Free Captive Secrets by Fern Michaels

and walk to the long counter that separated his offices from the entry area.
    The jeweler’s eyes widened at the sight of the girl in her faded, worn dress. He almost ordered her out of his shop—until he saw the stones in her hand. Greedily, he made a move to pluck them from her palm, but the moment he did she closed her hand into a fist.
    â€œI want to sell these. I know they’re worth a lot; how much will you give me?” Amalie said, fixing him with her cat’s eyes.
    â€œWhere did you get these?” the jeweler demanded. “I don’t buy stolen goods.”
    â€œI didn’t steal them; they’re mine. Do you wish to buy them or not?”
    â€œI need to examine them first,” the jeweler said, clearing his throat.
    Amalie opened her hand and gave the jeweler one large sparkling diamond at a time. She smirked as he licked his lips, eyes aglitter. Obviously he hadn’t seen many diamonds of this quality.
    The man held the jeweler’s glass close as he examined each stone carefully. Amalie waited until he had replaced the last diamond in the pouch. From underneath the counter he withdrew a cash box. The small mound of guilders he counted out shocked her. She hadn’t been prepared for this. Was it enough or not? She didn’t know. Taking a gamble, she shook her head.
    â€œI want gold sovereigns, and this is not enough,” she said coldly, and waited, hardly daring to breathe. The man replaced the guilders and withdrew another box. Again he laid out a small mound, and again Amalie shook her head. The man added two more sovereigns to the small pile of gold. Again and again she shook her head, until she sensed that the man was nearing his last offer. Should she take it or not? Instinct warned her not to accept. “Add all of the guilders, and I will sell the diamonds,” she told him.
    The jeweler snorted. “Ridiculous! They aren’t worth that much. I have to be able to sell these at a profit. This is my last offer.”
    â€œWhat would you offer for me?” Amalie asked quietly.
    â€œWhy, I . . . I’m a respectable man and run a respectable business. I—”
    â€œHave a wife.” Amalie’s yellow eyes flashed. “But would she do the things to you I would do, Mynheer Jew-elder?”
    The jeweler licked his lips again. “What . . . what kind of things?” he asked in a quivering voice.
    She smiled. “Things to remember . . . things you’ll take to your . . . grave.”
    Slowly, seductively, Amalie leaned across the wooden counter, her cat’s eyes dark brown now and moist with heat. The jeweler tore his hungry gaze from hers and looked down the front of her dress. He nearly choked at the sight. Amalie’s smile promised untold delights as her tongue snaked out from between her teeth. She allowed it to caress first her top lip, then her lower lip. The jeweler moaned.
    â€œAll of the guilders, Mynheer. A larger pouch. Now . . . before-”
    â€œLock the door,” the jeweler said hoarsely as he stuffed the gold into her pouch.
    â€œNo,” Amalie said, walking around the counter. “You will find what I do to you much more exciting if you fear . . . the unknown.”
    â€œYes, yes, hurry. This is unbearable,” he said, unfastening his trousers. He was suddenly shy, muttering under his breath, “I’m . . . I’m not very . . .” His face reddened miserably.
    â€œI can see what you mean, Mynheer. I know how to remedy your problem,” Amalie said with a hint of sardonic laughter in her voice. “Trust me, Mynheer, you will never want to bed your sensible wife in her sensible bloomers and corsets again.” A deep growl of pleasure ripped from her mouth as she lifted the chemise over her head and stood before him naked in her splendor. The jeweler’s eyes rolled back in his head as Amalie pulled him to the floor.
    Several minutes later, sweat dripping from every