From Paris With Love Collection. Кэрол Мортимер. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Кэрол Мортимер
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474067614
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have to rent a car and drive the sixty-five kilometers to Lake Lucerne.

      She could make the flight. She had to make it. Her heart racing, she reserved a seat and scrambled off the sofa. She started for the bedroom to throw some things together but made a quick detour to the sitting room desk and snatched up the house phone.

      “Come on, Dev. Answer!”

      Her quivering nerves stretched tighter as it rang six times, then cut to the hotel operator.

      “May I help you, Lady Sarah?”

      “I’m trying to reach Monsieur Hunter, but he doesn’t answer.”

      “May I take a message for you?”

      “Yes, please. Tell him to call me as soon as possible.”

      Hell! Where was he?

      Slamming the phone down, she dashed into the bedroom. She didn’t have time to pack. Just shove her laptop in her shoulder tote, grab her sweater coat, make sure her purse held her passport and credit cards and run.

      While the elevator made its descent, she tried to reach Dev by cell phone. She’d just burst into the lobby when he answered on a husky, teasing note.

      “Please tell me you’ve decided to put me out of my misery.”

      “Where are you?” The phone jammed to her ear, she rushed through the lobby. “I called your room but there wasn’t any answer.

      “I couldn’t sleep. I went out for a walk.” He caught the tension in her voice. The teasing note dropped out of his. “Why? What’s up?”

      “Gina just called.”

      “It’s about time.”

      She pushed through the front door. The fog had cleared, thank God, and several taxis still cruised the streets. She waved a frantic arm to flag one down, the phone clutched in her other fist.

      “She’s in some kind of trouble, Dev.”

      “So what else is new?”

      If she hadn’t been so worried, the sarcastic comment might not have fired her up as hot and fast as it did.

      “Spare me the editorial,” she snapped back angrily. “My sister needs me. I’m on my way to Switzerland.”

      “Whoa! Hold on a minute...”

      The taxi rolled up to the curb. She jumped in and issued a terse order. “De Gaulle Airport. Hurry, please.”

      “Dammit, Sarah, I can’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes from the hotel. Wait until I get back and we’ll sort this out together.”

      “She’s my sister. I’ll sort it out.” She was too rushed and too torqued by his sarcasm to measure her words. “I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s what.”

      “Yeah,” he bit out, as pissed off now as she was. “You do that.”

      In no mood to soothe his ruffled feathers, she cut the connection and leaned into the Plexiglas divider.

      “I need to catch an eleven-fifty flight,” she told the cabdriver. “There’s an extra hundred francs in it for you if I make it.”

      * * *

      The Swiss Air flight was only half-full. Most of the passengers looked like businessmen who wanted to be on scene when Zurich’s hundreds of banks opened for business in the morning. There were a few tourists scattered among them, and several students with crammed backpacks getting a jump start on spring break in the Alps.

      Sarah stared out the window through most of the ninety-minute flight. The inky darkness beyond the strobe lights on the wing provided no answers to the worried questions tumbling through her mind.

      Was it the ski instructor? Had he left Gina stranded in Lucerne? Or Dev’s Byzantine medallion? Had she tried to sell it and smacked up against some law against peddling antiquities on the black market?

      Her stomach was twisted into knots by the time they landed in Zurich, and she rushed to the airport’s Europcar desk. Fifteen minutes later she was behind the wheel of a rented Peugeot and zipping out of the airport. Once she hit the main motorway, she fumbled her phone out of her purse and speed-dialed her sister.

      “I just landed in Zurich,” Sarah informed her. “I’m in a rental car and should be there within an hour.”

      “Okay. Thanks for coming, Sarah. I’ll call down to reception and tell them to expect you.”

      To her profound relief, Gina sounded much calmer. Probably because she knew the cavalry was on the way.

      “I’ll see you shortly.”

      * * *

      Once Sarah left the lights of Zurich behind, she zoomed south on the six-lane E41. Speed limits in Switzerland didn’t approach the insanity of those in Germany, but the 120 kilometers per hour max got her to the shores of Lake Lucerne in a little over forty minutes.

      The city of Lucerne sat on the western arm of the lake. A modern metropolis with an ancient center, its proximity to the Alps had made it a favorite destination for tourists from the earliest days of the Hapsburg Empire. The Duchy of Karlenburgh had once constituted a minuscule part of that vast Hapsburg empire. As the lights of the city glowed in the distance, Sarah remembered that Grandmama had shared some of the less painful stories from the St. Sebastians’ past during their stay in Lucerne.

      She wasn’t thinking of the past as she wound through the narrow streets of the Old Town. Only of her sister and whether whatever trouble Gina was in might impact their grandmother’s health. The old worries she’d carried for so long—the worries she’d let herself slough off when she’d gotten so tangled up with Dev—came crashing back.

      It was almost 3:00 a.m. when she pulled up at the entrance to the Hotel zum Rebstock. Subdued lighting illuminated its half-timbered red-and-white exterior. Three stories tall, with a turreted tower anchoring one end of the building, the hotel had a history dating back to the 1300s. Even this early in the season, geraniums filled its window boxes and ivy-covered trellises defined the tiny terrace that served as an outdoor restaurant and biergarten.

      Weary beyond words, Sarah grabbed her tote and purse and left the car parked on the street. She’d have a valet move it to the public garage on the next block tomorrow. Right now all she cared about was getting to her sister.

      As promised, Gina had notified reception of a late arrival. Good thing, since a sign on the entrance informed guests that for safety purposes a key card was required for entry after midnight. A sleepy attendant answered Sarah’s knock and welcomed her to the Rebstock.

      “Lady Eugenia asked that we give you a key. She is in room 212. The elevator is just down the hall. Or you may take the stairs.”

      “Thank you.”

      She decided the stairs would be quicker and would also work out the kinks in her back from the flight and the drive. The ancient wooden stairs creaked beneath their carpeted runner. So did the boards of the second-floor hallway as Sarah counted room numbers until she reached the one at the far end of the hall. A corner turret room, judging by the way its door was wedged between two others.

      She slid the key card into the lock and let herself into a narrow, dimly lit entryway.

      “Gina?”

      The door whooshed shut behind her. Sarah rounded the corner of the entryway, found herself in a charming bedroom with a sitting area occupying the octagonal turret and came to a dead stop. Her sister was tucked under the double bed’s downy duvet, sound asleep.

      A rueful smile curved Sarah’s lips. She’d raced halfway across Europe in response to a desperate plea. Yet whatever was troubling Gina didn’t appear to be giving her nightmares. She lay on one side, curled in a tight ball with a hand under her cheek and her blond curls spilling across the pillow.

      Shaking her head in amused