Jack turned back toward the far wall; squatting down on his haunches, he leaned forward and grasped the burlap-covered object. Gaby angled the flashlight to give him more light as he lifted the object and turned back to her.
“Let’s see what we’ve found,” he said.
Gaby turned and stepped back out of the dark room. Jack was close behind, carrying the mystery item.
He leaned it against the shelving and squatted back down.
Gaby’s excitement ratcheted up to the point where it was all she could do not to try to tear the burlap off herself. She pressed her hands tightly together and squatted beside him.
“Get me a knife, Antonio, and be quick about it.” Jack’s eyes sought hers. “It looks like a painting, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. It must be precious to have been hidden like this. I hope it isn’t damaged, your lordship.”
Jack examined the burlap. “It doesn’t look like any pests have gotten to it. And that hidden room, though dark and cool, was completely dry.”
Antonio rushed back down and handed Jack a knife. He wasted no time slicing the rope that bound the protective burlap cover. Carefully he peeled the burlap away, and Gaby gasped at what she saw.
Oh my God! That’s it!It was one of the same paintings she’d seen at the Met—the third and final painting in Allegretto’s series,The Three Stages of Love. Her eyes blurred with tears as she realized what this meant.
Jack didn’t miss her extreme reaction and regarded her intently. “Do you know of this painting?”
“N-no!” She shook her head adamantly. “H-how could I? I only just discovered this odd wall. I-it’s just the shock of it. It’s such a beautiful painting, and it’s such a mystery that it was here.”
“Hmm, yes. You’re right; it is. Let us bring it upstairs, and we’ll have Stefano examine it. Perhaps he’ll be able to tell us who the artist is.”
Gabriella tried to control the trembling that overtook her. She already knew who the artist was, but she couldn’t say anything to Jack. And what was remarkable about the painting was how vibrant it looked. The colors were not fading, as they had been at the Met, and the portrait was as rich in tones as it must have been on the day Allegretto finished it. The green-eyed, red-headed muse stared out from the canvas, her gaze sensual and evocative. Gaby felt a shiver climb her spine.
“It’s very sensual, isn’t it?”
Much to Gaby’s dismay, when she glanced sideways, she saw that Jack studied her and not the painting.
“I wouldn’t know, your lordship.” She dropped her gaze modestly.
“Of course you wouldn’t.” His tone returned to one of contempt. “Help me, Antonio—let’s get it upstairs to my bedroom. I believe you have a dinner party to prepare, Signorina D’Angelo.”
Her heart wrenched at his frosty gaze. They’d made love just last night, but it felt ages ago. How she missed the worshipful erotic heat in those gorgeous blue-green eyes. How she missed him calling her Gaby.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave a jerky nod. Jack was right—she needed to get back to work. And now that the painting had been discovered, it was out of her hands.
He turned back to the painting, clearly dismissing her. Though she didn’t want to let the painting out of her sight, there was nothing to be done about it. Now she would have to bide her time.
Chapter Thirteen
Maremma, Italy
October 19, 1902
Jack had wantedto drag Gaby to his room and shake her. Then he wanted to kiss her senseless. He was livid at the letter she’d left on the table by his bed. How dare she suggest that after what they’d shared, he’d be so callous as to continue his courtship of Cynthia?
He ran his hands through his hair in agitation as he paced his room, waiting for Stefano to arrive.
Yes, he may have given Gaby that notion the other day, but that was before everything changed. Beforehe’dchanged. How could she not know that from their night together?
Did she think he lacked a moral compass? He wanted to wring the little vixen’s neck. He wanted to throw her over his shoulders and carry her back to his bed. He wanted to make mad, passionate love to her again.Damn! Damn! Damn!He wanted to—Well, that would have to wait.
When he tramped down the stairs to the earth cellar, he’d had every intention of dismissing Antonio and Luigi and having it out with her, but the look of shock and dismay on her face made his heart wrench. He couldn’t stop the feeling of guilt washing over him at the exhaustion in her face and her sleep-deprived, red-rimmed eyes. But his guilt was quickly replaced by anger. After all, it wasn’t he who’d written that letter. It wasn’t he who’d arbitrarily decided that one night was all they could ever have.
He’d managed to regain some semblance of control. And when Gaby told him about her discovery, his interest had been piqued. Finding the hidden room and the burlap-wrapped painting was a mystery that called to his inquisitive mind, it had scratched an itch, and he was compelled to find out more.
