Cordinas Crown Jewel Read Online Free PDF

“Camilla.”
    “Right, well relax, Camilla. I’m an archaeologist, not a mad scientist. I’m going for the coffee. Don’t touch my bones—or anything else for that matter.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She also wouldn’t dream of staying alone in the dark room on a storm ravaged night with a pile of human bones. No matter how carefully packaged or old they might be. “I’ll give you a hand.” Because she wanted to cover her unease, she smiled. “You look like you could use one.”
    “Yeah, I guess.” The injury still irritated him, in more ways than one. “Look, there’s a spare room upstairs. You might as well figure on bunking there. We’ll deal with your car in the morning.”
    “Thanks.” She was warm, she was dry and the coffee smelled wonderful. Things might’ve been a great deal worse. “I really do appreciate it, Mr. Caine.”
    “Caine, just Caine, or Del.” When he walked straight back to the mudroom, she followed him.
    “Where are you going?”
    “What?” He paused in the act of struggling into a slicker. He just wasn’t used to explaining his moves. “We’re going to need water. Rain, water, bucket,” he said, picking up one. “And there’s a generator in the shed. I might be able to get it going. Don’t mess with my stuff,” he added, and walked back into the storm.
    “Not without a tetanus shot, believe me,” she muttered as the door slammed behind him.
    Afraid of what she might find, she eased open a cupboard. Then another, and another. As the first three were empty, she found what she assumed were the only clean dishes in the cabin in the last one.
    She poured coffee into a chipped mug, and took the first wary sip. She was delighted and stunned that the man made superior coffee.
    Braced by it, she took stock of the kitchen. She couldn’t just stand around in this sty and do nothing. If they were going to eat, she was going to have to figure out how to cook under these conditions.
    There were plenty of cans in the pantry, among them two cans of condensed tomato soup. It was something. Cheered, she cracked open the refrigerator.
    While it wasn’t filthy, perhaps worse, it was very nearly empty. She frowned over three eggs, a hunk of very old cheese, a six-pack of beer—minus two—and to her delight, a bottle of excellent pinot noir.
    Things were looking up.
    There was a quart of milk which—after a testing sniff—proved to be fresh, and a half gallon of bottled water.
    Rolling up her sleeves, Princess Camilla got to work.
    Fifteen minutes later, armed with a pail of her own, she stepped outside. She could barely make out the shed through the rain. But over its drumming, she heard plenty of cursing and crashing. Deciding Del would be busy for a while yet, she switched his half-filled pail with her own, and hauled the water back inside.
    *  *  *
    If he’d had some damn light, Del thought as he kicked the little generator again, he could see to fix the stupid son of a bitch. The problem was, to get some damn light he needed to fix it.
    Which meant he wasn’t going to get it up and running before morning. Which meant, he thought sourly, he’d wasted the best part of an hour fumbling around in a cramped shed, and had bumped his miserable shoulder countless times.
    Every inch of his body hurt in one way or the other. And he was still wet, cold and in the dark.
    If it had been just himself, he wouldn’t have bothered with the generator in the first place. He’d have opened a can, eaten a cold dinner and worked a bit by candlelight.
    But there was the woman to think about. He hated having to think of a woman under the best of circumstances—and these were far from the best.
    “Fancy piece, too,” he muttered, shining the flashlight around the shed to see if there was anything he could use in the cabin. “On the run from something. Probably a rich husband who didn’t buy her enough sparkles to suit her.”
    None of his business, he reminded himself. She’d be