Only You

by Cheryl Holt

  “Where are you, Theo? Where?” he murmured.

  There was a wild splashing, and he whirled to find her fighting to the surface. A hand was raised and flailing about. The closest sailor plunged over and grabbed her, but she was so panicked that she latched on and frantically dragged him under.

  She was confused and grappling with him, and Soloman rushed over and assisted the sailor so their combined strength could pull her up before she drowned them both.

  She broke the surface again, sputtering and crying, and Soloman wrapped his arms around her, gripping her as if her life depended on it, which it did. The sailor had a tight grip too.

  “Theo! Theo! It’s me!” he said over and over. “You’re fine now. You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

  He repeated himself a thousand times, and she finally mumbled, “Soloman?”

  “Yes. You’re all right. You’re all right.”

  At realizing she was safe, her energy fled, and she went limp. He and the sailor swam together, hauling her to the boat where several competent men reached down and lifted her over the rail.

  Soloman scrambled up after her and knelt by her side. She was coughing, weeping, gagging. He leaned over her, whispering soothing words as the porters delivered blankets, brandy, and a pillow for her head.

  Edna and Susan Wallace dashed up, and Edna shooed Soloman away. He let her push him back, figuring Theo would rather have her female kinfolk tending her.

  With the drama ended, he shifted away and scanned every corner of the deck, looking for Fenton, but he was nowhere to be found.

  “Tell your mother what you did to Lady Theo.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Soloman seized Fenton by the neck and shook him hard.

  “Tell her the truth, you wretch, or I’ll beat it out of you.”

  “I swear I tripped. I simply bumped into her and she fell.”

  “You liar. We saw you shove her.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Did you think you were being funny? She could have drowned!”

  “She didn’t.”

  “No thanks to you. I ought to take a stick to you.”

  They were on the banks of the river, on a flat sandy beach. The porters were making camp for the night. After Theo had been rescued, everyone—especially Soloman—had been too upset to continue. He’d given orders to halt for the rest of the day.

  Soloman hadn’t spoken to Theo yet. Edna had hustled her below and put her to bed, but Susan Wallace had emerged later to apprise Soloman that she was awake and alert and wanted him to know she was quickly recuperating.

  As to Soloman, he was on the shore and trapped in an impossible web that was too hideous to abide. Mrs. Wallace was seated in a chair, observing as Soloman chastised Fenton. At his threat to beat the malicious bastard, she scowled.

  “There will be no beating, Mr. Grey. Cease your berating of my son. If there’s punishment to be dished out, I will handle it.”

  “Are you supposing this was an accident, Mrs. Wallace?”

  “I’m not certain what occurred. Theo told me she wasn’t either.”

  “She received a hearty shove from this little knacker.”

  He squeezed his fingers against Fenton’s neck so he squirmed and struggled to wrestle free.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Fenton claimed.

  “He constantly plays tricks on her,” Soloman seethed to Mrs. Wallace. “When I initially met her at the bazaar, he’d sneaked off and left her alone in the crowd. On purpose! She begged me not to inform you, so you wouldn’t fret about it, but he abandoned her to fend for herself. I’m positive he sent the hotel porters home too, so she couldn’t get back.”

  “Is that true, Fenton?” Mrs. Wallace asked him.

  “No, Mother. We were separated. It wasn’t intentional. I searched for her everywhere.”

  “If I hadn’t come along,” Soloman fumed, “any misfortune might have befallen her. He’s deliberately trying to hurt her, and I’ve had it with him. She might have died!”

  Fenton could have been an actor on the stage. As if on cue, he burst into tears. “I love Theo, Mother. I would never harm her.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t, Fenton.”

  “When she tumbled over the rail, I was terrified.”

  “I know you were,” Mrs. Wallace commiserated.

  He gave a particularly well-timed sob. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’d never harm her.”

  “Yes, I believe you, Fenton, and that’s enough for now. You’re excused.”

  Fenton wiggled out of Soloman’s grasp and ran off. At the last second, when his mother couldn’t see, he grinned at Soloman as if bragging that he’d gotten away with it, that his mother took his side.

  Soloman was angrier than he’d been in ages.

  “So that’s it?” he asked Mrs. Wallace. “He pulls a dangerous prank, nearly kills her, and he’s permitted to trot off with no consequences?”

  “He said he didn’t do it, Mr. Grey.”

  “I say he did.”

  “The boy is…spirited. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” he spat. “I’m in charge on this journey, Mrs. Wallace, and I realize my assuming command was totally against your wishes.”

  “It was,” she curtly snapped.

  “But I am in charge, and my word is law. If he lays a finger on her again, I’ll beat him bloody, and your opinion won’t matter a whit.”

  He figured she’d retort with an insulting comment about his past or violent reputation, so he spun away and stormed off before she could enrage him even further.

  He marched to her boat, and she called, “Where are you off to, Mr. Grey? Don’t you dare accost my son.”

  “Your son can go to the devil.”

  “Then what are you planning?”

  “I’m checking on Lady Theo.” He flashed a malevolent glare. “And don’t try to stop me—or I’ll pitch you in the river, and I’ll send Fenton to drag you out. We’ll see how you like it.”

  He stomped up the gangplank, his furious strides causing the vessel to sway dramatically. He went to the ladder and down into the hold. There was a hall at the bottom, and with the shallow conditions of the Nile, there wasn’t much height in the hull. He had to bend down so he didn’t bang his head on the ceiling.

  Theo’s cabin was the first one on the left. As he entered, she was sitting up in bed, a sheet over her lap. She was dressed in a white nightgown with purple flowers embroidered across the bodice. Her glorious blond hair was down and brushed out, curling over her shoulders and arms.

  She looked like an invalid, young and pretty and frail, as if she’d survived a lengthy and debilitating illness.

  Susan Wallace was with her, seated in a chair in the corner.

  “Leave us,” he snarled at Miss Wallace.

  “My mother wouldn’t like it,” she snootily responded.

  “I don’t care.”

  She peered over at Theo, and Theo nodded her out. “It’s all right, Susan.” She grinned an impish grin at Soloman. “Will you promise not to ravish me the moment she departs?”

  “I’ll try to control myself,” he sarcastically replied.

  Susan walked out, saying, “I’ll be outside.”

  “Go away, Miss Wallace. Go far away. I’ve had enough of the Wallace family for one afternoon.”

  He glowered so vehemently that she couldn’t refuse. He stood in the doorway until he heard her footsteps overhead on the deck as she debarked.

  Then he eased a hip onto the mattress. Because the cabin was very small, it was a narrow bunk, but the feather mattress was plush and comfortable. Valois only hired crews that supplied the best quality.

  He took her hands in his own and searched her beautiful blue eyes.

  “They told me you were fine,” he said, “but I had to be certain.”

  “I am fine. I’m still coughing up water, and I’m a tad nauseous, but I’m fine. Don’t ask me to stand
though. My legs are a bit weak.”

  “You scared the life out of me.”

  “How did you know I fell in?”

  “Mr. Price saw you, and I dove in immediately.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He closed the distance between them and kissed her. “You’re a fighter, Theo.”

  “I never imagined I was, but perhaps I am.”

  “I couldn’t believe how you pushed yourself to the surface.”

  “I wasn’t about to have my trip ruined by drowning before the journey had a chance to get interesting.”

  He snorted at that. “Fenton shoved you over the rail.”

  She glanced away. “I might have simply lost my balance.”

  “Don’t defend him to me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You have to be more cautious around him.”

  “I will be. It just happened so fast. I didn’t have time to react.”

  “He likely assumed it was an innocent prank, but he could have killed you.”

  “Maybe.”

  He dipped in and kissed her again, and she hugged him tight—as if she was desperate to be reassured by his solid presence.

  “I was so afraid,” she murmured.

  “So was I.”

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “Silly girl,” he said. “I’m like a bad rash. You can’t be rid of me that easily.”

  “I’m so glad you were here. If you hadn’t been, there’s no predicting how it might have ended.”

  She might have perished, he thought, but didn’t tell her so. She recognized the gravity of the event and didn’t have to be reminded.

  She started to cry, but he couldn’t bear to witness any upset. The calamity was over, and she’d been very, very lucky.

  “What’s this? Tears?” he gently asked.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted and my emotions are jumping all over the place.”

  He used the sheet to dry her cheeks. “You can’t be sad.”

  “I’m not sad. I’m grateful and drained.”

  “I’ll do a better job of watching over you in the future. In fact, I’ll stay on your boat with you from now on.”

  “Aunt Edna won’t like it.”

  “Actually,” he said after he’d considered, “I’ll have you travel with me. We’ll keep you away from Fenton.” She might have argued that it wasn’t necessary, but Solomon wouldn’t have listened. “You have to be safe, Theo. I’ll have you sail with me, and it doesn’t matter what your aunt thinks about it.”

  She was too worn down to protest. “All right.”

  “What do you need at the moment?”

  “Just to rest.”

  “Take a long nap then. After you awaken, I hope you’ll feel up to joining me for supper.”

  “I’ll try. I can’t promise anything.”

  “I’ll check on you later.”

  “I’d like it if you would.”

  She scooted down so her head was on the pillow, and he covered her with the sheet. He ran a palm down her hair, across her back and thigh. She seemed to crave his solid presence, and he seemed to crave hers too.

  “Sleep tight,” he said.

  “I will—now that you’ve visited me.”

  “If I don’t see you at supper, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He sat in the chair Miss Wallace had vacated, and with the room being so narrow, he was able to hold her hand as she dozed off. In two seconds flat, she was out like a light, but even though she was slumbering deeply, he didn’t leave her.

  In the short time they’d been acquainted, he’d flirted horridly, and he’d presumed he was amusing himself at her expense. But suddenly, he was being pelted by the strangest emotions.

  He wanted to remain with her all night. He wanted to stretch out beside her and cradle her in his arms. He wanted to protect and shelter and care, which was terrifying and unnerving.

  Years earlier, he’d sworn he’d never bond with anyone again. Connections only brought anguish and betrayal, and they weren’t worth the risk. He’d hardened his heart, and he wouldn’t relent merely because Theodosia Postlewaite had stumbled into his life.

  Still though, it felt grand to be with her in the quiet space, and though he should have departed, he didn’t. He dawdled forever, until the shadows out the window began to change, until he sensed someone walking up the gangplank, the boat rocking slightly as the person boarded.

  It was probably Edna Wallace, come to look in on her niece, to find out why he hadn’t returned to the deck, and he was in no mood to quarrel with her. He simply yearned to revel in the fact that Theo hadn’t been hurt. He was focused on that and naught else.

  He slid his hand away and tucked hers under the sheet. As he let go of her, she scowled, but didn’t rouse.

  “Sweet dreams,” he whispered like the silliest romantic.

  Then he tiptoed out before he was caught mooning over her like a love-struck boy.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hello, Mr. Grey.”

  “Hello, Lady Theo. Fancy meeting you here.”

  Theo grinned at Soloman, then shifted her gaze away. It was getting harder and harder to hide her infatuation.

  “We’re at Cedric Webster’s camp,” he said. “What is your opinion of it?”

  “Of which part?”

  “Well, how about Cedric Webster? What do you think of him?”

  She leaned nearer so no one would overhear. “He’s an odd duck, isn’t he?”

  “Quite odd. And how about his grand archeological discovery?”

  “From how Edna gushed, it’s a bit…smaller than I expected.”

  “So it is.”

  “After passing so many ruins on the way, I envisioned he’d have dozens of ancient cities dug up.”

  Soloman shrugged. “He’s very determined. He might find them yet.”

  As Soloman had promised, she’d spent the past two days on his boat rather than Edna’s. Edna had fumed over Soloman’s decision, and she’d demanded Theo stay on the deck in plain sight. Theo had been delighted to comply with the edict, because she’d had Soloman close by for most of the journey. They’d been able to chat and joke and eat their meals together.

  When he’d pointed out Mr. Webster’s settlement along the river and explained that they would dock very soon, her spirits had flagged. The entire purpose of the trip had been to reach the camp, but arrival meant Soloman would be traveling on without her, and she wasn’t ready to be separated from him.

  Thankfully, Mr. Price was in no hurry to continue on. He’d fawned over Mr. Webster until the older man had urged him to remain and explore.

  But Mr. Price wasn’t fascinated by Mr. Webster’s project. Clearly, he wanted to be with Susan, and while Theo should have been disturbed by his ploy, she wasn’t. His scheme ensured that Soloman would dawdle too.

  Mr. Webster had invited Theo, Edna, and Susan to supper. He’d invited Soloman too, but he’d declined, so he’d missed the strange event. Webster had been digging in the desert for over two decades, but hadn’t put down any roots. He still lived in a tent—as if he’d just debarked. It was a very large tent, but it was a tent.

  Although they hadn’t dressed for the meal as they had at Valois’s, his staff had dished out an excellent five-course repast, complete with fine china and linen napkins. Mr. Webster carried on like a nomad, but he had exquisite taste in household furnishings.

  He was a peculiar fellow, short and grizzled with white hair that stood on end as if he were a mad scientist. He was a rich American, from an industrialist family, so he had plenty of money to loaf and search for artifacts.

  His excavation site was basically a village of servants and workers, but the whispered gossip was that—despite his imposing reputation—he’d never made any important discoveries. His venture was built next to an unimpressive pyramid. He was convinced there was a secret tomb under it that was filled with
gold, so he kept on.

  Theo liked the place because there were many groomed paths where she could disappear for hours and Edna would never see how she was occupying her time. At the moment, she was enjoying a moonlight stroll with Soloman down by the river.

  Mr. Webster and Colonel Wallace had been school chums, so Edna had lingered after supper to regale Webster with tales of the Colonel’s adventures in India. She’d seemed so happy to have an adult with whom to socialize that she hadn’t commented when Theo had claimed she was returning to her tent.

  Soloman had been waiting around the first bend in the path.

  “I’m glad Mr. Price was so eager to tarry,” she said.

  He snorted. “Yes, his sudden interest in archeology is amazing, isn’t it?”

  “I take it we’re thinking the same thing.”

  “That he’s delayed because of Miss Wallace?”

  “Yes.”

  “I asked him about her, and he insisted they weren’t dallying, that he’d considered it, then changed his mind.”

  “He has an unusual way of showing his lack of pursuit.”

  “Doesn’t he though?”

  “How many days will he be able to stretch out his visit before Mr. Webster begins to hint that he’s worn out his welcome?”

  “Webster is distracted by his work. If Preston keeps his head down, Webster will likely never notice that he hasn’t left.”

  Theo chuckled. “If he stays, you stay, so I’m not complaining.”

  “Are you getting used to having me around?”

  “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “Too late.”

  “We had a pleasant voyage, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, and Fenton had no chance to shove me in again—due to your vigilance.”

  “The miserable whelp,” he muttered. “If it was up to me, he’d never come within a hundred yards of you. After that prank, if I’d been his father, I’d have immediately sent him home to England.”

  “I like having you fuss over me. No one ever has.”

  “It’s definitely odd.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t fuss over others, and I can’t figure out why I’ve decided to become your personal bodyguard.”