6

Venice, Italy

The shop was located down a tiny waterway across the small arched bridge of Ponte delle Tette. Jasper wove his way around

workmen hauling ladders and buckets of plaster to patch up the ancient crumbling buildings that seemed too exhausted by the

centuries to continue standing straight. Children toddled along oblivious to the water drop-off inches away while mothers

carried knitted bags full of groceries. A simple luxury not seen during the war.

"Buongiorno!" Two scantily clad women lounged against the bridge with cigarettes dangling from their painted lips. "Lost your way, signor?"

Jasper politely doffed his straw fedora and quickly switched languages in his head. Duke had paid for the best tutors, but

Jasper had picked up a great deal more from his travels. Usually phrases the tutors considered too impolite to instruct.

"I'm looking for Signor Campano's shop, Il Negozio Meraviglie. Might one of you ladies point me in the right direction?"

"‘Ladies' he says." The women doubled over in a fit of laughter, slapping each other on the shoulders until their threadbare blouses threatened to slip off entirely. Finally, they collected themselves long enough for one to answer. "Down that way. Third door."

" Grazie ." Reaching into the pocket of his cream checkered linen suit, he took out two generous coins and placed them in their hands.

"Sure we can't interest you in something more?" they called after him as he stepped off the bridge.

"I'm afraid not, but here." He turned back and flipped them two more coins. "For your help and delightful offer of company."

"Anytime! We'll be here all day."

Waving at their renewed fit of laughter, he continued down the way he'd been directed and stopped in front of the third door.

It was short and squat with peeling blue paint and a faded sign declaring it to be Il Negozio Meraviglie . He seized the handle and opened the door, stepping into another world cloaked in Renaissance musk and faded memories.

The shop was a maze of shelves stuffed with oddities that glimmered and sparkled. Carnevale masks. Theater costumes. Scrolls, paintings, suits of armor, animal skins, stuffed animals, bottles of every size and shape,

banners, and chests overflowing with all manner of valuables. An Aladdin's cave of wonders with absolutely no tolerance of

organization to its treasures.

A muffled voice scratched from within the labyrinth. "Who is it? What do you want?"

Removing his hat, Jasper peered through the gloom that could not be dispelled by the single rectangular window high on the

wall above the door. "Signor Campano? My name is Jasper Truitt. I'm here to inquire after an item you may have."

"Be gone. I do not have time for oglers." The irritated voice moved, though it was difficult to track, pinging off the bric-a-brac like a cracked billiard ball.

"I assure you, signor, I am quite serious about my inquiry."

"Allow me to guess. You are here after the fabled golden fleece."

"As it turns out, I am not in need of a fleece." Jasper frowned as he stepped around a shelf in hopes of capturing the elusive

voice but found only more stuffed cases.

"Perhaps the champagne glass modeled after Marie Antoinette's right bosom?" the voice continued, this time to the right.

"Um, no, although such a piece would be the highlight of any party."

"Caesar's death mask? The quill of Shakespeare? Joyeuse, Charlemagne's personal sword? No, I cannot give you that. It was

purchased last month by a private buyer from India. How did you find this place? I chose this location precisely so I would

not be bothered."

Why open a shop in the first place if the man wished to be left alone? Jasper batted away a dusty cobweb he'd stepped straight

into. "I met two ladies outside. They were kind enough to give me directions."

"That's not all they'll give you if you are not careful. The clap being their favorite parting gift." Boxes shuffled. "Donne

delle Tette, named for the prostitutes who would stand topless on the bridge to entice customers. They still do in honor of

their predecessors. A shame you did not come to see them at night."

"Yes, a real shame. Next trip perhaps." Jasper swatted the last shreds of the cobweb from his shoulder. Hopefully its resident

hadn't decided to slip down his collar in the upheaval.

"Tell me what you seek so I may turn you away and return to my overworked schedule."

"The Valkyrie tiara."

The movements stilled, followed quickly by short-tempered footsteps. A second later a dwarflike man with chalky skin and tufts

of salt-and-pepper hair sprouting over his knobby head popped out from behind an elephant foot serving as an umbrella stand.

"Which Valkyrie? There were several made when the fashion was for all things Wagner." He snorted. "As if the Germans have

offered the world anything of remark when the Italian masters hold superiority in all manner of art."

Regaining his composure from the possible spider invasion, Jasper stood tall with his hat tucked neatly under his arm. It

was best to appear confident in all situations. Not only did it allow one to feel in control, but it also presented an air

of authority. One of his many lessons from Duke on how to get ahead.

"There is none like this tiara. It was the last one. Handcrafted by Pierre Cartier himself."

"The last one you say." The dwarf stroked a tuft of hair over his ear. "What year?"

"It was commissioned in 1889 by a duke using his own family's jewels to adorn it but was sold after the death of his wife."

"Women." The gnome made a derisive noise. "As if they aren't given enough baubles to fascinate them. Nothing ever satisfies

them." The shelf to his left caught the man's attention. He turned to it with a frown and began rearranging the items.

"You are known for obtaining the most valuable of antiquities, signor." Though the bent trumpet and broken shield he currently held gave little credence to that statement. Then again, one man's trash was another man's treasure, and Jasper wasn't about to question what some considered treasure. Not when acquiring it for the right buyer paid well. "This item returned to the market a mere two months ago."

Campano continued rearranging, each movement stirring up a sneezable amount of dust. "It's not here. Not anymore. It came

to me, along with several other items, last month upon the passing of an old acquaintance. A jeweler he was and a favorite

among the bluebloods for his discretion. That scrap of sparkling metal was hardly worth my consideration. Its monetary value

was unmistakable, but what is money to me? Did it once grace the head of Catherine the Great? Did Zheng Yi Sao loot it from

a sinking East India Company vessel that her own pirate ship downed? Are the diamonds tilled from the blackened coal of King

Solomon's mines? If no, then it is of little interest to me."

Jasper tried breathing through his mouth. The air settled with bitter age on his tongue. "Despite its lack of cultural and

historical relevance, it is a rare collector's piece—"

Campano whirled, hair standing askew and nose quivering. "Do not enter my shop to tell me what pieces are of interest to a

collector. I have been in this business longer than you have been out of short trousers. Now, be gone with you for you have

wasted time enough of mine. I have work to do."

"Forgive me, Signor Campano. I meant no disrespect to you or the admirable work you do. I was only hoping to purchase the tiara for my own collection."

"Treasures galore I have on my shelves, too many sitting for years collecting not admiration but dust, yet this worthless

headpiece has garnered more attention in its short time here than deemed fair. Just yesterday a man—I suppose you might call

him that, though he shared more resemblance with an egg—came snooping around for it."

An egg? That description fit only one person Jasper knew. Lamb. That no-necked prankster had the rather bad habit of sniffing around right under Jasper's feet when there was a prize to be found. They'd been in friendly competition for years, but Jasper trusted the man as far as he could throw him. If Lamb was after the tiara, there was more to this game of cat and mouse. That wild eccentric would ensure it.

The dwarf shook a nubby finger. "I'll tell you the same thing I told him. ‘You're too late. I sold it and glad I am to be

rid of it. It was taking up valuable shelf space.'"

Disappointment knocked at the tiara being just out of reach once again, but Jasper didn't linger. An elusive acquisition was

part of the thrill that kept his skills sharp. Lamb he would deal with later. "And the buyer?"

"I'm a respectable businessman who doesn't give away private information, but as the man himself was less than respectable

I do not mind so much telling you." Signor Campano looked around as if greedy ears might be listening from the stacks of collectibles

and dropped his voice. "A showman." He paused for dramatic effect.

" Orribile ." Jasper gasped on cue, which unfortunately filled his lungs with drifting dust.

Signor Campano nodded gravely. "Claims he was making a traveling collection of opera bits. A wedding veil from The Marriage of Figaro , Roman armor from Norma , and Parisian scenery from La bohème . All trinkets. Rottame . Stagehand castoffs to entertain the masses."

How Duke would snort and rave to hear the illustrious Roxburgh jewels assessed as little more than trinkets. "Did this buyer

mention where he was traveling next?"

"North. Prussia or some such miserable place. He babbled on about showcasing Wagner's and Mozart's masterpieces in their home countries. Masterpieces." He snorted like a riled horse. "The Italians are the only masters of anything."

Jasper moved to the door, the jingling bell cutting off another tirade from the old man. "I thank you for your time, Signor

Campano, and wish you a pleasant rest of the day."

"Pleasant," the dwarf grumbled as he disappeared behind a portrait of Napoleon. "As if that's possible with customers in and

out disturbing me."

Jasper shut the door behind him and breathed in deep to clear his head of mustiness and crankiness. It would be easy to feel

defeated after walking away empty-handed, but that was part of the job. Following clue after clue, each one drawing him closer

as his mind flashed to piece them together and instinct drove him on until the trail was hot enough to burn through his veins.

There was no feeling in all the earth quite like that of tracking a prize until at last it gleamed before him, begging his

hand to lift it from its spot and place it among the exalted. Well, no feeling perhaps save that of holding a woman in his

arms. Especially one with hair the color of midnight and eyes that could melt his soul.

He shook himself out of that wayward thought and tapped his hat more securely atop his head. Esme was not a daydream. She

wasn't even his wife save in name alone. She was a rival. A competitor to beat for the prize. A prize he would be winning,

and once the champagne was popped in honor of his victory, they could get about the business of a divorce.

He'd dreamed of having a wife to love, a family to care for. Growing up, he'd never had one, and he wanted nothing more than to fill that longing, to have someone care that he walked through the door each night, to whisper good night to someone and have them wake next to him. Not flee in the early hours of the morning without so much as a goodbye note or payment on the nightstand. As if it were a one-night stand!

He huffed, startling two elderly ladies feeding pigeons as he crossed Campo San Polo. Somewhere along the way he'd taken a

wrong turn west instead of proceeding south. Venice was a city of languid desire and broken hearts, masterfully seducing all

who entered its inviting embrace. He needed his mind to stay on track and not wander off the rails every time Esme crooked

her finger at his imagination.

After making his way to the Grand Canal that flowed through the heart of the water city, he jumped on a flat-bottomed rowboat

serving as a taxi and asked the striped-shirted gondolier to take him to the Aman Hotel.

Palazzi lined the canal like grand dames awaiting their next affair. Dressed in colors of cream, rust, salmon, and butter,

they gathered the passing centuries about them in regal cracks and gracefully sagging lines, unobliging to the water creeping

ever upward around them. Here in their alcoves lovers embraced, through their windows celebrations cheered, and upon their

terraces art was created. It was a city to love and one that gladly loved in return as long as it was treated right. As with

any lady, heaven help the one who did wrong by her.

The gondolier guided his boat to the dock stretching out front of Aman Hotel, a four-story structure made of white limestone

and lined with windows on each floor. The entrance was arched with glass through which glowed the grand foyer's chandelier

and to the left boasted one of the few private gardens in the city. The perfect place for an afternoon aperitif.

After generously tipping the gondolier, Jasper hopped onto the dock and strode from the dazzling sunlight into the sumptuous coolness of the hotel. A checkerboard floor of white and terra-cotta stretched beneath his feet as he crossed the grand lobby where wrought iron sconces and priceless tapestries hung from the cream walls. Little tables and chairs gilded with rococo finery dotted the space as fashionably dressed couples sat sipping tea and espresso from elegant chinaware.

" Buon pomeriggio , Signor Truitt," one of the hotel clerks said as he passed the front desk.

Jasper held up his hand in greeting. " Buon pomeriggio , Tommaso. Beautiful day." Another lesson from Duke was always to know the staff of any establishment by name. They were more

likely to prove useful when they were made to feel important. It was a calculated approach Jasper despised as he preferred

to treat all, servant or master, with the same politeness. Manners were the only thing truly separating man from beast, and

he'd seen enough dogs parading as gentlemen to spot the difference.

Tommaso scurried around the desk, adjusting his tie. "Do you require anything, signor? The dining room is serving scallops

in wine sauce today. Would you like me to set up a guided tour of the Frari? No? The garden is lovely at this time."

"Thank you, no. I'm most in need of a telefono ."

"Ah sí . Follow me, signor." Tommaso led him out of the grand foyer and along a short corridor lined with marble columns to a room

surrounded on two sides by windows and drenched with sun. A sitting room in cool greens and whites with a trim of gold. Frescoes

lavished the ceiling in scenes of pastoral tranquility while large paintings adorned the walls.

Dodging cozy groups of satin-covered couches and chairs, Tommaso led him to a table divided by four velvet screens, each a

private wedge fitted with its own telephone.

" Grazie ," Jasper said, pulling out the curved-back chair to one of the sections.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, signor?"

"Not at the moment, but there's a fair chance I'll be checking out this evening or first thing in the morning."

The skin between Tommaso's black eyebrows creased. "You've only just arrived, signor . Surely you wish to take in the sights of our fair city."

Sighing, Jasper pulled his hat from his head and dropped it to the table. "As much as I wish to, this is a short business

trip. Next time I'm in town I'll take you up on one of those guided tours."

Tommaso inclined his head and left, and Jasper focused on the business at hand. Phoning Mond. After several minutes of connecting

operators, Mond's irritated voice crackled through the line.

"Jasper, this better be you because if it's not you are extremely rude for disturbing my peace and quiet, and I shall curse

your inconsiderate carcass with unforgiveness and festering." He paused, swished something in his mouth, and swallowed. "If

this is Jasper, you are still extremely rude and inconsiderate, but I shall forgive you if you have good news."

"No good news, I'm afraid."

"Then I'm hanging up."

"Wait. I've got a new lead." Jasper leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "The item is no longer here. It was sold two weeks

ago to a collection of opera memorabilia traveling around Europe. The next stop is Germany."

"Well, guten tag and auf wiedersehen to you, mein Freund ." Mond's yawn rattled down the line.

"I'll stop in Munich first and put inquiries about. Can't imagine a collectable exhibit travels fast." Jasper fanned his hat over his face. The cool marble surrounding him did little against the Italian heat pouring in the glass windows. "In the meantime, don't let Duke get a bead on you. He's antsy about this piece and more than willing to take it out on anyone caught in his crosshairs if he doesn't have it in his hands by August."

"What's so important about August?"

"His birthday party. Every year he throws an elaborate bash to make all the bluebloods jealous. He's most likely planning

the item as a showpiece."

"I wish he would tell you why he's so obsessed over this one crown."

"It's worth a fortune."

"Yes, but the Roxburgh family owns thousands of priceless jewels. Some worth more than a winged headpiece."

"Sentimental value? He adores Wagner?" Jasper paused, then a chuckle escaped, quickly followed by Mond's laughter. There wasn't

a sentimental bone to be found in Duke's body.

Mond's laughter subsided and the faint sound of ice clinking in a glass followed. "Speaking of sentimental. Found your wife

yet?"

As if conjured, a whiff of orange-blossom perfume danced on the air. Jasper turned, half expecting to find Esme standing there,

but all he saw were ladies in wide-brimmed hats with men carrying shopping bags trailing after them. He flapped his hat to

dissipate the scent, real or imagined.

"As a matter of fact, we sailed together, but I've since given her the slip. No doubt she's fuming while still struggling

to get ashore. I'll be on my way to Munich by the time she realizes the prize is gone from Venice."

"A shame you don't team up. She seems the kind of woman to make things more interesting."

"I work alone. You know that. No distractions, and Esme Fox is an undulating distraction if ever there was one." Undulating,

swaying, dancing, teasing, Cheshire smiling, and any other manner of complication she wielded that could drive a man clean

out of his senses.

"Distractions can be fun."

Sure they were, but they could also leave one feeling... well, left. Jasper flattened the brim of his hat against the table.

That was all in the past. He'd managed to stay one step ahead of the rest of the world all these years, and he wasn't about

to let her outstrip him again. This time he would be the one leaving.

"Keep your ear to the ground about this traveling exhibit. No telling where they might set up. I'll be staying at the usual

place in Munich."

"When you get there, do me a favor. Cable or telephone or send a carrier pigeon, I don't care which, to Duke. That man is

tying up my line and I'm quite tired of his nagging." He paused for a yawn. "I hope the old man is paying you enough. It better

be worth risking a lifetime in jail because I doubt the judge will give you a second chance."

Duke was paying enough for Jasper to live in luxury for the next few years, but the payout Jasper truly desired was a respectable

name tied to a welcoming family. Duke had never promised such a thing, but Jasper hoped that by the time he had the Valkyrie

in hand, Duke could hardly say no.

Ringing off, Jasper signaled a nearby waiter for a glass of water, took a long swallow in preparation, and connected to the

operator. "Blackheathe-492, please."

The line crackled for a long minute until at last a starchy voice pierced through the receiver. "Linton Hall." Corby. Duke's over-starched butler.

"This is Jasper Truitt. May I speak with His Grace, please?"

"What is this pertaining to?"

"Your position if you don't put him on."

Sniffing, Corby disappeared. He made no bones about detesting Jasper. Detesting everyone, really, but he was smart enough

to play along to keep his employer happy, and nothing delighted Duke more than the prospect of seizing his prize.

Minutes passed before Duke's voice barreled through the line. "Jasper, my boy! Do you have it?" His words thrummed with excitement.

"Nearly. There have been unforeseen complications." That was putting it lightly.

"What sort of complications?"

Jasper shifted on the chair as the litany of problems unrolled in his mind. Best not to muddy the waters with talk of competitors

and his soon-to-be ex-wife. "Apparently the fake kind. Care to elaborate on why there's an exact replica floating about?"

A muffled curse. "I, well... What can I say? Objects of beauty are coveted by the masses. Some measly jeweler most likely

saw my piece and decided to make a pretty farthing for himself by duplicating it." By the end of his speech, Duke's annoyed

tone had returned to its calm, cultured drawl. Jasper could picture the old man buffing his gold signet ring against his silk

tie. "How much longer do you anticipate?"

"I have a lead. Should be soon."

"Jasper." Duke sighed in that benevolent way meant to make others feel as if he were doing them a great service. "I do not believe you understand the importance of this occasion in August and why the tiara must be returned to me with all due haste."

"August, yes. That marvelous month when the stars aligned and you graced this world with your birth. Is that the occasion

you speak of with such import?" He shouldn't take so much pleasure, but Jasper didn't often hold the upper hand when it came

to Duke, and he wasn't about to turn down the opportunity when it fell in his lap. "Don't worry. Your guests will be able

to gasp with delight over the precious bauble at your festive shindig."

"No doubt they will, but my astounding them with all that glitters is only part of the celebration. There is a particular

announcement I should like to make, one I should like very much for you to be in attendance for."

Duke was rather fond of making announcements. His birthday, his winning horse at the track, his latest automobile purchase,

but never had he requested Jasper's presence. His palm dampened against the telephone's earpiece. He quickly switched it to

his other hand. "What does this announcement pertain to?"

"It has been in the making for some time and will lead the Roxburgh name into the future."

Did Jasper dare to hope this was the moment he had dreamed of? When Duke would finally call him from the bastard shadow and

into the light of legitimate kin? Did it all hinge on him locating the Valkyrie and returning it to Roxburgh hands, his family's

hands? Perhaps Jasper was merely spinning scenarios he desperately wished to come true, but even if Duke was building up hope

only to dash it, Jasper couldn't turn away from the possibility.

"Well," Jasper drawled despite the tripping of his heart, "I'll be sure to wear my top and tails when I deliver."

His hand shook as he replaced the receiver in its cradle. Don't get ahead of yourself, old boy. That's how you get burned.

With new purpose lightening his footsteps and the next leg of the mission mapping out in his head, he strode to the lobby

and found Tommaso behind the front desk. "When is the earliest train bound for Munich?"

"Eight o'clock this night, signor," Tommaso promptly answered.

"Impressive. Do you know all the train schedules off the top of your head?"

"No, signor, but it was recent that I looked up schedules for Germany." A smile crept across his face.

"That many folks heading north, eh?"

"Perhaps a few seeking a romantic getaway." Tommaso's smile widened until it pushed his cheeks nearly up to his eyes.

"Don't know if I'd classify Germany as romantic in comparison to Venice, but to each their own."

Leaning forward, Tommaso lifted his thick black eyebrows in a show of conspiracy. "It is more about the company you keep,

sì , Signor Truitt?" His eyebrows wiggled like caterpillars.

"Um, yes. I suppose so." Jasper leaned back, feeling as if he weren't quite caught up on a jest. "Have a water taxi ready

for me at seven." He started for the marble staircase.

"As you wish, signor. Would you like me to have refreshments sent to your room?" Tommaso was practically sprawled across the

front desk to call out to him.

"No, thank you."

"Have a molto pleasant afternoon, Signor Truitt," Tommaso sang out.

Jasper hurried up the stairs to his third-floor accommodations. What was that all about? Tommaso was friendly but always properly courteous. Romantic getaway? Company you keep? A very pleasant afternoon? Why would—

Jasper stopped cold. There could be only one reason.

He bounded up the remaining steps two at a time and marched straight to his room, fit the brass key in the lock, and swung

open the door.

"Hello, darling!" Esme stood at the open door leading off to the balcony. Dressed in a nautical number of crisp blue-and-white,

she was the picture of Mediterranean summer. And she was encroaching on his day.

"Hello, yourself." He stepped inside and kicked the door shut, then leaned back against it, slipping the key in his pocket.

"You look much refreshed. I take it you enjoyed a good night's sleep?"

"Indeed, I did. A bit too good, which caused me to awake rather late. You're a lout for sneaking off without me before the

sun rose."

"The sun had already broken the horizon when I left our slumbering ship. The early bird and all that jazz." He noted the shopping

packages and boxes scattered across his bed. "I see you made good use of your time in the city."

"The other night you forced me to clamber from my window with little more than I could carry in a single suitcase. Of course

I had to stop and purchase wardrobe reinforcements." She peeled a wide-brimmed straw hat from her head and carefully patted

her sleek black hair into place.

Shopping bags. Wide-brimmed hats. Elegant ladies traipsing through the sitting room while he telephoned Mond. Jasper's eyes

narrowed. "How much did you overhear?"

"Only that we're off to Munich next. I thought of following you to Signor Campano's shop, but then I reasoned you would root out the pertinent information there, and I could simply wait for you to return. After overhearing our next destination, I had the front desk telephone the Venice train station on my behalf to purchase a ticket before making my way here to your room. Sorry, only a single ticket, but before I'm off I thought we could have a drink on the balcony."

A serendipitous knock sounded on the door. "Ah, that'll be the refreshments now. Tommaso was terribly kind and helpful. I

hope you tip him well."

Jasper opened the door and took the drink tray from the dining staff. A carafe of red wine, two empty glasses, and a plate

of biscuits in the shaped of the letter S. Slipping the boy a tip, he closed the door and turned back to Esme. "You know I

have no intention of allowing you to get ahead of me."

He carried the tray across the opulent hotel room, soothing in its draped silk and tones of champagne and cream, and out to

the balcony overlooking the private garden below. After placing it on the small café table, he pulled out one of the chairs

for Esme before taking the other for himself.

She peeled off white net gloves and placed them in her lap. "Good intentions are not made for people in our line of work."

"I never said they were good." Pouring them each a glass of wine, he held his aloft. If they were stuck in together, he might

as well apply one of his rules: keep it entertaining. And Esme's company was nothing if not entertaining. "Salute."

Grinning, she touched her glass to his. " Cin cin ," she replied, offering the favored toast that mimicked the glasses clinking.

The wine was a 1912 Barbaresco. Aromas of rose and violet drifted under the nose while notes of truffle, cherry, and licorice tingled over the palate. He was by no means a connoisseur of fine wines, despite Duke forcing him to every vineyard in France and Italy. "Every gentleman should know his drink," the old man would say, but Jasper had always been better at knowing who to sell which coveted bottle to at the highest price.

Still, something of that inebriated summer had settled into his memory to differentiate the bitter licorice from the tart

cherries.

"Tell me," Esme said, swirling the red liquid around the glass as afternoon sunlight bounced off the windows across the waterway

behind her. The gondoliers' voices drifted up to the balcony from where they prowled along the water. "What are your intentions

for the Valkyrie?"

"I have a client eager to take possession of it."

"How diplomatically evasive of you."

"I've always been good at finding things. The best." She scoffed and he ignored it. "My clientele are the cream of society

with the most expensive tastes. I find what they want, and they send me off with a large paycheck. Everyone is happy. There

are no intentions beyond getting paid. Well, that and the thrill of the hunt."

"There's nothing quite like seeking an elusive find." She leaned forward as a new light danced across her face. "The thrill

in your blood as you get closer, the trip in your heart rate at catching a first glimpse of the item. Your breath tight in

your lungs as you reach for it and the sudden rush of adrenaline once you have it. You almost hope to peek over your shoulder

and find someone watching you, wondering if they'll give chase."

With each word he felt the pull in his blood. The desire to seek and find. A desire reflecting in her own eyes. "A bit like

wooing a woman."

She met his gaze head-on, locking them into charged silence. The dynamism between them was palpable, electrifying the air around them with memories of champagne, whispered words, and the adventure of being alive. She had made him feel alive again after climbing out of four years of death and mud. She had made his heart start beating again when he'd thought it broken from war. She had given him reason to hope for brighter things, and he had pursued her like a shining star streaking across the sky, reckless in his attempt to catch her. He'd held that brilliant star for but a moment, and then like all fiery things, it had burned him. Yet here she was again, filling the sky with wonder, and he couldn't help feeling the pull toward her light.

But burns left deep marks and he would not give himself over to such flames again.

Without breaking away from the hypnotic blue of her eyes, he slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto the empty chair next

to him. He rolled up his sleeves while discreetly smoothing down the golden hairs on his arms that seemed to pulse in the

ongoing charge. If he didn't mind his good sense, they might burn the place down around them.

He took a biscuit and bit into its sweetness, chewing long enough to reorder his thoughts. "How did you come to work for Countess

Accardi?" he asked, seizing back control of the conversation.

She blinked. It was a languid motion that swept down her thick black eyelashes before swooping them back up, but it was enough

for him to note that it was her way of clearing the electricity from her own pulse. So she was not so untouchable as she wanted

to appear.

"Over the past few months, I've found odds and ends for her. Jewelry, paintings, and such. Wilhelm's dinner plates from when

he was kaiser of all Prussia."

"Did he not take them to the Netherlands when he abdicated at the end of the war?" He polished off the last of the biscuit. Why couldn't English food have flavor like this?

She shook her head. "If you saw them, you would understand. They're positively hideous, but the countess demanded them, and

if there's anything I've learned, it's that she always gets what she wants."

"And her hired gun Pirazzo sees to it."

"Pirazzo has never bothered me because I always land the deal. Unlike you, I don't care if my clients are cream of the crop,

nor am I selective. I find a valuable I think will fetch a pretty price and I take it, then sell it to the highest bidder.

The countess became the highest bidder for many of the items I brought. That's why she hired me for the tiara. It's one of

the rare times I've gone after a specific item, but the game is still the same."

It would be easy to become dazzled by the marvel of her sophisticated savvy. If it weren't for her sheer disregard of mortal

harm. Taking risks was one thing—a spike to the blood like a stolen kiss with a stranger under the midnight clock—but traipsing

about as if all were a lark was akin to crossing a tightrope over a shark tank. One wrong move and that toothy jaw would clamp

around her.

"The game is not the same when men like Pirazzo are involved." Pushing aside his glass, he leaned forward. He didn't want

to care, didn't want to get entangled with this unreliable woman again, but coldhearted indifference had never been his style,

and though he made his golden rules for himself, he should have very much preferred keeping Esme from making enemies as well.

"The man has assassinated a slew of royals, burned down a monastery, kidnapped dozens of heirs from the casino business to the vice admiral of the navy's nephew, and is wanted on three continents."

"I've been taking care of myself for a long time. This lift is no different." She crossed one long leg over the other, dangling

her foot inches from his. "Don't tell me you've never had muscle breathing down your neck."

"I have and I never cared much for it. This powder burner isn't like any I've come across. He won't think twice about snapping

your pretty neck if his master doesn't get her way."

Her red lips curved up. "Think my neck is pretty, do you?"

"I do, and like any pretty thing, I'd hate to see it destroyed." Slipping into familiar waters of flirtatious banter, Jasper

relaxed back into his chair.

"Well, it won't be harmed in the least because I'm going to snag the Valkyrie before you and collect my payment. Which is

an obscene amount that I'm debating how to spend. A tour of Europe sounds delightful, but I doubt many of the cities have

recovered after the Hun destroyed them. Perhaps a long voyage around the world. Or my own villa on the south coast of France.

I could retire in style and never have to scrape together a living ever again."

"We could split the profits and sail around the world together, visiting every exotic port and indulging in whatever it has

to offer."

"I told you before, I don't like entanglements."

"Think of it more as a proper farewell filled with tantalizing memories that might erase the one of waking up to cold, empty

sheets." It was a whim, a fantasy built on sand that would quickly wash out with the next tide, but oh the fun to be had while

it lasted.

She stared at him through veiled lashes, considering. "And then we part ways?"

"And then we part ways."

"Your offer is intriguing despite knowing neither of us would ever split anything. It's all or nothing for people like us."

"True enough, but that's a predictable sentiment. People like us are anything but predictable."

She laughed, clear and loud. "I knew it wasn't only your looks I fell for. Those are reason enough, but there's a clever sense

of wickedness that I find wildly attractive about you."

There it was again. That spark threatening to burn everything between them and to hell with the vicinity catching flame. "It's

good for a wife to find her husband attractive."

"If only for a short time. Wife, that is. I have no doubt you'll remain devastatingly handsome long after the ink has dried

from our divorce papers."

Jasper lofted his glass. "To dried ink."

"To dried ink." Esme joined his toast.

Downing the contents of his glass, Jasper enjoyed the red liquid coating his throat and sloshing delightfully in his belly.

Life wasn't always easy, and he'd learned quickly to grab hold of the good moments before they slipped by. What could be better

than a moment filled with Italian sunshine, mouthwatering cuisine, and the presence of a beautiful woman? By tonight the moment

would have vanished like the sun below the horizon, and he was no fool to let it go without seizing the last rays of enjoyment.

Putting aside his napkin, Jasper stood. He wore the lightest summer suit he owned, but it was no match for the city's heat.

Nor the sweat trickling down his back.

"Now, before the train sets off for Munich with me and not you, how about we go down to the dining room? It's too early and too hot for a full meal, but they serve the most refreshing shrimp risotto with diced cucumber you have ever tasted."

"Sounds heavenly. I'll slip on the new peep toes I bought."

"And I'll just change my shirt. Excuse me for a moment." He went inside the room, then turned back before crossing into the

washroom. "Oh, and if you're thinking of making a run for it, know that I've paid well to have all the exits watched. It was

only a matter of time before you breezed through the hotel doors, and the staff has been given strict instructions not to

allow you to leave without me."

***

Esme scrunched her cheeks in exaggerated adoration. "Darling, you think of everything." He smiled back at her, that heart-skipping

one that flushed her all over. She grabbed their wineglasses and handed his drink to him. "To ingenuity."

"To ingenuity," he said, tipping his glass in salute to her before taking a sip.

She took a sip from her own glass, then set it down before moving to the shopping bags on the bed, but whatever she had been

about to search for slipped clean from her mind as Jasper began to hum from the other room. "When My Baby Smiles at Me." Music

from long ago pinched her heart. Those chords had wrapped around two young lovers, weary from war and longing for the promise

of happiness in each other's eager arms.

What if she were to seek his arms again and let him fill that hole that had been buried deep inside her for so long that she no longer knew where to find the bottom? He was everything a woman could want. Handsome, clever, witty, thoughtful, resourceful, and all hers if she wanted to stake marital priority. But want and need were two very different beasts, and only one could be mastered at a time.

Right now the need to return with that tiara outweighed any need a man might be able to fulfill.

Shaking herself, she picked through the shopping bags. "Now, when we arrive in Munich I expect you to behave as the perfect

gentleman and not get in my way."

"This foolish thinking is precisely the kind you need to forget about. Believing you have any chance at all against me is

a laughable notion."

"Use all the flowery words you like, but you cannot convince me otherwise."

Flicking a glance up, she caught him unbuttoning his shirt in front of the mirror. "I will use any manner necessary to convince

you. Irritate you, charm you, or blackmail you. Any way is fine, but I do hope it's charm. I love a challenge." His eyes met

hers in the reflection as he slipped the shirt off his shoulders.

She held steady his gaze. "And how I love to defy them."

He blinked heavily. Again and again. Then tilted slightly and grabbed the sink.

"Oh dear." She hurried into the washroom and gently led him out to the bed. "That took hold faster than I anticipated. Here,

have a lie-down."

"Y-you drugged me." He glared up at her while slurring.

"Only a tiny sleeping pill. Seeing as I'm to be your wife for a little while longer, I must look out for your well-being,

and I insist you sit this one out, darling."

"I-I'll c... ome af... ter you."

"Perhaps, but not until I'm long gone."

He flopped back, sound asleep.

"Thank goodness you held it together until I got you to the bed." She wriggled her hand out from under him. "I don't know

what I'd have done if you decided to go down in the loo."

Rounding the bed, she upended one of the shopping bags. Out came a hotel maid's uniform, sturdy black stockings, hideously

practical black shoes, and a graying wig tied into a severe knot. Growing up behind a stage had taught her many valuable lessons

that were perfected by the life of a thief. One being the art of disguise—in particular, the unnoticed servant who could slip

past the tightest security measures. Another lesson was how to shimmy through a costume change in under thirty seconds. One

second she was young and glamorous. Twenty-eight seconds later, she was the frumpy help.

She gathered up her bags and stopped next to Jasper's sleeping form. Giving in to one minor indulgence, she reached down and

brushed the flopping curl from his forehead.

"Still a dish."

Sighing, she blew him a kiss and slipped out the door.