Lessons of Desire (18 page)

Friend
.

He turned the word over in his head. It was the only caption she permitted for the men in her life. The night had made him amenable to compromise, so he tried the appellation on her in turn.

The primitive beast within had been fed and soothed, so it did not roar in anger now. It spoke, however, with a confidence far more firm than its first proclamations. He could not ignore that possessive impulse. It did not permit him to think of her as a friend. Friendship entailed less certainty, less need, and more freedom.

She rubbed her eyes. She opened them and glanced down the bed at the lulls their bodies made under the sheet. She turned on her side and looked at him.

"We should leave for the ruins soon, if we are going to avoid the heat of midday," she said.

"We could go tomorrow."

She reached out to walk her fingers over his chest. "We should probably go while you have left me still able to walk."

Her playfulness pleased him to a ridiculous extent. So did the indication that she had not decided this liaison would end once they left this bed this morning. Not that he intended lo allow that to happen anyway.

"We were quite mad last night," she said.

"In the best way."

"Do you think it is the sun that does this to the English when they travel? Our countrymen have a long tradition of acting very odd when they go abroad, of abandoning good English sense. We are so unused to all this sunlight, after all. We blunder forth ill equipped and inexperienced in handling its effects"

"I do not need the Mediterranean sun to want a woman, least of all you, Phaedra."

There was more truth in her observation than he cared to admit. He had abandoned much of his good sense with her. He was allowing desire to rule him, and its complications waited to ensnare him. It was not like him to let obligations and responsibilities wait while he indulged himself. His impulses with Phaedra were not the ones he normally felt toward women.

She smiled at his response, but her mind was working on something. Perhaps she sought her own caption for last night's bacchanal.

"You are probably correct. It is not the sun. It is being far from home, away from the histories and obligations that form us. One has another life and becomes a different person when one is far away. When foreigners visit London, they probably try different lives too."

"And they probably say it is the fog and rain that make them mad."

She laughed. She turned on her back and the sheet formed elegant folds over her breasts and stomach. The lower swell captured his attention.

"Do you not worry that you will get with child, Phaedra? I have been careless in my impatience but in the future we should lake steps."

Her hand sought that lower hill and rested there. "I do not think I would like those precautions. If I have a child I will raise her as my mother did me. I am a woman, after all, and having children is a natural thing for a woman."

Artemis Blair may have birthed and raised Phaedra, but she had been all but married to Richard Drury. Whatever was happening in this bed, it was not that. "I trust that you would not expect me lo deny a child was mine."

Her laugh was too warm to be mocking. "You, No. I would never expect that of you even if I requested it. I would expect instead that you would be an intrusive nuisance. However, I have not been with child thus far, and do not think it likely that I will ever be so blessed."

So blessed
. She did not fear a pregnancy at all. Her unexpected view on this matter reminded him that she did not live in the same world that he knew, or obey the same laws that governed other women's fears and hopes.
Mistress, wife, sinner, friend
.
None of the words he had tried out on her would ever fit.

He moved atop her so he could feel her beneath him again. He savored the silken warmth of her skin all along his own. He looked down at sparkling eyes full of humor.

"I think that we should indulge our desire, Phaedra. We should allow ourselves to be as mad as our countrymen. Let us enjoy the freedom to live different lives tinder this foreign sun while we wind our way back to Naples."

He caressed the delicate curve of her cheek and jaw and felt her subtle nod beneath his touch.

He kissed her, with no intentions of pursuing the promise in that nod right now. It was, he realized, the first time that he had kissed her or any other woman with no expectations of more.

T am awed, Elliot. This last week has overwhelmed me.
J.
but by far this is the most impressive of the experiences."

"I
trust it only surpasses the other towns and ancient sites that you have seen, and not every experience."

They exchanged the kind of intimate look that lovers share when they know each other very well. Oh, yes, she only spoke of the ancient sites. Paestum in all its isolated, mined glory and Amalfi, so picturesque it appeared to be planned by an artist, only served as settings for other impressive experiences.

They had dallied in Amalfi's sea-swept charm longer than necessary before coming overland to Pompeii. Even that brief journey back north had been an exercise in holding the world at bay. Elliot arranged their travel so they would take three days when it could easily be done in one.

They had lodged in a small hamlet last night. They made love madly, desperately. Perhaps they both knew that a dream would end with the passing of the night.

She woke to the dawn suddenly sad and nostalgic. Pompeii beckoned, and with it came realities that they had been ignoring.

Did she imagine now that there was some sorrow in his conspiratorial lovers smile too? Certainly his eyes reflected more layers and depths than in the previous weeks' lighthearted fun.

He had come to Pompeii because of his new book, but she did not think that his research was the only reason for his moments of distraction today.

She toed at the deep rut that ran in a straight furrow through the packed earth of the street. "To think Roman chariot wheels rolled down this lane. I do not mind the dust so much because I know it is the same dust that blew two thousand years ago."

"Here is the bakery. It appears much as ours do, in many ways." He led her into the building. The deep niches for the ovens showed in the walls. She could picture the people who baked here, and the servants arriving to buy their families* loaves. She could also imagine their horror when nearby Vesuvius began spewing forth its great clouds of ash, and their anguish as it settled on the town, burying Pompeii and all its people.

Other tourists strolled along the excavated streets too. Most had guides, but she did not need one. She had Elliot Roth well explaining it all to her.

They found themselves at the edge of the current excavations. Work had resumed with the end of the siesta. Rows of men moved baskets of dirt in a human chain, slowly unearthing antiquity. Others rolled handcarts of the dirt to a destination outside the city walls. The town was slowly being reclaimed, section by section.

"I expect that they record everything they find," she said. "That is the correct method, as I understand it."

"In the past they just dug for treasure, but now every potsherd and every brick is documented."

"When they just dug for treasure, were those items not recorded?"

"Kings keep good inventories of their property and the kings of Naples have long claimed Pompeii as theirs. The logs from the last century were not as scientific, but anything of value was noted down."

She strolled along the edges of the current dig. A little weight tapped her thigh like an indignant demand for attention. She had almost forgotten to bring the cameo with her this morning. She had only remembered it when Elliot had left her to secure the carriage.

Thai was what pleasure with this man had done to her. Now the cameo kept tapping her thigh from deep within the practical pocket of her dress. Tap. tap, tap.
Do not forget why you are really here.

She suspected that Elliot also experienced prods, of a different sort. He had left England for reasons too. Once his research here in Pompeii was completed, how long would it be before he turned his attention to the other goal?

She wished that she could make that quick work for him. In Naples she had been indignant at his assumption that she should edit the memoirs. He had acted like his duty to his father was more important than her duty to her own. Now she hated that her duty might deepen the rift waiting lo open between them.

The sun beat down. The quiet spells between them lengthened with the shadows.

They stopped strolling. Together they gazed out over the excavations.

She thought back on the last week. Their liaison would probably survive for a few more days. At least until they returned to Naples. It would not be the same, however. They could no longer play at having other lives and being free from those duties. She could no longer ignore who she was.

"You should probably seek out the superintendent" she said. "You have research to do here."

He did not answer right away. He just stood there, still able to affect her by being close by. His presence did not only excite her physically. The intimacy did not require the night to move her. It slid all through her now, heralding that their thoughts were completely affixed on the other. It caused the same poignancy that had gripped her heart at dawn.

"Yes, it is probably time." His hand closed on hers. "Come with me. I will introduce you. He probably knew of your mother scholarship"

The workers did not object when Elliot guided Phaedra through the excavations. They stopped and looked, however. Elliot knew that all their attention was on the woman by his side. The hat did not hide her red hair or her beauty. Phaedra was distinctive even with her eccentric garb made more normal. At that dinner party, dressed fashionably, she had garnered every man's attention.

A dust-covered man approached them, but from his frock coat and hat it was obvious he did not dig himself.

His dark eyes quickly assessed the intruders. His smile indicated he had decided to welcome instead of scold.

"Buon giorno, signore,
Madame
." He made a little bow. "English?"

"Yes. I apologize for intruding. I am Lord Elliot Rothwell and this is—" He stumbled on the introduction made so often the last few days. It was one thing to call her his wife to humble innkeepers, and another to present her as such to gentlemen. "This is Miss Phaedra Blair. We are seeking Michele Arditi, the superintendent. He was not at the museum. I was told he visited the excavations today."

"I am Michele Arditi. I am pleased that you have honored us with your visit, Lord Elliot. Signore Greenwood sent word that your arrival was imminent a week ago, and I feared something had happened. I regret that I was not in Portici when you went there and that you were sent out of your way."

"The way was not far, and it is always a pleasure to see the villas of Portici"

Elliot had never met Arditi. The superintendent had been away from Pompeii when he had visited before. Arditi appeared an amiable man who possessed enough confidence in his station to be friendly but not deferential.

Arditi gestured broadly to the dig behind him. "There is much new to see. I regret that some of it is not appropriate for a lady, and the terrain can be dangerous as well" His long gaze took Phaedra in. "Signore Greenwood wrote that you would come too, and that you are the daughter of Artemis Blair."

"Yes."

"I know her translation of Pliny. Not, perhaps, as finely nuanced as the best Italian translations, but for an Englishwoman her choices were impressive."

Phaedra took the faint praise graciously. "Perhaps I could see those discoveries that
are
appropriate for a woman. Then Lord Elliot can view the rest at his leisure while I retreat to one of the guesthouses outside the walls."

Arditi thought that an excellent idea. He personally conducted a tour of buildings recently unearthed

They poked around the Temple of Fortuna and other ruins near the forum. They spent a good deal of time peering at the first evidence of
insulae
,
or houses, on Via di Mercurio, a recent discovery generating much excitement among historians. Arditi then took them to the House of Pansa. He treated Phaedra to a long history of its reclamation while a small army of men carefully cleaned walls.

When they emerged from the house, he sent a worker off with a message.

"I have called for Nicola d'Apuzzo, the current architect and director of the excavation," he explained. "He will show you everything that you wish to see. Lord Elliot. You are welcome to remain until the site closes at dusk, and return as often as you wish in the days ahead. However, I feel obligated to say that I do not think that Miss Blair will find a guesthouse here suitable. May I suggest that I escort Miss Blair to Portici"? You can call for her at the museum later. I will direct you to lodgings there that are much more appropriate for you both."

They agreed to Arditi s plan. The director arrived and Arditi handed Elliot over. He then offered his arm to Phaedra. Elliot watched them stroll away, noting how

Arditi revealed his admiration for the young woman in his custody. His flowery flatteries floated on the dust.

He inwardly laughed at the spike of jealousy he had felt while he watched Arditi fawn. It was time to learn to close the door again, or he would never remember a word he heard today. The question was whether he dared even leave it ajar anymore.

Portici
was a collection of magnificent villas to the west of Vesuvius, all displaying the classical styles popular for the last century. It was as if one collected the great country houses of England and lined them up on a road leading to the sea.

When Michele Arditi offered to give Phaedra a tour of the museum, she did not decline. She bided her time while he waxed eloquent with stories about the discovery of this artifact and that.

He stretched out the tour as long as possible, but finally all was done. Elliot had not arrived at the museum and there was at least an hour until dusk began falling. Signore Arditi made a display of noting that, then offered her coffee in his office.

A proper woman would probably not accept, even if Signore Arditi played the gallant protector. She was not proper in the normal sense, however.

"Lord Elliot says that you are the superintendent, but I understand that you do not actually excavate," she said after he had settled her into his spacious office. Bits and pieces of ancient Pompeii dotted the shelves.

"The architects and directors manage the dig and do the restoration work. I control the business of the site, and the museum in which we now sit."

"Have you been here a very long lime?"

"Since I807.I was appointed by Napoleon. When he was defeated and the monarchy restored, I was asked to continue" His tone let it be understood that the king knew a superior superintendent when he saw one. "The methods improved under the French. We were able to initiate important changes in how the excavation was conducted. With the return of the Bourbons, however— the last king did not support our work. Eight years ago we were down to eighteen excavators. But this king sees the benefits of reclaiming this city and doing it correctly. It is our history. Our patrimony."

He spoke at length on the subject. He lectured her on the correct methods and his important role in making Pompeii what it had become. All the while her hand tested on her dress, over the little weight in her pocket.

When his enthusiasm for the subject began to wane, she finally broached the subject she really wanted him to expound upon.

"Signore Arditi, I wonder if you would allow me to intrude on your expertise further, I have special need of it, and I doubt any man can accommodate me as well."

His eyebrows rose a fraction. His hands turned palms up in a gesture of humility. "If I can be of assistance, certainly, Miss Blair."

She dug the cameo out of her pocket. She placed it on his desk. "I was told this came from Pompeii. That it was from the ruins and that it is ancient. I think you would know if that is true."

The cameo arrested his attention. He stared at it for a long count, then picked it up and carried it to the window. "Where did you get this?" "I would rather not say."

He studied the cameo hard, frowning down at its little sculpted figures. "I regret to inform you that this is a forgery. A very good one. There are a number extant and we have never discovered who is making them. I suspect one of the restorers who worked here long ago. Whoever he is, he is very sly. He does not make many and they are sold privately for large sums. There are unscrupulous dealers who will take such things and place them without asking too many questions."

"You are sure it is a forgery?"

"As sure as a man can be."

That was not as sure as she would like. "May I ask how you know? So that I do not fall prey to unscrupulous dealers in the future."

"I
know
.
It is my business to know. The relief would show more wear if it had been buried. It is too clean, too perfect. The setting as well—the gold should be marked and less even. However, I mostly know because I have overseen this site for twenty years. For the last fifteen we have owned all the land within the town walls in order to ensure the heritage is not dispersed. I make sure that every artifact is catalogued and accounted for. Nothing leaves Pompeii unless I personally bring it here to the museum or send it to Naples."

"Could it have been unearthed before you came?'' When the methods were less scientific?"