AVAILABLE FILE FORMATS: HTML for the standard computer, Rocket reader for the Rocket eBook reader device, MS Reader for the PC and Pocket PC, FUB for eBookMan, Mobipocket for Palm Pilot, Pocket PC, and eBookMan, and KML for hiebook

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Keri was on her way. She'd been fired up for the past twenty-four hours. She had an extra cup of high-test coffee that morning. Only coffee because she was afraid she might throw up if she ate anything. She was strung as tense as a Wall Street broker in a bear market.

Wearing her best suit and a new pair of expensive shoes, she plunged in through the front door of the Richmond Historical Museum. And pushed the ornate wooden door that had come from a sunken Spanish galleon, right into a man's face. He fell straight back to the imported Italian marble floor like a perfectly timed stunt in a movie.

Only it wasn't one.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Do you need a doctor? Do you need an ambulance? I could call someone. I'm so sorry! I just didn't see you and then you were there and--" She heard a cracking sound and realized that one of the heels from her new pumps had snapped off. Her purse fell to the floor and half of its contents fell out.

"It's all right, ami." He looked down at her woeful countenance and extended his hand to her. "My nose is a little out of joint but otherwise, I will live."

Keri cleaned up her purse and took his hand. She stood up slowly and blinked back hot tears when she looked at the smudge on her suit and her broken heel. How could this happen to her on today of all days? After five years, she had finally convinced herself that she was going to have it out with her boss, Mr. Grainger, and now it was all ruined. She was a mess and this man, whoever he was, would probably sue her for disfiguring him.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine. I-I just--" She really looked at him for the first time. He actually didn't look a bit disfigured. In fact, he looked pretty good. He was tall and broad shouldered, without having the overbearing build of a wrestler. His dark brown hair was slightly unruly and a little too long. His deep blue eyes were a shock in his darkly tanned face. They smiled at her, along with his lips. He had nice lips. And that curious accent was-- "I-uh-can I help you? I work here, actually. This part of the museum is only offices and research. The curator--"

"I am here to see the curator," the man replied confidently. "Or whoever is in charge of expeditions."

"Expeditions?"

"Oui. I am Armand St. Jacques and I have something in my possession that I think will be of interest to the person in charge of expeditions. I think he," he smiled at her again, "or she, will want to create an expedition at once!"

"It takes something pretty extraordinary to fund an expedition."

He shrugged. Very elegant. Very European. "That is not the problem. I will happily fund such an expedition. Money is not the object! The truth is what matters to me."

"The truth?" She felt dazed and confused. It was one of those rare moments when destiny hits you hard in the head, leaving you dazed and confused.

"Yes!" He put his briefcase on the counter. Then he opened it and withdrew a carefully wrapped book. "I am the last survivor of a proud family. My great grandpere told my grandmother who in turn told the tale to my mother and then to me. I want only to know the truth. Am I the last descendent of the Bourbon throne?"

"W-what?" She almost swallowed her tongue.

"It is all there in the diary of the woman who cared for the Dauphin after he was brought to America following his mother's and father's executions."

She whispered, "Marie Antoinette and King Louis XXXI?"

"Exactly."

"Th-that's not possible. He died in France."

He smiled at her slowly. She felt something slide through her body like quicksilver. Her heart skipped a beat then went back to its normal rhythm. He was a very attractive man.

"Accepted history. Until now. Suppose I could prove to you that he did not die in France, but rather on a small island off the coast of Alabama, in the United States?"

"I-I don't know." She didn't want to explain to the curator that this man had convinced her to speak to him about an expedition because he was attractive. There had to be proof. Hard proof. Even then, the curator might laugh at her. It wasn't technically her job to find new expeditions. Everything else about them was her job. Just not finding them. Or going out on them.

"I have such proof," he said finally. "If you will give me a few moments of your time?"

Keri wasn't just tempted. She was downright seduced by the notion. The dauphin had died in the U.S., not France. This man had some kind of proof. He was looking at her with those very interesting blue eyes. A plan began to form in her brain. She felt like the Grinch before Christmas morning. She got an idea. An awful idea. Keri got a wonderful, awful idea. Hadn't she been looking for something exactly like this to change her life?

Maybe it was a hoax. It sounded like a hoax. She saw enough of those and knew how to check them out. That was part of her job at the museum. There would be a lot to check. Her brain ticked all of the requirements off one by one.

But the longer they stood there, the better the chance that Mr. Grainger was going to walk through that door. After that, it would be in his hands. After that, she would have lost her chance forever. She looked at the diary Armand St. Jacques had given her. Take a chance, her brain whispered. What do you have to lose? This could be your opportunity!

"Well, you've been knocked over by the right woman." She extended her hand. "I'm Keri Marsh and I'm in charge of expeditions for the museum. If you'd like to come this way, we can talk in my office."

Armand's face lit up. "Oui! Fortune smiles on me!"

Keri took the diary in her trembling hands and slung her purse across her shoulder. She led Armand past Mr. Grainger's office to her own small corner beside the boiler room. If she were caught going behind the curator's back, she would lose her job. She pushed that thought from her head. The important thing right now was to convince Armand St. Jacques that she really was the person in charge of expeditions. She saw him looking around her small office with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Please, sit down." She opened a folding chair for him, then squeezed past him with a smile. She sat down behind the student desk she used for her own. "I apologize for my temporary office but they're taking asbestos out of my regular office so I'm stuck here right now. Coffee?"

"No, merci. You will look at the diary?"

She nodded and put the book on her desk. Then she smiled at him again, nervously, and unwrapped the diary.

Armand explained. "This was written by a woman named Brier Florent who cared for the Dauphin from the time he was brought to America as a small child until he died at the age of twenty six. She had three children by the Dauphin but they could not be acknowledged because it was believed he might yet succeed to the throne. They were married moments before his death when they realized that he would never be king of France. This diary is her account of his life and death."

Keri opened the book and was immediately engrossed by the yellowed pages and flowing script. It looked like the genuine article to her expert eye but she'd have it appraised to be certain. She unfolded a small map that was in the front of the book. "What is this?"

"It is supposed to be the location of the dauphin's grave. They were careful where they buried him for fear that the Reign of Terror would still reach him and he would be dug up and exposed to the world as another sacrifice!"

She nodded, hearing the passion in his voice. "The diary has been passed down through your family?"

"Oui. But I am the last. So many have speculated. I must know the truth."

"I understand." She glanced at him. "You do know that if this is real, that you could be the direct heir to the throne of France?"

He smiled. "You are a romantic, Mademoiselle! There is no throne of France."

"True." She squinted down at the text, refusing to put on her glasses. Silly. But he was a very attractive man. "But having no Russian throne didn't stop people from being interested in the women who have claimed to be Anastasia. If this gets out, it could change your life."

He held up his hand. It was manicured but, surprisingly, had a few calluses. "I do not want this to be a public spectacle. I only want the truth."

"All right," she decided in her best authoritarian manner. "I'll check into it. You'll have to leave the diary here with me."

"Of course," he said as though he trusted her absolutely on their short acquaintance. "You will call me when you are satisfied that it is authentic, eh?"

"Yes." She stood and extended her hand to him. "Thank you for bringing this to me."

He took her hand in his larger one, holding it politely for a brief moment. "It was fate!"

"Fate," she agreed, feeling small tingles of feeling zing up her arms from her hand.

He smiled again and glanced down at their joined hands.

Keri jerked her hand away, realizing that she was acting like an idiot. "I'll walk you out." She didn't want him to accidentally run into Mr. Grainger and ruin the whole thing without realizing it. They walked back around the boiler area and into the main lobby.

"You will be in touch soon?" Armand smiled at her.

"Yes, of course." She glanced anxiously around for her boss and kept as much space as she could between herself and Armand. He seemed to have a brain numbing effect on her.

"What about dinner?"

"What?" Her foot slipped on the Italian marble.

He grabbed her arm and brought her upright to face him. "Dinner. You must eat, non?"

"No." She laughed awkwardly, conscious of his hand on her arm. "I mean, yes, I do eat but--"

"No? You will not eat with me because I am a stranger?" He looked down into her face. His eyes studied every aspect of her features in an intimate manner that made her feel warm and fuzzy.

Keri pulled herself up and pushed out her chin. "Dinner. Of course. We could talk about the project and y-your background with the diary." She was going to have to learn to deal with people and not just dusty old books and supply lists if she were going to see her dream come to pass.

"Tonight? I am unfamiliar with your city." He smiled and handed her a card. It was from the Park Regent, an expensive hotel downtown.

"All right," she agreed, taking the card in what she hoped was a professional manner. "I'll pick you up. About eight?"

He nodded and released her arm. His fingers were warm against her cool flesh. "We can discuss our knowledge of the Capet family, eh? And the romance of legends."

The way he was smiling at her made her heart speed up again. She smiled weakly and remembered Mr. Grainger. She managed to put a damper on her excitement. Armand, despite his warm looks and casual touches, was only talking about dinner and historical conversation. It wasn't like they had anything personal between them. They were business associates.

Not that she wanted to be anything else. The man was gorgeous and well mannered and probably rich but this was business. She just hadn't been out in a while and sometimes she felt a little desperate. She put out her hand and he took it in his again. "I'll see you tonight then."

He squeezed her hand gently and held it a little longer than was polite. "Until tonight."

Keri cleared her throat and forced herself to breathe. "Until tonight."

Armand left her and not a moment too soon. Mr. Grainger was coming into the building as Armand was walking out. The two men nodded at each other but otherwise didn't give any sign of noticing one another.

"Who was that?" Mr. Grainger asked Keri.

"He was lost," she lied as he handed her his coat.

"Oh. No trouble, was he?"

"No. None at all." Her hand still tingled where Armand had touched it.

"Is the coffee made yet?" Mr. Grainger looked at his empty cup.

"No, Mr. Grainger."

He glanced up from his cup to her face. "Is there a problem, Keri?"

Pumped by her meeting with Armand, she looked him in the face. "I want to talk to you."

"All right," the curator agreed. "Come into my office."

When they were in his large, well furnished office, he took a seat behind his huge antique desk and smiled at her. "What is it, Keri?"

Mr. Grainger was a thin man with a broad English accent in his middle fifties. He'd been curator of the Richmond Historical Museum for almost twenty years. He had a habit of twiddling his thumbs when he was nervous. Keri looked down. He was twiddling his thumbs.

She looked at the walls that were lined with artifacts from past digs. "I want to talk to you about going out in the field." The speech that she'd given him annually for the past three years always began the same way.

"We've been over this before," he explained in a slightly singsong, slightly tolerant voice of a father with a precocious child.

"I know but you promised me that I would be a real archaeologist! When I came here out of college, you told me that I didn't need my Master's degree to work on a dig. I know everything about them. I can arrange one. I can find any information about a place or the people who live there. But I want to go out on a real dig, Mr. Grainger!"

"I understand, Keri. And maybe someday, you will. But we have to consider your-er-illness."

Keri felt defeated and angry. "I'm not ill. And I haven't had a seizure in two years."

"Isn't it enough to know that when I'm ready to retire in fifteen years that you will take my place here as curator of this museum? You'll oversee funding of digs and expeditions. You'll decide what pieces will go into the museum. Can't you be a little patient?"

"But I want to go on a dig. That was why I studied archaeology. To dig, not to curate!"

He stood up, came around the desk and put his arm around her shoulders in a fatherly fashion. "Keri, trust me. I know you. I know what's best for you. A dig is messy and you wouldn't like it. You have a bright future here. Don't throw that away on some silly schoolgirl dream! I know a dig sounds romantic but surely you know that life isn't always as it seems!"

She nodded, defeated, as always, when she talked to him. The truth was that she believed him. Everyone at the museum knew she would take his place. Her future was assured. The museum board liked her. Everyone always complimented her on doing an excellent job. But it was her dream to find a treasure that had been buried away for five hundred years. She wanted to solve a mystery besides where she'd put her car keys or where Mr. Grainger had filed his last fiscal report. Maybe that would mean getting dirty. Maybe she would be disappointed, but her soul yearned for it. "I'm going to work on the Stephenson dig."

"Good girl." He patted her shoulder. "Get me that supply list ASAP. Oh, and Keri?"

She looked back at him with a flutter of expectation in her heart. "Yes?"

"Don't forget that coffee, please?" He smiled and took his seat again. "Good girl."

Keri put on the coffee and slunk back to her little office. She looked at the book on her desk. It seemed to have a rosy glow to it. Here's your mystery, it seemed to say to her. Here's the mystery that's waiting for you to solve.

She walked to the desk and touched the old, leather-bound pages. She could do it. She could organize this dig and do the work herself. With outside money backing it, she could do it without Grainger knowing about it. She had a few weeks of vacation coming. She could set the whole thing up and, for once, follow her heart.

"Keri?" Mr. Grainger called as he walked into her office.

"Yes?" She used her body to shield the book from his eyes.

"I think we're almost out of coffee creamer. Could you get some when you go out at lunch? Maybe some of that new hazelnut flavored stuff." He chuckled. "Now that will be an adventure!"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"No problem." When he was gone, Keri slid behind her desk and put on her ugly black rimmed glasses. She looked carefully at the old text in the diary and followed the lines and the markings on the map. The map and the diary were written with the same flowing hand. From an era when most people couldn't write at all, she wasn't surprised that Brier Florent had been taught to read and write because she would be taking care of the young prince. He was royalty. He would be expected to be literate. Brier was fourteen when the twelve-year-old prince was brought to America to protect him from the Terror that reigned in France.

Keri sat back in her chair and took off her glasses. It was nearly noon. She had spent all morning reading the elegant handwriting of the girl who became a woman taking care of a boy, then a man she always expected to lose. The prose was beautiful. The girl had really loved the young dauphin. She had been prepared to give her life for him, if necessary. Keri closed the book.

It was beautiful, but if she were going to go into the field on the strength of this work, she was going to have to know that it was authentic. It would have to be tested for age and documented for verification. If not, any find she might make could be worthless. She packed up the book and went out into the late winter sunshine.

Keri dropped off the diary and map with one of the experts they used for appraisal. He was on the outs with Mr. Grainger and hadn't had any work from them in a while. Keri thought that would make it less likely that he would talk to Mr. Grainger and not her. Not that most people talked to Mr. Grainger. She handled these situations for the museum. The only thing she didn't do was dig. She walked into a sports store to look at tents and camping gear. That was about to change.

Later that evening, she had a small attack of conscience when the Stephenson papers weren't ready for Mr. Grainger. She'd spent too long at lunch, looking at the supplies for her own dig.

Mr. Grainger sighed. "When will it be done, Keri?"

"Tomorrow," she promised.

"Because they're due in Singapore in less than a week."

"I know."

"And you know how temperamental Stephenson can be when he doesn't get what he needs."

"Yes, Mr. Grainger."

"But you'll come through. You always do."

She nodded.

"Still upset about the dig?"

"Yes," she answered honestly.

"Maybe you can oversee something in a year or two. You know, project supervisor."

"Thanks," she answered with little enthusiasm. All a project supervisor did was stand around and count supplies.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Keri."

"Goodnight, Mr. Grainger."

Keri sighed and looked around the empty office. She went back into her office and managed to finish the Stephenson documents for supplies before six thirty. She did know how Tom Stephenson could be! Last year at the Christmas party, he'd cornered her and tried to kiss her. He'd ended up spilling punch down her blouse then offering to clean it up with his mouth. It still made her shudder to think about it. She took off a case of his favorite cookies that had to be sent to Singapore and added a case of chocolate bars. Stephenson was allergic to chocolate.

Turning off the lights and locking the door behind her, she recalled that she was picking Armand up at the hotel at eight. Wishing she hadn't agreed to the dinner, she hurried home as the rain began to turn to ice on her windshield. She sighed and let herself into her apartment. "Dawn?"

Her roommate wasn't home. Dawn was a flight attendant so Keri never knew when she was going to be there. She'd left in a hurry again, as usual. Her clothes were all over the apartment. Keri picked them up as she walked through the rooms to reach her bedroom. If she didn't love her apartment so much, she would look for one she could afford without a roommate. She and Dawn had known each other all of their lives, but sometimes Keri felt like the other woman took advantage of her. She thought about Mr. Grainger's words that day. Maybe she'd been a good girl for too long.

Keri smiled and stepped into the shower. She was going to have to get over her feelings of being powerless. She'd read that in a fortune cookie last week. She had to be more assertive. She had to take control of her life. That included her problem with being epileptic. Her new medicine was working very well. She'd had not even a hint of a problem since she started taking it. She was sorry she'd told Mr. Grainger. All of her life people had treated her special and made her feel she wasn't quite up to having a real life. But she knew she was ready and she knew she could handle it.

Warming up to the subject as she showered, she got out and looked around Dawn's cluttered bedroom for something to wear. She and Dawn were the same size but that's about as close as their wardrobe came to being the same. Dawn was a risk taker. She only dated guys with money and she only wore expensive perfume. The real kind, not the kind from the mall with a name that was close to Chanel but was really Chanelli.

Keri found one of Dawn's outfits still on a hanger and took it to her room. It was a pink knit skirt and matching sweater. It was too tight, too short, and too noticeable to be something that would hang with the teacher's mid-calf skirts and vests with apples on them in her own closet. Her clothes would panic and run away when they saw them! The soft angora material of the pink outfit was a little fuzzy. It tickled her nose as she pulled on the sweater. Dawn always teamed the outfit with pink boots but Keri couldn't get them on her feet.

Instead, she wore a pair of black boots that fit her legs snugly and stopped just short of where the skirt ended. Keri looked at herself in the mirror. Her dark hair was straight, to her shoulders, and her brown eyes were aghast at the picture she presented in the mirror. It was already seven forty five. There wasn't time to change again. Hastily, she drew on an almost floor length, black wool coat she'd bought last year. It was just dinner, she reasoned. She'd take the coat off when she sat down at the table and put it back on before she left. Next time, she'd stay in her own closet with her boring but familiar clothes!

The streets had gotten icier since she'd been home. It was dark. Most people had enough sense to stay off the road. She was glad she didn't live far from the hotel. The weatherman on the radio was calling for the ice to warm up to rain shortly. Keri hoped so for her return trip. She managed to slip and slide to the front of the hotel where a valet gave her a ticket and drove away with her car. Her little Ford looked slightly dejected parked between a shiny BMW and a Ferrari.

The Park Regent was a grand old lady hotel. The ceilings were plastered and painted with murals. The wide staircase, paved in red carpet, curved down to meet the foyer. A huge chandelier, dripping with shimmering crystal, hung above her head as she walked in and looked for Armand. Keri felt like she was making an entrance at a society ball. She remembered Dawn's outfit and held her coat tightly around her slender form.

"Keri!" Armand approached her.

She smiled, feeling awkward. Like the time in high school she'd gone to school wearing sexy garters she'd bought from a catalogue her mother called trash. She'd thought about them all day long. She never had the nerve to flash them at anyone but she knew that they were under her clothes. She knew that the pink skirt and sweater were inappropriate for a business meeting. Sometimes, she wondered if she did those things just to annoy herself.

"Monsieur St. Jacques," she acknowledged him, trying to put them on the right footing.

He frowned, his handsome face disappointed. "But we are to be friends, non? You must call me Armand. And I will call you Keri."

He said her name differently than most people. It was more like it rhymed with cherie than Barry. He held out his hand to her and she took it. His fingers stroked along hers and he smiled. Just a simple gesture. What was she getting so worked up about?

He'd changed clothes, too. He was wearing a dark suit and a blue shirt that was open at the throat. She felt a little light-headed looking at him. She tried to blame it on the excitement of the expedition she would be mounting. She failed miserably when she found herself staring at his mouth and wondering what it would feel like if he kissed her. She was happy and excited by the idea of the expedition to find the dauphin but that wasn't the part of her brain that was working.

"All right. Armand." She tried not to grin like an idiot and failed miserably at that, too. "I know a little place a few miles from here that--"

"I was thinking, with the weather, that we might just eat here," he suggested. "I do loathe ice, don't you?"

"Yes. I suppose that would be fine. I've heard they have an excellent restaurant here. In fact--"

"On a night like this?" There was a gentle laugh in his voice. "To celebrate the beginning of our mutually advantageous partnership? I do not think so, cherie! Come with me. I took the liberty of ordering for us."

Keri was standing in the elevator, looking at her boots, trying to decide if she should tell him that they couldn't eat in his room because it was a business dinner. Armand was standing beside her, not touching her or crowding her or spilling his drink down her blouse. Still, she felt gauche and unequipped to handle the situation.

She wasn't sure if he was attracted to her or even if she were really attracted to him. Maybe it was just the excitement of the dig and the idea that they would be making history. She didn't want to make a fool of herself. She glanced at him hesitantly. Her heart pounded and her face flushed like a schoolgirl! She looked away quickly. No, it wasn't just the idea that they would be making history. It was something more. It was something more like a hot fudge sundae where you couldn't see how far down the hot fudge went in the cup. It was something deeper and darker and sweeter.

"Are you all right?"

Keri jumped. "Oh, yes. I was-uh-just looking at the carpet. I was thinking about having my carpeting replaced later this year and I thought this might look good in my place."

They both looked down at the bright scarlet carpet under their feet.

Armand smiled at her. "I should think it would all depend on where you live, cherie!"

"It's an apartment," she replied with just a trace of the awkward nervousness she felt in the pit of her stomach. "Just a plain apartment. I share it with a friend."

"Oh? What is his name?"

"Oh, not a man. Her name is Dawn. She's a flight attendant. We're very close."

"And you and this Dawn are--" He entwined his two fingers. "Together?"

"Oh, no! Not like that! We're friends. From high school. We live together to afford a nicer place. We date...men. Other men. Not that we're men." She glanced at him. He was looking down into her face and smiling. "I'm really hungry."

"You are delightful," he complimented. "When I walked into the museum this morning, I had no idea that someone like you would be waiting there for me."

"Or knock you down with the door, I bet."

"That, too," he agreed with a laugh.

"I'm sorry about that." She studied his nose, admiring the sculpted shape of it. "Is your nose all right?"

He leaned a little closer to her. "See for yourself, petite. No bruises or scars."

Keri couldn't quite seem to find his nose, although he was very close. She should have been able to see it but her eyes seemed to be locked on his eyes. The blue she saw there was calling to her. She was dizzy, like she was drowning in the fabulous color, spinning around and around until--

The elevator door chimed and the door slid quietly open. Two couples got into the elevator while she and Armand walked out.

Armand took her hand again. "I am eager to pick your mind."

Keri swallowed hard. "Uh-I-uh--"

He laughed and squeezed her hand. "I only meant that metaphorically, cherie. You look terrified!"

She laughed in turn. "Of course! I mean, I understand the metaphor."

He stopped in front of one of the white doors in the hallway. "Here we are, Keri. Are you...hungry?"

Chapter Two

The hotel suite was elegant and sumptuously decorated. The ceiling was ten feet high and the carpet underfoot was snowy white. Keri took a step into the room and Armand closed the door behind them.

"Wine?" He opened a huge wooden chest to reveal a fully stocked bar. "Dinner should be here soon."

"Yes, please." She suppressed a shiver. She wasn't cold. God, no! That wasn't it at all! It was one of those experiences that was like watching the re-run of a movie. She was sure she'd been here before, saying yes to wine from this man, feeling the moment in every pore of her body.

"I have poured you an excellent claret." He brought the glass to her. "I see you shiver, non? The weather is most foul. This will warm you."

"Oh, I'm not cold," she assured him. "I love the cold weather."

"Oui? Then permit me to take your coat." He held out the glass to her and waited by her side for the coat.

Keri took the glass from him, gingerly touching his fingers as their hands moved against each other. She sipped the wine for courage. What could she say? Her brain was a minefield full of holes tonight. Thank God this man wouldn't be going on the expedition! She would probably get lost on the island and never find her way off again!

She smiled then slipped off her coat, careful of the glass in her hand. She saw the look on his face when he saw the pink angora outfit. Her mouth opened to explain the whole thing about borrowing Dawn's clothes and working late but she managed to be quiet. It would only make it worse. She sipped her wine and walked around the room, appreciating the crystal bric-a-brac and inspecting the paintings.

Keri finished her wine while she looked at one painting that was on a table. It was titled, Miranda, the Tempest and it was by John Waterhouse. It was a powerful painting and a good place to stand while she tried to get her unruly brain to function.

"Do you like it?" He Came up behind her and laid his warm hands on her shoulders.

"I do," she answered truthfully. "It's very potent. She's beautiful."

"Bon! This one is mine. I bought it today."

She tried to drink more wine from her glass but it was empty. Instead, she swallowed hard. "I see."

"More wine?"

"No. I-I should wait and eat before I have anymore. My brain might shut down if I drink anymore."

He laughed. "I doubt that, Keri. I think you are possessed of a wonderful, intelligent brain." His hands moved lightly on her shoulders. "And this color is very good with your face and hair."

Her throat was dry, despite the wine. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. When he turned her around to face him and took the glass from her hand, she looked into his face and knew that he was going to kiss her. Her brain whirled, wondering when the last time was she'd had a breath mint and if her lipstick was smudge-proof. Her legs felt like they were made of jelly worms and somehow, they had also invaded her stomach. "Armand." Her voice squeaked on his name.

"Cherie?"

Their mouths were only a fraction of an inch apart when she surrendered to the idea that she wanted him to kiss her. She sighed and closed her eyes and shuddered as his arms went around her. Her hands crept up around his neck. Her lips parted and she felt herself catch her breath.

A knock sounded from the door and a voice rang out from behind it. "Dinner!"

Neither one of them moved. They were trapped just a breath away from something powerful and mysterious.

"Dinner!" The voice rang out again.

Keri saw Armand's eyes widen and darken. She heard him swear softly under his breath. Then he apologized and went to the door. Somehow, she managed to breathe. She closed her eyes and reminded herself that she knew nothing about this elegant stranger. They'd only met that day and she had no business craving anything but his money for this expedition. Even that, her life's passion, was contingent on learning more about the diary. Could she let herself go without learning more about him?

Armand paid the slightly obnoxious waiter who arranged the meal and leered at Keri in her short pink skirt. The man shuffled around the table a few more times then left the room with a last wink in her direction.

He probably thinks I'm a prostitute, she decided, thinking that she was standing in a man's hotel room, dressed like Dawn, probably looking like she was lusting after Armand. Which she wasn't, of course, but she did wish they had made it all the way through that kiss! Now, she'd be thinking about it all through dinner and watching his mouth and wondering what it would have been like.

"Dinner looks wonderful," she told him in a strained voice.

Armand didn't say anything. He walked back to her, looked at her briefly, then lowered his head and kissed her.

Keri was stunned at first, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight. His lips were cool and firm and he tasted like the claret. He smelled wonderful, of soap and aftershave and wine. He kissed like he said her name, with a foreign flair that made her groan and open her mouth, wanting more from him. His hands tangled in her hair and held her still while his mouth slanted across hers. His lips found all the wanting and the yearning and the romance in her soul.

When she felt like she would melt into him, he moved away from her slightly, their mouths losing contact. She opened her eyes but he shut them again with kisses then kissed her cheeks and her forehead and her ears and her chin. His mouth explored the hollows of her neck and the soft spot at her temple where her hair met her skin.

"I feel as though every kiss I have ever had could not prepare me for this one," he whispered to her. "You kiss like an angel."

Not sure what to say to that, Keri smiled and turned away from him.

"Forgive me, Keri," he said. "I could not wait another moment without knowing."

"Knowing?"

He kissed the back of her neck then touched her hair. "What you taste like, how your lips would feel on mine. The silk of your hair against my face and the perfume of your skin in my senses."

It was exactly how she had felt but it was too close to her heart. This was happening too quickly. It was too powerful. She felt overwhelmed by it. She felt overwhelmed by him. "I'm very hungry," she said at last.

"Ah, so am I!"

"And dinner looks great. Just great. Look at those little puff pastries! My mother made puff pastries when I was a child," she rattled on without caring if he was cooperating. "My mother was an excellent cook."

He smiled and went to hold her chair for her at the small table that had been set for them. "I'm sure she was, cherie. Do you cook?"

"No." She sat down hard on the gilt edged chair. "Well, not unless you count the microwave."

Armand laughed and took the seat opposite her. "I am afraid I, too, microwave."

Keri buttered a small piece of bread with a curl of butter from a silver dish. She stopped when he put his hand on hers.

"I did not mean to make you afraid of me," he said to her in a low voice. "If I rushed you, I apologize."

She didn't look at him but kept very still. "It's just that I don't know you. I know you don't know me either but you probably get out more than me. I need time."

"And knowledge?"

"And knowledge," she agreed.

"Bien! Let us open this bottle of champagne." He matched his deed to his words. The cork flew off across the room and the champagne foamed up. He filled two glasses and handed one to Keri. "To knowledge and knowing each other better."

She hit her glass against his and smiled into his eyes. "To knowing each other better." She drank her champagne and he refilled her glass.

"What can I tell you about me that will set your heart at ease, cherie?"

Keri played with the celery in her soup. "I don't know. I suppose you could tell me about yourself. You know what I do and where I live. And who I live with."

"The roommate! Yes! You are wondering if I have a roommate?"

She picked up her napkin. "Do you have a roommate?"

"No. Not a roommate. Or a live-in friend. Or a wife. Or a lover, for quite some time."

Satisfied to have made it through the first hurdle, she stopped twisting her linen napkin. "What do you do for a living?"

There was a moment of hesitation. "I travel and secure business dealings."

Keri didn't miss the hesitation. "Do you really work? Or are you just wealthy?"

"Being wealthy is work, cherie. Never let anyone tell you otherwise!"

She had her answer. That was why he'd hesitated. He hated to admit that he didn't really work. Not the way she understood it anyway. She could live with that. At least he hadn't hesitated over the question of the roommate. He was handsome. He was rich. He was charming. "Why don't you have a wife or a lover or someone?"

"Relationships are difficult, oui? One might ask you the same."

"I guess it's easier just not going out and looking for one."

"And the man who came to the office as I was leaving this morning?"

"My -uh-associate," she finished quickly. "Mr. Grainger."

"He must be blind."

"Why is that?"

"Otherwise, he would be here with you tonight instead of me."

After that, the conversation became one of mutual interest about the French monarchy and the history and legend that surrounded it. It was odd for Keri to talk with anyone outside of the museum who shared her passion for history and archaeology. The first time she glanced down at her watch, she felt like Cinderella. It was midnight. "I should go. It was a wonderful dinner."

"Made so by the company," he responded.

He got her coat and helped her with it. She was a little surprised when he didn't rest his hands on her shoulders or touch her in any way that could be construed as more than platonic. She was disappointed when he didn't try to kiss her again but felt sure it was for the best. The last kiss had turned out to be more than she'd imagined. She didn't know much more about him at the end of dinner than she had known at the beginning. It was always better to stay in the shallow end of the pool until you learned to swim.

"Goodnight, Armand," she said when she was at the door. "I'll let you know when I have the results on the testing."

"Good! Let me give you a number where you can always reach me." He wrote a number down on a piece of paper. "I will be flying to Switzerland tomorrow but I will be in Athens by Friday. Call me at this number anytime."

"You're leaving so soon?"

"I came to arrange the expedition, if possible, but my time is limited here. If I do not hear from you by Friday, I will call you. Perhaps you would like to fly to Athens for the weekend with me?"

The look of consternation must have been comparable to the panic she felt inside of her when he asked the question. It was hormones to the front and common sense already out the door! She was at war with every part of her mind and body as she struggled to say one thing when so much of her wanted to say another.

Armand put his finger gently on her lips. "Shh! Don't say it, cherie. I can see it on your face. Forgive me for asking but it was the devil in me. I will talk to you during the week."

She turned to walk out the door. He was going away. She didn't know when she was going to see him again. She might never see him again. He might just send her money for the expedition. She might not be able to jump in the deep end of the pool yet but dammit, she wasn't going to let the boat sail without her either!

Armand's face was a mask of total surprise when she turned back and threw herself at him. She closed her eyes and kissed him until their mutual surprise at her actions turned to mutual pleasure and satisfaction at being in each other's arms. She clung to him and slanted her mouth hungrily to meet his while his hands came up and slid around her, pressing her to him.

"Cherie!" He breathed a shallow gulp of air.

"Good night, Armand," she said then fled to the elevator.

* * *

Keri yawned and rubbed her eyes. She looked at the computer and put on her glasses. The opening page came up on the screen and she typed in Dawn's password. Sexy Lady. It had already brought her some interesting responses. "Okay, computer. Do your stuff." Her own computer was down for the count. Her salary from the museum wasn't much. She was going to have to save up for a while before she could buy another.

"I know why you're using my computer," Dawn had noted last night before she went to Germany on a late flight. "But why are you using my password? You could login with your own."

"I know," Keri replied, focused on the glowing screen. "I just don't want to take any chances."

It had been three months since she'd met Armand and he'd given her the diary. Three long months that had dragged by like a bad haircut growing back out. The time was only highlighted by calls from Armand or her calls to him. She alternated between elation that everything was going so well with the expedition and frustration because she wanted to see Armand again.

She wished she could tell him something was wrong, something that he would have to fly back to correct. But everything was right on schedule. Two historians had authenticated the diary. Her contact had been so surprised by the contents that he'd sent part of it to a colleague who came up with the same answer. The diary seemed to be the real thing.

The expedition was set up for the second week in February, before the high tides came in on the little island where they would be excavating. It would still be winter where she was but it would be warm on Dauphin Island. She had done as much preliminary work as she could from Virginia. The rest would have to be done on location.

The excitement that filled her was only laced with a little bit of apprehension. She knew she could do the job. Armand had been more than generous with his funding. She could do anything she wanted to do. Her conscience pricked her once in a while because she hadn't been honest with him before he invested his money in an archaeologist who had never dug more than a tomato garden in her backyard. But Keri was committed. She'd taken a month off from work. Some of that had been vacation time but some had been personal time. That had required that she lie to Mr. Grainger about having a sick aunt. The only one who knew the truth about all of it was Dawn. She didn't care, of course, but she did know the truth.

Keri knew she wouldn't be proof against Mr. Grainger reminding her again that she had epilepsy. Dawn knew, of course, but she didn't make a big deal out of it. She'd never seen Keri have a seizure. That might have made a difference. Her newfound confidence was a fragile thing. She was determined to go through with this. She'd take her medication and everything would be fine.

The computer finally got in on the archaeologist's chat room. Normally, she would have used the computer at the museum. Normally, she didn't have anything to hide. But this correspondence wasn't something she wanted anyone to see. She logged into the French Revolution chat room and waited impatiently.

The week before, she'd noticed that a man named Charlie Eller, his handle was merchant, had purchased the diary of a French ship's captain at auction there. The captain's name was mentioned in Brier Florent's diary. Since it seemed the two could be connected, she had left him several messages about buying the diary from him. He'd finally asked her to meet him in this chat room.

Hi there, sexy lady!

Hi!

I got your messages. Just got back in town. What can I do for you?

Keri took a deep breath and slowly released it. I'd like to buy the diary from you.

The ship captain's diary?

Yes.

I paid quite a bit for that one.

I know, she replied quickly. But I'd like to buy it anyway. She felt she could justify the expense to Armand when he understood the importance of it.

I'm sorry, sexy lady. Love your handle! But it's not for sale!

Keri frowned. I can pay you double what you paid for it!

Forty thousand US dollars?

"Forty thousand?" Keri said out loud. She looked at the auction minutes she'd printed up. It said 20 next to the diary. She thought it was twenty dollars. In her dreams, she thought she might have to go as high as two or three thousand.

I didn't realize, she typed back to him. Sorry for wasting your time.

No problem, he answered. Out of curiosity, why did you want the diary so badly?

She explained about the diary she already had but not about the upcoming dig. Forty thousand was too much to pay for the diary. If he knew the truth, he'd probably double it.

Good luck with your research anyway, he typed back. Sorry I couldn't be more help. Meet me at the Mardi Gras on Dauphin Island, Alabama, the twelfth of February and you can buy me a drink. I'll let you take a look at the diary.

Keri's heart quickened. What were the odds? She was going to be on Dauphin Island on the tenth. She didn't know that it was Mardi Gras time. She frowned but knew that it was too late to change her plans. What could it hurt meeting him? She only needed a few minutes with the diary to coordinate information from Brier's diary. There would be plenty of people around.

All right, she agreed. I'll be there.

Great! I'm looking forward to it!

How will I know you? She asked before he signed off.

The Island bar. 8pm. Order two tequilas with a twist. I'll be there.

See you then! she replied.

Merchant signed off. Keri sat back from the computer. She had just agreed to meet a man she didn't know. A man she had only talked to on the Internet, in a place she had never been in her life. If leaping from an assistant curator's job to a good spot on the archaeology staff meant taking risks, she was off to a good start!

She took off her glasses and switched off the computer. She had already looked at samples of the diary that the auctioneer had posted. She needed the information he held to add to what she already had from Armand. Together, it should make the whole picture.

Should was the operative word. There was no guarantee. Keri had worked at the museum for five years. She knew that information wasn't always accurate. Especially information that was over two-hundred-years-old. She'd seen digs based on less than what she had to go on do very well. She'd seen many fail. But she couldn't contain her excitement. She was going on a dig! After five years, she was finally going to do it. No help from Mr. Grainger! She owed everything to Armand. He'd made it all possible.

"All finished?" Dawn asked, without looking up from her magazine.

Keri nodded and flopped down on the sofa beside her friend. "I'm going to meet him at Dauphin Island."

Dawn looked up and wrinkled her nose. "Where's that?"

"Alabama. It's the place some folklore says the Royalists brought the dauphin when he was rescued from the Terror."

"Is that a movie?"

Keri smiled. Sometimes she forgot that history wasn't her friend's strong point. She explained the whole thing to her, stopping as she saw Dawn's eyes glaze over. "I know it's a lot to understand. But it could mean the beginning of my career in archaeology. Armand is funding the dig at the island. With the diary and map that he gave me and the diary 'merchant' brings with him, we might be able to find it."

Dawn nodded. "And what is 'it' again?"

"The place the dauphin was buried on--Dauphin Island. He was buried with a ring and a medallion that should prove who he was."

"Cool! Treasure and you're going to meet some mysterious stranger! I'd like to be there!"

They talked for a few more minutes. Then Dawn left for another flight. Keri microwaved a dinner and sat back in a chair to eat it. She thought about what Dawn had said. Treasure? Well, she supposed that the ring and the medallion could be classified as treasure, although she wouldn't be keeping either piece for herself. If she found them, they would be the proof that the dauphin had been rescued and brought to America. They belonged in a museum.

As for mysterious strangers, merchant sounded more like a businessman than a romantic figure. He hadn't wanted to sell the diary he'd acquired at the auction probably because he could see the possibility of making more money. Twenty thousand was a lot to pay for the diary, unless he was a serious collector. Or there was something in the diary about the dauphin escaping and that was why he was going to Dauphin Island! She sat upright and realized that someone else could be on the trail of the dauphin's grave.

She picked up the phone as she got on the computer. She dialed Armand's number as she looked at the airline schedule. There was a midnight flight leaving for Dauphin Island that night.

"Hello?"

"Armand?"

"Keri! How are you?"

"I'm fine." She punched in her name on the computer. "I'm leaving tonight for the island."

"So soon? Why?"

"I think someone else could be on to the idea that the dauphin is buried on that island!"

"Cherie, people have talked about it for two hundred years! Two more days aren't going to make much difference!"

"Maybe not but I've known of discoveries that were snatched out from under archaeologist's noses because they weren't there first!"

What she couldn't explain was how much this meant to her. It was part of her new persona. She wasn't going to be the curator's assistant any longer. She was going to take charge of her life and her career. If she were successful, Mr. Grainger and the museum board would have to see her in a new light, despite what it said on her driver's license. She could be in charge of expeditions. She would have to hire her own assistant to take notes and find supplies. "I'll keep you posted."

"Of that I trust absolutely. I feel privileged to have met you and persuaded you to undertake this task for me."

"And if I can't find the dauphin?"

"Then I will go on. Either truth will suit me, Keri. I am too old to deal with fantasies. The truth is more important. Bien! The people who surrounded me when I was young believed that I was the last descendent of the dauphin who escaped the Terror. I am interested to know if they were right. But either way, I will know the truth."

Keri's conscience nudged her a little. Hearing the sincerity in his voice, she felt compelled to confess that this would be her first dig. Only a stubborn survival instinct kept her mouth closed. She could do the job. She had the knowledge. She just needed the opportunity. Armand was providing that opportunity. She was willing to do almost anything to find the truth for him. In turn, it would show her the truth about herself. Was she just a curator's assistant posing as an archaeologist? Or was she really the independent, resourceful woman that she knew was inside of her?--a woman who fought every day not to feel the word epileptic branded on her forehead.

"So, when do you leave?"

"At midnight."

"Keri! That is too dangerous to be at the airport by yourself at that time of night!"

"Don't worry!" She laughed. "I've done this a hundred times! Besides, I know everyone at the airport because of my roommate, Dawn. They'll take care of me."

"You are a pleasure to work with, petite. You are both thorough and determined. With your pretty face and your ambition, you should go far!"

Keri felt her face get warm. "Thanks, Armand."

"Thank you. Please be careful!"

"I will. I'll talk to you later!"

Keri thought about his words as she got ready to go. She'd had her suitcase packed for a week already anyway. All of her gear was ready. Most nights, she was too excited to sleep. Armand believed that she could do the job. His trust and belief meant a lot to her. She wouldn't let him down.

On the plane, she began to review the texts and resources she had been saving for that moment. She re-read the diary with its brown and shriveled pages, even though she nearly knew it by heart. She re-read the information that had been posted about merchant's diary. Without knowing exactly what the diary said, she couldn't be sure if it contained more information about the dauphin. She had felt sure it had some information that corroborated what Brier had written. If it had more, she could be in trouble. But not if she got there first!

When she was finished, she sat back in her seat and thought about Armand. He'd changed her life. She wasn't sure Mr. Grainger would see it as a good thing, especially since she'd left him a hasty message on his answering machine, detailing her aunt needing her more suddenly than expected. She could see him shake his head and reflect on her more reliable days. Sometimes, she thought he'd hired her as assistant curator because he knew she was epileptic and he could hang it over her head. But those were on her darker days.

She wasn't sure if she would see Armand again. He was exciting and their time together had developed the quality of a dream about it. For one night, she'd finally understood Cinderella. In some ways, she wished he were going to be there with her, finding the dauphin's grave and sharing long nights at the site. Brier's diary was romantic and sweet. Reading it had made her crave something more in her life.

There would be time for that later, she decided with a yawn. She was going to Dauphin Island to make her dreams of being a world-class archaeologist come true. Not to find romance with a handsome stranger.

* * *

It was early morning, barely six am in Pittsburgh. Charlie Eller was packing his single tote bag. His sister, Dana, was writing tags for the other gear he was taking with him.

"So, you met some woman on the Internet and now you're flying out to meet her," she sighed. "How romantic!"

Charlie glared at her. "I think I already explained this to you once, Dana. Has having a baby short circuited your brain?"

Dana frowned. "Charlie, don't you read the newspapers?"

"No," he replied without looking up at her. "I read the wire services online."

"I suppose they wouldn't talk about people who get killed by people they meet online."

"Dana, this is not some romantic tryst. I showed you the diary. I'm going to join an excavation for the dauphin's burial site."

"Will you two keep it down?" Dana's husband demanded with a growl. He stood in the doorway. A dark beard shadowed his face and his hair was standing on end.

"Sorry!" Charlie responded, lowering his voice.

"I just got the baby to sleep," Jeff told his wife. "I'm going to sleep for a few hours. You can get him if he wakes up again."

"I will," Dana answered absently. "Leave the door open."

"I don't need to," Jeff remarked. "You could hear him through a cement bunker!"

Charlie laughed. "He does have a set of lungs on him. Maybe he'll be a rock singer."

Both mother and father turned to look at him.

"Sorry! They do make a lot of money," Charlie explained.

"Off to the big rendezvous, huh?" Jeff asked with a flash of white teeth against very tan skin.

Charlie shook his head. "You know, since the two of you got together, you've made my life miserable. Mom never thought about me getting married or having kids. Now, she expects it."

"Don't forget Dana setting you up with every unmarried woman from here to the coast," Jeff reminded him.

"The only peace I get is when the two of you are in Wilmington with the baby and Mom is visiting you."

"Get married!" Dana encouraged. "Have children!"

Charlie glanced at Jeff. "Just because your sea captain wanted to be domesticated, doesn't mean I do. I'm happy with my life the way it is."

"A girl in every port and one on the Internet," Dana added.

"Exactly," her brother said, zipping his tote bag closed.

They all heard the baby's cry from the room down the hall.

Jeff yawned. "Don't look at me! I've had him all night. I'll be glad when this teething part is over."

Dana left the room quickly as another cry echoed. "Good luck, Charlie." She hugged her brother quickly. "Be careful. Men can be victims, too, you know."

"I know, Dana. I'll be okay," he told her, kissing her cheek.

When she had gone to see to her son, Jeff lingered in the doorway. Charlie was getting everything together. All of his supplies fit into three bags that were lightweight and easy to carry.

"You know, when I met Dana, I wasn't looking for a relationship either," Jeff told his brother-in-law. "Penny was enough responsibility for me. But sometimes, the wind comes up and it takes your breath away. The storm hits you and you're never the same again."

Charlie grinned, ignoring the sailing analogy. He shook Jeff's hand. "If I get broad sided, you'll be the first to know."

Jeff yawned again. "Good luck, Charlie. See you when you get back."

"How long is the boat in dry dock for repairs?"

"Probably a month. Maybe six weeks. Dana and I are going on an anniversary cruise in April. She should be right by then."

Charlie picked up his bags. "Good luck with the teething. I think you might need it more than me."

Jeff heard the baby screaming as he turned to go back to bed. "I think you might be right."

Charlie knew his mother was out for the day. His father was in Russia on business. His grandfather would be at the office of the Marine Bank of Pittsburgh. Charlie hadn't told him yet that he was taking some time off. And he certainly had no intention of telling him why he was leaving. Charlie already knew what he thought of his other excavations.

James Eller wasn't one for whimsical journeys. When Charlie had gone to Tibet, he'd told him clearly what he thought of the idea. But then anything that didn't deal with the banking business or the family wasn't on his grandfather's agenda. Since Charlie worked for the bank and his grandfather that meant it shouldn't be on his agenda either.

Charlie had become interested in archaeology a few years before when he'd visited Pompeii. He'd worked with a friend of his on a site in the demolished city and realized that he loved the experience. Taking those little bits of history and putting them together to make up a whole picture of a civilization tantalized him. It didn't seem to fit his lifestyle or his personality but he joined digs all over the world whenever he had the time.

On the plane, Charlie took out his notebook computer and typed in his password, dauphin. It brought up a wealth of material that he'd been putting together ever since he'd bought the diary. This was his baby. His chance to really be a part of history from start to finish. He might never be able to take the credit for the find because of his family and their business, but he wanted to be there when the medallion and the ring were brought out. He wanted to be the one to finally prove that the dauphin had been rescued from the Terror in France and had made his home on Dauphin Island. So, he had to be there first.

Before he closed his computer, he sent a message to Dauphin Island.

Chapter Three

The plane set down in Mobile around seven pm. It had been hard to leave Pittsburgh without an explanation once he'd bumped into his grandfather. Charlie didn't let James Eller push him around but his grandfather had a knack for getting in the way. He didn't want to look up and realize that a private detective was looking back at him.

It was hot and humid in Mobile compared to the cold dry winter still in Pittsburgh. The airport was littered with revelers already in costume. Charlie shared a taxi with three of them. It was the only way to get to the ferry that went out to Dauphin Island.

"You need to loosen up, man!" a fellow passenger told him. His face was painted blue and he wore dozens of strands of beads around his neck.

Charlie looked down at his casual tan shirt and khaki pants. He had already shed his jacket.

"This'll help." The young man placed a few of his strands of colored beads around Charlie's neck. "Yeah. That's it."

"Thanks," Charlie said. "Where are you from?"

"St. Louis. Home of the St. Louis Cardinals! Whoa!!!" The trio started whooping and didn't stop until they reached the ferry landing. Then they realized that they didn't want to go out to the island, after all, and left Charlie there to catch the boat.

Music was loud and live all through the streets in Mobile. Hundreds of people were dancing. They spilled out of their houses and bars, champagne glasses in hand. Beads crunched under his feet as Charlie walked to the ferry landing.

The ferry was crowded. The mood was festive and the champagne flowed like water. Charlie had a glass pressed into his hand by an attractive brunette who winked and smiled at him. He might have taken her up on her clear invitation but he was eager to reach the island.

Costumes ranged from ancient Greek to futuristic. Some of the costumed characters were giving away coins and other trinkets as well as coupons from bars and restaurants on the mainland. The sun was setting across the length of the island, burnishing the white sand beaches and turning the frothy Gulf water to gold. People waved to them from boats sailing between the island and Mobile. Women threw kisses and men raised their glasses.

Charlie knew the night would be wild. He'd been in Rio once for Carnivale. It was an experience he didn't need to repeat. It was probably his family's staid, banking blood in his veins but he liked his excitement to be a little more discreet. Maybe he'd been spending too much time at ancient sites, he mused, looking at the water and the trees that edged the white beaches of Dauphin Island. Maybe he'd forgotten how to have a good time. Part of him was already scanning the island coast, wondering where the dauphin, Louis Charles, was buried.

He picked up his briefcase as the ferry bumped the dock on the island. Several bands competed with one another for space and noise at the edge of the pier. Hundreds of people were waiting to welcome the crowd to the island. A swarm of hula dancers waved their arms and swiveled their hips. Torches were lit and stuck in the sand to show the way to the already crowded streets.

Charlie disembarked between two men, dressed as kings, who were showering the crowd with gold coins. He looked at every face that passed him. Then he saw her.

He wasn't sure how he knew it was her but he was certain of it. She was standing on the side of the crowded pier. She was wearing a low cut, red velvet gown that was created in the French court style that Marie Antoinette favored. Her hair was piled high on her head and powdered white. She wore a red velvet mask trimmed with black lace and there were black lace gloves on her hands.

He knew there was a trim figure in that heavy gown with the wide panniers. A sparkling rhinestone necklace drew attention to the smooth pink and white skin that gleamed in the torchlight. The costume covered most of her but the parts that remained intrigued him. It was possible to understand how a man could find a lady's ankle sexy. "Keri?"

Dark eyes blinked at him from behind the eyeholes of her mask. "Armand!"

He glanced around them, falling back into the French accent easily. "The only one not in costume."

She brought something out from behind her back: a black satin mask. Without another word, she moved closer to him and tied the mask around his head so that it fit against his face. "Not anymore. Welcome to Mardi Gras."

Surprised by her warm reception, he bent his head and kissed her sweet red lips. She was soft and supple in his arms. "I have missed you, cherie."

"How long are you staying?"

"Until we find the dauphin."

"You're going with me on the dig?" She was surprised, pleased, and dismayed at the same time. She'd had those romantic dreams about sharing the dig with him but she'd been so set on doing it alone. And what if something happened? If he found out she was epileptic, he might not have as much faith in her.

They walked off the dock together, jostled by the crowd. Keri realized that she had reached the extent of the conversation that she'd envisioned between them. She was glad for the noise and the music. There was so much going on that it was impossible to talk. She didn't know what to say to him. Since she'd received the email from him saying he would meet her there, she'd run the gamut between delirium and uncertainty. She hadn't anticipated that he'd planned on staying.

Charlie took her elbow in his hand, drawing her close. "There must be somewhere that we can talk."

She shrugged but stayed close to him as another wave of revelers swept by them. "I'm not sure."

"Let's look around."

The bars were all full and they were noisier than the streets. There was a small café on a corner that wasn't swamped. They took an outside table on the sidewalk, close to the building.

"I like your costume." He sat down after she was seated. "I would have known you anywhere."

"Because of the French theme?"

He smiled. "Oui. But it was something else. It might be because I've thought so much about seeing you again."

She was pleased that he felt that way. "I've thought of you, too."

Charlie/Armand laughed. "But you were surprised to know that I would stay, eh?"

"A little," she admitted. "I got your email but I thought you were just stopping by."

"And?"

"I just didn't think about both of us going on the dig." Her mind was racing with questions. It was unlikely that he'd had ever gone on a dig before so he wouldn't know that she was inexperienced. That wasn't a problem. She didn't get enough supplies for both of them but they could work that out.

She had simply looked forward to finding the dauphin by herself. And those long nights she had dreamed about spending with him on the expedition were quickly turning to long doubts.

The waiter came up as they were talking and brought them each a glass of free champagne. They ordered cinnamon coffee and croissants. Then Charlie sat back to look at the woman across the table from him. Keri was smart. He'd been surprised that he could fool her for so long. He'd taken Armand's identity to shield his own from any snoopy reporters or friends of the family who might want to report back to his grandfather. He wanted to keep it that way until the dig was over. He didn't want the credit for finding the dauphin. Keri could have that. He just wanted to be there without any interference.

He hadn't planned on getting involved personally with her. What had started out as a way to reach his goal was quickly becoming a noose around his neck. He enjoyed being with her. He liked her laughter and her honesty. She was ambitious and quick witted. She wanted more than that little office in that little museum. He was quickly finding that he wanted more than just the dauphin.

Keri held up her glass. "To the Dauphin."

Charlie joined her, clinking the crystal against hers. "The Dauphin."

They drank their coffee. It was fragrant with cinnamon, sweet and strong. The croissants were freshly baked and flaky. Charlie had three of them.

Keri ate hers slowly and watched him as he talked about eating croissants in Paris. Of course, he assumed that she had been all over the world. After all, she was an experienced archaeologist. They didn't speak of the excavation on the island but she could sense that it was the undercurrent of their conversation.

"How long have you been here?" he questioned as he broke apart another croissant.

"On the island?" she hedged, looking at his long fingers.

He glanced at her quickly. "Why is it that I have the feeling there's something else you're hiding behind that mask, hmm?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what you mean."

"You sound different. I don't know." He shrugged. "I have the feeling there is something you haven't told me."

Keri panicked. Then reassured herself. He was only guessing. She had gone out of her way to seem different when he arrived that night, only to get cold feet at the dock when she saw him again. He was rich. He was handsome. He traveled around the world. She didn't know what to expect from him. She didn't know what to expect from herself. She was nervous about so much. There was so much that could go wrong.

"Well, we haven't seen each other for three months," she reminded him with a shaky smile. "And before then, we barely met before you left."

Charlie thought about Dana's cautions before he left home. Keri might have someone in her background, maybe the room mate, who cautioned her against getting too close to him. Yet she had met him at the dock wearing that sexy dress. He was confused and maybe a little guilty. "That is true. Although we have spoken together almost every night since I left you."

"Yes." She told herself to relax. Taking a deep breath in the tight bodice was difficult but she was going to have to ease up. "I've been here since this morning."

"Checking out the site?" He guessed, sipping at his coffee. "I surprised you, non? Did you think I was coming to check up on you?"

Keri's eyes grew wary behind her mask. "It did cross my mind. You gave me a lot of money. I couldn't blame you."

Charlie patted his mouth with a napkin as he considered her statement. If she was worried about him being there, that could explain her reticence. It might make the excavation more difficult. He had picked her museum because they weren't well known and because they wouldn't know him. After meeting her, he'd realized how well they would work together. There had to be a way to ease her mind.

Her hand lay on the table. He picked it up in his own. "I came to be with you, cherie." It was at least a partial truth. "I would like to be there when you find the dauphin. I promise not to get in the way. I have been on some excavations before in Egypt. I would not hold you back."

Keri swallowed a gulp of her coffee. He'd been on some excavations. He might be able to spot that she was 'green' from the beginning. This was quickly going from bad to worse. "I'm not worried about you getting in the way." What if he sent her home? What if her dreams died and she lost her job? What if she slept with him? What if she fell in love with him? What if he found out that she had epilepsy and couldn't handle it? What if she had a seizure in front of him? Oh God! Don't let me have a seizure in front of him!

Charlie sat back in his chair and studied her. He felt he knew her. He wasn't a fool. He wouldn't have given that line of credit to someone he didn't trust. He hadn't known her long but he knew that she was the right person. In three months, she'd learned and passed on so much information and barely scratched the surface of the funds he'd put at her disposal. Yet he could sense there was a problem.

He studied her a minute longer, then finished his coffee. He'd come that far and already wrestled the time off from work. He wanted to look for the dauphin's grave. He wanted her help. "The night is young." He changed the subject she seemed so unwilling to talk about with him. He smiled into her eyes. "And you are very beautiful. Perhaps we should worry about the dauphin tomorrow, eh?"

Keri felt that questioning gaze, even behind the mask. She felt as though he could see more than she was willing to show him. "I think the parade is starting up." She stood up and held out her hand to him. "Ready?"

He took her gloved hand in his and wondered if she were purposely trying to be intriguing. When he'd met her in Virginia, she'd been different; more reserved, less mysterious. Finding the dauphin's burial site was becoming more interesting by the minute.

***

They joined the crowd that was moving towards the main street where the parade was being set up. A rock band was singing on one corner and a blues trio was on another across from them. Standing between them was like being sandwiched in sound. Charlie tugged on Keri's arm and they moved across the street to watch the passing parade from the shelter of a small bookstore. The store was closed but the wrought iron rail around it restricted traffic.

"Do you like parties?"

"Oh yes!" she lied enthusiastically. "When I'm not working, it's all I do." Keri tried to think of all the things she'd heard Dawn say to men at parties they'd attended together. Dawn had a way with men. They all found her fascinating. That was why she had the sexy lady handle. She wasn't worried that any man would be disappointed when he met her.

"It is interesting that you have such a love for parties but you do not mind camping out for months." He slid his arm around her waist, drawing her close to him.

She laughed, trying to make it sweet and musical. "It makes it that much better when I get out."

"Oui." He looked at her profile. Her mouth and chin were the only parts of her face revealed by the elaborate mask. She had a stubborn chin and kissable lips that were curved into an attractive smile. He felt an almost overpowering impulse to kiss her and touch her.

The float that carried the King and his entourage went by them. She waved to the King. Her enthusiasm caught his eye and he threw her a golden disk. It held an invitation to a party held at one of the hotels that night.

A large man, dressed in yellow velvet, waved his feathered hat before him as he bowed to her. "The King requests your presence."

Keri glanced at her escort. A party girl wouldn't miss that party. "I'll be there," she told him with a smile and a curtsy.

"We will be there, non?" Charlie corrected, taking the golden disk from Keri's fingers. "Merci."

The man left them and the next float was already sailing past. Huge butterfly wings in richly hued tones brushed the streets as the butterfly riders threw out candy and beads to the crowd.

"You impressed the king, petite," Charlie commented, watching her catch beads and candy.

"I just waved," she replied defensively. "I think it was the costume."

His inquisitive eyes on the lines of her costume, he partially agreed. "I do not believe it was just the costume, Keri."

Keri looked at him, wondering if she'd gone too far. She crammed a few chocolate disks into her mouth and waved at the next float, her mind scrambling to recall all of the fascinating things she'd heard Dawn say to men. She refused to consider what he was going to think when she wasn't quite so fascinating the next day. Or he found out that she wasn't really an archaeologist. She felt like she'd had too much champagne. Her brain was scrambled.

The parade was winding down. A Dixieland band was walking through the streets followed by some elegantly dressed ladies in horse drawn carts. The streets sparkled with beads and coins.

"Someone's going to have a mess cleaning this up tomorrow," Keri remarked without thinking.

"It will be around for weeks," he replied, taking her hand. "For now, I think the ball awaits."

They walked through the streets towards the Grand Hotel near the docks. All of the parade seemed to hover around the entrance. Lights blazed from the interior. In the distance, fireworks were bursting against the night sky.

A man on horseback galloped past them, his cape flowing out behind him. The horse shied at the loud crack of fireworks that lit up the sky overhead. Keri moved quickly to the side to avoid being stepped on as the man brought the animal under control. She stumbled over a deep crack in the sidewalk and ended up against a wall. Holding his arm, she took Charlie/Armand with her.

Charlie couldn't imagine being crushed by anyone more interesting. Red velvet entangled his legs. A cloud of French perfume engulfed his senses. Her delectable bodice was crushed against his chest. Her arms flew out, trying to grab at something to keep herself upright. His hands came around her waist to steady her.

"Sorry." She tried to move away but only succeeded in finding herself more firmly against his chest. Her hands rested on his shoulders for balance.

"Non, Keri. I have wanted it to happen since I got here."

He kissed her. She pulled her head back and stared at him. He looked like the pirate he was, stealing a kiss from her. "Armand," she confessed breathlessly. "My head is spinning."

"It is the night and the dress and the magic," he suggested boldly, his hands still on her waist.

Keri knew she would have to kiss him again. It had nothing to do with her heart beating or her head swimming from the sensation, she assured herself. It was just something Dawn would have done. She lowered her head to his and kissed him carefully. His lips were warm and firm beneath hers. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon.

"Mademoiselle," he teased as she moved her head back to look at him again. "I believe you are deliberately provoking me."

Keri's mask had slipped. She pushed it back into place with an impatient finger. "I assure you, sir, I would never provoke anyone, without expecting the proper response."

Charlie kissed her again, glad to oblige her with his response. Kissing her was like sitting on the beach in the warm sunshine or swimming in a bright lagoon. It was warm and fluid and right.

"You weren't hurt, were you?" a voice asked from behind them.

"No." They both denied at once as Keri stepped away from Charlie.

It was the man on the horse. He swept them a wide bow. "I see! Sorry to interrupt. But since I have, be my guests at the king's ball." He took Keri's hand, kissed it, and then led her away towards the hotel. Charlie was left to follow on his own, wishing Keri had given him a sword with the mask.

Keri glanced back at Armand and ran her tongue across her dry lips. It was the night, she told herself. And the sudden urge to be someone different. Someone exciting and colorful. She couldn't recall exactly when she'd dated last but she did remember the man. He was the assistant dean at a nearby college. They had met at a museum party. They'd gone out to eat pizza and gone to see a movie she couldn't recall.

The whole time, she'd fought with him to keep his hands to himself. In the darkness of the movie theater, she'd deliberately spilled popcorn all over the man to keep him off of her. When the evening was over, she'd suffered through a short kiss that came close to her mouth. Then she'd hurried inside to lock the door behind her.

Kissing Armand was different. She didn't know him. He didn't know her. But when his lips touched hers, there was something like fireworks that went off inside her brain. She wanted to kiss him again. And again. She liked the way it felt when he pulled her close. She wanted to be closer.

But she'd escaped with the masked horseman whose cape flowed out beside her. It was probably a good move. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to get involved with a man she might work with for the next few weeks. She knew she wasn't experienced enough to keep up that kind of game without getting burned. It was going to be hard enough to pretend that she had been on countless digs.

Armand looked annoyed. His eyes were even bluer with the black mask on his face. Keri was struck again by his self-confidence as they walked up to the throne where the King held court. He looked as though it was something he did everyday. He stood back while she was introduced to the King. With his casual, familiar clothes and his black mask, he looked out of place amidst the splendor of the ballroom's other inhabitants. But his head was high and his air was one of quiet dignity.

When the horseman called him forward, Charlie made his bow to the King.

"I know you," the King said with a laugh. "I know your grandfather! You--"

"I'm in disguise," Charlie told him bluntly.

"Of course!" The King laughed again with a significant look at Keri. "We'll talk later."

Charlie nodded. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

The King stood with his queen. "I have to get this thing going but don't you leave until we've had a chance to talk. I want to show you some plans."

The horseman bowed to Keri. "May I have this dance?"

Keri took his hand and he led her away. Charlie leaned against the makeshift throne and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. It wasn't like him to get jealous. They'd only shared a few kisses, after all. He was never so serious about a woman that it bothered him when she was ready to move on, although he admitted that it was usually him that moved on. He liked his life without those ties that his sister seemed to favor. Yet, it bothered him to see Keri, in her beautiful dress, dancing with that damned horseman!

The room was glittering with jewels and costumes sewn with thousands of sequins. The chandelier twirled above their heads and the dancers laughed as they moved across the polished floor. Champagne flowed in the fountain near the door and fleet-footed waiters liberally distributed it. Flowers were everywhere, their scent and color filling the room.

Keri danced and drank with her partners as they kept her moving around the room. She looked for Armand. Once she saw him talking with the King near his throne. Another time, he was dancing with a gorgeous redhead dressed in a creation that looked like sea foam. She lost track of him finally. She'd had too much champagne. Her face felt hot and her brain was swimming. She was looking for a way out of the crowded ballroom when someone took her hand.

"I think we should call it a night, don't you, petite?" Charlie/Armand asked her with a warm smile.

That smile was more potent than any wine she'd had that night. She realized that she'd danced with every other man in the room but not with him. "One last dance."

Charlie looked into her eyes and forgot the room was spinning around them with light and sound and hundreds of people. "Certainement." He took her hand in his and put his arm around her waist. He pressed her close to him. She swayed like a willow until they were mated from chest to thigh.

Keri leaned her head against him and closed her eyes. Music was playing but she couldn't have said what song it was or who was playing it. The whole dance took on the quality of a dream. She twined her fingers in the thick hair on the back of his neck and sighed.

Charlie bent his head slightly to lay it against hers. He took in the fresh scent of her hair and the silk of the strands that lingered against his cheek. They moved as though they were one, effortless and fluid. His chest cushioned her breasts. Their softness was creating a warmth and hardness in his own body that didn't surprise him. He'd wanted her since he'd met her. He had hoped for something more than dinner that night in his hotel room in Virginia. But he had backed away when he saw how nervous and uncomfortable she was with him. Life had taught him that patience was a virtue and that most things came with time.

"Armand," she whispered, feathering kisses along his jaw. "I love your name."

He sighed, wishing he'd thought about the possibility that he might want something more with this woman than sharing a tent for a few weeks. It never occurred to him to think about this dig as romantic. He'd been on too many excavations to have that kind of notion. The work was hard and the hours were long and possessed by madness. There was a frenzy to finding old things that consumed archaeologists. That was the only passion he'd expected.

"Keri." He wished he could hear his real name on her lips. "You a