“Bess didn’t like the idea of me meeting with Amasa at what she deemed was an unreasonable hour.”

  “Why did you?” he asked out of curiosity.

  “Amasa didn’t want his morning interrupted when he needed to sell cheese, and he wanted as few eyes on his activities as possible.”

  Max nodded. The rarer the antiquity, the fewer people who knew the better.

  “What is Bess going to say when you return because I assume that she doesn’t know you left?”

  “She won’t be pleased, nor surprised, I can assure you.” Rosemary looked up. “But if I can’t get over this wall, it won’t matter, and we’ll have to go through the door.”

  Max would rather they remained out of sight of where Rylan and his men might see, so he reached up, grabbed the ledge and lifted himself over, then turned to grin down at her.

  Rosemary just frowned, hands on her hips.

  “What are their real names?”

  “Who?”

  “Crius and Cronus. That can’t be their real names.”

  “Are you going to help me up?” she demanded with irritation.

  Max shrugged.

  Rosemary rolled her eyes. “John Smythe and John Jones. Very unoriginal.”

  “So, you named them after Titans?” He snorted.

  “It certainly suits them. They’re both giants of men.”

  Since either one could probably flatten him with one fist, Max was careful never to cross them.

  Rosemary narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t help me up, I might just send them after you.”

  Max bent and reached out to her. “Come on.”

  She grasped his forearms and he hers before he lifted Rosemary until she was seated on the ledge of the roof.

  “Where to?” He looked around. “Another roof?” Indicating the one that was even higher the next building over.

  “Window.” She nodded to her left.

  He followed silently behind and waited as she stuck her head inside.

  “Where have you been, Miss Fairview?” her maid chastised. “I thought someone had snuck in and taken you, especially when John said that you’d not exited by way of the door.”

  She pushed the curtain aside. “I went to the market for the scroll.”

  “I thought you were going to wait.”

  “No, you insisted I wait. I never agreed.” She slipped inside but Max did not follow, as he wasn’t certain as to the maid’s state of dress.

  “Lord Maxwell is with me,” Rosemary announced.

  “That scoundrel!” Bess grumbled then stuck her head out the window and frowned. “Why shouldn’t I be surprised?”

  Max grinned. “It’s always a pleasure to see you too, Bess.” Thankfully, she was no longer in her bedclothes.

  “Pleasure it is not, I assure you.” She turned away. “Now get in here before you draw attention to yourself.”

  Bess may pretend that she didn’t like him, but she’d often made Max promise to watch out for Rosemary when she could not be nearby.

  The door banged open as the doorway filled with the body of a giant of a man. “Cronus, so good to see you again,” Max called.

  The guard frowned. “What are you doing here and how’d you get in?” Then he noticed the open window and rested a hand on the hilt of his blade.

  “Really, violence is not necessary. I’m here at the invitation of Miss Fairview.”

  The guard shifted his eyes to Rosemary.

  Cronus had known Max for four years and should know that he’d never be a threat to Rosemary.

  “He is,” she assured Cronus, and only then did the guard relax.

  “I’ll fetch your breakfast, Miss Fairview, and please, don’t leave again without one of us,” the guard instructed.

  “Light all the lamps and candles, Bess,” Rosemary instructed as she pulled a table to the center of the room and then retrieved a clay pot from inside her bag. Max joined her, leaning close to examine the ancient manuscript she withdrew and gently unrolled. His touch was delicate as he ran his fingers along the edges, fearful that they may crumble.

  Rosemary then retrieved a magnifier from a case on the dresser. “I can’t believe I didn’t take this with me,” she chastised herself as she returned to the table. Bending close, she studied the parchments, then handed the glass to Max so that he could do the same.

  It was real and it was ancient, and he was honored for the opportunity to view and touch ancient history. This wasn’t the first time that he’d wished he would have studied languages during his short time at Oxford because he longed to read what was written.

  Max straightened. “The question remains, who has claim to it?” They never kept the antiquities they found or searched out on their own. The thrill was in the quest, discovery, and then study. After, the item was turned over to whichever church, family, or government that should be the rightful owner.

  Rosemary frowned. “How can one know when we don’t know what is written on the papyrus.”

  The three major religions were of prominence in Jerusalem, and the scroll could belong to any one of them, or all, depending on what had been written. There was also the possibility that the words had nothing to do with religion, in which case, it would be given to the government for safe keeping in their archives or a museum. However, as it was found near Jerusalem, Max assumed the words conveyed religious teachings.

  “It’s not Arabic,” he answered, which meant they would not be turning the scroll over to Al-Aqsa Mosque.

  “Nor is it Greek, but I can’t tell if it’s written in Aramaic or Hebrew. The lettering is too faded, and I’ll be honest, they both look similar to me.”

  Max leaned forward and tried to make out the faded lettering. “I’m not certain either.”

  “If we can’t read it, then we don’t know who would place a higher value on it.”

  Not that she’d sell the scroll but would gift it, as antiquities such as these weren’t something to be bartered or sold. He and Rosemary earned enough funds from being hired to locate lost or stolen items and did not need to sell something found that hadn’t been sought.

  “It might not even be religious at all,” Max offered. “We’re simply making that assumption because of the location.”

  She frowned. “True, but why hide it if it wasn’t political or religious?”

  The most damaging or dangerous teachings were those that were kept in secret. Or, so he believed, though this could have just been a pot with a document simply left in a cave by accident. Unless they knew what information it contained, they could not even guess at a reason.

  “I thought perhaps the Vatican might be the best choice.”

  Max pulled back in surprise. “Rome?” They were in Palestine, not Italy. “If you wish them to go to a church, what of Church of the Holy Sepulcher, here, in Jerusalem. If you are not certain of the language, give it to the government.”

  “I’m not certain that is the best choice either,” she mumbled.

  “You can’t take them from the region either,” he argued.

  “In this case, I don’t believe I have a choice.” She settled into a chair.

  “No choice?” He nearly yelled. “Since when do you remove an antiquity from the region in which it was found?”

  “Since I’m not certain what it is that I have,” she yelled back. “If I could read it, I’d know who this belonged to. As I cannot, I believe that it’s best that the Vatican make the decision.”

  “They will keep the scroll for themselves and depending on what is written will decide if they even share the knowledge. They may hide it away if the words don’t agree with the teachings of the Catholic church,” Max argued.

  “I cannot choose one over the other when we don’t know what it says,” she insisted.

  “Perhaps we can find someone in the region who we trust to translate, then you will know,” Max suggested in a calmer tone. He could not let her take the scroll from here. Until now, it was something they’d always agreed upon. To keep antiquities in their home country since there were already too many British men taking antiquities to England, to be displayed in the British museum, or to simply have. And while Max had enjoyed visiting the museum in his youth, he also considered it a great loss to the region from which the items had been taken.

  She looked up at him and frowned, then nodded. “You are correct. Until I know what I have, I shouldn’t make a final decision.”

  Max nearly breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that he’d finally learn what had been written and it might explain why the scroll was hidden away.

  The door of her chamber burst open, banging against the wall. “You must go. Now!” Cronus ordered.

  Max blinked. He knew the guard wasn’t fond of him, but he’d never been ordered away.

  “There was talk in the market. Men searching for you.”

  It had to be Rylan and his henchmen.

  “A man was beaten for information.”

  It most definitely was Rylan and Max knew that he had to get Rosemary out of here. “Did this Amasa, the man who sold you the scroll, know where you were staying?”

  “Not exactly, but he knew the area where I’d taken these rooms,” Rosemary answered.

  Max immediately set to rolling the ancient scroll as Bess hastily packed clothing into a worn valise.

  “Take her and keep her safe. We will rendezvous tomorrow,” Cronus ordered Max. “They asked if you were with her and if you were in Jerusalem too, but nobody identified you, just Miss Fairview and us.”

  “I can’t leave you behind,” Rosemary insisted.

  “We will be safe, and we’ll keep Bess with us. It is you they seek.”

  Max grabbed her over-sized bag and shoved the clay jar, now containing the scroll again, inside before he pulled Rosemary to the window. “I’m not leaving you here to be found by Rylan.”

  Her brown eyes widened.

  “I saw them in the market yesterday. It’s best that you hide, and the scroll too.”

  “Go,” Cronus ordered as Max shoved Rosemary out the window. “We will draw them away from you. Bess can pass for Miss Fairview when her head is covered.”

  Max had a feeling they’d used this ruse before, but he didn’t have time to ask when or where.

  He trusted the two Titan guards to keep Bess safe, but it was best if nobody knew where Rosemary disappeared to. Rylan would follow the guards, and they were better suited to confront Rylan than Rosemary.

  Together they snuck through the shadows, taking narrow passages, and wound their way around ancient buildings until they came to the rooms Max had rented. They slipped inside, bolted the door, and made certain the windows were locked.

  “When and where are we to meet your Titans and Bess tomorrow?”

  She told him that a contingency plan had already been put in place if Rosemary had gotten separated from her maid and bodyguards, and Max intended to escort her to the place tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, they examined the scroll again and argued about who they should ask to interpret the document without coming to an agreement. When Max woke in the morning, after having taken the floor so that she might sleep in the bed, Rosemary was gone, along with the scroll. The only thing left was a note. I’m off to the Vatican. It is not safe to stay in Jerusalem so long as Rylan and his men are about. Thank you for your assistance. I look forward to our next quest.

  Chapter 1

  Cornwall, England, Late Summer, 1815

  * * *

  Rosemary’s heart had nearly stopped when Max paused in the doorway of the parlor where she’d been taking tea with her friends. The parlor was within his family home, and she was visiting his younger sister, Sophia, who was a dear friend, but Rosemary still hadn’t anticipated Max being present. She hadn’t even been aware that he was in England.

  Was he still angry with her? No doubt he had been when he’d awakened in Jerusalem to find her gone, but that was nearly seven months ago and certainly he’d gotten over any irritation by now.

  It was odd that she hadn’t seen him since then. For nearly five years they’d encountered each other often, and rarely went above two months without confronting the other in search of an antiquity. That was, until they parted in Jerusalem. Then again, she had sailed to Italy and then returned to England, at the request of Sophia, so it was no surprise that she’d not seen Max, especially since she’d heard rumors that he’d remained in Palestine.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Fairview.” His tone cool and polite.

  He was still angry. “But we both know that it is not,” she smiled at him.

  “Yes well, it’s best not to deceive oneself,” Maxwell muttered and strode toward the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. “Did you make good on your promise and deliver the scroll you stole from me to the Vatican.”

  She gasped. “I did not steal from you, Lord Maxwell. I simply found it before you had a chance to do so. And yes, I delivered it to the good Father.”

  Maxwell snorted. “Stole,” he muttered under his breath.

  Rosemary had found it first, as he well knew, so why was he grumbling about her stealing?

  Except, Max didn’t really mean him. He was angry that she had taken the scroll from Jerusalem. However, she had more faith in the priests at the Vatican than he did, and as soon as the translation was provided, she’d return the scroll to Palestine and deliver it to the rightful owner. It was that simple.

  Max returned to her side, now holding a glass of brandy, and stared down at her. Rosemary’s breath hitched as she looked up into his blue eyes.

  Blast, she shouldn’t react to him at all, but she did. He was both aggravating and handsome and it irritated her that she was affected by his presence at all. It was an attraction she was almost able to set aside when seeking and finding antiquities, but in settings such as this, taking tea, she became all too aware of how much she desired him, and had for several years. This was also the very setting when she’d first met him. She’d only been a girl of thirteen, but infatuation for the rogue had taken root and remained a constant companion.

  She’d also never let him know that he had any effect on her whatsoever.

  “A word, Miss Fairview,” Max ground out.

  Rosemary blew out a sigh and set her tea aside before she followed him out onto the terrace.

  “Why did you just lie to everyone and accuse me of theft?” she demanded.

  “Because I couldn’t tell them the true reason why I’m angry because it would put your reputation in jeopardy.”

  Rosemary blinked at him. “Reputation?”

  He hitched a brow.

  “Oh, you mean that I snuck out of your chamber, with the scroll, after spending the night with you and without so much as a by your leave?” She grinned. “Like a lover sneaking away after a night of passion?”

  He quickly glanced around. “Please lower your voice before someone thinks we are lovers.”

  It stung that he’d be embarrassed or ashamed if someone thought he’d been with her. Or it could be because he was respectable. Sometimes Max was more prudish than the few matrons she’d met in Society.

  “That is exactly to what I’m referring. Your disappearance that is,” he added.

  “I left you a note,” Rosemary reminded him.

  “With no thought to the danger!” he nearly yelled. “Had you forgotten that Rylan and his thugs were looking for you? Do you know what they could have done had they caught you? You could have been injured or worse.”

  Rosemary pulled back. It had never been her intention to worry him, and in truth, she was rather shocked by his vehement attack on her conduct, as if she were a child to be disciplined, and she’d not have it.

  “Do you?” he asked again.

  “I’m very well aware of what can happen to a miss when disreputable men are about,” She bit out. “It’s the very reason I left Jerusalem, as I explained. It was too dangerous to remain.”

  “I spent the entire morning looking for you. I’d gone to your set of rooms, which had been vacated, but the chambers had been searched. The drawers of the dresser were pulled out and discarded, the mattresses tossed to the side, and all manner of destruction.” He took a step forward. “I didn’t know if they’d gotten to you.”

  She’d no idea Rylan had searched her rooms, and it was rather unsettling.

  “It wasn’t until I went to the meeting place you’d mentioned, and discovered Cronus and could finally calm, knowing you were safe with Crius.”

  Rosemary blinked at Max. It had never occurred to her that he’d worry and search for her. Of course, if Rylan hadn’t been about, it was likely Max would have traveled on to his next antiquity quest without a thought about her.

  “I’m sorry.” What more could she say?

  He pushed his long fingers through this long, dark blonde hair. “Yes, well, I’m still angry at your total disregard for safety.”

  Rosemary gasped. “I was perfectly safe.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Further, I am not your responsibility.”

  “You are when you are with me!” he yelled.

  “I ceased being the responsibility of any man several years ago, and I’ll not be answering to you, Lord Maxwell Trent, or anyone else.” She may have only gained her majority three years ago, but Rosemary had been independent much longer, which her father recognized. She just wished other gentlemen accepted it as well.

  “You used to be such a timid thing when you visited my sister.”

  “I was young,” Rosemary defended. “I’m no longer that child.”

  “No, you are not,” he acknowledged thoughtfully. “Simple maturity is not the answer for this boldness that you’ve exhibited these past years.” He narrowed his eyes. “It was after you’d traveled to Italy!” he declared. “That’s it! That’s when you met Lady Hester Stanhope. Your reckless, independent nature is her influence, isn’t it?”

  “My nature may be independent, but it is no way reckless,” Rosemary argued. And, while Lady Hester Stanhope had nothing to do with any changes, she would let Max believe what he would.