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Slater went to stand at one of the windows. He looked out into the garden.

“From what we could tell, Fever Island was uninhabited,” he said.

“Torrence and I found the entrance to an ancient temple and what appeared to be an endless maze of burial chambers and treasure rooms all carved into the base of a volcano. We called the complex the City of Tombs.” Slater paused and then shook his head slightly. “It was quite... astonishing.”

Ursula sat very still and watched his hard profile. She knew that it was the temple tombs of Fever Island that he saw now, not the fogbound garden.

“It must have been a wondrous discovery,” she said.

“Unlike anything I had ever seen in my life. It was as if we had stepped into a dream world.”

Slater fell quiet again. She drank some of her coffee and waited.

“We had brought a small crew of men with us to assist in the excavation work,” he said.

“The entrance to the tomb complex was a long corridor of stone that led deep into the mountain. At the end of the tunnel was a vast chamber. The walls and floor were painted in dazzling colors. Statues of fantastic beasts were everywhere—large birds and reptiles unlike anything Torrence and I had ever seen. Each was studded with incredible gemstones.”

“I saw the statue of the Jeweled Bird that Lord Torrence exhibited in the British Museum in the months following his return,” Ursula said. “It was extraordinary. There was a great sensation when it was reported stolen.”

“There were so many artifacts crammed into the temple chamber that we could only assume they had been collected over a long period of time—several centuries, perhaps.”

“Do you think they were of Egyptian or Greek origin?”

“Neither,” he said. “I’m quite certain of it, although there were similarities to both of those ancient civilizations.

But I am convinced that we discovered the tombs of an unknown culture that was so old, so rich and so powerful that it may have left its influence on the great civilizations that rose after it was gone. ”

A sense of wonder came over her. “Good heavens, sir, do you think you and Lord Torrence discovered the royal tombs of Atlantis ?”

He shook his head. “Atlantis is a legend.”

She smiled at that. “I would point out that you are reputed to be something of a legend, yourself. Such tales are not woven out of thin air. There is usually a grain of truth in them.”

He shrugged. “It is unlikely we will ever discover the truth about Fever Island, at least not in our lifetime. The island volcano erupted years ago, burying the tomb complex beneath rivers of lava and mountains of ash. All I can tell you is that there were indications that the science and literature of the people was well developed, certainly the equal of ancient Greece or Rome or Egypt.”

“You must have been thrilled when you first walked into those tomb caves.”

Slater glanced at her over his shoulder, one brow slightly elevated. “I was thrilled—right up to the moment when the trap was triggered, sealing me inside the main tomb chamber.”

Ursula’s sense of wonder and excitement congealed. The cup trembled a little in her hand. Hastily she set it down.

“I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like,” she said. “You no doubt believed that you had been buried alive.”

“That was my first conclusion,” he admitted. “I knew immediately that there was no hope that Torrence and the others would be able to rescue me.”

“Why not?”

“I realized that they almost surely had to believe that I had been buried beneath countless tons of rock. But even if they had held out some faint hope, they had no practical way to dig through the boulders that clogged the tunnel that led to the main chamber.”

“How did you survive?”

“The trap that closed the exit tunnel was designed to protect the treasure and the sarcophagi in the burial vaults. The only part of the City of Tombs that was destroyed was the passageway that led to the outside world.”

“How did you escape?”

“There were three passageways off of the burial chamber in which I found myself. The walls were covered with spectacular paintings. Each passageway told a different story. One was an epic history of endless wars. The second corridor told a story of vengeance. By luck and intuition, I chose the third legend. It led me into a passage that proved to be a labyrinth, not a maze.”

“You mean it led to a central point?”

“Yes,” Slater said. “Another exit, to be precise.”

“Thank heavens. But when you emerged you discovered that you were alone on the island. You had no way of knowing when another ship would arrive. The loneliness must have been... unnerving.”

He smiled and turned around to face her. “The press got that bit wrong. I was not alone on the island.”

She was stunned. “There was no mention of that.”

“No. I certainly never told anyone. As for Torrence and the others on the expedition, they had no way of knowing that there was a small group of people living on the island.”

“The descendants of the people who built the tombs?”

“No,” Slater said. “The people I met come from various corners of the world to form a monastery of sorts—a place of refuge and reflection. They called their community the Order of the Three Paths. Some who found their way to Fever Island stayed for only a short span of time. The teachings and the discipline of the Order did not suit them. Others thrived on the instruction and took what they learned back out into the world. Some remained on the island and became teachers.”

“This is astonishing,” Ursula said. “There has been nothing in the press about a religious order on Fever Island.”

“It was not a religious order. It could best be described as a philosophical community. The physical and mental exercises would strike most people here as esoteric or exceedingly eccentric.”

“I see.” She paused. “I assume that you became a vegetarian during your stay on the island?”

He smiled briefly. “I’m afraid so. In any event, a ship arrived a year after I emerged from the tombs. By then I had become a full initiate of the Order.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound as if there was a great deal to do on the island except study the ways of this Order.”

Slater’s eyes gleamed with amusement “True. But I found that the ways of the Order suited me. The teachers told me that I was a natural student.”

“These teachers—they spoke English?”

“Some did. As I told you, they came from various parts of the world. The Far East, Europe. There was even an American at the monastery—a ship’s captain who found his way to the island and decided to stay.”

“But you chose to leave when the opportunity presented itself.”

“I returned to London long enough to assure my parents that I was alive and well but I discovered that London no longer felt like home. I told my father that I intended to go abroad to find my own true path. He promptly cut me off without a penny.” Slater chuckled.

“A perfectly logical parental response under the circumstances.”

“Perhaps, but it must have put quite a crimp in your archaeological explorations. Financing such expeditions is very expensive.”

Slater looked out the window. “I found other ways to make my living.”

“Did you discover this true path that you sought?” she asked. But she had already sensed that the answer would be no.

Slater smiled faintly and shook his head.

“A year into my quest, I returned to Fever Island because I felt the need for more instruction and training. I had questions. But in the time I had been away, the volcano had erupted. The destruction was complete. There was nothing left to indicate that the monastery had ever existed.”

“So you went back to your search until family obligations summoned you home.”

“Where I will be obliged to stay, at least for the foreseeable future. Managing my father’s estate is not something that can be done from a distance.”

“Evidently at some point along the way you and your father reconciled,” Ursula said.

“I think he developed a grudging respect for the fact that I had chosen to go my own way.”

“More than a grudging respect, I’d say. According to what I’ve heard he entrusted the entire estate to you.”

Slater shrugged. “There was no one else.”

“There are always other ways to handle vast sums of money,” Ursula said. “Your father obviously trusted you.”

Slater did not respond but he did not argue.

“Are you going to tell me how you made your living during the years when you were wandering the world without the financial backing of the family fortune?” she asked. “That is why you brought me here today, isn’t it?”

He glanced at her. “Sometimes you see me too clearly, Ursula.”

“Does that offend you?”

“It is unsettling but, no, it does not offend me. Just takes a bit of getting used to, that’s all. In answer to your question, I made a living recovering lost and stolen artifacts.”

“How... unusual. There is a living to be made in that business?”

“A very good living, as it happens. Collectors are an eccentric, obsessive lot. They will pay almost anything to possess the objects of their desire. The business sent me to the far corners of the Earth. I dealt with some rather difficult people at times.”

She watched him. “What is your definition of difficult in this case?”

“Dangerous.”

She caught her breath. “I see.”

“Collectors and those who move in the underground world of antiquities often employ violent people to steal the objects of their desire. They employ dangerous people to guard their relics. They build vaults and safes and lock them with complicated mechanisms. Some are willing to commit murder to obtain certain artifacts. In short, my clients were obsessed with chasing legends.”

“They hired you to chase those legends for them.”

“And things sometimes became violent.” Slater turned around.

His fierce eyes locked with hers. “The reason I brought you here today, Ursula, is to explain that, for a time in my life, I found the unwholesome excitement of my work, even the occasional violence, gratifying. There is no other word for it. And that is the truth about my eccentric nature.”

“Am I supposed to be shocked?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as shocked as I probably ought to be. But here’s the thing, Slater. My life has taken a few odd twists and turns and I find that the experience has made me more tolerant of the odd twists and turns in other people’s lives.”

“That is a very broad-minded point of view,” he said rather dryly.

“Do you believe that Lord Torrence deliberately triggered the trap so that he could escape alone with the Jeweled Bird?”

“No. What I believe is that removing the Bird from the pedestal is what triggered the trap. But because the mechanism was so ancient it was not in good working order. It moved slowly and ponderously. That is why Torrence and the others had time to get to the entrance.”

She thought about the expression she had seen on Lady Torrence’s face. “Perhaps you should make it clear to Lord Torrence that you do not blame him.”

Slater was grimly amused. “I think he knows how I feel about the matter. He is not interested in having a personal conversation about Fever Island.”

“Why not?”

“I think it is very likely that he suspects that I know what really became of the Jeweled Bird.”

“What are you talking about? It was stolen.”

“I was in the business of searching for lost and stolen artifacts, remember?”

A small shock of understanding struck her. “Good heavens. Yes, of course. You must have heard about the theft at the time.”

“It was a sensation throughout the world of collectors and museums. A number of clients offered to pay me handsomely to find it. But I went looking for it on my own.”

“You found it, didn’t you?”

There was a short silence.

“I know what happened to it,” Slater admitted.

“According to the press, the Jeweled Bird has become a legend. They say it is the source of the animosity between you and Lord Torrence.”

Slater watched her very steadily. “I don’t give a damn about the Jeweled Bird.”

She studied him for a moment. He was telling her the truth, she decided.

“Yes, I can see that the fate of the Bird doesn’t matter to you,” she said. “Your experience on the island is more important to you than the treasure.”

“My time at the monastery changed me, Ursula.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Slater?”

He walked slowly, deliberately toward her and came to a halt in front of her, inches away.

“I’m trying to tell you that meeting you changed me yet again. I do not feel as if I am watching you from offstage. When I am close to you as I am now, I feel you in every fiber of my being.”

She was speechless. Her mouth opened but she could not find words.

“There is something I must ask you,” he continued.

She went very still, half afraid that he would ask her for the truth about her past. The thrilling heat of the moment was instantly transmuted into an icy dread.

She could not imagine that he had guessed her secret but she had to acknowledge that someone—the blackmailer—certainly had.

There was no knowing now who else might be aware of her past.

“The question I must ask you has been keeping me awake nights ever since I met you,” Slater said.

She braced herself. “What is it?”

“You wear deep mourning. But I have been told that your husband died a few years ago. Do you think it will be possible to move past your state of grief and find it within yourself to form an attachment to another man?”

She was so stunned that for a moment she could only stare at him in shocked silence. Something dark and haunted moved in his eyes, drawing her out of her trance.

“Good heavens, Slater, I’m not locked in deep mourning,” she said, the words sharpened with relief.

“Quite the opposite. I was married for less than two years. By the time my husband broke his neck falling down a staircase at a brothel, he had destroyed any love that I had once felt for him. I know I should be ashamed to admit it but frankly, even after discovering that he had gambled away every penny we possessed, I was relieved to have him out of my life. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he said. “I believe it does.”

She could see the heat in his eyes. It robbed her of breath. Her pulse skittered and she was oddly shaky. She raised her gloved fingertips to touch the edge of his mouth.

He framed her face with his powerful hands and drew her closer.

His mouth closed over hers and everything she thought she knew of passion went out the window.

Matty’s words of warning floated through her mind. “They say he practices exotic sexual rites upon unsuspecting females.”

Evidently not all of the legends about Slater Roxton were false.