by Cheryl Holt
“Everyone insists it will happen.”
“Then everyone is a fool.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You shouldn’t pay so much attention when people titter over me.”
“If your cousin has negotiated this bargain with you—or if he hasn’t, Soloman—it matters not to me.”
“Why wouldn’t it? If he and I have a deal, it would make me a child killer, a brother killer.”
She’d been nibbling kisses across his shoulders, and she stopped, evidently realizing how she’d insulted him.
“I did not say this of you,” she carefully stated. “I do not accuse you of bad behavior toward your baby brother.”
“No, you merely listen to rumor and innuendo.”
He spun around and eased her away. He stared her down, the moment suddenly fraught with discord, but he never fought with any woman. There simply wasn’t a topic that sufficiently vexed him so he would quarrel.
“I should probably be going,” he muttered.
“No, no. You have just arrived.”
“Yes, well, I’m not having any fun.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I am the only female in Cairo who can amuse you.”
“You flatter yourself, Cassandra.” Yet she wasn’t actually wrong.
He didn’t like to patronize whores, and the local women were off limits, their relatives especially fussy about any socializing. With regard to his own kind, there were so few Europeans who were available for a dalliance. Lady Theodosia was typical, being so unattainable she might have been an angel up in Heaven.
Cassandra was usually his sole option.
“If you don’t spend the evening with me,” she asked, “how will you pass the hours? And if you dare to say with another woman, I will admit to being incredibly jealous.”
“I’ll head home to bed.”
“Alone? Why would you end the night so pitifully early?”
“I have to get up at dawn.”
“Which is why you should enjoy yourself now. Who knows when we will be together again?”
She nestled closer, and his unruly phallus reacted as she’d hoped. He was only human and couldn’t prevent his response.
“Perhaps I could persuade you to stay a bit longer,” she said.
“I doubt it.”
“You have to allow me to try, mon ami.”
She was nibbling a trail down his chest, his stomach, and as she dropped to her knees, he kicked himself for not leaving as he’d declared he would.
Most times, he didn’t even like her, but she was so gloriously debauched and beautiful. He received a secret thrill from how men salivated over her, how they enviously glared when she was on his arm. Every man who saw her wanted her, but she always chose him when he was in Cairo and interested in a tryst.
Pride was an idiotic thing. So was lust, but he’d never been able to control either one.
When she took his cock in hand, when she guided the tip into her mouth, he decided there was no reason to depart so soon.
Fenton stood on the dock, observing as the porters loaded the last of their supplies onto the boat that would deliver them to Cedric Webster’s archeological dig.
He was actually excited about visiting the pyramids, but he’d never let Edna suspect that he was. He hardly knew her, didn’t like her bossing him and ordering him about.
He’d liked his life at school, had liked his friends and their dormitory where he’d had hours to fill with no adults constantly nagging. Yes, he’d often gotten in trouble there, and yes, he’d often been threatened with expulsion.
But Fenton’s father was Colonel Wallace, and while he’d been alive, no paltry headmaster would have dared to cross him. Yet the Colonel was deceased, and Edna back from India. She’d promptly listened to the complaints raised against him, and she’d agreed he might be more successful at a different school, a school where they had stricter rules and discipline.
When they returned to London, she would enroll him somewhere new, even though he’d adamantly refused to change. He’d never be with his friends again, would never engage in their satisfying mischief.
It wasn’t fair.
Theo was standing in the crowd, gazing about, taking in the sights and sounds. He sidled over to her, wishing she was nearer to the edge of the dock. It would be funny to push her into the water, to watch her flail and sputter. She didn’t swim very well, and she would have to be pulled to safety.
At the moment, he couldn’t proceed though. There were too many people around, and there was no way he could claim it was an accident.
“What are you looking for, Theo?” he inquired. “Did you lose something?”
“No. I was wondering if we’d see Mr. Grey.”
Fenton hated the shrewd, calculating bully, but he was careful not to reveal his dislike. “Why would you look for him here?”
“He’s a river guide, and he’s traveling this morning too. I thought he might be in the vicinity, and I’d have a chance to tell him goodbye.”
Suddenly, she blushed furiously, and a laughable possibility occurred to him.
“Are you sweet on Mr. Grey?” he asked.
“No,” she scoffed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Fenton was an excellent judge of character. He knew when to drive his knife home. “You are sweet on him, aren’t you? It’s written all over your face.”
“You’re being absurd. Don’t you have anything to do besides pester me?”
“No.”
She pointed to the boat. “Why don’t you climb on board and have a sailor show you to your cabin. You can unpack your trunk.”
“Mother says it’s only a three-day trip, so we’re not unpacking.”
“Fine, then find someone who’ll feed you. It’s been an eternity since breakfast. Surely you’re starving by now.”
“I am hungry,” he said, and he boarded the boat as she’d suggested.
He checked his pockets to be certain he still had the talismans he’d purchased at the bazaar. They were tiny wood carvings of traditional Egyptian boogiemen. At least he assumed that’s what the vendor had explained.
They were supposed to render all sorts of bad luck. He intended to slip them into the porters’ bags and satchels. It would be humorous to discover how they reacted when the carvings were found, if they believed they’d been hexed and the journey cursed.
Egyptians were incredibly superstitious, and they’d be alarmed. They’d blame Edna for being involved in dark magic. They’d think Edna had bewitched them.
She loathed the natives and was extremely vocal about it. If there was trouble with the crew, she would have a fit, and there was nothing more amusing than igniting her explosions of rage.
The talismans would cause a hilarious uproar, and he couldn’t wait to see how chaotic it would be.
CHAPTER SIX
When Soloman first noted the boat up ahead, seemingly adrift with no oarsmen manning the vessel, he wasn’t particularly curious. But when a woman stepped to the stern and began waving a petticoat at him, he had to pay attention.
His client, Preston Price, was standing next to him. He studied the woman and asked, “Isn’t that Lady Theodosia?”
“Of course it is,” Soloman grumbled.
Who else but Theodosia Postlewaite would find herself stranded in the middle of the Nile? What the bloody hell had happened this time? And why was Soloman the one who had to rescue her?
Since she was such a walking catastrophe, she should have had a brother, father, or husband glued to her side to keep her out of trouble. Didn’t the men in her life comprehend how dangerous it was to have her out and about on her own?
He shouted quick orders to his captain, and they adjusted their sails and proceeded to the marooned craft. In a matter of minutes, they’d tied their boat to hers.
As he leapt over the rail and onto her deck, she gushed, “Mr. Grey! Am I glad to see you!”
“What’s the problem now, Lady Theo?” he asked.
“You won’t beli
eve what happened.”
“Yes, I will. Just tell me.” He still hadn’t observed any porters or sailors. “Where is your crew?”
“They left!”
“Left…where? What do you mean?”
“They abandoned us.”
“How long ago?”
“An hour? Two?” She gestured to the far bank where another boat was moored to the sand. “They took our supply boat and used it to go ashore.”
“They told you they’re not coming back?”
“Yes. At least I don’t think they are. I wasn’t precisely clear on their comments when they stormed off.”
“In my experience, Lady Theo, the natives who travel the river are quite reliable. What drove them away?”
“Several of them found…well…these little carvings in their luggage. I guess they represented some sort of evil spirit.”
“Why would they have evil carvings in their luggage?”
“I don’t know, but they seemed to feel we were trying to bewitch them.”
Over by the hatch, Fenton Wallace was lurking in the shade. He giggled—as if he was exactly cognizant of how the carvings had gotten in the luggage. When Soloman’s furious gaze whipped in his direction, he clapped a hand over his mouth and disappeared down the ladder into the hold.
Edna Wallace was seated in a chair under an awning. She grumpily glared, but didn’t rise to greet him, and he didn’t bustle over to say hello either. He had no desire to intervene in her predicament. If he hadn’t been so absurdly fascinated by Lady Theo, he’d have left them to rot.
Behind him, Preston climbed onto the deck. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s some mischief afoot,” Soloman replied. “The crew deserted them.”
“Gad! How shocking. I hope you hired a more dependable group for us.”
“I did. Valois arranged this bunch, so I have no doubt they were dependable too. A trick was played on them, but they didn’t realize it was a trick.”
“Who would play a trick on the crew?” Preston asked. “What would be the point?”
Soloman scowled at Lady Theo, and as he visually imparted the identity of the culprit, she murmured, “Oh, no…”
“Oh, yes,” Soloman seethed. “Shall I drag him out here and force him to explain himself?”
“Ah…there’s no need. I’ll speak to him. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Susan Wallace bustled up, and she looked genuinely delighted by his arrival.
“Mr. Grey, how kind of you to assist us.” Before he could respond, she spun to Preston and smiled as if he hung the moon. “And Mr. Price! Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes, fancy that. It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Wallace.”
“This is the last place I would have expected to stumble upon you.”
“I must say the same.”
They were grinning, preening, and as Soloman studied the pair, sparks were practically shooting between them. It seemed as if an attraction was brewing, and it was so blatant even he could deduce what was occurring.
“You’re in a bit of a pickle, Miss Wallace,” he said.
“Aren’t we just? We’ve tried to flag down a dozen boats, and you were the only one who stopped.”
Lady Theo laid a riveting hand on his arm. “You’ll help us, won’t you?”
“I don’t know if I should,” he selfishly mused. “I have my own trip to complete and my own passenger to tend.”
“Please?”
He wanted to refuse, but when she stared at him with those pretty blue eyes of hers, every masculine bone in his body urged him to give her whatever she required.
Still though, he might have declined any intervention, but Preston butted in. “I don’t mind delaying my own journey, Soloman. We can’t ignore these dear ladies when they’re in such distress.”
Soloman glanced over at Edna Wallace. She still hadn’t spoken to him, and her nose was stuck in the air as if he emitted a bad smell.
“What say you, Mrs. Wallace?” he asked her. His fingers were crossed that she’d insult him so he’d have an excuse to travel on.
But to his great surprise, she answered with, “We would be most grateful if you could mend this imbroglio.”
“Please?” Lady Theo said again. “What would we do without you?”
“I have no idea,” he muttered.
He looked at her, looked at Mrs. Wallace, looked at Preston and Susan Wallace who were cooing and drooling over one another. He looked at their abandoned supplies on the shore, and they had to be retrieved shortly or they would vanish. He was amazed they hadn’t already.
His swift trip down the Nile had suddenly become a tedious, awkward slog.
“All right,” he groused. “I’ll help you.”
“Thank you.” Lady Theo beamed such a smile that he felt himself falling into it.
“I’ll escort you to Cedric Webster’s camp. I’ll deliver you and your belongings down the river.”
“You’re a gallant soul, Mr. Grey,” Lady Theo said. “I was always sure of it.”
At the absurd compliment, his cheeks flushed with consternation. “But if I hear one complaint—about me or my assuming control or anything else—I will leave you to your own devices. You can swim to Webster’s camp for all I care.” He glared at each of them individually. “Understood?”
They all gave quick nods, then Lady Theo snuggled herself to him and said, “I just knew you’d save us. The minute I saw you passing by, I knew you would.”
“Well, I haven’t saved you yet, Lady Theo. Let’s see if I can get you to your destination. Then you can gush.”
He pulled away and went to confer with his captain.
“Fenton, I would have a word with you.”
Edna glowered at her son, bracing when he spun to face her. He was a very handsome boy, and he always appeared so innocent.
She’d birthed him in England, then had left him with her sister and returned to India as rapidly as she could. It was generally recognized that the climate there was lethal for young children. Plus, the Colonel had been so virile and imposing. She would never have been foolish enough to let him carry on alone when surrounded by all those beautiful, dark-skinned native girls that so many in the regiment found fascinating.
So she’d barely spent time rearing Fenton. How was she to have the necessary conversation? How was she to assess his reply? She had no experience at parenting and very few maternal instincts.
“What is it, Mother?”
“Theo has raised a disturbing issue regarding your behavior.”
“Me?”
“She says you put those carvings in the bags.”
“Where would I have gotten them?”
She wagged a finger, hoping she seemed very stern. “Don’t lie to me, Fenton.”
“I never would, Mother.”
“The natives are very superstitious.”
“Yes, I’ve listened to all your stories.”
“If it was a prank, it was rash and dangerous.”
“I agree. I was ever so frightened when they started shouting and pointing at you.”
“If Mr. Grey hadn’t come along, there’s no telling what might have happened.”
“He is a grand fellow, isn’t he?”
Edna didn’t think so, and the fact that she had to rely on the impertinent scapegrace was galling and alarming. But since he’d rescued them from peril, she could hardly insult him.
“Yes, he’s been quite…kind.” It was the best she could manage. She scrutinized Fenton, wishing she was shrewder, wishing she knew him better.
When Theo had voiced the ridiculous charge, Edna had snapped at her. She concurred with Fenton. Where would a simple boy have gotten his hands on such evil figurines? It was silly to suppose he could have.
“You must swear to me that you had naught to do with it,” she severely said.
“It wasn’t I! I could swear on the Bible if you want.”
“We needn’t be melodramatic. You’ve vow
ed it wasn’t you, and I will accept your oath.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
She waved him away. “Go now and catch up with the others. Leave me to enjoy my tea in the peace and quiet.”
Mr. Grey had conveyed them to the shore, had moored their boats next to Edna’s supply boat. Yet the afternoon had been waning, so he’d suggested they stop for the night, then head out again in the morning.
There were some ruins off in the distance, and he’d offered to take Susan, Theo, and Mr. Price on a hike to explore them while the servants made camp and prepared to cook supper. Everyone in her party had traipsed off except Edna.
She might have to be gracious to Mr. Grey. She might have to welcome his assistance and follow his instructions, but that didn’t mean she had to be cordial or waste her leisure minutes consorting with him.
She sat in the shade of an awning, watching Fenton run after Susan and Theo, their shapes growing smaller as they walked toward the ruins. For a moment, she nearly called them back. With the afternoon ending, she didn’t want them so far away.
Then again, they were with Mr. Grey, and no doubt he was sufficiently competent to bring them home with no difficulty. She whipped away and studied the traffic on the river instead. It was terribly dull without the others to keep her company, but she wasn’t the type to mope over a bit of solitude.
She’d be fine until they returned. She’d be fine.
“What happened with the crew?”
“It was very odd and even a tad scary.”
Theo grinned up at Mr. Grey, being inordinately delighted that she’d prayed for a savior and he was the one who’d arrived.
“I can imagine,” he said.
“One of them opened a satchel, and he was digging around in it. Then he was clasping a carving and whispering to the others. Pretty soon, they were all checking their belongings, all shouting at Edna. The captain struggled to maintain order but couldn’t.”
“What were they shouting about?”
“He actually asked her why she would hex them.”
“Fenton hid them in their bags.”
“He might have,” she tepidly agreed, hating to believe he would.
