Free The Bride Who Wouldn't by Carol Marinelli Page B

around the ruby are much earlier art forms. I would say this would be a culmination of a life’s knowledge.” He saw Isaak frown, and he got up, opened a safe, and took out a ring.
    “This,” the jeweller explained, “is my masterpiece. The diamond was mined in Russia and the cutter took years to decide how best to approach it. When I bought the stone it took a number of years before I decided on the setting.” He handed it to Isaak who examined it for a long moment. “If I had somehow acquired this diamond twenty or even ten years ago I would not have managed to make something so exquisite.
    “It’s very beautiful,” Isaak said.
    “The day I sell it, I retire,” the jeweller said. “So you see, it’s a lifetime of work.”
    Isaak nodded in understanding. “So I’m probably looking for an elderly jeweller.”
    “I would expect so. It would have either been commissioned or bought at a party where wealthy women would select jewels.”
    “My grandmother came by it many years later than that, and she was a very modest woman.”
    “Let me take some photos, and I will do my best, but a lot of the catalogues from that time have been destroyed.”
    Isaak headed back to the hotel and took some photos of the jewels himself before locking them away and then heading to the library, only there did he give a wry smile.
    Kate’s work was so addictive he’d forgotten how he had intended to spend his day!
    *
    Kate was having a wonderful day of her own.
    First she had been given a long foot massage, which she had actually enjoyed. Then she had lain on a table and her skin had been rubbed and invigorated with ocean salt, and she had rinsed off in a delectable bath. Now she lay on the massage table again, on her back, covered in warm towels as the masseuse worked on her scalp.
    Kate loathed when hairdressers gave her a scalp massage, and she always wanted to tell them to stop but not this afternoon.
    Skilled fingers worked neroli essential oil into her tense scalp till her head did not know if it were resting on the pillow or being held in the masseuse’s hands, so relaxed was she.
    It was sublime.
    Her arms were massaged slowly right down to her fingers.
    Was it the skill of the masseuse or that she had told another her most shameful secret that somehow allowed her limbs to turn to liquid?
    Kate lay on her stomach now, wearing only the small paper panties she had been given. A week ago, this level of exposure would have horrified her, but now she allowed herself to indulge in the heady sensation of deep relaxation. After her massage, Kate sat in her warm, white robe and drank water and herbal tea, and then she took the lift to their suite.
    Isaak was not there.
    She checked the safe, wondering if he was out researching the jewellery; but the pieces were all there, and when she saw the earrings, Kate couldn’t resist and took out the simple studs she usually wore and put the others in.
    They were magnificent.
    Drop chandeliers, they glistened in the afternoon sunlight, and Kate closed the drapes and lay on the top of the bed, her eyelids heavy, her limbs loose, not asleep but far from alert.
    “Sorry.” She went to get up when she heard the click of the door and Isaak came in.
    “Stay,” he said.
    Kate lay there and it was as if she was floating on a cloud.
    “How was your spa day?”
    “Amazing,” Kate said. “How was your day?”
    “Interesting, frustrating,” Isaak replied. “I spoke with a jeweller, and he gave me a couple of suggestions. I’d like to hear what you found out when you went to Russia,” Isaak said. “But not now, just rest.” He lay on the bed beside her, his hands behind his head, trying to fathom the mystery of his grandmother. He simply had to find out. Isaak was used to rapid answers, instant gratification, and it gnawed at his gut that he might never know.
    There was a chink of light where she hadn’t fully closed the drapes and the low late afternoon sun found them and got into their