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  He felt his throat tighten as he looked at the boy. “It could be true. I’ve seen creatures go through unbelievable hardship and cruelty and still survive.”

  Jock gently touched the creamy white petal. “But this is a flower.”

  “Then we’ll have to see, won’t we?” He paused. “Your mother called me again. She wants to see you.”

  “No.”

  “You’re hurting her, Jock.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not her son anymore. I don’t want to see her cry.” His gaze shifted to MacDuff’s face. “Unless you tell me I have to do it.”

  MacDuff wearily shook his head. “No, I’m not going to tell you that.” He added, “But I’m going to tell you not to go near Jane MacGuire. Promise me, Jock.”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “When she was standing at the window, I could only see a kind of . . . silhouette. She stood very straight, with her head high. It reminded me of an iris or a daffodil. . . . It made me sad to think of breaking—”

  “You don’t have to break anything or anyone, Jock. Don’t go near her. Promise me.”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.” He nodded. “I won’t go near her.” He looked back at his gardenia. “I hope it lives. If it does, maybe next spring you could give it to my mother?”

  Christ, sometimes life could be pure shit. “Maybe I could.” He turned away. “I think she’d like that.”

  She saw the statue the moment she entered Mario’s study after she’d knocked.

  The bust was on a pedestal by the window, and the brilliant sunlight touched it, surrounding it with radiance.

  “Magnificent, isn’t she?” Mario got up from his desk and came toward her. “Come closer. She’s quite perfect.” He took her hand and led her toward the statue. “But perhaps you know that. Have you seen the statue before?”

  “No, I’ve seen pictures of it but I’ve never seen the real thing.”

  “I’m surprised Trevor didn’t show you. You’ve known him for a long time, haven’t you?”

  “Sort of. But the time was never right,” she said absently, her gaze on Cira’s face. Even she could see the resemblance, but she was too caught up in the idea that this artist had actually seen Cira. Perhaps she’d even posed for him two thousand years ago. Yet the statue didn’t look old, and Cira’s expression was as modern as a photo in People magazine. She looked boldly out at the world, alert, intelligent, with a hint of humor in the curve of her lips that made her come vividly alive. “You’re right, it’s magnificent. I’ve been told there were many statues created of Cira, but this one has to be the finest.”

  “Trevor thinks it is. He’s very possessive of her. He didn’t want to let me work in here but I told him that I needed inspiration.” Mario smiled mischievously. “It was a real victory for me. I don’t get many with Trevor.”

  It was strange standing here staring at this face that had already twisted her life in a multitude of different ways. The dreams, the episode four years ago that had nearly taken her life, and now the circle was returning, closing, with Cira in the center. Strange and mesmerizing. She forced herself to look away. “And is it inspiring?”

  “No, but I enjoyed looking up at her after working on her scroll. It was almost as if she were in the room talking to me.” He frowned. “But didn’t I read on the Internet that Ms. Duncan did a forensic sculpture of a skull that resembled the statue of Cira?”

  “No, that was pure hype. She did do a reconstruction of a skull from that period, which Trevor borrowed from a museum in Naples. But it looked nothing like Cira.”

  “My mistake. I suppose I was so absorbed in her scroll that I was working on that I didn’t pay enough attention.”

  “Her scroll,” Jane repeated. “I didn’t know anything about those before Trevor told me when I was coming here. All he said was that there were scrolls about Cira.”

  “These were in a separate chest enclosed in the wall at the back of the library. Trevor said he hadn’t seen them before and the cave-in might have toppled the wall. He believes she tried to hide them.”

  “She probably did. I’m sure when she was Julius’s mistress she wasn’t encouraged to do anything with her mind. He was only interested in her body.”

  He smiled. “That’s evident from the scrolls he had written about her. Would you like to read a few of them?”

  “How many are there?”

  “Twelve. But they’re pretty repetitive. He was besotted with Cira and he evidently had a fondness for porn.”

  “And what about Cira’s?”

  “They’re more interesting but much less titillating.”

  “What a disappointment. Could I read the Cira scrolls?”

  He nodded. “Trevor called me last night and gave me permission. He said those would be the ones that you’d be most interested in.” He nodded toward an easy chair in the corner of the room. “I’ll bring the translation of the first one to you. That corner has plenty of light.”

  “I could take it to my room.”

  He shook his head. “When I first started to work for Trevor, I promised him I wouldn’t let the scrolls or the translations out of my sight.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  “He told me that they were very important and what I was doing was dangerous because a man named Grozak was after them.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all I wanted to know. Why should I be curious? I don’t care what Trevor and Grozak are fighting about. It’s only the scrolls that are important to me.”

  She could see that. His dark eyes were glowing and his hand gently touching the scroll was almost caressing. “I suppose Trevor has a right to set up rules about the scrolls, but I believe I’d be a little more inquisitive than you seem to be.”

  “But then, you’re not me. Our lives were probably very different. I grew up in a village at the foot of a monastery in Northern Italy. I worked in the garden when I was a little boy and later they let me work in the library. I’d scrub the tiles on my hands and knees until they bled. And at the end of the week the fathers would give me an hour to touch the books.” His lips curved reminiscently. “So old. The leather of the binding was smooth and rich. I’ll remember the smell of those pages all my life. And the script . . .” He shook his head. “It was fine, a thing of beauty and grace. It seemed magical to me that those priests who’d written them could have been so learned and wise. It just shows that time doesn’t really matter, doesn’t it? Yesterday or thousands of years ago, we go through life and some things change, some things stay the same.”

  “How many years did you work for the monastery?”

  “Until I was fifteen. At one time I wanted to become a priest. Then I discovered girls.” He shook his head ruefully. “I fell from grace and committed sin. The priests were very disappointed in me.”

  “I’m sure your sin wasn’t too extreme.” She remembered the tough streets where she’d grown up, where sin was a daily fact of life. “But you’re right, our upbringing was completely different.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company. Please stay.” He smiled. “It will be very exciting for me to see you sitting there and reading what was written in Cira’s scrolls. And bizarre. It will be like having her—” He broke off guiltily. “But of course now that I see you next to the statue, I can see there are many differences. You actually don’t—”

  “Liar.” She couldn’t help smiling. “It’s okay, Mario.”

  “Good.” He let out a deep breath of relief. “Come sit down.” He carefully leafed through the pile of papers on his desk. “I translated the scrolls first from Latin to modern Italian, then to English. Then I went through them again and did it all over just to make sure I was accurate.”

  “Good heavens.”

  “It’s what Trevor wanted, and I would have done it anyway given the choice.” He drew out a thin folder containing several sheets of paper stapled together and took them to her. “I wanted to hear her speak
to me.”

  She slowly took the papers. “And did she?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said softly as he turned and went back to his desk. “All I had to do was listen.”

  Cira I was printed on the title page.

  Cira.

  Dammit, she was actually nervous to start reading Cira’s words. She’d lived with her image and the story of her life for years, but that was different from reading her actual thoughts. It made her . . . real.

  “Is something wrong?” Mario asked.

  “No, nothing.” She sat up straight in the chair and turned the page.

  Okay, speak to me, Cira. I’m listening.

  Lucerne, Switzerland

  May I sit down? All the tables seem to be filled.”

  Eduardo looked up from his newspaper at the man holding a cup of espresso. He nodded. “You must get here early to get a table. The lake is particularly beautiful from this vantage point.” He gazed out at the sunlight glinting on Lake Lucerne. “Although it’s lovely from wherever you view it.” He shifted his newspaper to make room. “It moves the heart.”

  “It’s my first time here but I must agree.”

  “You’re a tourist?”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “But you look very much the native. You live here in Lucerne?”

  “Since I retired. I share an apartment with my sister in the city.”

  “And you get to come here every morning and enjoy this bounty. What a lucky man.”

  Eduardo made a face. “One can’t eat scenery. My pension doesn’t allow me more than a cup of coffee and a croissant to start my day.” He gazed out at the lake. “But perhaps I am lucky. You’re right, beauty feeds the soul.”

  “You know Lucerne well?”

  “It’s a small town. There’s not that much to know.”

  He leaned forward. “Then perhaps I could persuade you to show me other sights like this wonderful lake? I’m not a rich man, but I’d be glad to pay you for your trouble.” He hesitated. “If it wouldn’t insult you to accept my money.”

  Eduardo sipped his coffee and thought about it. The man was courteous, well-spoken, and he didn’t throw his weight around like many of the tourists who flocked to Lucerne in droves. Perhaps he was a teacher or civil servant, because his clothes were casual and not expensive. And he obviously knew that pride was important to the poor. He was respectful, and the tentative eagerness with which he was gazing at Eduardo was very flattering.

  Why not? He could always use a little extra money, and he would enjoy having a purpose again. The days were long and boring, and retirement was not what he’d believed it was going to be. He could understand why seniors gave up and faded away when they had no reason to get up in the morning. He slowly nodded. “Perhaps we could come to an arrangement. What do you wish particularly to see, Mr. . . .”

  “Forgive me. How rude I am. Let me introduce myself.” He smiled. “My name is Ralph Wickman.”

  The scribe, Actos, who gave me this scroll says I should not write anything that I would not want Julius to read, that I must be careful.

  I’m weary of being careful. And perhaps I no longer care whether he reads this and is angry. Right now life seems very dreary and I cannot bear to have him suffocate my mind as he does my body. I must not be seen talking to anyone for fear Julius will find a way to hurt them, but I may be able to send this scroll to you, Pia. He does not know about you, so it may be safe. Julius is watching me all the time now since he found out that I took Antonio for a lover. Sometimes I wonder if he’s mad. He tells me he’s crazed by love, but he loves no one but himself. When he bribed Antonio to leave me, he thought that I’d come meekly back and live beneath his yoke.

  I will not be a slave to any man. The only thing they understand is what lies between my thighs and the gold that crosses their palms. So I told Julius he could have my body again if the price was high enough. Why not? I tried love and Antonio betrayed me. But a chest of gold would keep us safe and free for the rest of our lives.

  He fell into a rage but in the end he gave it to me. He said I had to keep it in a room in the tunnel under guard so that he would know that I wouldn’t break our bargain, take it, and leave him. I know he hoped that he would tire of me and take back his gold. He will not tire. I will see that he doesn’t. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to please a man.

  And he will not keep that gold hostage. It’s mine and will stay mine. I’ve already started to talk to the guards who are assigned to watch over it. It won’t be long before I get them into my camp.

  Then it’s you who must help me, Pia. My servant, Dominic, will bring the gold to you with instructions on what to do with it. Then he must leave Herculaneum and hide in the countryside before Julius finds out that he’s helped me. I’ve told him he must take Leo with him because Julius will kill anyone who’s close to me once I leave him. He will not care that Leo is only a child. As I said, he’s mad.

  You must also hide. I’ll ask Dominic to have you tell him where you’ll be and he will get word to me.

  I hope I have a chance to send this to you. I don’t know whether it’s better to risk sending this missive to prepare you or just to rely on Dominic to show up at your door with the gold. I’ll have to decide soon.

  I want to reach out and touch you with my words in case I won’t be able to see you again. I fear it’s a very real possibility.

  Nonsense. All will go well. I won’t have Julius defeat me. Just do what I’ve said.

  With all love I remain,

  Cira

  Good God, her hands holding the paper were shaking, Jane realized. She drew a deep breath and tried to compose herself.

  “Powerful, yes?” Mario was gazing at her across the room. “She was quite a woman.”

  “Yes, she was.” She looked down at the pages. “Evidently she decided it wasn’t safe to send this. You’re translating another scroll by her?”

  He nodded. “I’ve just started.”

  “Then we don’t know whether she was able to send the gold out of the tunnel before the eruption?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do we know who Pia was?”

  He shook his head. “Evidently someone she loved. Perhaps an actress friend from the theater?”

  “Trevor told me that according to Julius’s scrolls she had no family or close friends. There was only a servant, Dominic, an ex-gladiator, and she took a street child into her home.”

  Mario nodded. “Leo.”

  “Trevor didn’t mention any name. I suppose it might be. But who the devil is Pia?”

  “It’s possible Julius didn’t know as much as he thought he did about Cira.”

  That was true. Cira didn’t want Julius to be intimate with her in any way but the physical.

  As Mario saw her frustrated expression, he lifted his brows and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I told you, I’ve just started.”

  But she wanted to know.

  “I understand,” Mario said gently. “I’m just as eager as you are. But it all takes time to translate, not only the words but the nuances. I have to be very careful not to make mistakes. Trevor made me promise that there would be no possibility of misinterpretation.”

  “And we wouldn’t want to disappoint Trevor.” She nodded resignedly. “Okay, I can wait.” She wrinkled her nose. “Impatiently.”

  He laughed, picked up another folder from his desk, and got to his feet. “Would you like to read a few of Julius’s scrolls?”

  “Sure. It might be interesting to get his view on Cira. But from what you’ve said I don’t believe I’m going to get any surprises.” She took the folder and curled up in the chair. “And maybe you’ll have something for me from Cira’s scroll later in the afternoon?”

  He shook his head. “I’m having difficulty with this one. It’s not as well preserved as the first scroll. The tube containing it was partially damaged.”

  She mustn’t feel frustrated. Cira’s letter to Pia had confirmed not only Cira’s character but ha
d opened a new avenue of information. Julius’s scrolls might also prove interesting, and she had nothing else to do until after dinner, when Trevor had promised to show her this Run. She sighed. “Well, then I’ll just have to stay here and be an inspiration to goad you to work a little faster.”

  8

  She’d made her way through four of Julius’s scrolls before she got up from her chair and carried the rest back to Mario’s desk. “Good God, he was a horny bastard.”

  Mario chuckled. “Had enough?”

  “For now. He’s not telling me anything about Cira but what remarkable private parts she possessed. I’ll try again later. I need a break. I’m going down to the courtyard and do a little sketching.” She smiled. “Then I’ll come back and nag you again.”

  “I look forward to it.” His tone was abstracted. He was obviously already back in his translation.

  She wished she could be so involved, she thought as she left the room. After all these years of anticipating reading Julius’s scrolls, they were definitely a disappointment. She’d already been told the details of Cira’s life by Trevor, and Julius’s sexual fantasies about her were degrading and annoying. She couldn’t wait to read the other Cira scroll.

  Well, she’d have to wait. So forget about Cira and get involved in her own work. That would make the time pass until she could brace herself for another onslaught of Julius’s porn.

  An hour later she was sitting on the edge of the fountain and finishing a sketch of the battlements. Boring. The castle was interesting and she was sure there was a colorful history connected to the place, but there wasn’t anything she could get her teeth into. It was rock and mortar and—

  The stable door opened. “You’re angry again, aren’t you?”

  Her gaze flew to the man who was standing in the doorway. No, not a man. He was a boy in his late teens or early twenties.

  And, my God, that face.

  Beautiful. He couldn’t be called good-looking any more than the statues she’d seen of Greek heroes could be described by that term. His tousled blond hair framed perfect features and gray eyes that were staring at her with a kind of troubled innocence. That’s right, Bartlett had said Jock Gavin was slow, childlike.