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moment she was afraid she was actually going to shiver. She clamped down on her teeth, tightening her jaw, to contain the reaction. She recalled to her mind the aggressive countenance of the great stone tiki and found she could substitute one kind of fear for another.
    Rand removed himself from the window seat and took up a casual perch against the back of the sofa. He folded his arms across his chest and crossed his legs at the ankle. “I think I'd better hear the whole of it from you,” he said. “The duke's explanation, I'm finding, was not entirely factual."
    Claire turned her head toward him. Her hands settled quietly in her lap again and she realized that taking a breath was easier now that the captain had placed some distance between them. “I believe his facts were in order but that he left some things unsaid,” she told him. “That would have been at my insistence, so I hope you won't think less of his grace."
    "After today I hope to never think of him again,” Rand said. “And I don't suppose for a moment that he cares a whit for my good opinion."
    Claire's folded hands tightened almost imperceptibly. The bones of her knuckles stood out whitely against the background of her dress. In every other way she ignored Rand's terse comments. “Strickland has had an interest in the Hamilton-Waterstone legend for as long as I can remember. I learned of it at his knee. He has a collection of artifacts at Abberly Hall from all over the world. Necklaces and armbands from Egypt. Mandarin ceremonial swords. Indian sculptures. Manuscripts. Tapestries. There are few pieces that are not encrusted with gems. Lapis lazuli. Rubies. Diamonds. Stickle is particularly fond of sapphires, no matter their color. He has arguably a finer representation of the variety of sapphires than the queen has in the Crown Jewels."
    "Your godfather mentioned museums,” Rand drawled. “I didn't realize he was talking about his own."
    "This is not public knowledge, and it's not meant to be. I'm telling you now so that you know the duke's interest in your exploration is genuine. He's been following your progress for years."
    "Why am I only learning of it now?"
    Claire simply stared in his direction, allowing him to work out what he could for himself.
    "You?” he asked. “The duke's revealing his interest because of you?"
    Claire was surprised and not a little disappointed that he had attached his thinking to the simplest explanation. He was proving Stickle right. Rand Hamilton deserved to know no more than he was capable of considering. “Yes. Because of me. Dr. Messier has hypothesized that if I return to Solonesia I may be able to recreate the events that led to my blindness. In confronting my fear—if indeed that's what it is—then I may be able to regain my sight."
    "There is some precedence for this, I take it."
    "Dr. Messier cited three cases of unexplained, spontaneous reversal of blindness."
    "Did any of them mention Jesus Christ?"
    Claire almost came to her feet again. At the last moment she recalled the promise she had made to herself not to take the bait he dangled. “I believe the doctor looked for examples outside of the New Testament,” she said coolly.
    "This documentation,” he continued to probe, “has it all been in the last fifty years?"
    "In the last five hundred years."
    Now Rand invoked the Lord's name again, this time by cursing softly under his breath. “Three examples in five hundred years,” he said incredulously. "This is your best hope?"
    "It's my only hope."
    Rand fell silent for a time. “Tell me more about your father and brother."
    "My father left Oxford in ‘68 to return to the South Pacific. He received a grant from the duke to research the flora around Tahiti and farther north to the Sun Islands. His earlier work in Polynesia, around the Cook Islands, had led him to some promising medicines for hemophilia. The queen, naturally, has been interested."
    Rand understood Queen Victoria's interest. Her