To Rescue a Rogue by Jo Beverley

structures.”
    He chattered on, but Mara simply looked, enjoying the trick played on her senses. Silence fell and she saw that Dare had givin the attendant a coin and he was now approaching another couple.
    â€œI half expect people to emerge from the temple at any moment,” she said, “but it doesn’t bother me that none do.”
    â€œPerhaps because it’s a ruin. We expect ruins to be deserted.”
    She looked at him. “Have you seen real ruins? I mean, in Greece?”
    â€œNo, but one day I will.”
    He intended to wander? She couldn’t imagine sharing a life like that. Brideswell St. Brides stayed close to home. It was their nature.
    â€œWhere else would you like to go?” she asked, hoping her concern wasn’t obvious.
    â€œAll Europe lies open to the traveler now. Wouldn’t you enjoy travel?”
    â€œShort trips, perhaps,” she said, not adding the essential, With you .
    â€œDespite being a Brideswell St. Bride, you would be an enthusiastic traveler, I think.”
    â€œYou were once full of enthusiasm, Dare.”
    He looked at the model. “As that was once whole and full of worshipers. Come, let’s admire the Tomb of Virgil.”
    â€œNo tombs,” Mara said firmly. “According to my guide book there’s a model of Vesuvius that actually erupts. I wonder where that is.”
    Dare shook his head, but summoned the guide.
    â€œIndeed, sir, madam. It is in that curtained area over there for darkness, but it erupts only at certain hours.”
    â€œHow very convenient,” Dare commented. “Would that some people were like that.”
    His eyes were twinkling and it was as if an eruption threatened inside Mara. She deliberately plunged into enthusiasm. “I long to see it explode, Dare.”
    â€œOf course you do, but I admit, so do I. Natural darkness seems more appropriate than curtains. May I bring you this evening?”
    â€œYes! No. Bother, I can’t. We’re going to the theater. At last. Covent Garden. Some new piece called The Lady’s Choice . But we must see this soon. Promise? And don’t come without me.”
    â€œI promise. My time is almost entirely free, so you must set the day.”
    â€œLike a wedding,” she said—then wanted to strangle herself. “Oh, look. Pyramids!” She towed him to the side tables. “Smaller than the ones we made at home, but much more believable.”
    They contemplated pyramids, and then strolled past an amphitheater and an obelisk. These models were quite small, but still exquisitely realistic.
    â€œâ€˜The Temple of the Sibyls at Tivoli,’” she read from the next label. “What exactly is a sibyl?”
    â€œAn oracle?”
    â€œThey can’t be the same thing.”
    â€œPerhaps a sibyl is a type of oracle. Or an oracle a type of sibyl. Just as a minx is a type of young lady, but not all young ladies are minxes.”
    She wrinkled her nose at him. “This minx knows something about a sibyl.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOne of them—I can’t remember which—had twelve books of prophesies. She offered them to a king—I can’t remember which-”
    â€œ Not an attentive student,” he remarked.
    â€œWere you?”
    â€œNo.” He was still smiling, so she continued to amuse.
    â€œThis Sibyl offered her books to the king for an enormous price. He tried to haggle, so she burned three and offered the nine for the same price. When he refused to pay, she burned three more. By the time he gave in, there were only three left and he paid her original price for them. I like her.”
    â€œYou would. But think of all the wisdom lost.”
    â€œThat was the king’s fault for being miserly. He probably thought a woman would buckle to his demands.”
    â€œOne would think a king would have greater wisdom.”
    â€œWhy?”
    He laughed. “An excellent question,