Chapter Nineteen
In the dark hour before dawn, Ian finally found the willpower to rise from bed.
Diana slept sprawled across the mattress. She’d spent much of the night sprawled across him in similar fashion, which was one of the many reasons he’d remained awake.
He’d suspected they would be good together in bed, but nothing he’d imagined came close to the reality of being with her. One night would never be enough. Now that he had physical memories to match his fantasies, knowing what was possible—and not having it—would eat him alive.
He used the attached bathroom to wash and dress. His unruly hair and dark beard made his reflection in the mirror something sinister. He looked like someone who belonged roaming the docks.
“What time is it?” Diana’s muffled voice called.
When Ian walked back into the bedroom, she had the sheet pulled tightly around her. He recognized that this was not some latent effort at modesty; it was an attempt to put distance between them.
“It’s after seven,” he replied calmly.
“Will you draw me a bath? I’d like to wash.” Her eyes darted between him and the door, and he nodded slowly. Birdie or her sparrows were likely waiting outside.
Thankfully, the bathing room was fitted with running water, and Ian turned the cold tap to muffle the sound of their conversation.
Diana pulled the door to the bath shut behind her and leaned against it protectively. With the sheet draped around her, her chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders, and a faint blush lingering on her cheeks, she looked like a goddess.
One he was eager to worship with his body again.
“I suspect Birdie’s in the hallway,” she murmured.
“And we have to assume she’s working with Widow to lure you somewhere they can take the necklace without a fight.”
Diana gave a reluctant nod. He hated the way she gripped the sheet closer to cover her breasts. The attempt was futile; he’d never forget what they looked like.
“I know we should talk about last night.” Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “But if we do, I fear we’ll never leave this room.”
He paused a beat. “That can be arranged.”
She bit her lip. “It was wonderful, Ian.”
He felt his smile split his face. “It was.”
The water rushed into the drain while they took a moment to revel in this accord before she said, “You promised you’d tell me what you know about the factions vying for the emeralds and what you intend to do about it.”
It was the bargain they’d made, and yet, he hesitated. Once she knew the truth, the adventure he’d allowed himself to get carried away with would end.
“Ian?”
“Knowing will make you a target.” He couldn’t be polite about it, nor could he hold back a snarl. “Despite that, I also know that it’s ultimately better for you to understand everything, because we both need to protect you from it.”
“You keep trying to push me away from this. Have you considered that I’m already too entwined?”
“Yes.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “And if I tell you all this, I am asking you to agree to put that clever brain to work to sort out a way to sever you from it.”
Before the glower she gave him could turn into another protest, he quickly said, “The necklace is the bounty for a dangerous competition. Il Gioco. It came about because three famiglie—I use the term loosely—have held historical claim to the emeralds over the last two hundred years.”
“One of them is Il Corno. Costa’s network.”
“The Sicilian famiglia,” he confirmed. “There is also the Manu Rosso, whose territory is in the South. And the Tarka.”
“They must be from Malta.”
He nodded. “It means shield.”
Diana extended her fingers over her heart, and he tipped his head to acknowledge her silent question that the shadowed lines behind the cross of his tattoo formed the symbol.
It stirred memories, promises he wasn’t ready to divulge to her yet, so he prattled on.
“Legend says the battle for the gems used to be a trying series of physical tests, but the famiglie lost too many soldiers. Now, Il Gioco is played on one night, in one ruthless zero-sum game of cards. The winner receives the emeralds and everything the other players wager. Whoever wins holds the emeralds for life. And everything staked to them. The winner can sell the other assets—”
“But the emeralds can never be bought or sold,” she finished. “If only the three famiglie can play for the emeralds, how did your father win them?”
“He never told me all of the details, but it amounted to being in the wrong place at the wrong time and the Tarka deciding he would play for them.”
“Why didn’t they play when your father died?”
“There was a show of force from the newly unified Italian government to police criminal activity. It didn’t stick. But it allowed me a few years to seed rumors that the emeralds were stolen in the upheaval following my father’s death.”
“So when Jared tried to sell them—”
“He didn’t know what he’d set in motion. It was a secret my father insisted we keep from him for his protection.”
The water sputtered from the tap, and Diana reached forward to turn it off. “What did your father stake with the emeralds?”
A rap sounded at the door.
Eager to escape Diana’s question and compose himself before confronting the potentially traitorous Stags, Ian crept out of the bathing room and withdrew his pistol. Diana darted back into the bedroom, seized her crumpled dress from the floor, and removed the knife hidden in the pocket.
The knock came again: two taps, a pause, and a third rap.
Diana met his eyes and nodded to confirm it was Birdie before she slipped the dress over her head. Ian opened the door a crack and found Birdie in the hallway with one hand tucked in the pocket of her coat. She took in Ian’s rumpled suit, raised a brow, and sauntered into the room.
“Brought you a change of clothes, ma’am.” Birdie tossed Diana a brown paper package. “Thought trousers and a cap would be the most versatile.”
“Thank you.” Diana accepted it with all of her society poise. “I won’t sugarcoat what happened last night. Widow and I had a disagreement about the next phase of the operation. She has allowed me time to present her with an alternative.”
“What’s the plan then?”
The crew hand’s tone was far too pleasant for Ian’s liking. Birdie had to be itching at the discord between Diana and her handler.
“We should continue on the water,” he said, following Diana’s lead. “Costa will watch the trains.”
“There’s a tugboat with a course to Genoa,” Birdie suggested smoothly. “Schedule says the boat casts off in two hours.”
The woman wasn’t even trying to conceal her eagerness to move them on that route. Ian choked down a growl.
“Make the arrangements,” Diana said. “And you and your team should keep your heads down today,” she added. “Going back to the townhouse is a risk.”
“Aye.”
It was such an obvious attempt at a trap; Ian marveled at how both of the women were keeping a straight face discussing it.
“And Birdie, if you have reservations about the direction of this operation, I can relieve you of your duty,” Diana cautioned primly.
“That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” Birdie’s tone was brusque and efficient. The epitome of an obedient operative. She was overplaying it by a mile, and Ian couldn’t help stare at her pointedly until she backed her way out of the room.
The moment she left, Ian took up a post at the window overlooking the front entrance to the hotel, but the sparrows were smart enough to abscond using another route.
Diana withdrew to the bathing room to change. She reappeared a few moments later ensconced in woolen pants with braces, a flannel shirt, and boots.
He loved the way she walked in trousers. Her hips swayed freely; her strides were quick and smooth. He could watch the graceful fall of her steps all damn day.
As she attempted to pin her plaited hair against her head to tuck underneath the cap, she bemoaned the pins under her breath.
Ian walked behind her and caught her gaze in the mirror. He gestured to her hair. “Do you want help with that?”
She paused with her hands suspended over her head. “I didn’t realize you were skilled in hairdressing.”
“Don’t tell me you forgot practicing on me?” he teased.
“Of course I remember.” Her lips twitched. “You’d let your hair grow out all summer. You had so many more curls, I was green with envy and intent on ruining them with my experiments. I’m still shocked you agreed to it.”
“Always a willing accomplice,” he murmured as he reached for a pin. Handling her hair was staving off the howling need to caress her again, in more intimate places.
“Well, it’s been close to twenty years since all of that. I guess you’ve found other means of practice?”
It was a carefully worded question about his past liaisons. He loved the urgency in her tone, the way her eyes wouldn’t move from his while she waited for his response.
“Hardly any,” he conceded. “I tried with two other models. Neither of them gave me a second chance to further my skills.”
“How shortsighted of them,” she murmured. Her blush deepened. “Of course, I have little perspective.”
“No?”
“In the past, I’ve only ever seen to it myself.”
He’d been the first to wring that pleasure from her, and his satisfaction in it shook him to his core.
As he placed the last pin, he couldn’t resist grazing the bare nape of her neck with his finger.
She spun around to face him, and his attention centered on the blush rising over her cheeks.
“You never said what your father staked with the emeralds. You promised to tell me.”
Denying it would be a waste of his breath. “The Tarka took the lion’s share of the winnings, but Father had staked his dockside holdings in the game. They’re still tied to the emeralds.”
Diana lifted a hand to her mouth. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never observed her so visibly surprised.
“Jared knew nothing about it,” he added. “As the current custodian of the gems, he may play for them if one of the famiglie choose him as their player. If he plays, he will undoubtedly lose.”