To Surrender to a Rogue (29 page)

Through the blur of tears, she saw the shimmering shape of his face bathed in the moonglow. "You paint a far too flattering portrait."

"I am blinded by love," he said with a breath of laughter.

She blinked the beads of salt from her lashes. "Then don't ever open your eyes."

He kissed her, a long, lush embrace that left her a little weak in the knees. Twined two as one, they held each other, letting the sounds of the slumbering ships serenade them.

"Does that mean we have a meeting of minds?" he finally asked.

"And a meeting of hearts," she murmured. "Of spirits."

"May I take that as a yes?'

"Si."

His sigh tickled against her cheek. "I think Italian must be the most beautiful language on earth."

D
rapping a last layer of cotton wool around the gold
imago,
Alessandra placed it in the traveling case and locked the lid.

Jack looked up from sketching a statue of Minerva, his charcoal stick hovering over the grained paper. "It was generous of Haverstick and the Bath contingent to give such a treasure to the Julius Caesar Society in London for permanent display."

"He acknowledged that without our help, it would never have been found," she replied. Her lips quirked as she ran a finger along the brass bands of the box. "And I have a feeling that, given the rout of the ancient Roman army and recent battle, he fears that it may be cursed."

"On the contrary, I consider the
imago
a blessing in disguise. After all, it brought us together." Jack tapped the page. "Though in all fairness, we must give the devil his due. Without Bellazoni and Orrichetti, it may have lain undiscovered for another thousand years."

She carefully rearranged her papers. "It's ironic, isn't it? The last thing they intended was to make a lasting contribution to serious scholarship."

"Divine retribution," he murmured. "Minerva did not take kindly to having her sacred grounds desecrated by evil."

Alessandra heaved a sigh. "Minerva showed her usual wisdom, but what a fool I was. I never suspected Pietro was capable of such cold-blooded malice."

Setting aside his charcoal and paper, Jack covered the distance between them in two quick strides. "You must stop blaming yourself for the past, sweetheart," he said, drawing her into his arms. It still was a source of wonder that she was soon to be his wife. "Orrichetti fooled a great many people."

"Yes, but I made such terrible mistakes."

"We all make mistakes."

She looked up with a tremulous smile. "Not you."

"Yes, me. I tied your daughter to a tree..." A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Though actually, come to think of it, it was one of the smartest things I've ever done. Otherwise, you would likely have ignored me for the entire excavation."

"You are rather hard to ignore," she said, sliding her arms around his waist

"Especially when my cold, dark hands stray here... and here."

"Jack!"

He nibbled at her earlobe. "Er, speaking of the imp, where is Isabella?"

"Marco has taken her for ices in Milsom Street They should be back shortly," replied Alessandra.

"I trust he is not feeding her any new curses."

"If he does, you have my permission to slice off his tongue."

"I'm not sure I want to cross swords with your cousin," said Jack. "For all his braggadoccio, I have heard he is one of the best blades in all of Europe."

"Oh, I am sure your steel is just as sharp."

"Mmmm." Perching her on the worktable, he edged closer. "I wonder, have we enough time..."

A thump and rattle of the townhouse front door made them both jump.

"I suppose not," he sighed as she hurriedly smoothed out her skirts. He turned as the ancient oak swung open—and blinked. One blond head appeared, followed by another."

"George? Neddy?"

A second pair of fair-haired gentlemen stepped into the entrance hall.

"Wills? Charles?" Good Lord, what next...

Jack immediately regretted asking the question as a leonine mane of silvery hair was suddenly silhouetted against the blackened wood.

"Father."

"We heard there might be a spot of trouble in Bath and thought you might need reinforcements," murmured George as he shook out the capes of his driving coat.

"Thank you," replied Jack evenly. "But I have the situation well in hand."

William cast an appreciative look at Alessandra before answering, "So it would seem."

Both Edward and Charles smothered their chortles in a cough.

Ignoring their levity, the Duke of Ledyard marched to the front of the ranks. "So, you mean to say that you have vanquished the enemy?" he demanded.

Jack quelled the urge to salute. However much his father might rattle his saber, he was no longer the general in command. From now on, Jack intended to choose his own battles. Clearing his throat, he casually straightened to his full height and folded his arms across his chest.

Might as well face the fire.

"Yes, sir," he answered slowly. "Sony you made the trip down from Town for naught. But since you are here, allow me to present you to my—"

"Ledyard," barked the duke, inclining a brief bow at Alessandra. "Father of this impudent pup. And you are... some sort of foreign name, eh?"

"Yes, Your Grace." She met the duke's gimlet gaze with an unruffled calm. "Marchesa Alessandra della Giamatti"

His father's bushy brows took on a menacing tilt, and a scowl cut across his craggy features. It was, Jack knew, a look that had left many a seasoned soldier quaking in his boots.

His bride-to-be actually smiled, a subtle curl that showed off the lovely Marchesa Mouth to perfection.

It was the duke who blinked first

Jack relaxed slightly. His father would not find it so easy to intimidate Alessandra.

"You must be extremely proud of Lord James," she continued. "He single-handedly saved a very important cache of ancient art from being plundered."

"Art, you say?" Ledyard peered at the fragments of sculpture and bronzework laid out on the worktable. Pulling a pair of spectacles from his waistcoat pocket, he perched them on his patrician nose and leaned down for a closer look.

"Yes, art. In fact, Lord James has been a great asset to our excavation by employing his drawing skills to record the details of our discoveries."

Jack gave an inward wince as she opened a portfolio of his watercolors.

"As you can see," she went on smoothly, pretending not to see his hand signal. "He is an extraordinarily gifted artist"

"Hmmph." The duke began to thumb through the sketches.

Jack gritted his teeth and remained silent

"And here are some of his paintings from Rome."

Edward and William craned their necks for a look over the duke's massive shoulders.

"You are a scholar of antiquities in your own right, are you not, Lady Giamatti?" inquired George loudly.

"Yes." Her chin rose a fraction. "My main field of study is the technical analysis of ancient artifacts."

Ledyard looked up.

The winking light made it impossible to decipher the look in his eyes. But Jack could well imagine what his father must be thinking—and 'bluestocking' was likely the kindest word being considered.

To hell with bland and boring London ladies.
If his father did not approve of females who dared to be different, so be it He didn't intend to march for the rest of his life under false colors.

Countering the duke's sharp gaze with his own show of steel, Jack explained, "Lady Alessandra is considered one of the foremost experts in ancient archaeology. I have been extremely fortunate to work with her on this project. I have learned quite a lot"

Edward coughed.

Ledyard's brows rose ever so slightly and then he returned to perusing the paintings.

A lengthy silence settled over the room. His brothers exchanged amused looks as Jack shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to appear at ease.
The damn scamps.
They were heartily enjoying the situation.

Jack shot them a glowering look—one that promised future payment for their perfidy—before making another attempt to broach the subject of his upcoming nuptials with the duke.

"Father, I have some news that I wish—"

"By Jove." Once again, the duke cut him off. Directing his comments to Alessandra, he added, "These are rather good."

"Yes, Your Grace. They are," she replied.

Ledyard pinched the bridge of his nose and looked thoughtful.

She drew out several paintings from the bottom of the pile. "This series from Milan is particularly interesting. It shows Renaissance architecture, rather than Roman ruins, but as you see, the stonework is quite unique. Leonardo da Vinci designed the city's military defenses to withstand enemy cannonfire and siege tactics."

The duke came to stand beside her and braced his big hands on the table. "You don't say?"

"Indeed, as a scientist, Da 'Vinci was quite conversant with tensile strength of the iron used in gun barrels, which determined the size of a projectile, and at what distance and velocity it could be fired."

"Science and soldiering," he mused. "Hmmm."

"The formula used for gunpowder was also an important factor. The technique of corning had just been discovered in the early fifteenth century, which made the mix thirty percent more powerful. So as you see, the towers had to be shaped at a certain angle and thickness to withstand a direct hit..."

Heads bent low over the painting, the two of them fell into what promised to be a lengthy discussion.

Jack leaned back against the worktable and snapped a mental salute to his bride-to-be. His father was a formidable force to reckon with. But so was she. If anyone could soften the duke's steel, it was this beautiful, brainy lady who had won his heart.

"The marchesa is awfully knowledgeable about military history," murmured William.

"Yes, she is exceedingly smart," said Jack with a touch of pride. "About a great many subjects."

"Marriage must not be one of them," quipped Edward. "Seeing as she said yes to you."

"That is, Father seems to think you have proposed," added George. "Is it true?"

The duke might not be a deity, thought Jack, but somehow he always seemed to know more than any mere mortal. "How the devil did he learn of it?" he demanded.

William shrugged. "God only knows."

His other brothers chuckled.

Easy for them to make light of the subject, thought Jack, suddenly feeling strangely nervous. Not for himself, but for Alessandra. She had no real family of her own. Her English relatives had remained distant, while her ties to Italy had grown tenuous. He wanted very much for the Pierson clan to welcome her into their ranks. His brothers, despite all their rough-edged masculine teasings, would offer their support But the duke?

Jack shifted his gaze to his father. Encroaching age had done little to diminish Ledyard's air of imposing authority. The bullish shoulders were still firmly muscled, the spine still ramrod straight, the voice still booming as cannonfire. From the tips of his polished Hessian boots to the brash of his thick, silvery hair, he was every inch the autocratic aristocrat.

Seeing as Alessandra did not fit the mold of a traditional wife, his father would likely oppose the match.
A woman should be seen and not heard
The duke had very regimented ideas on propriety.

And she had just spent the last few minutes blasting them to flinders.

A wry smile tugged at his mouth. The only battle that really mattered had already been won.
Love conquers all.
Though his friend Lucas would tease him unmercifully if he ever voiced the sentiment aloud, he had actually come to believe it. He and Alessandra had each other, and together they could triumph over any adversity.

Jack realized at that moment that he must be a romantic at heart Whatever the obstacles, he was confident that he would eventually vanquish any of his father's misgivings.

After all, Rome wasn't won in a day.

A shuffling of paper announced that the discussion on warfare had come to an end. The duke slowly turned to face his sons. "Speaking of combat Jack, it seems you have not lost your edge when it comes to a fight. We heard from Mr. Dwight-Davis that you uncovered a dastardly plot and vanquished a ruthless enemy."

"With the help of Lady Alessandra, who showed great courage under fire," said Jack firmly. Determined this time to clear any lingering smoke from the field, he charged ahead. "But—"

"But now, you were planning to outflank me? What is this I hear about a special marriage license?"

Jack stood his ground. "Well, sir, a good soldier should always adapt his strategy to achieve victory with the least amount of bloodshed."

Ledyard's mouth quirked. "Don't throw military tactics in my face, lad. I was a dab hand at maneuvering before you were even a gleam in my eye."

Before Jack could reply, he went on. "So don't think for a moment that I shall allow you to marry in a strange church with none of your family present."

The duke then addressed himself to Alessandra, his voice turning a touch tentative. "Tradition has always called for Pierson men to marry in the family chapel at Ledyard Manor. I hope that you will consider the invitation, Lady Giamatti."

His father making a
request?

"I think I need smelling salts," murmured Jack.

"I think I need a bottle of brandy," replied his eldest brother. "By the by, you owe me another case for this."

He grinned. "I owe you the whole damn vineyard."

Alessandra studied the duke's imperious face, seeing the chiseling of familiar planes and angles beneath the lines of age.
Strength, character, honor.
Principles that Pierson men had passed on for centuries, from generation to generation.