The Golden Cradle of Princess Libushe's firstborn was less than eight feet in front of Hannah. She didn't even have to look at the visual references to know they'd found the real thing.

Gleaming in the sunlight, it was simply stunning. The craftsmanship was clean and elegant, and the sides-inside and out-featured intricate patterns that could only be the work of a master. The bejeweled rockers caught the light and bathed the onlookers in an ethereal rainbow glow.

"The paintings don't do it justice," Kirov said.

Hannah shook her head, unable to look away. "No painting could." She reached out a tentative hand. It felt… solid. Well, what had she expected? That it would vanish or crumble when she touched it? "Conner would have loved it," she said softly. "It would dazzle him…"

"It will dazzle millions once it's in a museum," Kirov said. "And you were responsible for saving it for them."

"Why are you making me out to be noble? That's crap." She turned away from the cradle and moved over to the rail. "I didn't do it for humanity. I did it to keep Pavski from getting his filthy hands on it. I wasn't going to let him have his dream even for a second."

He chuckled. "I can always count on you for blunt honesty. But I watched your expression when you saw the cradle. Perhaps it wasn't as enthralled as when you examined a fine piece of machinery, but there was a hint of bedazzlement in you too."

"Of course there was. I appreciate both beauty and antiquities. I told you I'm not like one of your submarines."

"But you are." His smile faded. "Smart and sleek and with all the thrust and heart that any captain could ever want."

She couldn't breathe. "Jesus, are you propositioning me?"

"No. I promise you'll know when I do that. But it doesn't hurt to make a few opening moves to let you become accustomed to the idea. After a few months at Marinth, I'll get serious."

Her eyes widened. "Marinth?"

"I need something to occupy my time while I decide what path to take. I contacted your employers at Marinth and told them how valuable I'd be to them during the recovery operation."

"They hired you?"

"I can be very persuasive."

God knows, she knew that was true. "It's my job. I won't let you get in my way."

He smiled. "We'll take turns being the support team. That way it will be less damaging to our egos. We can work it out."

She felt a warm surge of feeling as she looked at him. "Maybe we can. Do you think it will be worthwhile to try?"

"Oh, yes. Most definitely."

The sun was stroking his dark hair with light, and the expression in his eyes…

She suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him.

Christ, in front of Bradworth and a shipload of sailors?

She glanced away from him. "It could be difficult. I didn't like it when you slammed me into that torpedo tube."

"It was necessary. I didn't like it when you socked me in the jaw when we were in the water."

"It was necessary." She had a sudden thought. "You said something in Russian right before you crammed me in that tube. What was it?"

"Pomni, ya vsegda ryadom." His brows lifted. "If you were curious, I'm surprised you didn't look it up before this." Then he shook his head. "No, you started backpedaling even before you hit the water. You didn't want to know. I'm encouraged that you're asking now."

"Stop analyzing and tell me what it means."

"Remember, I'll always be with you," he said softly.

She felt a wave of joy and warmth so intense it almost overwhelmed her. Too intense. Don't lose control. "How completely sappy," she said unsteadily.

"What do you expect? I'm Russian. We're not afraid of being sappy when the occasion calls for it. It's you Americans who are embarrassed by sentiment." He smiled into her eyes. "Sappy can be both fitting and wonderful. Admit it."

"I don't have to ad-" Oh, what the devil. The sun was bright, treasures were being found, and perhaps another was right before her on the horizon. She smiled luminously back at him and nodded. "Okay, I admit it. Absolutely wonderful…"