The Lord's Inconvenient Vow (The Sinful Sinclairs Book 3)

by Lara Temple

  ‘You’d best fetch your donkey or camel and come down. It will be dark soon.’

  ‘I don’t have a mount. I walked.’

  Surprise turned to shock and then to outrage. He’d forgotten how expressive her face was.

  ‘You walked from Zarqa. On foot. On your own.’

  ‘Yes, on all counts. Is that an offence?’

  ‘Only against good sense! And what on earth were you doing up here? The desert path leads directly through the valley to the Nile, not to the Howling Cliffs. Were you lost?’

  ‘I wanted to see the view first.’

  Her lips closed firmly on whatever was straining to be said. Then she gave her skirts a slight shake, as if dislodging something distasteful.

  ‘Well, it’s your hide if you wish to risk it. But I suggest you abandon this romantic conceit and make your way down before dark or you’ll find yourself at the bottom of the cliff more rapidly and painfully than you would like.’

  She set off down the path and he followed. The reversal of scolding roles was as peculiar as everything else about his return to Egypt. She was right, though. He’d been tempting the fates walking from Zarqa in the first place and going along the cliff path in his present state was...

  Romantic conceit. No one had ever accused him of being romantic. Conceited, yes. Romantic—he’d only been romantic once in his life and that had cost him dearly. He sighed. The path which he’d climbed and descended hundreds of times in his youth felt endless and his legs were a mixture of wool and fire when they finally reached the gate in the high whitewashed walls.

  ‘It has changed a little since you were here last,’ Sam said as she secured the gate behind them and he forced himself to look up.

  She was right. Bab el-Nur used to be a sprawling but modest whitewashed structure surrounded by neat gardens, but Poppy had constructed a second storey and the gardens were a lush jungle of trees and flowering bushes surrounded by high mudbrick walls.

  ‘Good God, he’s constructed a fortress!’ he exclaimed as the house came fully into view.

  She laughed over her shoulder, her face transforming, and for the first time the cool woman from the cliff and the girl in his memory connected.

  ‘It is even more amazing inside and Janet has made a marvel out of the gardens. I have been sketching...’ She paused and shrugged and it was like watching a flower furl its leaves as night fell, a physical and spiritual diminishment.

  They continued through the garden, scents and memories engulfing him. It was already dark and the palm trees were weaving above them in their evening dance. The packed earth of the path gave way to the stone floor of the veranda and suddenly there was a flurry of movement.

  ‘Good heavens, Sam, who is...?’

  Edge looked up and his uncle’s question melted away.

  ‘Edge. Dear Lord. My boy!’

  Poppy wasn’t quite as tall as he, but he was a burly man and his embrace was powerful, his arms catching Edge in a vice, his bushy grey hair surprisingly soft against his cheek. For a moment Edge just stood there in shock. It had been so long since he’d seen this man, though he’d been closer than a father to him. How had he allowed so much time to pass?

  ‘Edge...’ The one word was a cracked whimper, then he was suddenly thrust away, his shoulders grabbed in Poppy’s considerable paws. ‘What have you done to yourself, boy? You look disgraceful! And why did you not tell me you were in Egypt? Janet! Edge is here!’

  The last words were a bellow worthy of a call to prayer from the minarets and their effect was immediate. A plump figure hurtled into the room followed by others and Edge found himself being handed around like a parcel, embraced, scolded, questioned. He tried to keep his feet steady as he greeted everyone, but the room was beginning to move around him and suddenly a pair of blue-grey eyes were in front of him and he felt his hands clasped in a cool, strong grip.

  ‘When did you last eat, Edge?’

  Eat?

  ‘This morning.’

  His answer set off another bustle of activity, but at least it was away from him. Within moments a glass of tea infused with mint was shoved into his hand. It was so sweet it made him wince, but he drank and when they brought him food he ate and when they led him off to be bathed he went meekly.

  It was very strange, being home.

  * * *

  ‘The poor fellow is still asleep,’ Poppy announced as he entered the breakfast parlour and sat beside Janet.

  ‘I know,’ Janet said as she handed him a small porcelain cup of bitter coffee. ‘I couldn’t resist and peeked. He looks better now he’s washed and shaved, but he’s too thin, Poppy. You could cut stone with his cheekbones. I’ve told Ayisha to prepare the lamb stew he loved as a boy.’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Janet. You know he hates it.’

  ‘I never fuss.’

  Sam smiled to herself at how Edge’s appearance had transformed her hosts. She’d forgotten how deeply they loved Edge. Janet was lit from within, her movements sharper but more abstracted, and after his heartbreaking show of love when he’d embraced Edge, Poppy now appeared taller, more resolute.

  ‘He isn’t ill?’ Sam tried not to sound worried. He’d looked so haggard yesterday she’d lain awake a long time, waiting for the sounds of a household bustling around a sickroom. She knew desert fevers could be deadly.

  ‘No, child, merely exhausted. Nothing food and sleep won’t remedy.’ Poppy’s words were a little too hearty and Sam knew that, though Edge might not be ill, Poppy was worried.

  ‘Did you know he was in Egypt?’

  ‘No. We received a letter from him only a couple of months ago from Brazil, but it must have been sent long before.’

  ‘Good morning.’

  Janet wavered. Clearly she wanted to rush to Edge, but perhaps it was the sight of a very different but far more familiar Edge that stopped her. Daoud had done more than shave him, he’d trimmed his hair and found a set of clothes left by Lucas or Chase.

  In the flowing gown and the long cotton strip worn like the natives to protect the head and face from the sand and sun Sam had hardly recognised him. Now she was thrown back eight years to the last time she’d seen Edge—in this very room, she realised. He’d stood just as straight and withdrawn and watchful. And yet this was a different man. He’d lived a whole lifetime in those eight years, as had she.

  ‘Good morning, Edge. Would you care for tea?’ she asked. His gaze moved to her and then settled on the tea pot by her hand.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Lady Carruthers.’

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, Edge.

  The words almost spurted out of her, but she held them back and held out the cup.

  ‘Your tea, Lord Edward.’

  ‘You are very kind, Lady Carruthers.’ Something almost like amusement flickered in his eyes, but then Poppy’s patience ran out.

  ‘Now, boy, tell us when you arrived, why you didn’t inform us of your arrival, and what on earth—’

  ‘Let him eat first, Poppy,’ Janet interrupted and Edge sat by her.

  ‘It is all right, Aunt. I cannot stay long so you may as well hear everything now. Rafe has disappeared.’

  ‘Rafe? What is that fellow up to now? I’d expected he would be settling in as the new Duke of Greybourne.’

  ‘Unfortunately not. I received a communication from the embassy in Istanbul that Rafe was killed alongside the Khedive’s son Ismail in Nubia. The Greybourne lawyers instigated an inquiry, but that could take months so I came myself.’

  ‘He...he is dead?’ Janet faltered and Edge smiled, reaching out to take her hand. The transformation was so extreme Sam felt herself tense as if she’d just noticed a crocodile moving in the reeds.

  ‘No, I don’t believe so, Aunt. In fact, I have reason to believe that letter was sent by Rafe himself. I need to find out why.’

  ‘But
you cannot go there,’ Janet said, horrified. ‘That whole area is in upheaval. You could be killed!’

  ‘I am glad I didn’t stop here on the way, then, Aunt Janet. I wouldn’t wish for you to worry.’

  ‘You already went?’

  ‘Yes. There are still skirmishes, but Defterdar Bey has the area well under his brutal thumb. I don’t know quite what Rafe is about, but I do know he did not take part in those battles.’

  ‘How do you know? He is a mercenary, is he not?’

  ‘He is, but for several years now he has chosen to involve himself in financial rather than political concerns. More to the point, Ismail was killed in November of last year and I spoke with a...an acquaintance of Rafe’s who met him and his valet Birdie in Alexandria only last month before he headed south. I followed his trail and there were enough people who recognised my description. They call him Nadab.’

  ‘Scar,’ Poppy translated, frowning.

  ‘Yes. I never imagined I would be grateful for Rafe’s accident. In Syene he was joined by a young man and they hired a guide and camels to take them north through the western deserts. I was several days behind so I decided to try to cut around them by way of the river.’

  Sam watched Edge as he spoke. She’d forgotten how blank his face could be. People showed more emotion speaking of the weather. But she knew better—she could see tiny signs, in the dip of his long eyelashes that shielded deep grey-green eyes, the flicker of tension in the lines cut on either side of his mouth.

  Janet sighed. ‘I know he swore not to take a penny of Greybourne money as long as your father lived, but why must he continue in this stubbornness now he is Duke?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Edge admitted. ‘Six months ago he told me he intended to return to England and tried to convince me to go with him.’

  ‘Were you planning to return?’ Poppy asked and Edge’s smile turned wry.

  ‘No. But that is beside the point. What matters now is that I hope I have gained some ground on them by coming by way of the river, perhaps even enough to outflank them if I come through the oases. Which made me think of al-Walid. No one could cross his territory without him knowing, correct? If you could give me some testimonial, I will proceed there and if I find nothing I will continue to Cairo. I paid dragomen there and in Alexandria to keep an eye out for him so hopefully at some point my luck will turn.’

  ‘You appear to have had more than your share of luck already, my boy. Walking from Zarqa! What next?’

  ‘It seemed the most reasonable option.’

  ‘Reasonable! One more day and you wouldn’t even have found us here. We were to leave for Cairo tomorrow and then back to England.’

  ‘Then I am glad you are here, but I am certain Daoud or Youssef could have helped me. All I need is a camel or a good sturdy horse and some form of message for—’

  ‘We will come with you, Edge,’ Janet interrupted softly. ‘We can continue as well from Bahariya as from here and in truth it has been far too long since we visited al-Walid.’ She held up her hand as Edge tried to protest. ‘You might be younger and stronger, Edge, but Poppy and I are more practised at desert travel. Good, now that is settled I shall have a word with Ayisha and Daoud about provisions, and of course we must bring gifts. I know just the thing. Come along, Poppy dear.’

  She wandered out as she spoke, patting Edge on the head as she passed, as if he was still the young boy they took in almost thirty years ago rather than a man of thirty-four who was taller than she even when seated.

  ‘Uncle...’

  ‘Admit defeat, my boy. You know our Janet.’

  The room fell very silent as Poppy closed the door. Sam poured more mint tea into her cup and after a moment’s hesitation refilled his cup as well. He watched, his mouth tense. She knew that expression, having been so often the recipient of it. He was annoyed.

  ‘Can’t you convince her this is unnecessary, Lady Carruthers?’ he said. ‘You used to wrap her around your little finger. Tell her you prefer to travel by dahabiya.’

  Sam’s little finger tingled, but so did her temper. It was a peculiar feeling; she hadn’t been angry in quite a while.

  ‘Tell her,’ she repeated and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘It was a suggestion, not a command. For your own benefit and comfort.’

  ‘No, for your benefit and comfort. As usual.’

  ‘As usual?’ There was a dangerous lowering of his tone and the peculiar feeling quickened—anger tasted warm, thick. She’d forgotten that.

  ‘Yes. Ten years ago you convinced Poppy not to allow me to join the expedition to Bahariya.’ She felt rather foolish raising this old grievance now and rather surprised by how sharp it still was.

  ‘Precisely, ten years ago. I was perfectly justified in objecting to taking a child into the middle of the desert. Your brothers and I very nearly didn’t make it back.’

  ‘From what I heard Poppy tell Janet you and Lucas and Chase would not have been in danger either if you had not strayed from the town on your own. Since I would have remained, sensibly, with Poppy and Huxley and al-Walid, I would have been safe. Besides, I was sixteen. Hardly a child.’

  He bent his glare on his teacup.

  ‘Would you care for some more tea?’ she asked and had the satisfaction of making him snap,

  ‘No. Thank you.’

  ‘You are welcome.’ She braced herself as they moved from annoyed to angry. Good.

  ‘Perhaps you weren’t a child, but you acted like one. Within a week of our return you had me thrown in gaol and then Poppy and Huxley were almost chased out of Qetara when you kidnapped Sheikh Khalidi’s cats.’

  ‘Oh! That is unfair! You were thrown into gaol because Khalidi’s daughter was fool enough to fancy herself in love with you and came to Bab el-Nur to beg you to stay in Egypt. I certainly didn’t ask you to try to break Abu-Abas’s nose when Khalidi sent him to return Fatima home.’

  ‘What the devil was I to do when you threw yourself between him and Fatima like a demented Don Quixote?’

  He had a point so she moved swiftly to more defensible ground.

  ‘Besides, if I hadn’t tried, and failed, to kidnap Khalidi’s adored cats you probably would have remained in that horrid gaol far longer.’

  ‘He planned to release me anyway—he was merely making the point that not even foreigners could assault his men with impunity. Simply because your actions did not end in disaster does not mean they were justified. It was reckless and foolish and you could have been seriously hurt. You always had more luck than sense.’

  She’d forgotten fury. She’d forgotten wanting to launch herself at someone as she had at Abu-Abas when he ordered the soldiers to take Edge away. But she was no longer a child and she would not gratify his insults by confirming them.

  ‘And you always had more sense than heart, Edge. I promise you, next time you are tossed in gaol I shan’t lift a finger. I shall reserve my loyalty for people who appreciate it.’

  He turned away, but she saw the flush that showed darker under his sun-browned skin.

  ‘I don’t know why I am arguing with you,’ he grumbled. ‘I don’t argue with anyone but you and as usual it’s a waste of time. Come to Bahariya if you wish.’

  ‘How magnanimous.’

  ‘Don’t be snide. You’ve won, Lady Carruthers.’

  It didn’t feel like a victory. She felt as weary as he looked.

  ‘It is not a contest, Edge. And please stop calling me Lady Carruthers like that. If you object so much to my presence, I will travel with Ayisha and the luggage on the dahabiya while you go with Poppy and Janet.’

  He didn’t answer. All she could see was his profile, an outline that was etched in her mind with the familiarity of a childhood landscape—the kind you woke up to every day and hardly noticed until you went away. Without thinking she leaned across the table, hand extended.


  ‘They probably want you to themselves anyway, Edge. They’ve missed you terribly.’

  His hands curled around his cup and his long eyelashes lowered further. She started to rise, but he reached out and caught her hand on the table.

  ‘Wait. You might as well come. They won’t be calm thinking of you on the dahabiya without them. I apologise. It is only that... I am worried about Rafe.’

  She tried to concentrate on his words, not on her hand which felt like a large and dangerous animal had rolled over in its sleep and pinned it to the table.

  ‘You said he is a mercenary. Surely he is able to care for himself?’

  ‘He is, but I don’t understand why he came here in the first place. He always told me he would never come to Egypt.’

  ‘Oh. Why?’ She sat down again, careful not to dislodge his hand.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not Egypt? One would think he would be curious, knowing how much you loved it.’

  His eyes finally fixed fully on hers—with the sun filtering in through the shutters behind him they now looked a deep forest-green. She could almost see shadows moving between the trees.

  ‘Rafe and I assumed most of our childhoods that we were each the one being punished—me by being sent away, he by remaining. Life is rarely what one thinks. In any case he came to hate the idea of Egypt so whatever brought him here must be serious. If he is in trouble, I must find him.’

  His hand was still on hers, warm and large and rough against her skin. The gesture and the admission were both so unlike Edge she did not know what to do. She thought of her brothers—she would cross deserts for them and not think twice.

  ‘I’m glad you care for him so much, Edge.’

  He took his hand away and went to the door.

  ‘I owe him a great deal. More than I can repay. I must speak with Poppy now.’

  Chapter Two

  Jephteh pointed to the darkness below the cliff, his fingers biting into Gabriel’s shoulder. ‘Mortals are prodigiously foolish, boy. You will die the moment you strike those rocks, yet you waste your precious last moments wondering what lies in those shadows.’