Glowing lanterns suspended on shepherd’s crooks, like those at Vauxhall, lit the intersecting pathways that snaked off into the gardens. At the far end of the lawn a shadowy team of groundsmen were making final preparations for the fireworks display that would signal the midnight unmasking.
Her stomach tightened in anticipation as she imagined how happy Raven would be when she told him what she’d discovered.
Raven drew her toward a long, low building set at right angles to the main house. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows made up almost the whole front facade. “The orangery,” he murmured grandly, “although previous dukes—my grandfather included—used the place as a statue gallery.”
A blast of dense, warm air engulfed them as he opened the door, like the exhalation of some giant beast. Heloise half expected to hear the thud of a dragon’s heartbeat, slow and steady in the darkness, the dragging scrape of scales sliding against the stone floor.
Alternate strips of shadow and illumination crossed the flagstones. Rows of orange trees, each one set in a terra-cotta planter, flanked the central path, and the pleasant scent of citrus mingled with the moist, rich aroma of dirt. Raven closed the door with a faintclick,enclosing them in the tiger-striped darkness.
As Heloise’s eyes became accustomed to the gloom she saw that the trees were interspersed with huge lumps of stone. Statues plundered from Ancient empires of the past loomed up out of the shadows. A giant Roman foot in a sandal. A Hellenistic female in a pleated gown, lacking her arms and head. She stopped in front of a gorgeously defined Greek warrior. In the half-light it was easy to imagine him living flesh instead of cold stone. Each perfectly attenuated muscle and bulging sinew of his torso looked ready to spring to life. Her fingers itched to touch it.
“My father’s always been jealous of your grandfather’s collection,” she said wryly. “He’d give his right arm to buy some of these.”
Raven bowed his head. “I thought you’d appreciate them.”
“I do. Thank you for bringing me here.” Heloise sighed inwardly. It was hard to remember he was a heartless, amoral brute when he did sweet things like this.
Raven snapped a dead leaf from the tree next to him. “They don’t belong here. These should be back in their home countries, not moldering in an English hothouse. I much prefer seeing such things in situ.”
Heloise gave a wistful sigh. “Well, I for one am glad they’re here. At leasthereI can see them. You have no idea how lucky you are, being born a man, with money. You can travel to Italy or Greece or Egypt and see wonders like this anytime you want.”
He had a freedom she could only dream about. He’d been to the far-flung places she’d only ever read about in books and visited in her dreams. She was twenty-two years old and she’d never had an adventure.
Raven’s footfall crunched on the path behind her. “There are some Egyptian pieces over here. I know how mad you are about all that picture writing.” He pointed to a large stone sarcophagus case, about the same height as a kitchen table, and Heloise rushed forward to get a closer look. Carvings in low relief covered the entire surface; stylized figures, both animal and human, were surrounded by neat rows of mysterious hieroglyphic text. She stared at the symbols, lured as ever by their foreignness, their exotic beauty.
The stone was cool to the touch, despite the humid air. This was one code that still eluded her, despite her considerable skills. Her fingers traced the dips and grooves scratched into the hard surface. The tantalizing little devils taunted her with their silence. They were a challenge, calling to her, as elusive and frustrating as the man behind her.
Raven’s presence produced that same feeling of heightened anticipation she experienced when faced with a new linguistic challenge. Except with Raven, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know his hidden depths. She cleared her throat. What had they been talking about? Oh, yes. Egypt. Hieroglyphics. Right. She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Father took me to see the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum when it first arrived. I was eight. That’s when I fell in love with Egypt. I’ve dreamed of cracking the hieroglyphic code ever since.”
“But you’ve had no luck?”
She shook her head. “Despite my best efforts, it remains a total mystery.”
“That’s a long time to be denied something you desire.” Raven’s voice was smooth, almost mocking. “It must be very frustrating.”
Heloise hesitated, suddenly unsure whether he was talking about hieroglyphics or something else entirely. She had the oddest feeling he was laughing at her. Or at himself.
“Well, yes. It’s like understanding’s just out of reach.” She traced the pleated skirt of a figure holding a sheaf of wheat. “Still, I’m certain it can be done. It was written by humans, after all, so it must be translatable. It’s extremely vexing.”
—
Raven frowned as Heloise turned back to the sarcophagus, effectively dismissing him from her mind. A shiver passed through him as he watched her trace her fingers over the surface of the stone. Delicate fingertips, pretty oval nails. He wished she’d touchhimwith the same amount of reverence, the same thirst for knowledge. Desire sent a rush of blood straight to his groin. God, he was jealous of a big lump of rock.
She bent to get a closer look at the carvings and his gaze went to the rounded lines of her pert derriere. He stepped up behind her with a flash of irritation. The foolish girl was so absorbed in what she was doing that she was oblivious to his approach. She’d make a useless spy. Guarding her was going to be a nightmare. She had no appreciation of danger. She saw the best in everything, everyone, whereas he always saw the worst.
He glared at the vulnerable curve of her nape. The tiny bumps of her spine disappeared into the back of her white dress like a delicate string of pearls, beckoning him to trace them all the way to the base of her spine. His stomach clenched as he inhaled the faint perfume of her skin. What was it about her that always had him looking for the nearest horizontal surface?
Losing his patience, he placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her within the cage of his body, and felt a surge of satisfaction when she gasped in surprise. She tried to twist around then stiffened, clearly realizing he’d left her no room to maneuver.
“What are you doing?” she hissed over her shoulder.
He eased back a fraction and allowed her to turn within the confines of his arms, but didn’t release her. Instead he raised one hand and toyed with the black ribbon that secured her mask.
“Time to dispense with this, don’t you think?”
—