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K AT HAD NEVER IMAGINED that it would be so difficult to say goodbye to her father. She knew that she loved him with all her heart, but it was only when the last whistle blew and she knew that he, Eliza—and of course, Lady Daws—must leave the ship that she realized just how a part of her would be missing when she was no longer with her family.

Maggie and Emma had managed to become close friends in a short period of time, and so Maggie was a pile of tears, which didn’t help Kat.

“Ah, luv, you can still come off the ship. But such a fine man will not come along again easily,” her father said, a twinkle in his eye.

She clung to him. She shook her head against the broad expanse of his chest. “I’m all right. It’s just that I love you so.”

“But I will be well. Eliza and Isabella will be looking after me.”

That, of course, was what she was afraid of—the Isabella part.

Then Eliza took her in a hug, squeezing her tightly. “I will look after Papa!” she whispered. “It will be fine!”

It must have been, Kat thought, that she was still simply so weak. When they walked away and she had to watch them standing, waving, on shore as they sailed at last, she knew that silent tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Hunter was behind her. They were in full view of many people, so it was natural that he took her in his arms. And it was most pleasant. She laid her head against his chest, and he put a hand on her head, soothing her. She realized for the first time that, somehow, he was truly her friend. Of course, that wouldn’t mean that they would get along any better. But she had so much for which to be grateful to him. She vowed that she would never fail him in the work that he needed.

Many people stood on deck, watching as England disappeared. And then, as they moved away, groups began to splinter and to seek out their cabins.

This first ship would take them across to France, where supplies would be unloaded and then reloaded on the train. Their overland journey would take them as far south as Brindisi, Italy, where they were to board a second ship, which would take them to Alexandria, where again they would pick up a train. The train would deliver them to Cairo, and from there, the groups on expedition would set out for their respective digs. Most of those aboard were heading to Egypt, though certainly not all were planning on a season of expedition. Many went merely to flee the cold winter months.

Thanks to Lord Avery’s title, esteem and money, their group had the best accommodations. Kat had a pleasant little room all her own, and there was space enough for a bed, dresser, slim wardrobe and small writing or dressing table. A door connected to Emma’s room, which was smaller, and from there to a sitting room, which in turn connected to Lady Margaret’s room. Lord Avery was across the hall with his valet, George, in the sitting room, and Hunter was down a few doors with a nicely elegant room of his own, which included a sitting room and an extra-small bedroom for Ethan. David, Alfred, Allan and Robert were on the opposite side of Lord Avery, each with a small cabin to call his own. There were minuscule baths for the ladies, while the men had to share. The Earl and Countess of Carlyle were at the far end of the hall, where they, too, had a suite of rooms. It was a ship, however, and space was tight, whatever one’s position or wealth.

There were, Robert Stewart had assured her, far worse accommodations. She should see how they were below!

And, of course, she believed him and was grateful.

Their first day at sea, after the initial excitement and exploration of cabins, was one that saw many passengers keeping to their cabins. The channel was rough. The captain apologized and told them that he was sorry, but it was often so in the northern waters.

With everyone else apparently in their cabins, Kat chose to wander the deck. She loved the motion of the sea and the feel of the wind against her hair. She especially loved the strange feeling of power it gave her to stand topside and feel the lash of the elements.

She was leaning on the rail, enjoying the salt spray, when she noted another intrepid traveler who had not retreated to his cabin.

Hunter. He saw her at the same time and approached her. They were alone on deck, so there was no need for pretense of any kind.

“You’re not feeling the pain of the motion?” he queried, taking a stance beside her at the rail.

She shook her head. “I love the sea. I am never sick.”

He looked at her with a small smile on his lips. “Oh? Never?”

“Truly, I’m never— Oh. Well, once.”

“I’m glad that you are better now.”

She stared back at the water in irritation. “Perhaps…I must have eaten or drunk something bad,” she said.

She was startled to see a frown form on his brow. He stared at her. “You couldn’t have. There were many people there that night. No one else was ill.”

“Well, in my life, that is possibly the first time I have ever been ill,” she said. “So it must have been something I swallowed.”

“There was a great deal of upheaval and excitement,” he reminded her.

She groaned. “I have had worse days, I promise you.”

He seemed thoughtful, and she wondered if he might possibly believe her. He leaned against the rail, no longer interested in the sea but watching her. “If not the champagne, the excitement or the food—consumed by everyone—what?”

“Nothing! I cannot explain it.”

“You’re not suggesting that…”

“What?” she demanded.

“That someone perhaps slipped something into your drink.”

“I’d not have put it past Isabella!” Kat said.

“I had not even thought of such a possibility,” Hunter murmured. He still watched her with such speculation that she was uneasy.

“I’m fine now,” she said, looking away again.

“Yes, well, I should very much like it if you were to remain that way,” he responded.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I am saying. Of course, it had to have been…a nervous disorder. There could be no one who would really wish me…dead,” she said. Still, even saying the word gave her chills. She shrugged as if it had been a casual statement. But he still watched her, and she knew it. She turned her attention back to him. “Oh, seriously, Sir Hunter! I am not rich, I have no power, nor do I even possess any knowledge about anything. Why would anyone want to hurt me?”

“Jealousy, revenge.”

“Jealousy?” She laughed.

He looked wryly amused. “Dear Miss Adair, I hate to shatter your total disregard, but there are those out there who just might envy your position as my fiancée.”

“But that’s preposterous. It’s not even real!”

“But we’ve hardly announced that, have we?”

“Camille is happily married, my sister would never hurt me, Margaret could have any man she chooses. I hardly think anyone at the party would want me out of the way because of you. Lady Daws, of course, would certainly be interested—I’m sorry, I’m afraid that’s not much of a compliment, for I believe she was interested at one time in any attractive man with any status whatsoever, though I do believe that she has set her talons on my father.”

“True,” he agreed.

“I did not mean to be offensive.”

“I wasn’t offended. It’s just that, well, I am afraid I must be a bit skeptical. First, you believe that someone intends harm to David.”

“Well, he was harmed! He was nearly killed.”

“And then…well, is the person attempting to kill David the same person who’s attempting to either kill you or make you deathly ill?” he inquired.

She shook her head, irritated anew that he was again mocking her. “I simply do not get sick, that is all. I will no longer say anything at all, since it seems that every word out of my mouth is an amusement to you.”

He laughed, and she turned on him in something of a temper. But he was smiling still, and it seemed with good humor rather than mockery, and for a moment, she was caught by the light in his eyes, by the curve of his smile and by the realization that everyone else was really quite right; he was an extraordinary man, tall, powerful and handsome. Striking, really. And when his lips had touched hers, she had felt…

Her knees felt weak with the mere memory, and she looked away. Angry with herself, she rallied, but he had put an arm around her waist.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes…it was just a second of the ship’s sway,” she said.

“Ah.”

“Tell me,” she asked, glad of him next to her, aware that she had come to know his scent well—soap and shaving talc, mingled with the scent of skin beneath. “What will it be like when we get there?”

“Cairo, you mean? Well, I believe that you will find the hotel fascinating. It’s the season, so I imagine there will be two or three hundred guests at Shepheard’s now. And they all gather on the porch, the restaurant, facing the arriving travelers. They are rich and poor, many are British or American, some German…and French. Others, of course, but those are the main groups of tourists. Some have come because they are ill, sadly. Many, many who suffer from tuberculosis come to Egypt, and there are doctors who swear that the weather can prolong life. Every time a new party arrives, all the people at all the tables speculate on who they are, what they do and if they are in Egypt for vacation or for work, if they will go down the Nile or enjoy the sights of Cairo. There are a number of new hotels, of course, and some very nice. But Shepheard’s is where you go if you wish to know who else is around.”

“It sounds…marvelous,” she said.

“It is,” he assured her.

She realized that his arm was still around her. And that she did not want it to move.

“Well, hello!” came a deep voice. Strangely, feeling an odd sense of guilt, Kat jerked away at the sound. “See, dear,” Brian Stirling said to his wife as the pair strolled toward Hunter and Kat, “there are others up and about.”

“Indeed, you two look hale and well!” Camille said, smiling.

Brian cleared his throat. “We did not mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Hunter said. “In fact, Brian, I was about to go in search of you.”

“Really?”

“I’d have a word with you.”

“Excuse us?” Brian said politely, and the two men moved away down the deck.

“I am glad to see you so well,” Camille told Kat. “There was quite a fright over you the other night. Hunter was frantic, riding for the doctor himself, dragging the poor man out of bed.”

“I didn’t know that,” Kat said. Hunter had been frantic? “But I’m fine.”

“Amazingly so. The others are mostly abed.”

Camille was studying her strangely, but still smiling. Kat shook her head, shrugging. “I usually have a cast-iron stomach, so I’m very sorry to have ruined the party.”

“It was your party, Kat.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Well, it’s good to be started on this journey at last! Tomorrow, of course, will be quite a to-do, transferring from ship to train. And I believe, from all I’ve been told, that the train trip is long and tedious. But I understand that you will meet the art instructor tomorrow. You are still interested, aren’t you?”

“In the art instructor? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, well, with your upcoming marriage…”

Kat moistened her lips, then reminded Camille, “You became Lady Carlyle, and there you were, day after day, at the museum.”

“Yes, well, it’s a passion, I’m afraid. I imagine art can be the same.”

“I have to admit, I did little more than sketch before. My father is the true artist.”

“For you to be an excellent artist would take nothing away from his talent,” Camille said.

The countess stretched, lifting her face to the wind. “There, the men are returning, filled with their secrets. Can you imagine? What do you think they were talking about?” she asked brightly.

“I don’t know.”

“Us!” Camille said with a laugh. “Or, I would hazard to guess, you. But then again, a fiancée can most likely wheedle such information from her intended.”

“My stomach is quite indecently growling!” Camille announced as the men returned to them. “Do you think that any of the cooks are still standing?”

“Perhaps,” Brian said. “Shall we see? Ah! Miss Adair. Perhaps we should not…”

“I’m quite starving myself,” Kat said.

“Then we shall eat,” Hunter declared.

O THER THAN THE CREW , it seemed the people on board had retired. Hunter found that he could not do so. He prowled his cabin in his smoking jacket.

He wanted to dismiss Kat’s words about why she fell ill, but he simply could not. Tonight, he had been tempted to taste each bit of her food before her, to sip from her glass, to stand guard by her side.

But they had dined alone tonight, or alone with Camille and Brian, and he was quite certain that none of the crew had evil intentions.

In his conversation with Brian, he had told him about the things David had said to Kat, and then about the words he himself had exchanged with her. Also, that she had thought she had heard menacing whispers at the museum.

“I would put nothing myself past Lady Daws,” Brian had mused, “but she is not with us on the expedition, so how could she do either David or Kat harm? And as for David…” Brian had hesitated. “Interesting. If it were Alfred Daws, I would say easily, yes! If there were a plot afoot, it might well be instigated by his stepmother. His death would bring her the Daws wealth.”

“True enough. But David is the youngest of four brothers,” Hunter had pointed out. “Is this all silly imagination?”

“In the dark and in the desert, it is always wise to be forewarned. And so we shall be,” Brian had assured him.

All very fine and good. But Kat was across a hallway now, and even with Emma in the next room, he didn’t like it.

He stopped his pacing, aware of footsteps in the hall. He listened, assuring himself that what he heard was real. And it was.

He opened his door silently and looked out.

David Turnberry stood before Kat’s door. He raised a hand as if to knock! Then his hand fell. Hunter was about to approach him in anger, but David turned away, walking slowly back to his own room.

Hunter frowned and waited. David did not return.

Hunter swore. He was to spend a sleepless night.

He swore again, then walked across the hall. He set a hand on her door handle. It was not locked. He cursed her in silence and stepped into the room.

She had been sleeping and his arrival awakened her. She jackknifed to a sitting position and was about to scream.

“It’s me, so hush,” he said, and she did.

Looking at her, he felt his body tense from head to toe. The light cotton gown clung to her form. The riot of hair that framed her face and fell in curls on her breast gleamed even in the dim glow from the night-light. He drew the chair from the dressing table or desk. Sliding it against the door, he took a seat.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Sleeping,” he told her. “And you should do the same.”

He could see her frowning. “You must be wretchedly uncomfortable!”

“I am.”

“Then—”

“You nearly had a night visitor.”

“What?”

“David. You didn’t invite him, did you?”

She stiffened indignantly.

“Then I’ll see that he doesn’t enter,” Hunter told her.

She stared at him a long while. She eased her head down again. It didn’t stay. She rose, taking the second pillow from the bed and giving it to him.

He wished she hadn’t done. The cotton of her gown was so thin she might as well have been naked.

“Thank you.”

She nodded, standing there, shivering.

“Go to bed!” he told her, and he was afraid that his voice was not in the least cordial.

She turned and did as he commanded.

The chair was uncomfortable. The pillow did help.

It was better than pacing his own cabin, listening through the night. At last, he slept.

T HE MORNING brOUGHT UTTER chaos, or so it seemed, though Camille assured Kat that there was actually some organization somewhere. It seemed there were hundreds of boxes and trunks to be transferred from one conveyance to another, and the transfers had to be done by cart. It was all going to take some time.

They’d hired a number of carriages to take them from the docks to the train station, leaving the hands, French and English, to move the cargo. They stopped to eat at a lovely restaurant near the shore, and Kat realized that it was a meeting spot. A number of fashionably dressed people were at various tables, and one elegant, slim woman with silver hair and a lorgnette called out to Hunter.

“Why, as I live and breathe! Hunter, dear Hunter!”

Kat thought that he groaned. He lowered his head, then excused himself from their table and approached the other. The woman rose; he kissed her on the cheek. She seemed very anxious to give him some news, and after acknowledging the other women at the table, he sat for a moment.

“Princess Lavinia!” Camille whispered.

“Princess?” Kat echoed.

Camille nodded. “She married a Greek prince—she was born a MacDonald.”

“So she’s…”

“Hunter’s great-aunt.”

At that moment, Hunter arose, indicating their table with a sweep of his hand. Camille waved. Hunter beckoned.

“It seems she wishes to speak with you,” Kat said.

“He’s calling you, Kat,” Camille told her.

“Ah.” She rose, forcing a smile. Hunter reached out for her, drawing her near. “Lavinia, please meet Katherine Adair, my fiancée. Kat, I’m delighted that we’ve run into my great-aunt Lavinia, Princess of Ragh.”

“My pleasure, Your Highness.”

“Dear child!” Lavinia seemed thrilled, fascinated. “Good heavens, I was beginning to believe that the line would die out with Hunter. Too many girls, you see. You will have sons, won’t you, dear?”

“Aunt Lavinia—” Hunter tried to stop her. To no avail.

“You’re truly quite lovely. No title?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“It’s not what one might imagine, anyway,” Lavinia said breezily. “Hunter, Jacob MacDonald died last week.”

“Jacob!” Hunter seemed deeply disturbed. “How? The lad was only twenty!”

“The same disease that plagued him as a child. You do know what it means?” she asked gently.

“It means a young, gentle and very good man is dead,” Hunter said.

Lavinia sighed. “And it is a tragedy. I had not seen him in forever, living in France as I was, and he and his mother up north of Edinburgh. Truly, it is sad, and I know that you’ll mourn him.” She looked at Kat. “What he isn’t saying is that when my dear elder brother passes from the earth, the title will go to Hunter.”

“What title?”

“Duke of Kenwillow. Not a large holding, but, nevertheless, quite respectable.”

“My great-uncle Percy is in excellent health, and I believe he’ll live to be 110. And I hope that he does,” Hunter said.

“Bravo!” Lavinia said. “So, you’re headed off to Egypt again?” she asked.

“Yes, Aunt Lavinia. The train leaves in just a few hours.”

Lavinia grinned. “Perhaps I’ll be on it. Go…shoo, have your luncheon, Hunter. I shall stop at the table and tell dear Lord Avery and young Carlyle hello just as soon as I’ve finished my tea. Fascinating. Yes, maybe I will head to Cairo, too!”

“Lovely,” Hunter said, urging Kat back toward their own table.

“She’s really your aunt?” Kat murmured.

“Great-aunt, yes. And quite a girl at that. She has traveled the globe. So it’s likely that she will manage to be on the train. Let’s order, shall we? We’ve some tedious time ahead.”

The food was excellent, and Lavinia did join them, after saying ta-ta to her group of friends. She seemed to have known Lord Avery for quite some time, and delighted in baiting him. Margaret seemed to relish the interaction between the two, laughing each time Lavinia said something tart to her father. Everyone at the table, in fact, including Alfred, Robert, Allan and David, enjoyed the tartness of the conversation.

At last, the men left to see that the trunks and personal baggage had been loaded. Lavinia declared her pleasure with the lot of them. “I simply despise women who sit at home and believe the world will come to them! The world is out there and ours to take! So, we will all ride out on expedition.”

“Actually, I’d intended to remain at the hotel,” Margaret said.

“When there are discoveries to be made?” Lavinia demanded.

“Um, I prefer to discover being waited upon,” Margaret admitted. But that seemed to please Lavinia, as well.

“And, of course, there is the fine art of watching those who come and go from the hotel,” Lavinia said.

“Watching people?” Margaret asked.

“Oh, that is an expedition of discovery in itself,” Lavinia assured her. “Well! I shall have to make arrangements. I don’t want the train to leave without us. It is time to board.”

T HE TRAIN WAS QUITE ELEGANT , actually, but no matter how well appointed, it remained a train.

Hunter had seen to it that his compartment was next to Kat’s. Camille and Brian had the sleeping compartment behind his, while Emma was just in front of Kat.

The men went to assure themselves that all was loaded properly, and Lavinia, who had indeed managed to join the group, seemed to be well aware of the arrangements. “Bless Lord Avery,” she told the women, “because he hires his own cars, and we won’t have to be transferring here and there and everywhere. It will still be tedious, children, but much nicer than if we were average tourists hoping to catch this train or that!”

Kat knew that she would have been happy to be an average tourist, for she had never been anywhere. Their compartments were small, but the car ahead, the club car—again, specifically hired for the comfort of Lord Avery—was quite pleasant, fitted out with sofas, a bar and beautiful little cherrywood tables, specifically for tea.

At last, they were off, and they gathered in the club car. Lavinia, who often did the season in Cairo, as it turned out, spoke about the wonders of the sights. “The trip down the Nile is exquisite. And the Valley of the Kings!”

“We won’t be taking the trip down the Nile,” Hunter said.

Lavinia’s face fell. “Oh, dear, you can’t combine work with a lovely vacation?”

“We’re going to dig,” Hunter reminded her.

“Perhaps there will be time somewhere for a few excursions,” Lord Avery said, both amused and exasperated by the woman.

“For some of us, perhaps,” Hunter said.

“We are students, after all,” Robert Stewart said. “Shouldn’t we be learning?”

“We learn as we dig!” Alfred Daws said seriously.

“And yet,” David Turnberry said softly, looking at Kat, “every once in a while, there must be a break from work. And there must be a time of a day, and a time of truth.”

He was looking at Kat. She felt extremely uncomfortable. And so she turned back to their bawdy, titled newcomer. “Lavinia, have you actually ever worked a dig?” she asked.

“Good heavens, yes! I have ridden camels across a sea of sands, delved into the dirt and the wind. It’s magnificent!”

Tea was served by a Frenchman in resplendent attire, and suddenly, to Kat, this seemed like the greatest adventure in the world. And by day’s end, there hardly appeared even so much as a note of discord among any of them.

The following afternoon, they stopped in Paris, and there were joined by the art instructor from Oxford, Mr. Thomas Atworthy. He was an elderly fellow, around Lord Avery’s age, but sprightly and interested in everything around him. His tongue could be as tart as Lavinia’s, and he was definitely Bohemian, having little regard for titles and wealth.

“So, you are my student!” he said to Kat, looking her up and down. “Your father is the fellow creating such a stir back home!” He peered more closely at her. “You will receive no pat on the back from me if you try to work off the laurels of another.”

“I’ve no intention of doing so.”

“And you’re to be married. Does that mean that I am wasting my time?”

“I hope that marriage will not prevent me from seeing, or lifting a pencil or a brush,” she replied. He seemed pleased with that. He wanted to take her walking in Paris, to see how she managed to sketch some of the sights. That wasn’t possible, even though Margaret and Camille both brought up the possibility of a lovely afternoon in the glorious city before they moved on. But the men did not want to linger.

So Kat’s only view of the exquisite city was from the station and through the windows of the train. Soon they were traveling again, and the countryside stretched before them.

In the first days, Hunter was at her side for all social occasions, and she wondered if he hadn’t simply acquired such an acute distaste for David Turnberry that he had determined that she would not be anywhere near him. He played his part as her fiancé rather well, and as each day passed, she realized that it was not at all unpleasant to have such a man as Sir Hunter as her intended.

Several times, she found herself pressed between a hallway wall and David when they were headed in opposite directions. He would linger ever so slightly against her every time, his eyes speaking volumes of pain and accusation. They were still such beautiful eyes. She was so sorry to have hurt him.

The nights were quiet.

They had just crossed the border into Italy when the tutor, Thomas Atworthy, decided that Kat must begin lessons, something not particularly easy with the train in constant motion. But he sat with her in the club car, pencils and paper at hand, teaching her about shadow and shading, giving her his disgruntled approval when she produced sketches, telling her that art was not just what was seen in the one dimension, but what went on in the depths. She discovered that crusty as the fellow might appear on the surface, underneath he was very kind and knowledgeable, and she became most fond of him.

They were moving into Tuscany, with its glorious views, when she found herself sketching the scene she remembered from the station in Paris. Camille had come into the club car and watched with wonder.

“That’s incredible!” Camille murmured.

“No, it’s not,” Thomas countered. “The shading here is lacking. And here! What have we spoken about all week, my dear Miss Adair! I wish to see depth. Life, the action that occurs beyond the obvious!”

“No, no!” Camille said. “That’s…I looked out the window that day, and you have drawn what I saw. Quite perfectly, really. So much detail. How did you do that?”

Kat looked at her sheepishly and shrugged. “I have that sort of memory. Most often, for little snatches of things…I don’t know. But what I remember, I usually do with accuracy.”

Camille reached for her arm, drawing her to her feet. “Mr. Atworthy, forgive me. I’m going to steal your pupil for the afternoon.”

“That’s quite all right. I was ready for brandy and a cigar. Oh, dear Lord! Here comes Lavinia. Well, it will not be a peaceful cigar, that is all I have to say!”

Ignoring the professor, Camille dragged Kat through the cars and back to her compartment. It was the largest of the sleeping accommodations, naturally, for they were two, and also, they were the Earl and Countess of Carlyle. There was a large table to one side of the compartment, and all kinds of maps and papers were spread out on it. Camille produced a clean sketch pad and sat Kat down at the table.

Kat looked at her expectantly.

“Do you remember the day we met?” Camille asked.

“Of course,” Kat said. “At the museum. You were working with a map.”

“Yes, well, that map has quite disappeared. Do you think you could reproduce it?”

“You can’t just acquire another?”

Camille shook her head. “That map was nearly a hundred years old. It was the work of one of the first eminent British Egyptologists to go into the country after Napoléon was defeated. He had access to documents we’ll never see again. There were little landmarks sketched in on it. Would you see what you can remember of them? Oh, I know that I am asking the impossible. But would you try?”

Kat nodded. At first, her fingers hesitated on the paper. She felt that she wavered as she tried to draw coastlines and natural features. But then, when she had the base of the project sketched in, she began to remember. It was almost as if the map had been etched into a permanent place in her mind.

Camille stood silently by her side.

They were both so intent on the work that they jumped when the door to the compartment opened. Brian strode in, followed by Hunter.

Brian arched a brow. Camille’s hand was at her throat.

“What on earth have we interrupted?” Hunter asked.

“Look!” Camille announced with pleasure. “Kat is recreating my map!”

Hunter crossed to Kat’s side, studying what she had drawn. Their gazes met briefly, and she was pleased to see that he seemed to consider what she had done quite remarkable.

“I can’t testify to any accuracy,” she said.

She looked down quickly, saw his hands. He had wonderful hands. Ever so slightly bronzed, for he eschewed gloves when riding. His fingers were long, his nails clipped neatly. The clench of his fist was powerful, she was certain, and the touch of his fingertips could be…

She cleared her throat, looking over at Camille. “There may be more. I think I should stop now and take a look at it again in the morning.”

“Fine. And actually, we’ll be off the train tonight, in hotel rooms! The world will stand still for a bit,” Camille said.

“Is this so important, then?” Kat asked.

“It may be,” Camille said. She looked at Hunter. “Of course…it won’t be perfectly accurate.”

“We three know what we are looking for in the desert sands,” Hunter said. “And we all know how hard it can be. Even if we had something that was perfectly accurate, it doesn’t mean we would make a discovery.”

“Well, with the loss of the map, it is the best that we have,” Camille reminded them.

Hunter looked at Kat again. “Yes, it is.”

There was a tap at the door. It was Lavinia, they quickly discovered, for she didn’t wait to be invited in but opened the door. “Tea, children! Do come. We wile away the next few hours and then we’ll have made Rome at last!”

B ETWEEN THEM , L ORD A VERY , Brian and Hunter had determined their course and decided that one night in Rome would do no harm, though the closer they came, the more eager they were to reach their destination.

There were elegant hotel rooms on the Via Veneto where the ladies might have time to enjoy long soaks in baths, and where they could sleep one good night before the rocking of the train and the motion of the ship on the journey to Brindisi and then to Alexandria. Kat’s room was connected to a spacious, elegant parlor, with Hunter in a room across the parlor. Lavinia was at her other side, and Emma in the smaller quarters just beyond her, with the Avery and Carlyle suites just across and the others spread out beyond them. Though she had been raised listening to a great deal of French and had certainly been tutored in the language, Italian was new to her. How she loved the sound of the language! And Rome…Rome was magnificent, with so much that was ancient.

When everyone had taken time to rest, bathe and refresh, they were to meet in the elegant parlor between Kat and Hunter’s rooms. Soaking in a long bath had been delicious, but Kat was not accustomed to too much creature comfort, and so she was quickly ready. She found that Camille had brought the sketch pad to the parlor, and she opened it, viewing her drawing of the map as she remembered it. Sitting there, contemplating, she remembered a series of little waving lines and put them in. There had been symbols in certain areas, and she began to recall more and more.

There was a tap at the door and she answered it. David, Alfred and Allan stood there. “Where is the fourth Musketeer?” she asked teasingly.

“Ah, gone to fetch Lady Margaret and her father,” Alfred said, striding in, smiling. She still felt somewhat uneasy when he looked at her.

“There’s coffee in that samovar,” she said, directing them to a tray that had been set on the end of the piano. “Delicious. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything quite so delicious as Italian coffee.” She shut up, determined that she was not going to babble because they made her nervous. Pretending that they were all friends and nothing had ever happened, however, was very difficult.

David looked at her, trying to smile, offering his usual pained gaze. She smiled in return. Meanwhile, Alfred was standing before her sketch.

“What is this?” he asked.

She walked over to close the book. “Oh, just something I’m working on, not very good,” she said.

“Oh, but it is!” Alfred reached for the book. She held tight, smiling through clenched teeth.

“Really, it’s not!”

“But it is! Oh, please, Kat, let us see your work!”

“Yes, do, please!” David had come over, as well. Everyone, it seemed, had a hand on the book.

She could continue wrestling for it or simply let go. She chose the latter.

They set the book back down on the table, opening to the page of the map. They all stared at it for several long seconds, then back up at her.

“That’s quite incredible. You can copy anything so?” Alfred asked. “What a talent.”

“That’s hardly talent, I’m just copying,” she murmured.

“Where is the original?” Allen asked.

“Oh, lost in a pile of paperwork, I believe,” she said lightly. There was a tapping on the door again. “Excuse me,” she murmured. But the door had already opened. Lavinia, of course, in a lovely blue gown that complemented her silver hair. She carried a parasol and a light traveling cape.

“Are we off to see the sights?” she demanded.

“I believe so. We should all be gathered shortly.”

Margaret entered next. She, too, was in blue, and this a very soft and true shade that matched her eyes. Kat studied the design of the gown; it was elegant yet utile, with a slight hike in the front of the skirt to afford easy walking on long treks. The bodice was quite decent, yet escalloped in a trim that emphasized the slim lines of her figure.

“How lovely!” Lavinia told her.

Margaret smiled, glancing at Kat, inclining her head. “I’ve a personal designer. An incredibly talented young woman.”

Kat grinned, acknowledging with a nod the compliment on behalf of her sister, as Lavinia began insisting that she must know the designer’s name.

“Ah, Jagger, what has taken you so long!” Lavinia demanded as Lord Avery walked into the room. “I, my friend, could have seen half of the country while you were still shaving!”

“Lavinia, the point is, could half the country take seeing you?” he retorted.

Hunter came in from the side door then, calling a greeting to them all. His gaze fell on the open sketchbook, then on Kat, and a frown briefly knit his brow. He walked to the sketchbook, closing it nonchalantly. “So, what treasure shall we view in the time we have?” he queried.

Camille and Brian arrived, and the latter informed them, “We’ve several carriages below, but it would be best if we chose an itinerary.”

“I should so love to see the Forum and the Colosseum,” Camille said.

“Then, if it is agreeable to everyone,” Hunter said, “that is what we shall do.”

They set off in the three carriages. Kat could not keep from continually staring out the window, amazed at the sights, arches and aqueducts, ruins here and there and everywhere dispersed between newer buildings, magnificent churches. And people! Italians bustling about, as busy as bees, ladies and gentlemen in fine clothing, gypsies approaching them, babes in arms. Cafés littered the walkways, and everywhere were shouts of “Ciao, bella!”

When they arrived at their destination, the mighty arena rising high, guides descended upon them. Hunter made the necessary deals.

“Lavinia, do take care,” Lord Avery warned. “There are nooks and crannies and steep steps all about.”

“Jagger,” she complained, “I am not so old that I must be coddled. But I shall be happy to look after you!”

Allan and Robert managed to secure positions at Lady Margaret’s side, and Kat found herself blushing when Hunter took her arm, his eyes on her possessing a strange light, a small smile on his face. “What is it?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “It is simply pleasurable to see your utter fascination,” he told her.

There were groups all about, and here and there, they met Lady so-and-so or Lord so and so, Conte this or that, as it seemed that this was a popular spot for the elite of Europe to tarry on their journeys elsewhere, or to simply spend the winter months.

Once in the giant arena with their guide showing them where animals once were kept, where the caesars sat, how the masses were arrayed, they began to wander a bit. A friend of Hunter’s hailed him, and Kat did a bit of roaming about on her own.

She wasn’t quite sure where she was when she came to an area with rather treacherous footing that ended in a steep incline. Once, it had been steps, but they were broken and in disorder. She crawled atop one, trying to get her bearings. Taking another step, she found herself in one of the archways, where, she was certain the guide had said, those about to enter the arena gathered. She turned and realized that David had followed her, that he was staring at her—and that he barred her way.

“Kat!” He said her name like an adulation.

“David,” she replied uneasily. “This is incredible, isn’t it?”

“How can you live this lie?” he asked her reproachfully.

“David, we shouldn’t be here,” she said uncomfortably.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll marry you. I’ll defy my father. I’ll marry you. With your talents…” He trailed off, as if not certain.

They were words she had longed to hear not so long ago. But now…they sounded strange. Out of place.

“David, this isn’t the time—”

“Give me a chance!” He started toward her.

“David, are you mad? Hunter will tear you to pieces!”

David lifted his chin. “Hunter! The swaggering soldier, great man of the world! Well, he is forgetting that I am a Turnberry and that my father is one of the most powerful men in the country!”

“David, we’re far from your father now,” she told him softly.

“Kat, I know that this is a farce. There is nothing wrong in anything I have said or done. To be the mistress of such a man as myself is certainly respectable. But as I have said… Kat, you have so much strength, ability, and with you by my side… Oh, Kat, let me touch you, let me show you…”

Instinctively, she backed away. He followed. They were caught precariously on a step, with the incline just behind them. The sun was nearly gone, and the shadow of the archway left them in near darkness.

“David—” she began, looking into his eyes. She broke off, hearing a strange scraping sound. Looking up, she saw that one of the massive structural stones just above them seemed to be teetering.

It was going to fall!

“Watch out!” she screamed, clutching him, dragging him toward her. The effort caused her to topple backward. They both fell from the precarious step into the incline.