To Surrender to a Rogue (17 page)

Still, she ought to have better taste in men...

Then again, he was one to talk. It was disgusting to be eavesdropping, especially as she had accused him of such slimy behavior before. If he went slowly, he should be able to slide back into the tall meadow grasses without being noticed, and from there drop back into the trees.

Jack was about to put his plan in motion when Frederico's next words froze him in his tracks.

"I've made copies of all the papers. Once you have had a chance to think it over, Pm sure you will have an idea of where we should start looking."

"It's a large site, and the terrain is going to make things difficult" Alessandra was speaking so softly he could hardly hear her.

"Time is limited," said Frederico. "We have to move quickly."

"Yes," she replied, her voice dropping another notch. "But we also must take care not to draw attention to ourselves." A pause. "We can do some poking around during the break for luncheon."

"I've studied the description quite carefully—"

"The description is vague to begin with, and I told you, the landscape has undoubtedly changed over the centuries," snapped Alessandra. "I'll need to make another survey of the site and see if I can spot a likely place."

"You are the expert,
cara."

To Jack's ears, the Italian's voice had an edge of mockery.

"Whatever you do," continued Frederico, "do it quickly."

Jack couldn't make out her answer.

"I trust, Alessa, that I need not remind you..
."
The rest of his words were lost in a gust of wind.

Damn.
Jack inched a little closer.

"...I had better get back, before my absence is noticed," replied Alessandra.

Jack waited until the steps died away before raising his eyes level with the top of the wall. Through the creeping vines, he watched the two figures move halfway down the ' hill and then part ways.

What the devil was that all about?

He returned to the task of freeing the small fragment of metal from the stones, but his mind was on what he had just overheard.

Was Alessandra in league with her friend to steal antiquities from the excavation?

It defied belief. Yet how else to interpret the furtive exchange? It would certainly explain the air of tension about her. Frowning, Jack recalled that her closest friend had recently remarked that something appeared to be troubling Alessandra.

Her conscience, perhaps?

Taking up his trowel, Jack shoved it deep into the damp earth. Had she played him for a fool? His stomach turned a little queasy.

He hated to think that the marchesa might be a fraud. She had spoken so passionately about preserving the past Was she merely a clever liar? A consummate actress whose kisses and lovemaking were meant to distract him?

Jack stared down at his clenched hands. During the

Peninsular War, he had led a number of covert missions to gather intelligence on the enemy and one didn't survive long in that line of work by misjudging a man's character.

But perhaps therein lay the problem.
Instinct.
Was he being guided by lust rather than logic? As he had observed before, a penis did not possess a brain.

Hopefully the other parts of his anatomy could rise to the occasion. Whatever it took, he meant to get to the bottom of this mystery. And one thing was for certain, doing so would mean keeping a very close eye on Lady Alessandra della Giamatti.

Somehow, Alessandra managed to get through the rest of the day. Force of habit allowed her to go through the motions of updating the excavation charts and supervising the storage of the newly uncovered artifacts. Her mind, however, might as well have been on Mars.

Oh, if only the God of War would swoop down in a chariot of fire and vanquish her enemy.

But the gods only helped mortals in myths. Much as she needed divine intervention,..

"Lady Giamatti?"

The voice was distinctly human. And distinctly male.

She looked up from her charts.

"Where would you like me to put this?" Jack unwrapped a blanket of cotton wool to reveal a fragment of bronze.

Peering closer, she saw it was a piece of an ornamental wolf. Despite her worries, she felt a flutter of excitement "Why, it looks to be the bronze hilt of a
pugio,
a legionnaire's knife. Where did you find this?"

He gave a vague wave. "On the hill."

"I trust you have recorded the details with more precision than that," she said, still entranced by the rare find.

"I listen well," he replied rather darkly. "I have noted all the particulars, as you instructed. And I've made a sketch."

It was obvious that she had offended him. Ah, well, better to be at daggers drawn than yeanling for...

Alessandra wrenched her gaze away from his dark eyes. "You may leave it with me, Lord James. I should : like to examine it more carefully before turning it over to Mr. Dwight-Davis for safekeeping."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "As you wish."

As if summoned by the sound of his name, the stout little scholar appeared from around a stack of packing crates, followed by Haverstick and Orrichetti.

"Here she is, gentlemen—still hard at work!" Turning to her, Dwight-Davis shook his head in mild reproof. "The committee heads have agreed that a day off from the
]
dig is in order, Lady Giamatti. Indeed, we are running short on some supplies, so tomorrow, we shall let the carters do their work, while we enjoy some leisure activities."

"Si?
said Orrichetti. "I have noticed that you are looking too pale, Alessa. And my delegation would enjoy seeing some of the local sights. The sea is close by,
non?”

"Yes," replied Dwight-Davis. "What a pity we do not have access to a sailing vessel. An afternoon cruise would be delightful."

"I can arrange for that" It was Jack who spoke up. He was still standing near the edge of her worktable, arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the shade of the canvas. "My brother keeps his pleasure yacht in Bristol. I know he would" have no objection to my making use of it"

"Excellent, excellent!" exclaimed Dwight-Davis. "I say, why don't we make an overnight stay of it? There is a charming inn near the harbor, and that way, Lady Giamatti will not have to make the long carriage ride twice in one day."

"That is a fine suggestion," seconded Orrichetti, before Alessandra could voice any objection. "I am sure that Isabella would enjoy such a treat"

Recalling her daughter's eagerness to accept Jack's earlier invitation, she swallowed her reluctance and nodded. "Yes, I daresay she would."

"Then it's all settled." Dwight-Davis clapped his hands together. "Let's see, present company makes five...six with your daughter, Lady Giamatti."

"I shall forgo the trip," said Haverstick. "I am not overly fond of boats."

"Ravenna also suffers from seasickness, so I imagine he will cry off," added Orrichetti. "As for the others—"

"You may count me as part of the party. It sounds like a delightful outing." From out of nowhere, Frederico joined the group.

Alessandra felt her heart sink. Was there no escape from his shadow?

"There are, I see, great benefits to having a wealthy benefactor among the group," continued Frederico.

Jack's expression didn't alter, but a subtle change came over him. Beneath his muddied workcoat, every lean line of muscle and sinew sharpened, as if centuries of Pierson steel had suddenly reforged itself from flesh and blood.

She took some satisfaction in seeing the Italian's smirk shrivel slightly.

Oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, Dwight-Davis beamed. "Yes, yes, we are very fortunate that Lord James was able to join the excavation." He resumed his planning. "Lord Orrichetti, if you will check with your delegation and give me a final count by suppertime, I will send one of my men to make arrangements with the inn."

"I had better send word to the ship's captain." A small salute—or perhaps he was simply adjusting the brim of his hat—and Jack was gone.

"Are all English peers so...how do you say it...starchy?" inquired Frederico, exaggerating a grimace. "The fellow always looks as if he has just swallowed a bite of bad fish."

Or smelted something rotten,
thought Alessandra. "Lord James is taking his tasks seriously," she said evenly. "He wishes to learn how to do things right, an attitude that I find highly commendable."

"Well said, well said," agreed Dwight-Davis. "And he has certainly shown himself to be a quick study.''

Alessandra couldn't say why, but she kept the bronze
pugio
covered, unwilling to share Jack's discovery with the others just yet.

"I was skeptical about the last-minute arrangement," conceded Haverstick. "However, his drawings appear quite competent"

"Well, far be it from me to contradict you learned scholars," said Frederico with a silky smile. "Apparently Lord James is a paragon of virtue."

Orrichetti appeared a little embarrassed at his countryman's rudeness and shot him a warning look. But the subtle sarcasm appeared to sail right over the heads of the English gentlemen.

"I would gladly have a century of legionary soldiers like Lord James working here at the site," said Dwight-Davis.

"But tomorrow is a day for leisure,
non?”
Orrichetti diplomatically changed the subject "At what hour should we plan to leave?"

Now in his element, Dwight-Davis began planning the details of the scheduling. "What fun. This promises to be a memorable experience."

"Jack the sheets." Captain Mellon squinted up at the sails. "And ease the bow five degrees to starboard."

Jack leaned on the taffrail and watched the yacht work its way through the tidal lock leading out to the Bristol Channel. The currents could be tricky, but the man in charge of his brother's vessel was a former naval officer who had cruised for years in the notoriously fickle waters of the West Indies.

"Watch the eddy up ahead, Jennings," murmured the captain to the crewman at the wheel. He touched the varnished spoke, turning it a hair more to the right

"Aye, sir."

The yacht passed through the last stretch of swirling water and headed out to sea.

"A fine piece of seamanship, sir," called Dwight-Davis. "I am told that it requires a skillful hand to navigate through the floating harbor."

Mellon puffed on his pipe. "One must keep a weather eye on the tides, the currents, and the wind."

The Bath party, which numbered nine, was gathered in the stern of the yacht, watching the crew move smartly through the task of adjusting the sails to the freshening breeze.

"What, precisely, is the floating harbor?" inquired Alessandra, looking back at the dam that regulated the tidal rise and fall of the River Avon. "I have heard that it's quite a feat of engineering "

Mellon nodded. "Aye, milady, it is. What with the tobacco trade from America, and the coal, stone, and timber from Wales, the original port was too small and too treacherous to handle the traffic. So Parliament approved funds to build the Cumberland Basin, which is essentially a canal with locks on either end. By controlling the water level during the ebb and flow of the tides, it creates a 'floating harbor' if you will."

"How interesting." Holding her daughter firmly by the hand, Alessandra moved closer to the railing to get a clearer look at the gears and gates.

Isabella appeared much more intrigued by the sailor scrambling up through the ratlines.

Batten down the hatches.
Jack had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was coming.

"May I climb to the top of the mast?" asked the little girl.

The captain chuckled indulgently. "It's not really an endeavor for little girls to try, Miss Isabella. Not only does it require strength, but you might get a smudge of pine tar on that pretty dress."

"I am strong enough to bowl over a wicket in cricket, sir," countered Isabella. "And a smudge can be laundered."

Mellon blinked, clearly outgunned. "Er, well, Miss.."

"Isa," warned Alessandra. "Please remember what I told you. You mustn't make a nuisance of yourself, or misbehave in any way."

Her daughter looked up in confusion. "But I asked politely, Mama. I don't see why I can't try something new, just because I am a girl."

Recalling the countless times that he, as the youngest of five boys, was denied the chance to join in some dashing adventure, Jack felt a twinge in his chest That look of longing was all too familiar.

"What about the bosun's chair?" he suggested.

All heads swiveled around.

"It's a canvas seat," he explained to Alessandra, "that is used to make repairs in the rigging. It attaches to a block and tackle, and allows a sailor to be hoisted aloft" He looked to Mellon. "If one of your men were to take Isabella up, she could experience the heights in perfect safety."

"Yes," agreed the captain. "That would work."

His gaze returned to Alessandra. "Isabella would not be in any danger."

She hesitated. "But I should not like to trouble the captain."

"It only takes a few minutes," he said.

Mellon was already calling out the order. "Williams! Make ready with the topsail halyard! McArthur, fetch the harness." Canvas cracked and a coil of heavy hemp thumped against the deck. "Gentlemen," he added to the rest of the excavation party. "Our steward is serving rum punch on the foredeck, so might I ask you all to move forward, so that we may clear a space here by the mainmast"

As the others drifted off, Jack turned back to the rail, intent on resuming his study of the passing shoreline. A moment later he felt a tug on his sleeve.

"Thank you." Isabella's smile was bright as the sunbeams dancing across the azure waves. "You are... well, you are quite as nice as Lord Hadley."

Jack was suddenly aware of feeling absurdly pleased with himself.
How odd that a compliment from an eight-year-old could make his stomach do a series of funny little flip-flops.

Seasickness, no doubt.

Pursing his lips, Jack replied, "I trust you won't make me regret it, Miss Isabella. You must obey Mr. McArthur at all times—no hijinks, no squirming." He lowered his voice. "And most definitely no swearing."

She nodded very solemnly. "Yes, sir."

The first mate of the yacht's crew was now buckled into the bosun's chair. He held out his arms. "Come, missy. I've two young bairns at home, so I willna let ye slip through me fingers."

Isabella flung herself into his lap with a squeal of delight, then stilled and primly smoothed her skirts.

Jack bit back a laugh.

"Ready?" At the captain's signal, the little girl and her guardian rose into the air. Up, up, up they went, swinging gently against the snowy sails.

"Oh!" Alessandra expelled a gasp as the ship heeled over in response to a gust of wind.

"There is no reason for alarm." Jack steadied her sway. "The roll of a ship is a natural motion."

She jerked her arm free. "Thank you, but I'm aware of that I have lived on a lake—" Just as abruptly, she clamped her mouth shut

Jack studied the patterns of sun and shadow playing across her profile, deliberately drawing out the pause. "Is there a reason you are so on edge, Lady Giamatti?"

Her mouth quivered for an instant before setting in a grim line. Instead of answering him she looked up at the crisscrossed lines of spars and rigging. "Do be careful, Isa!" she called. "You must sit very still!"

"Yes, Mama!" The reply floated down, along with a peal of laughter. "The sea and the sky seem to stretch on forever!" Ignoring her mother's caution, Isabella flapped her arms. "I wish I could soar over the ocean like the gulls. Do you think they can fly all the way to Italy, Mr. McArthur?"

The first mate chuckled. "Aye, missy. But it be a long, long journey, with scary squalls and storm-tossed seas. Fer now, we ought not stray too far from English shores."

"Oh, very well." The little girl spotted the ruins of an ancient castle. "I think I will draw a picture of the cliffs for my friend Perry."

McArthur called for the crewmen to lower the canvas chair. "Shall we go to the gallery for a cup of hot chocolate afore ye fetch yer sketchbook?"

Isabella slanted a pleading look at her mother, who nodded ever so slightly. "Mind that you obey Mr. McArthur's orders," she called as her daughter skipped away, with the hulking first mate following close in her wake.

"She's in good hands," murmured Jack. "You can relax"

The splash of salt spray did not account for the sudden sting of color on Alessandra's cheeks. "I have no idea why you think that I am on edge."

"To begin with, if you were gripping the railing any tighter, it would crack into kindling."

She loosened her hold on the varnished wood. "My equilibrium is a little off. I do not want to fall flat on my face."

Nor do
I, thought Jack. So he decided to tread very carefully. "Indeed, it's easy to be thrown off balance by an unexpected jolt."

Her gaze turned shuttered. Shadowed. As if she had withdrawn to a dark place deep within.

For a heartbeat he felt the urge to dive in after her and pull her back up to the surface. That beautiful Botticelli face ought to be bathed in naught but a shower of sungold light.

"If you will excuse me, sir, I think I shall go join the others."

"Just a moment" Jack shifted his stance just enough to block her path. "I am curious—what do Dwight-Davis and Haverstick think of the bronze
pugio
that I uncovered?"

"I..." She wet her lips. "I...that is, they are not yet aware of the discovery."

"Keeping secrets, Lady Giamatti?" said Jack softly.

She looked as though she might keel over. "No! Of course not. I've simply not yet had a chance to discuss the dig with them."

He didn't press the point "Are you satisfied with how the excavation is shaping up?"

Her answer was evasive. "It's still too early to make any judgments, sir."

"I was not asking for a final report just an opinion. I shall not hold your feet to the coals if you wish to change your mind at a later time."

If he hadn't been watching her closely, he might have missed the momentary spark of emotion in her eye.

Fear.
To a veteran soldier, the demon was a familiar sight

But fear of what? Of failing to find whatever valuables she and her cohort were seeking? Of having their perfidy exposed? Of ending up in prison?

"Very well," she said slowly. "I think it goes without saying that this site holds a wealth of priceless information for scholars. Never before has a military outpost of this size been found in such well-preserved condition. Most have been looted of art, or had their stones carted off for use in local buildings."

Treasure. Wealth. Loot.
The words reverberated inside his head, an insidious drumbeat of suspicion.

Jack chose his words carefully. "Yes, it's quite a unique opportunity."

Waves slapped against the hull and wind thrummed through the rigging, amplifying the silence. When finally she did respond, it was not at all what he anticipated.

"By the by, allow me to offer my felicitations," she said with a sardonic little quirk of her mouth. "I was not aware you were on the verge of announcing your engagement"

He pressed his lips to a thin smile. "I have no such agreement formal or otherwise. The lady in question is naught but a casual acquaintance. Apparently my father has other ideas."

"And you, as a dutiful son, will no doubt honor his orders," she replied. "God forbid there be a mutiny in the ranks."

"Duty is one thing, blind obedience is quite another," he said with deliberate care. "Be assured that when I choose to marry, it will not be my father who picks out the bride."

Her expression betrayed surprise. "You would go against his wishes?"

Jack leaned his elbows on the railing and drew in a long breath of the bracing sea air. "Charging straight into cannonflre is not the only way to achieve victory in battle. Some generals choose to depend more on strategy and well-planned skirmishes to vanquish their foe. The advantage of such tactics is that they usually result in far less bloodshed."

"You sound as if you were a very good soldier, Lord James."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I was." .

She looked about to speak and then hesitated, seemingly distracted by the shrill cries of the circling seabirds. A large herring gull wheeled off from the others and plunged into the waves, emerging an instant later in the shower of spray with a wriggling fish in its beak.

"Most creatures care only about looking out for themselves, yet you..." She drew in a deep breath. "Let me thank you again for being so kind to Isabella. Believe me, I am grateful."

"She is an engaging imp," he said gruffly.

A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Of Satan, you forgot to add."

Damn.
He had forgotten about making that unfortunate comment

"Stefano was not Satan," she went on. "Quite the contrary. He was a wonderful man—kind, patient, wise beyond words. Isabella adored him and..." Her voice cracked. "And how dare he leave us!" Her hand flew up to her mouth and remorse flooded her face. "Oh, Lord, what a horrible thing to say," she whispered. "What a horrible thing to feel."

Jack caught the fluttering tail of her shawl and tucked it around her shoulders. "Not at all," he replied. "I was nine when my mother died, and it took me years to forgive her for leaving such a void in all of our lives. Anger is easier to deal with than grief."

Alessandra gave a watery sniff. "How true." She looked up. Salt clung to her lashes, luminous pearls of light winking out from the fringe of darkness. "Once again, I must thank you for your understanding. I.. .I fear that of late, I've been..." The arch of her pale throat looked achingly vulnerable against the wind-whipped waves."... Not quite myself."

Jack tried not to look at her quivering mouth. A part of his brain sneered that he would be a fool to swallow this show of feminine weakness.

Truth or lies.

Either she was a consummate actress, or she was in trouble.

"But that is hardly of any concern to yon," she added, so softly that her voice was nearly lost in the thrumming of the rigging.

"Alessandra." Jack hesitated, unsure whether to go on. "If there is something you wish..."

She was no longer looking at him. Her gaze suddenly shifted to a distant spot over his left shoulder and her eyes widened in shock.
"Isabella.”