The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1)
Read The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1) Online
Authors: P.S. Bartlett
The Blue Diamond
The Razor’s Edge
P.S. BARTLETT
THE BLUE DIAMOND: THE RAZOR’S EDGE
By
P.S. Bartlett
Copyright © P.S. Bartlett 2014
Cover Illustration Copyright © 2014 by Novel Idea
Design
Spine Logo by Asia Graves
Published by Libertine Press
(An Imprint of GMTA Publishing)
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this
book are products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the
publisher.
Al
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right
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ved
.
N
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oduce
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transmitte
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whatsoeve
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,
includin
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eco
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info
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matio
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storag
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etrieva
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,
withou
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mission f
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publishe
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and/o
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autho
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.
GMTA Publishing
6296 Philippi Church Rd.
Raeford, NC 28376
Printed in the U.S.A.
Dedication
To my husband Wayne,
with whom my life is always an adventure. To my ever present crew of
adventurous and fabulous sisters and friends: without you, this book and the
characters within its pages would simply not exist. I dedicate this book to all
women brave enough to sail their own ships, fight their own battles and find
their own blue diamonds.
Table
of Contents
Ivory once said, "Bring
me a lad with the right stuff, and I'll leave him even better," but that
was long before she was found adrift and alone in a leaky longboat, rocking her
way with the tide to the soft, white Jamaican shore. Her skin was the color of
an angry sunset behind the white clouds of hair tossed about her face and
shoulders. Too vacant and weak to move, she lay curled up in the bow of the
vessel, clutching her razor in one hand and an empty rum bottle in the other.
Adrift in delirium, her
battered hands reached forward, pressing against two golden gates, pushing them
open with ease, until she heard several faint, panicked voices. They grew
louder and stronger until she blinked, and the gates before her vanished. Up
she floated into the air, until all she saw through her lidded eyes was the
white sky growing closer and two strong, black arms lifting her from an early
grave.
“Be still or be dead,” said
the voice belonging to those arms, as he pulled the razor from her flaccid
grip, folded it, and slipped it into his sash.
Another voice spoke above
her, “Is it she?”
“She has ears on her head,
unless you have gone blind.
Now shut up,
and check that boat for anything she may have carried with her.”
The next time her eyes
opened, she was again in a longboat, but this time she was not alone. She felt
the boat list, as two men jumped out into the surf and pulled it ashore. A
moment later, Ivory’s limp body was draped across the sweaty, broad shoulders
of one of the largest men she’d ever come upon. She cracked her eyes enough to
see the world around her rise and fall with each step in the sand the giant
took. She could barely remember her own name, let alone how long she’d been
adrift before the tide so generously dumped her into the waiting arms of the
next chapter of her life. She did, however, find something oddly familiar about
the giant.
Trying to think exhausted
her. In hopes of remembering, she closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, she
was lying on a soft, down bed, naked, clean, and covered with a red satin
sheet. That was many hours later.
“Good, you’re awake.”
She turned her head in the
direction of the voice but had no recollection of the person from whom it came.
She blinked several times, her body barely able to twitch in surprise at the
sight of the far too pretty, well-dressed man seated in the chair to her left.
Through her blurred vision, his thick, dark, curly hair, bronze complexion, and
impeccably wrapped white satin neck scarf were clear enough. However, she was
dying of thirst and at this moment cared not as to who brought her the water,
but only that there was…water.
“Water?” she whispered.
“Of course,” the man replied
as he leapt to his feet and poured her a glass from a fine crystal pitcher.
“Allow me,” he said, lifting her head from the pillow as he guided the goblet
to the slit between her scaled lips.
Once a single sip of water
reached her tongue, she reached out, took the goblet, and poured the water into
her mouth.
“Slow down now, love. Easy
does it.”
Ivory pulled the empty
goblet away from her lips, and slid her tongue out from between them. She swiped
it from one corner of her mouth to the other before she pushed the goblet back
into the man’s hand. “More?”
“Why, of course. You may
have the sea in its entirety if that is what it will take to quench your
thirst, love.”
“If the sea could have quenched
my thirst, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” she said in a rasp.
“Oh, you take me quite
literally. I was simply making a…”
“Do not play at words with
me, sir. Who are you, and where am I?”
Ivory sat up on her elbow,
holding out the goblet as the red satin sheet slid down over her chest,
catching itself on her blistered skin. She was grateful to be alive, yet as the
water flowed into her blood and restarted her shriveling organs, her mind
returned to life as well. Every brain cell reignited with the powerful instinct
of suspicion as the man leaned in over the goblet to refill it, and she pulled
it back.
“Do you think I’d poison
you? I’d do no such thing,” he remarked with an exaggerated frown that appeared
insincere, yet appalled at the same time. “If I wanted you dead, I certainly
wouldn’t have had you brought here,” he said, pouring himself a glass.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m
deciding if I want to live or die.”
“I believe that God has made
that decision for you already.”
“Well, I believe He may have
made a mistake.”
“Why would you say such a
thing?” he asked, pulling her hand forward and filling the goblet without
breaking her gaze. She did manage, however, to admire the large and rather
unique rings he wore on nearly every finger.
“Sit down. I don’t like you
hovering over me.”
“Of course, Madame—now, back
to God and His mistaken act of sending my men to find you and your boat on the
beach,” he said with a bow, sweeping his right arm across his body, yet still
barely blinking and strangely unable to relinquish eye contact.
Ivory stared at the full
goblet and tried to decide whether or not to continue replenishing her body, or
to lie down and die. She imagined she wasn’t far from death anyway, when the
memory of the gates before her appeared in her thoughts. Found me on the beach?
A moment later, the goblet flew from her hand when she was startled by the hard
pounce of huge, fluffy black cat with bright emerald eyes that leaped seemingly
from some other dimension onto her chest. The Maine Coon weighed no less than
twenty pounds and almost knocked the wind from Ivory’s lungs.
“Lasher, where are your
manners?” her host chided the cat, standing to retrieve his darling pet. The
cat let out a deep meow which lasted until his master sat back in his chair and
settled the animal as it curled into his lap. “Pardon my boy, love, he was only
saying hello. Just a moment, and I’ll have that cleaned up for you. Roman?”
“Yes, sir?” said the young
Jamaican man who stood just outside the doorway. He wore a powdered wig and a black
waist coat and tails, complete with white gloves.
“Bring the young lady some
dry sheets. It seems Lasher’s adoration of the element of surprise has caused
Madame to spill her water.”
“That won’t be necessary,”
Ivory stated firmly.
“Why? You’re soaked!”
“And it feels wonderful.
It’s hotter than the fires of hell. You’ve been extremely kind, and I’d love to
stay and chat, but I really should be going,” Ivory said, as she attempted to
sit up and rise from the bed. She reached down and pulled the wet sheet around
herself, pinching it at her side, but fell slowly back onto the bed.
“My dear, you’re not the
least bit ready to go anywhere. Roman, get the sheets.”
Roman bowed and hurried off
while the man lifted the goblet from the bed, refilled it, and placed it easily
back in Ivory’s hand.
“Is he always so formally
dressed?”
“I like to maintain a
certain level of decorum and dignity. Roman doesn’t seem to mind, now does he?
Drink. You’ll not die today under my watch—unless I say so.”
“Surely you jest? Neither
you, nor any other man, have power over my life. Even God Himself did not kill
me. You said yourself.
He spared my life
today.”
“God and the sea pushed you
to safety, but it was I who saved your life.”
“Saving my life does not
give you ownership of it, sir. Do not allow my weakened state to deceive you of
what I have done, and can do, when called upon to stay alive.”
“Good. You’re obviously
feeling better. You know, when they brought you to me I had my doubts as to
your identity. Burned and dried like seaweed in the sun, and what was left of
your skin pulled over your bones, perhaps only hours from being picked to bits
by the birds.”
The man stood and reached
into the breast pocket of his stark white billowy shirt. Then, with a sigh, he
checked his coat pocket, and with a satisfied smile, revealed an old weapon.
And not only was it old—it was hers.
“Give me that,” Ivory
shouted, rising back up to her elbows. She cursed beneath her breath that she
hadn’t the strength to wring his swarthy neck, let alone rise from the bed.
“When my man gave me this, I
drew closer to being convinced. However, in light of your, how shall I say it,
bold and combative nature and that glimmer of fire I see there behind those
blue eyes, I am honored to admit that you are, in fact, the one and only Madame
Ivory Shepard. Also known as…the Razor.”
“Give me that you…”
“Unh, unh, unh…you get some
rest now, love,” he said as he pulled out of her reach, tucked the razor into
the front of his sash, and patted it. “I’ll keep this safe for you right here,
close to my heart…or rather—well, never mind.”
Ivory rolled her eyes and
said, “You obviously control the situation for now, but make no mistake. Unless
your intentions are to tempt God’s will yourself, spare me your ridiculous puns
and tell me where the hell I am.”
The man stepped to the door
and pulled it open, “My dear Madame Razor…oh, I beg your pardon—Shepard! Why
don't you get some rest? We’ll fill in the blanks for you after dinner.”
Still unable to stand, and
angrier than a trampled nest of wasps, Ivory fell back and poured the remaining
water over her face.
I’ve got to get out
of here.
At least she was alive for now. Moment by moment, the feeling was
returning to her extremities, and her thoughts were clearing enough to remember
what happened to set her adrift and twist her fate.
“Hello! I’m here with your
dry sheets, Madame,” said the meek, caramel skinned girl who knocked lightly
and entered the room.
“You wouldn’t by chance have
any clothes in that bundle, now would you?”
“No, Madame, only linens.”
“Good luck changing this bed
with me in it.”
“I’ll manage.”
The young girl was much
stronger than she appeared, and she lifted and rolled Ivory with very little
effort. At this point, however, there wasn’t much of her left to maneuver.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Zara, Madame. I’ve brought
some balm for your burns and wounds. Will you allow me to…?”
“I can do it myself.”
“I’m not permitted to allow
that, Madame,” Zara stated, standing back with the jar of whatever concoction
she’d carried in with her bundle. “Please, allow me. It does not appear you are
able to do it anyway. Let me help you,” Zara insisted, meeting Ivory eye to
eye.
“If you really want to help
me, Zara, you’ll find me some clothes so that I can get the hell out of here.”
“If you don’t mind me
asking, Madame, where the hell would you go?”
“Anywhere but here.”
“Yet, you know not where you
are, correct?”
“But you do.”
“You don’t even know me, and
yet you’d see me hanged?
Or worse,
marooned to suffer whatever fate that would await me, no?”
Crimes against women,
whether or not they were criminals, were a tender spot for Ivory, and she went
silent, reluctantly laying back while the girl smoothed handfuls of the
homemade potion over the burned areas of her body. Her chest, her face, her
forearms, and her lower legs suffered the most, but the balm soothed her almost
immediately. It was cool and smelled like fresh cucumbers. Most of the wounds
Ivory had suffered from the gun blasts aboard the
Blue Diamond
were superficial, and required only cleaning and time
to heal.
“Allow the air to touch your
skin for a while. I know there is not much of it in this room, but do not cover
yourself completely until the balm sinks into your skin. No one will disturb
you. The Captain has given orders that only he and I are allowed in this room
alone.”
“The Captain?”
“I must go now.”
“Zara, wait, please. I can
pay you,” Ivory whispered, reaching out her left hand and catching Zara by the
wrist.