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  “But the money—”

  “Yeah, the stone would have brought in a lot of money, but I’m not broke. Far from it. I guess I have a quarter of a million or so in the bank.”

  She stared at him. “Dollars?” she asked faintly.

  “Well, of course. I had some big plans for the Empress, but instead I’ll keep guiding. I’d have gotten damn bored, anyway.”

  She looped her arms around his neck. That misty look was gone from her eyes, and he relaxed. Well, sort of.

  “And I won’t be able to take a month or so off between trips this time, either,” he said. “How long do you reckon it’ll take those folks to get their ducks in a row?”

  “A week, maybe less,” she said.

  “You feel like another trip?”

  “I can make it.”

  “But this time we’ll have a double tent.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He glanced at the clock. “We have another appointment. Damn, I didn’t mean to get you wrinkled.”

  “What now?” she wailed. “Ben, I can’t take another surprise.”

  “We’re getting married,” he said, getting to his feet and hauling her up. “Well, maybe not today. I’ve never done it before, so I don’t know how long it takes. But we’ll get the ball rolling, at least.”

  She froze. “Married?”

  He gently engulfed her in his arms. “Yeah, married. I’m as shocked as you are. I’d been planning to ask you, but then you found that damn diamond. I knew you wouldn’t say yes with that rock standing between us, so I got rid of it.” Then, slowly, an anxious expression crept over his face. “You will marry me, won’t you? I know I’m not the best husband material in the world—hell, probably not even on this floor of the hotel—but I’m a lot of fun.”

  “Lots,” she agreed weakly. She thought her knees would give out, and her head fell forward to rest against his chest.

  “So what’s the answer?”

  “Yes.”

  She felt his chest expand beneath her head as he took a deep breath of relief, and she said, “I love you, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too. I have to love you a hell of a lot, to give up a diamond like that for you. Remember that the next time you’re giving me hell.”

  The telephone rang. Jillian was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a pile of newspapers on her lap. Ben was stretched out beside her, absorbed in a soccer game on television. The Brazilian announcer was shouting with excitement. She leaned over to lift the receiver.

  “Jillian Sherwood . . . Lewis,” she added as an afterthought. She still wasn’t used to her new name, having been married only one day. She had thought about not taking Ben’s surname; then she’d considered hyphenating it. Ben frankly didn’t care. He had what he wanted; she could call herself anything she liked. She thought Jillian Sherwood Lewis had a nice ring to it.

  She listened to the caller for a moment, then said, “I tried to interest the foundation in the expedition, but was laughed at.”

  She listened for a while longer. “But I’m not here as a representative of the Frost Foundation. I had to take a leave of absence and make this trip on my own.”

  She listened some more. Brazil had just scored, and the fans were screaming in jubilation. She said, “Just a moment. Let me speak with my husband.”

  Mischief sparkled in her eyes as she held the phone a little away from her mouth and said, “Ben, this is the director of the Frost Archaeological Foundation. Since I’m technically still an employee of theirs, they want me to state that the expedition was done under their aegis. In exchange, of course, I would get a wonderful promotion. What do you think?”

  Knowing exactly what his response would be, she thrust the receiver out toward him. He didn’t see it; his eyes never left the television screen. “Tell them to fuck off,” he said.

  She managed to stifle her laughter as she put the phone back to her ear. “My husband doesn’t think it’s a good idea,” she said gravely. “Good-bye, Mr. Etchson. I’ll mail you a formal letter of resignation. . . . Yes, I do think it’s necessary. Good-bye.” She hung up, glowing with satisfaction, and went back to her reading.

  When they settled down to sleep later on, Ben said, “Do you regret resigning?”

  “Not in the least. I love archaeology, and I won’t be leaving it behind. The Brazilian Department of Antiquities has offered me a position and I’m going to take it. Think you might be interested in going on another dig?”

  “Why not?” he asked lazily. “My first one was a real piss-ripper.”

  “And we’ll go on guide trips, too.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered.

  “To wind down.” He yawned, and thought of something that had intrigued him. “So your dad’s code was based on the Lord’s Prayer, huh?”

  “I’ll show you how it works,” she said, turning her face into his shoulder. His warm male scent made her want to burrow closer, so she did and was instantly rewarded by the possessive tightening of his grip. “In the morning. It’s a little hard to memorize.”

  “The Lord’s Prayer? I’ve known it since I was a little kid.”

  “Well, this version is a little different.”

  “How different?”

  “It’s in Old Scots.”

  “Old Scots?” he repeated faintly.

  “It goes like this.” Lying in his arms in the dark hotel room, she began to recite: “ ‘Uor fader quhilk beest i Hevin, Hallowit weird thyne nam. Cum thyn kinrik. Be dune thyne wull as is i Hevin, sva po yerd. Uor dailie breid gif us thilk day. And forleit us uor skaiths, as we forleit themquha skaith us. And leed us na untill temptatioun. Butan fre us fra evil. Amen.’”

  “Good Lord,” he muttered.

  She smiled in the darkness. “Exactly.”

  Epilogue

  Senhor Lewis!”

  Ben turned, searching the crowded docks for whoever had called his name. Jillian was on the boat they were in the process of loading for a return trip to the Stone City, seeing to the storing of her own supplies. She looked up and gave a sudden shriek, then bounded off the boat and raced past Ben, her arms outstretched. A black scowl knit his brows as she grabbed a man and hugged him enthusiastically. Then he recognized not only the man Jillian was hugging but the one behind him, too, and the scowl changed to a grin.

  Jillian released Jorge and threw her arms around Pepe, who looked alarmed. By then Ben had reached them, and he shook hands with both of them. “When did you get back?”

  “Last night,” Jorge said, still blushing at Jillian’s greeting. “All the talk on the docks was about you and the senhora. We learned that this is your boat, so we knew we would find you here today.”

  “Let’s find a quiet place where we can talk and have a beer,” Ben said, and by mutual consent nothing more was said about their adventures until they were all sitting in a dim bar.

  “Did all of you make it back?” Jillian asked.

  Jorge nodded. “Except for Vicente. We buried him and your brother, senhora, before we left. The other one, Kates, we did not worry about.”

  “What happened to Kates?” Ben asked.

  “Dutra killed him, there at the camp.”

  “I wondered. Since Dutra was alone when he caught up with us, I figured Kates was either dead or had been injured and Dutra had left him. Either way, I wasn’t worried about him anymore.”

  Jorge’s dark eyes were serious. “What about Dutra, senhor?”

  Ben shrugged, his blue eyes clear and cold. “I’m not worried about him, either.”

  From that, Jorge correctly guessed that Dutra would never be seen again, a prospect that he seemed to find most pleasing.

  “We’re resupplying to go back,” Jillian said softly. “I had thought I’d try to bring Rick’s body out, but now I think I’ll let him stay where he is.” It was there, in the Stone City, that her brother had finally reached out to her, there that he had made the one caring gestu