Midnight in Ruby Bayou by Elizabeth Lowell Read Free Book Online

curiosity she had felt the first time she had seen the quiet, easy-moving man with the soft voice and slow speech. He had struck her as unassuming, almost shy, but according to her sister-in-law Lianne, Walker’s nerve and quick thinking had saved the day when the Donovans had conducted a midnight raid on an island to recover a priceless, stolen jade shroud.
    â€œTweezers?” Walker asked.
    She fished around in another belly drawer and handed over a long pair of tweezers with an angle on the pinching ends.
    He took the tool without looking up from the single stone that burned like an ember against the backdrop of stark white paper. Whistling tunelessly, he positioned one of the goose-necked work lamps, held the ruby between his eye and the intense light, and looked through the loupe.
    It was like falling into another universe, an alien, exquisite universe where red was the only reality, the only meaning, the only god.
    The slight irregularities and “silk” inside the stone twisted light into new directions. Every faint impurity reassured Walker. Only man was obsessed with perfection. Natural rubies were created from the heart of planetary fire, a volcano’s seething, secret, molten blood transforming ordinary rock into something extraordinary, unearthly. Yet traces of the earthly beginnings always remained.
    It was those imperfections Walker sought and savored. Each small flaw, each slight patch of silk, told him that the bloodred gem he held came from a distant, ancient mine rather than one of man’s clever, high-tech laboratories.
    â€œWell?” Faith asked.
    â€œNice red.”
    â€œI can see that for myself.”
    â€œJust enough silk to tell me that it hasn’t been cooked by some Bangkok gem chef or created by U.S. labs.”
    â€œI could have told you that. The stones were taken from old Montegeau family jewelry.”
    Walker’s dark eyebrows shifted. “Must have been some real wealthy old Montegeaus. South Carolina?” he asked, because some curiosity would be expected. Archer had already filled him in on the basics.
    â€œHow did you know?” Faith asked.
    He tried to think of a short way to explain that the Montegeaus had been the local gentry of his childhood, the rich folks whose house had always glittered like a crystal palace in the long nights when he had stalked the marshes and bayous, hunting for something edible.
    â€œI was a kid in South Carolina. Montegeaus were like gators—worth a lot on the hoof, always around, and sometimes real nasty.”
    â€œI thought alligators were protected.”
    â€œSugar, ain’t nothing protected from a hungry man.”
    Faith’s head snapped up again. She saw instantly that Walker hadn’t called her “sugar” just to yank her chain. He probably hadn’t even realized what he said. He was whistling tunelessly again, totally focused on the gemstone burning in the tweezers’ delicate steel grip. Idly she wondered how many of his women he called “sugar,” and if he did it so he wouldn’t have to remember their names. Like Tony, whose all-purpose “baby” had covered a patchy memory for who he was with, especially when he was drinking.
    The memory sent a frisson of unease over her, like a chill breath across her forearms. She reminded herself that her life with Tony was over. She had learned her lesson. Picking a man because he was big and brawny enough to stand above her older brothers had been stupid. But she had wanted to prove to her family—and herself—that she could find a mate they respected, just like Honor had.
    After her twin married, Faith had felt adrift and alone. She and Honor had shared so many firsts with each other, from bras to boyfriends to driver’s licenses. No longer, though. Honor and Jake were a unit, parents of a wonderful little girl called Summer. The sisters still talked, still laughed together, still loved each other as