’d received earlier that afternoon. ‘…you
will find it to your advantage to attend the opening of the Myer Gallery.’ A
request which should have seemed positive, yet lacked so much.
An icy shiver skittered all over her
skin, and lodged deep at the base of her spine. Why would a stranger, who’d
randomly sat next to her, have a similar invitation? Heidelberg was a large city. It couldn’t be
good.
Coincidence? She couldn’t make
herself believe it. The flutters she felt invade her now were nothing like the
former desire generated by the stranger; they were of sheer, unadulterated
alarm. The invitation she’d been given, less than two hours before, had caused
her a lot of disquiet when she’d received it, since it had been handed over in
such a peculiar and secretive fashion. That this stranger had a similar card
was so weirdly coincidental there had to be something odd going on. Perhaps
this American had a sinister motive for revealing it? He could have left it in
the soggy wrap. Or was he literally showing his card to lure her into a false
sense of security? Her mind ran amok with many possibilities, but all of them
alarmed her.
While he stared at the card, her
eyes scanned, up and down. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but relief
didn’t come to quell her panic. Patrons still exchanged noisy talk, and a
steady swarm of people trooped along the potholed cobbles, past her table as
before, heading for the riverside. None of them looked furtive, yet she couldn’t
shake off a feeling of unease.
Why had this American not moved on
to another street? Knowing the area from before, it was very likely the next
street along would be less crowded. Was it also coincidental he, too, seemed on
edge and agitated about something? His concentration was intense on the card as
he wiped off the dregs of beer.
The feeling of threat escalated. He
didn’t seem like a stalker – though she’d never confronted one. Yet, the man
must have followed her, and awaited the opportunity to insinuate a meeting. To
gain her agreement to accompany him to the evening event. But why? There had
been too many unanswered questions – by the third party organizer – even before
she’d encountered this American.
His
head turned away to catch the attention of the waiter. Grabbing her purse,
Keira pulled out a few euros to pay for her coffee, and fumbled them beside her cup. Slipping
neatly around the other couple at the table, she sped along Steingasse towards the towers of the Old Bridge, and blended in with the
surge of tourists. She ignored the man’s plea and shouted apology. Let him
believe she’d been annoyed at being drenched with beer, but she wouldn’t stay
one more minute.
Available from: http://amzn.to/RhRWK1
Slainthe!
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