"That doesn't surprise me." Julian grinned. "You're unyielding about everything. Tell me, did your parents name you Aurora because like the dawn you're relentless until you've awakened everyone to your presence?"
To Julian's surprise, a wave of sadness crossed Aurora's face. "Actually, that's one memory I do have of my parents," she murmured with none of Julian's reticence to discuss that which was close in heart. "I must have been about four years old. I remember asking Mama why she chose to name me Aurora. She said that she and Papa decided on that name because the day I was born the sun rose in their hearts, and because I filled every subsequent day of their lives with sunlight."
Julian framed Aurora's face between his palms. "That's lovely," he said gently. "And accurate. You are like sunlight, a brilliant source of warmth and joy. Forgive me for extinguishing your light, soleil—even for a moment."
She gave him a small smile. "You're forgiven."
That fleeting glimpse of the vulnerability which hovered just beneath Aurora's fiery exterior elicited a rush of guilt—and a tremendous sense of responsibility—within Julian. In sharp contrast to his reckless existence and despite her own adventurous spirit, Aurora was naive and protected, cushioned by her brother's imposed isolation. True, as a Huntley she was susceptible to danger—accentuated danger thanks to Lawrence's unfounded accusations that the black diamond was secreted at Pembourne. That susceptibility, however, would vanish when she relinquished her family name and took on Julian's. The question was, vanish in exchange for what? Aurora hadn't any idea what lay ahead as his wife, the transformation he was proposing along with marriage—a transformation that extended far beyond the imminent quest for the black diamond, traversed the entirety of his life, Merlin's life.
Julian frowned. He had to think beyond the immediate crusade, consider the future that would follow. Aurora wanted no part of refuge and seclusion, and he wasn't fool enough to believe she'd remain home while he ventured forth to take on the world. No, his prospective bride would doubtless expect to be right at his side, brimming with enthusiasm as they sailed away to embrace whatever challenges lay ahead. And her expectations would be justified. After all, hadn't he just offered her passion, freedom, adventure? Indeed he had. And he could offer her all of them in abundance. The problem was that along with freedom and adventure came perils. Had Aurora any idea what those perils might be, how many powerful enemies could be acquired in this type of work?
How many he himself had already acquired?
No. She hadn't. And it was up to him to apprise her.
"Aurora," he said abruptly. "Before we continue, you need to understand a few things, not only about the black diamond, but about me."
"Very well." She settled herself, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm listening."
"I'll begin with the stone. There are dangers associated with hunting it down, just as there were when our great-grandfathers went after it. Why else do you think Geoffrey, after two decades of serving the King, suddenly made provisions with his solicitor to keep the Fox's journal and dagger, something he hadn't done prior to any of his previous missions? He obviously realized the dangers were far greater than usual, that there were hordes of bloodthirsty privateers out there who would gladly slit his throat to gain possession of the jewel."
"I surmised as much," Aurora put in as calmly as if she were discussing a change in the weather.
"Aurora." Julian's palms dropped to her shoulders, gripped them tightly. "I vowed to your brother mere minutes ago that I would make certain you remained safe. I mean to keep that vow. But I need your cooperation. This isn't a game. Privateers don't adhere to rules, nor do they operate by a code of honor. If you and I strike an agreement, it will be I—not you—who incur the risks. Is that clear?"
Exhilaration splashed across Aurora's face. "That's why you're so adamant about this marriage taking place. You not only believe that by joining forces we can expedite the search for the black diamond, you believe my help is required to unearth it. What is it I must do? Where is it we must travel to gather our clues? India? Tibet? China?"
This was worse than Julian had feared. "Did you hear a word I just said?" he demanded.
"I heard you." She sat forward eagerly. "Tell me where we must voyage to ensure that it is we and not those odious privateers of whom you spoke who find the stone."
"If I'm right—nowhere."
Her shoulders slumped. "Nowhere?"
"Other than Pembourne and Morland Manor," Julian amended, finding it difficult not to smile at her crestfallen expression. "Consider the facts. Our great-grandfathers were partners. Mine left the legacy of the Fox to his first deserving heir. It stands to reason that the Falcon might very well have done the same. 'Tis up to us to find that legacy, in whatever form James left it. By reading Geoffrey's journal, I peeled back one layer of the past. 'Tis time we peeled back the second: namely, learning more about James. The logical place to do that is right here at Pembourne. Your great-grandfather's past might not be as concisely arranged as Geoffrey's, but he's bound to have left clues. Clues which when added to those we already possess, together with those I have yet to uncover at Morland, will shed light on the Fox and the Falcon—their lives, their treasures … and most of all, the place in which they concealed those treasures. A place that can only be uncovered by the Huntleys and the Bencrofts when working together—as partners."
"You believe the black diamond is hidden in one of our homes?"
"No. I believe your great-grandfather returned to England and secreted the stone in the customary hiding spot he and Geoffrey used to conceal their wares prior to delivering them to King George. 'Twas the only way James could be certain that should anything happen to him, Geoffrey would know just where to go to retrieve the stone and fulfill the mission. However, I also believe the clues leading to that location are in not one, but both our homes. And that with a direct and concentrated effort, we can amass them, find that hiding place … and consequently, the black diamond."
"Which is right here in England." Aurora gave a resigned sigh. "Your theory makes sense. If all the clues are hidden at Pembourne and Morland, 'twould explain why none of the privateers who have combed the globe in search of the stone was successful in finding it." A quizzical look. "But if we're not going abroad, what new dangers would be threatening us?"
"To begin with, you'd no longer be within your brother's fortress, protected by his guards," Julian pointed out. "You'd be coming and going with your husband, placing your life, your well-being, in his hands—my hands." Julian's thumb caressed her cheek. "And that, soleil, requires trust."
Aurora never averted her gaze. "I realize that."
"Trust," he added meaningfully, "is a gift that must be earned over time—which we don't have."
"I disagree. Not about the fact that we haven't the luxury of time, but about the fact that time is a requirement for trust. Trust comes from within and is ofttimes instinctive rather than earned. I trusted you without even knowing your name, from the moment you scooped me up in Dawlish's and rescued me from my own stupidity. I trusted you then. I trust you now."
"I'm humbled." Julian felt oddly moved by the heartfelt candor of her words. "Further, I promise to do everything in my power to live up to that trust. Incl
uding being honest with you, even if it means your refusing my proposal."
"Which brings us to whatever it is you were alluding to when you said there were a few things I needed to understand about you."
"Exactly." Julian drew a slow, contemplative breath. "The search for the black diamond notwithstanding, do you realize what I do? Who I am? Are you truly aware of the kind of life I lead?"