She laughed. “No, I am most certainly not married.”
Not yet!
“Excellent.” He offered his arm. “Then shall we?”
“Yes, of course. But I am sorry. This has been a very long year and I‟m afraid I don‟t recall your name.”
“Yet another wound to my heart, but in truth, I‟m not surprised. I was only one of a multitude of partners you favored last year.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and Nate resisted the urge to leap after them and wrench the intruder from Gabriella‟s side. “Allow me then to introduce myself once again. I am Alistair McGowan.”
“Mr. McGowan.” Surprise sounded in her voice, and she cast a smug smile over her shoulder at Nate. “There is no one I would rather dance with.”
Nate clenched then relaxed his fists at his sides. He certainly wasn‟t jealous of Rathbourne, but the viscount‟s attentions to Gabriella were a cause of great concern. The man had enough money and power to do precisely as he pleased. The very idea of Gabriella going to his house alone, being in his employ, sent tremors of fear through him. There was little he could do to protect her there. Admittedly, there was probably little he could do to keep her away.
But Alistair McGowan was a different matter entirely. From what he knew of the man, and the few times they‟d crossed one another‟s path, he was a decent enough sort. For an American. He no more seriously considered McGowan a suspect in the theft of the seal than he did Quint. If McGowan had the seal, he probably came by it in a relatively honest manner.
He stared after Gabriella and McGowan. The American inclined his head toward her, and a faint ripple of laughter drifted back to him. He was making her laugh? Damned colonist.
Didn‟t McGowan realize she was taken? Didn‟t she realize she was taken?
Of course not. He had barely begun to realize it himself.
My apologies once again, Mr. McGowan.” Gabriella smiled up at him, which wasn‟t at all
difficult.
He was an adequate dancer, or at least she was in no fear of having her feet trampled, as so often happened at this particular gathering. McGowan was handsome as well, with blond hair and
broad shoulders. He had the greenest eyes she‟d ever seen, crinkled at the corners, no doubt from staring across the desert sands. Wickedly attractive, was the phrase that came to mind. Good.
When Nathanial watched her dance with this man, perhaps he would indeed be jealous. Not that she cared. “I can‟t imagine how I might have forgotten you.”
“It has been a long year,” he said with a smile. “I would have been surprised if you had
remembered. It was, after all, only one dance and not as if we had shared a kiss in the
moonlight.”
She stared at him. “Why did you say that?”
“Because, Miss Montini,” he grinned, “you make my thoughts to turn to things like kisses in the moonlight.”
“Are all Americans this forward?”
“Yes,” he said in a somber manner, though amusement twinkled in his eyes. “As well as
charming, each and every one of us. Even the ladies.” He thought for a moment. “Although they do, all in all, tend to be prettier than the gentlemen.” He leaned toward her ear in a confidential manner. “We much prefer it that way.”
She laughed. “I must confess, I didn‟t expect you to be so dashing.”
“No?” He held her a bit firmer and performed a complicated step to avoid another couple who appeared to be careening out of control. She followed him easily. Perhaps he was better than adequate. “You didn‟t expect a man you think might be a thief to be enjoyable company?”
Caution edged her voice. “How did you know about that?”
He shrugged. “Word does tend to travel, Miss Montini. And while you have my condolences for your brother‟s death, I assure you I had nothing to do with the disappearance of his seal.”
She wasn‟t sure what to say. It was one thing to accuse Lord Rathbourne of misdeeds. He was, after all, a not especially pleasant person. And quite another to voice her suspicion of Alistair McGowan to his handsome, smiling face. Still, she had no reason to trust him.
“And why should I believe you?”
“I don‟t know. It‟s harder to prove one‟s innocence than one‟s guilt, I suppose.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Forgive me, Miss Montini. You should know there is nothing I would like better than to continue this dance, but I fear I am not especially good at dancing and talking at the same time. One takes all my concentration, leaving the other lacking in substance if not style. And I suspect you have a great number of questions for me. Would you mind if we stopped dancing to talk?”
“Not at all.” She smiled, and he escorted her off the floor, to chairs arranged by a potted palm.
While in plain view, the plant still provided a modicum of privacy. She took a seat and he settled in the chair beside her.
“I ran across your brother more than a year ago now.” McGowan began without preamble. “You should be aware, although we had known each other for years, it was in no more than a casual manner. We were nothing more than acquaintances, really. We would cross paths on occasion, share a meal together, trade a story or two, that sort of thing.”
“Go on.”
“He had recently found the seal, and needless to say, was extremely excited about it.”
She leaned forward. “Where exactly did he find it, Mr. McGowan?”
“He never said.” He thought for a moment. “At the time, that struck me as somewhat odd, but your brother always did keep things like that to himself. At least that was my experience with him.”
She nodded. “He was always reticent to give specific details about his finds.”
“Yes, well, many of us are.” McGowan shrugged. “It‟s a very competitive field, Miss Montini.
It‟s not at all unusual to hear of someone who has lost a find because they opened their mouth to the wrong person. Still, it‟s often hard to keep one‟s enthusiasm to oneself. The Ambropia seal was the kind of discovery that elicited that type of excitement.”
“I fear I am somewhat confused. If you and he were not especially close, why did he show you the seal?”
“Proximity played a part. We happened to be in the same place at the same time. The thrill of discovery is often greater when one can share it with someone who will appreciate its magnitude.
We all have a tendency to brag about such things. There‟s little that warms a competitive heart more than seeing a flicker of envy in the eyes of a colleague.” He paused for a moment. “Beyond that, your brother and I shared a similar passion. I too wish to find a city lost to the ages.”
She raised a brow. “Ambropia?”
“No, although if a clue to its location fell into my hands, I certainly wouldn‟t walk away from it.” He chuckled. “No, Miss Montini, there are men who search for Ambropia and Hattusha and
Knossos today much as they once searched for Babylon and Troy and Ephesus. They do so because there is something about a city lost in time, abandoned, forgotten, relegated to myth and legend, that grabs one‟s imagination. And buries itself in one‟s soul.” He glanced at her. “Are you familiar with Shandihar?”
She nodded. “It was on the silk route in southern Turkey, Asia Minor, the crossroads of the world at one time. Reputed to be a city of great wealth and glory, it was described in writings from the sixth century. It is believed the people of Shandihar worshiped only one god, or rather, goddess—Ereshkigal, the queen of the night.”
He stared at her. “How do you know all that?”
“I remember everything I‟ve ever read.” She smiled. “It‟s a useful skill.”
“I can well imagine,” he murmured, studying her with a mixture of admiration and possibly
envy.
“About Shandihar?” she prompted.
“Ah yes. The discovery of Shandihar, Miss Montini, is the quest that has captured my heart. And I will find her one day.” Absolute confidence shone in his eyes. “It is my destiny, I have no doubt of that.”
“At least you know Shandihar did indeed exist.” Gabriella blew a long breath. “The writings about Ambropia are so obscure, the very name of the goddess who protected it is still as yet unknown. She is only known as the Virgin Goddess.”
“And the location of the city is the Virgin‟s Secret.” He nodded. “Which is why your brother‟s find was so important a discovery. Never before has there been reference either to Ambropia or the Virgin‟s Secret on so ancient an artifact.”
“No, Ambropia was only mentioned by the Greeks, and those writings are vague and minimal.”
“That the symbols for both the city and the Virgin‟s Secret were found on an Akkadian seal would seem to indicate that the city was more than mere legend.”
“One would hope, but quite honestly, Mr. McGowan,” she met his gaze firmly, “that does not concern me. If my brother were still alive, I am certain he would want to pursue the search for the city itself. I want only to recover the seal and give my brother the credit due him. I don‟t want him to be remembered as…” She paused to find the right words. “I want to restore his
reputation. His good name.”
“His good name. Yes, of course,” McGowan murmured. His gaze slid past her, then returned to meet hers. “Your quest strikes me as both noble and honorable, but I do hope you understand there are others to whom those words do not apply. Miss Montini.” He stared into her eyes.
“Ambropia would be a find that would bring untold fame and fortune and glory to its
discoverers. Your brother‟s seal is the first step toward that discovery. There are those who would not hesitate to use whatever means possible to acquire it.”
“I am well aware of that, Mr. McGowan.”
“Then you are aware as well that your journey could be a dangerous one.”
“I am.” She nodded. “But I‟m not worried.”
“Perhaps you should be. I wish I could be of further help.” He grinned. “Indeed I can think of nothing I would like better than to help you.”
“Why, Mr. McGowan.” She widened her eyes in an innocent manner. “Are you trying to sway
me with flirtatious banter?”
“I am trying.” He smiled, then sobered. “You have no reason to believe me, but I do not have the seal.” He paused. “Nor do I know who does.”
“And would you tell me if you did?”
“Ah, Miss Montini.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “I daresay I would tell you very nearly anything to see gratitude light up those lovely blue eyes of yours.”
She laughed. “Mr. McGowan, you are past trying now. I think you have succeeded.”
“Good.” He grinned. “I find all this talk has left me parched.” He got to his feet. “May I fetch you a cup of punch?”
“That would be lovely.” She smiled, and he took his leave. She watched him circle the room, heading toward the alcove where refreshments were arranged.
Blast it all, she did believe him. Not that she was swayed by his flirtatious manner or his handsome face, but there was an air of honesty about him. And his manner struck her as
forthright. He seemed the kind of man who would not lie well. She did not consider herself a particularly good judge of character, but there was something about McGowan that elicited trust.
She could be wrong but didn‟t think so.
If she eliminated McGowan as a possibility, as well as Rathbourne—although he‟d admitted he had tried to acquire the seal—that left only Gutierrez. Who may or may not have stolen it for Rathbourne, although his lordship claimed he didn‟t have it. And was willing to let her view his collections to prove it. Which might be rather pointless, all things considered. Still, it would be interesting to see the seal Rathbourne said might match her brother‟s, as well as his other artifacts.
Which left only Nathanial and Quinton of those her brother suspected. She still wasn‟t sure she entirely trusted Quinton, and in truth, what woman would? As for Nathanial, she‟d had no choice but to trust him. Now, without quite noticing how or when it had happened, she did trust him.
Certainly with her quest. Perhaps with her heart as well, although that was not possible.
She shook her head to clear the absurd thought. Even if she had her heart to give, she would think long and hard about giving it to a man who thought she was a mere woman. Women were
doing all sorts of things these days that men didn‟t think they should or could. Why, hadn‟t Amelia Edwards traveled Egypt for years and then written A Thousand Miles up the Nile? A
book archeologists—men—found praiseworthy and most helpful in their own pursuits. Indeed,
she‟d read several different memoirs, written by women, that were their accounts of traveling in remote parts of the world. There was nothing mere about those women. The fact that she
couldn‟t think of a woman actively engaged in archeological pursuits didn‟t mean there wasn‟t one somewhere. Perhaps she could be the first? It was an intriguing idea. A new hope for the future, possibly to replace the one that had vanished with her brother‟s death.
I would never abandon you.
Enrico had died, he hadn‟t abandoned her. At least, not with his death. Regardless, Nathanial had no right to imply otherwise.
And I would give up my own life before I would allow you to come to any harm.
How could one stay angry at a man who would say things like that? Still, anger was one way to keep him at arm‟s length. But with each passing day spent in his presence, she wanted to be in his arms. She wanted to be in his life for the rest of her days, and that simply was not going to happen. Even dwelling on it was absurd.
One way or another, their time together would soon be at an end. Then she would disappear from his life. It was for the best, really. He was obviously beginning to feel some affection for her.
And she…
She shoved the thought aside.
It scarcely mattered at the moment. The only important thing now was finding the seal. Before it was too late for her brother‟s redemption. Before Nathanial‟s offhand talk of what he loved about her became something more significant. Before she lost her heart to him and it was too late to save herself.
If it wasn‟t already too late.
Nate casually stepped up to the refreshment table beside McGowan.