To Surrender to a Rogue (23 page)

The next day dawned with a peek of blue showing through the clouds as the lingering line of squalls finally blew over the excavation site. Jack slipped the knife back into the sheath in his boot and looked up to gauge the wind threading through the overhanging trees. The rope holding the tent canvas should snap shortly, the frayed ends leaving no trace of his blade's cut.

Retreating into the long, leafy shadows, he quickly made his way down the back side of the hill. Still slippery from the recent rains, the ground was redolent with the moldy smell of wet earth and wild lichen. His steps silenced by the soft earth and moss, he picked his way through the dense grove of oaks and slipped in among the stacks of supplies being unloaded from the baggage carts. “

"Ah, you are here bright and early, Lord James." Dwight-Davis looked up from cross-checking the lists in his notebook. “We look to be getting a spot of sun at last, so we ought to make the most of it."

"Indeed," answered Jack. "Unless you have a specific job in mind for me today, I thought I might start making sketches of the sculpture fragments that Eustace and his team have recovered from the temple."

"Excellent, excellent! Your drawings of the pottery shards were first rate. If only our full force were as dedicated as you, sir." He blew out his cheeks, allowing a note of frustration to shade his normally cheerful voice. "I do not mean to criticize, but our Italian contingent has been less than diligent in their work." Punctuating his comment with a peek at his pocketwatch, he shook his head mournfully. "Perhaps we will see them in time for luncheon."

"You could put them on bread and water until they shape up," said Jack dryly.

"Ha! And risk another pitched battle between Romans and Britons?" Dwight-Davis chuckled. "I fear they take their food more seriously than their scholarship."

Their exchange was interrupted by Eustace and Lattimer, whose querulous argument could be heard above the scrape of their steps on the rocky footpath.

"You are making a mountain out of a molehill," groused Eustace. "The workmen will have the tent repaired by the time Lady Giamatti arrives."

"I still say we should move her field office to a more protected location," countered Lattimer. "She could have been injured by the falling poles."

"Injured?" Dwight-Davis stiffened in alarm. "Have we had another accident?"

"Nothing to speak of." Jack couldn't tell whether Eustace's face was red from exertion or irritation. "The ropes securing the marchesa's shelter broke during the night"

Jack reacted with deliberate surprise. "Was anything damaged?"

"No, no " growled Eustace. "All her tools and supplies were packed away in the storage boxes."

"Still, perhaps Lattimer is right" Dwight-Davis mopped at his brow. "Perhaps we ought to think of relocating the shelter."

"There's no other logical place," objected Eustace. "The ground is too muddy near the river."

"But we must think of Lady Giamatti's well-being," insisted Dwight-Davis. "If it had happened while she was working—"

Jack cleared his throat "You all are the experts, of course. But if I may offer a suggestion?"

The three other men all nodded in unison.

"If we construct a timber frame, instead of relying on ropes to hold up the heavy tent then the structure would be far more sturdy, and the canvas can be lashed securely to the wood to create walls. The clearing is large enough, and flat enough..." He paused, widening his eyes as if struck by a novel thought "And if we make it a little bigger, there would be a protected space for Mr. Merrill to sort his pottery, which would ensure that Lady Giamatti is not alone if any sort of accident should happen again. Two birds with one stone, if you will."

"By Jove, what an excellent suggestion!" exclaimed Dwight-Davis.

Eustace relented with a gruff snort. "I suppose that makes sense, and shouldn't take too much time away from the excavation."

"We often did the same thing to make ourselves more comfortable during military maneuvers" said Jack.

"A team of three or four workers should have it done in a trice. If you like, I would be happy to supervise."

"Excellent, excellent!" Dwight-Davis clapped his hands together, the sound a sharp counterpoint to the shuffling of the workers and the squelch of carriage wheels rolling to a halt beside them.

"Have we something to celebrate?" asked Orrichetti as he helped Alessandra down the iron step.

"Lord James's ingenuity!" replied Dwight-Davis, a happy smile brightening his ruddy, guileless face. "As I have said before, we are extremely fortunate to have a gentleman of his many talents among us. Just now, his military experience has proven invaluable."

"How so?" Eyes narrowing as he emerged into the glare of the sun, Frederico paused on the top rung. The breeze ruffled his golden hair, creating something of a halo effect "Has the site been attacked by the ghosts of ancient savages?" he asked sarcastically.

Jack watched him jump gracefully to the ground.
No, the threat was very much alive.

Dwight-Davis, cheerfully oblivious to the nasty edge of the question, gave a hoot of laughter. "No, no, the assault came from Favonius—god of the west wind. Lady Giamatti's tent was knocked down." The scholar swung around and snapped a salute to Alessandra. "But never fear, milady, Lord James has suggested an excellent solution. We are going to build a more solid structure, with room for Merrill and his pottery. That way, you won't be alone should another unfortunate accident occur."

"Perhaps you ought to consult Lady Giamatti as to her wishes," said Frederico slowly, flicking a meaningful look at Alessandra. "I imagine she would find the extra commotion a great distraction to her work."

Jack kept his own face impassive as he watched the subtle interplay of emotions. Dwight-Davis looked uncertain and Alessandra wary, while Frederico smoothed a wrinkle from his sleeve, apparently confident of imposing his will on the others.

"It's not really our place to question the committee decisions, Frederico," said Orrichetti quietly. "I am sure they know best."

A wink of light caught the spasm of anger that creased Frederico's handsome countenance. However, he set his teeth, and remained silent

The conte gave a conciliatory wave of his gloved hand. "We are grateful for your concern for the marchesa's safety. I think it a very prudent suggestion."

"I'll organize the men and all the necessary supplies." Touching his pencil to his lip, Dwight-Davis thumbed to a fresh page in his notebook. "Let's see.. .a load of lumber, including four stout posts, nails, cording, canvas..."

Leaving the scholar to his lists, Jack gave a casual nod to the others and strolled away, careful to avoid Alessandra's eye. She hadn't known his exact plan, only that he had promised to find a way to make it hard for Frederico to be alone with her. As for their own meetings, they had agreed that nothing must hint at any sort of intimacy.

Distant. Detached.
Damn, it would not be easy. At the first sight of Frederico's smirking face, his initial impulse had been to grab the Italian by the throat and thrash him to a bloody pulp.

Drawing on his work gloves, Jack felt his hands prickle. He tapped his palms together several times, the soft slap of leather a whispered reminder of the need for discipline. The element of surprise was on their side— better to win the war than to lose the advantage in a meaningless skirmish.

Hoisting two boxes of drawing supplies to his shoulder, Jack wove a path through the work carts and cut behind the storage sheds.

"Ho, Davey," he called, crooking a finger at the gaggle of lads preparing their workbaskets for the day's excavation.

The boy he had pulled from the river dropped his gear and scampered over. "Sor!" he said, snapping a smart salute.

"At ease, lad," he said. "Here, will you give me a hand with this?" Passing over one of the boxes, he indicated the footpath leading down to the main pit

"Yes, sor!" Davey fell in step by his side, looking up like an eager puppy. "D'ya need me te help ye teday?" he asked hopefully.

"As a matter of fact..." Checking that the thicket of thorny gorse screened them from view, Jack stopped and squatted down on his haunches. "I do have an assignment for you—an important one. But you must keep quiet about it to anyone else, and report back only to me. Can you do that?"

"Aye." The boy mimed locking his lips. "Mum's the word, sor!"

"Good. I knew I could count on you."

"What's ye need me te do?"

"Keep an eye on Lady Giamatti while she is working. Just to make sure she doesn't wander into any trouble." Jack cleared his throat. "Mind you, she is a very independent female, so she wouldn't like that I am concerned. That's why it's best that she doesn't know about it"

Davey nodded sagely. "Wimmen. Papa says they can drive a man to drink."

"Among other things." Repressing a smile, Jack took a shilling from his pocket and pressed it into the boy's hand. "I will arrange it with Mr. Eustace that you are assigned to her shelter. If you see anything amiss, you're to come find me right away."

The boy stared at the silver in speechless wonder.

"Remember, I'd rather no one guess what you are up to. But you strike me as a clever lad. I'm sure I can count on you."

"Don't ye worry, sor," stammered Davey, finally recovering his tongue. "I'll watch her like a hawk."

"That's the spirit." He stood up and took back his box. "Run along now. I'll contact you each day for a full report."

"It's as busy as a bloody coaching inn here," muttered Frederico, watching the workmen hitch a wooden post into place and begin hammering.

Alessandra lifted a shoulder as she turned away from the construction. Merrill and his two assistants were already lugging their crates of pottery fragments up the steep footpath, the thumps and yelps over bruised shins adding to the general cacophony of the clearing. "I can hardly object without raising questions."

"I suppose," he conceded. "But how the devil are we going to get on with the project?"

"Ssshhh, keep your voice down," she warned. Crossing the trampled grass, Alessandra took a seat on a light-dappled rock outcropping. The sun had finally begun to burn off the haze and oppressive humidity. As the air cleared, the surroundings seemed to lose the dull wash of gray that had muddied the colors.

Or perhaps it was merely that her own spirits felt brightened, despite the daunting challenges that still lay ahead. Frederico's threatening presence was like a cold, clammy finger teasing at the nape of her neck. And yet, knowing that she did not have to face him alone freed her from the worst of her fears.

Without looking up, she untied the strings of her document case. I'm working on mapping out a new section to survey," she said in a low voice. "But as I told you before, we must be patient, and do nothing to arouse suspicion."

Frederico moved closer and tugged at his watch chain, setting off a jingling ripple of gold and carnelian. Twisting in the light, the intaglio fobs gleamed bloodied against the pale cream silk of his waistcoat "We don't have forever."

"I am well aware of that" She watched the polished stones slowly cease their movement "It would help appearances if you would make some semblance of showing up here ready to work."

"I
am
working" he replied with a smug little tweak of his coat lapels. "Haverstick asked me to accompany him to a luncheon with the Countess of Milford, a local patron of the arts who is interested in hearing about our project Her estate is close by, so I shall return for an hour or two of digging at the end of the day." He shifted his stance, unable to control his restless energy. "In the meantime, I trust you will find a way to do some more exploring."

Alessandra shuffled through some of the papers, angling the leather flap to hide her hands from the casual observer. "Speaking of which, I would like to take another look at the centurion's account, along with the map."

His gaze squeezed to a calculating squint "Why?"

She let out her bream in an exasperated huff. "Because that is what scholars do—they look over things again and again to make sure they are not missing some vital clue. A fresh look often sparks a new idea. Yet I've been allowed only a cursory glance at the contents."

A jaw muscle twitched as Frederico considered the request

Would her bluff succeed?
Jack was anxious to have a look at the original documents, but so far, Frederico had not let them out of his hands.

"But if you would rather not improve the odds of us finding the artifact suit yourself," she added sardonically.

He lifted his golden lashes and his eyes were chilling to behold. "Very well. However, if anything happens to them, there will be serious consequences. So if I were you, I'd guard them with my life."

She maintained an unflinching expression, though the words were like a blade, cutting a razor-thin 'X' above her heart "That goes without saying."

He slipped the papers from his pocket and passed them over. "Try to have some new information to hand back with them, Alessa. I am getting tired of staring at the same old moldy scraps."

The ancient pages unfolded with a whispery crackle. Hunched behind the shelter of a limestone ledge, Jack smoothed them on his knee and studied the spidery writing. The ink had faded over the years, and the arcane grammar made it even more difficult to decipher.