The London Deception

by Addison Fox

  Finn nodded, his understanding immediate. “And you’d like a private viewing?”

  “Let’s just say I love my fellow man in principle, but when I can jump the line, I’m all too willing.”

  She felt the light caress on her shoulder as they came to a stop in front of the Egyptian Sculpture Gallery. Although the museum boasted several popular rooms housing Egyptian antiquities, this one was by far the most favored—and most visited—due to the fact it housed the Rosetta stone.

  “You shouldn’t need to wait.” He traced her collarbone with the tip of one finger and Rowan could have sworn her stomach had just dropped out of the center of her body.

  Attraction washed through her system in hard, chopping waves of need, and her legs trembled as they stood at the entrance to Room 4. Their gazes locked as he dropped his hand from her shoulder, and Rowan couldn’t hold back the rush of disappointment at the loss of contact.

  With what she hoped was a casual move, she took a step closer. “It’s always more fun to have something unique and special all to yourself.”

  His gaze darkened, the hazel flashing over to a deep golden-brown. Once more, his hand returned to her shoulder, this time settling at the base of her neck. With gentle movements, he leaned in, his lips whisper soft against her ear. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Another wave of delicious shivers racked her system, and even as her body leaned toward his, more than willing to enjoy the moment, her mind screamed at her in protest.

  What had possibly possessed her to go down this path? They were business associates, working on a high-profile—and potentially dangerous—job. She needed to keep her wits about her, and instead she was letting her hormones do the talking.

  “Let’s get to it, then.”

  Humor had the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled, but he gave no other reaction as he stepped back. “Lead the way.”

  Rowan walked past the Rosetta stone, stopping briefly to look at one of the world’s most famous artifacts. The words on the stone registered in her mind as she read the decree from King Ptolemy V. “In the reign of the young one...”

  “Can you read it?” Finn’s question pulled Rowan from her perusal.

  “Yes.”

  “All three languages?”

  The briefest flush of embarrassment had heat creeping into her cheeks. “I’m not great at Demotic, but yes, I can read all three.”

  “That’s incredible.”

  “You don’t read hieroglyphics?”

  Finn shook his head, the regret clear in his voice. “I’ve never learned. I’m incredibly impressed you can.”

  The genuine appreciation in his gaze lit her up, and the warmth of embarrassment changed into something else.

  Excitement.

  While she didn’t lack for male attention, her agile mind and constant travel didn’t lend itself to many long-term relationships. And she’d discovered all too early that few men wanted to sit across a dinner table discussing Egyptian relics, ancient Persian dig sites or Mayan ruins.

  And no one she’d ever met had ever quite lived up to the young man in the mask who’d kept her safe on the worst night of her life.

  “Is this why we’re here?”

  “No.” Rowan shook her head, pulling herself from the distracted thoughts. Comparing Finn to old dates—or to a young man from a long-ago night—ran the risk of putting too much emphasis on the personal aspects of this trip and not nearly enough focus on why they were together. The find in Nefertari’s tomb was under threat of theft and they needed to be prepared to defend it.

  That was the reason she was here, and she’d do well to remember their trip required her full focus. “The bust of Ramesses II is at the end of the room.”

  “Of course. The Younger Memnon statue. And Nefertari’s husband.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You think there’s something on the statue?”

  “It can’t hurt to take a look. Nefertari was one of several wives, but she was purported to be the woman he loved.”

  “The statue’s been studied extensively. Do you really think there’s something there?”

  “There are hieroglyphs running down the back of the statue. As I remember, it’s basically the name and title of the king, and there’s a dedication to Amun-Ra. I’m curious if there’s anything else.”

  “He was quite the prolific king.” Finn’s large form kept pace with hers as they moved through the large hall. Priceless statues surrounded them and it pained her to pass by them so quickly, but it wasn’t time for a leisurely perusal.

  “He fathered eighty-five children.”

  His grin was quick, his white teeth flashing in the subdued night-lighting in the room. “That, too. But I meant that he was also politically savvy. He understood the benefit of putting images of himself all over Egypt. Hence the volume of statues that bear his likeness. And he also had one of the longest reigns in Egyptian history. Well over sixty-five years.”

  “You know your Egyptology.”

  “Right back at ya, Miss Steele.”

  “It’s fascinated me since I was little.” They came to a stop at the base of the statue, and as the bust of Ramesses II rose above them, she thought of her youth. Of the hours she’d spent poring over the books and photos in her grandfather’s library and the great joy she found visiting the museum on rainy Sundays, her hand wrapped in his.

  Egyptology was a passion they shared, and Alexander Steele could always be counted on for a rousing discussion on ancient antiquities or the interpretation of historic texts. “And I come by it honestly. My grandfather is a rabid hobbyist.”

  “I’d wager most archaeologists can trace their fascination to their earliest school days, learning about the pyramids.”

  “Everybody loves a good pyramid. Add a mummy or two and it makes it even better.”

  Finn tugged on his tie, the move shockingly sexy as he stared up at the immense bust and head of the ancient pharaoh. “Hollywood’s version does tend to focus a bit too heavily on the curse aspects, and decades of books and movies have framed how the public thinks of Egypt. Curses and mummies and ancient viziers bent on destruction.”

  Finn’s words faded to a dull roar as Rowan simply drank him in. The tie was gone and his crisp white shirt was open at the collar, exposing his throat. A light chill ran the length of her spine at the strong frame of his jaw and the firm lines of his neck. Goodness, the man was gorgeous.

  Brushing off that damnable pull of attraction, Rowan pulled her phone from her purse and opened up the camera icon. She had to get her head in the game. Had to focus.

  “You okay?”

  She looked up from her phone screen at the concern in his voice. “Of course. Why?”

  “You looked upset all of a sudden.”

  “No.” She mentally hunted for a topic, settling on something he’d just mentioned. As responses went it was fairly lame, but it kept her from admitting the truth. Somehow telling him she was fantasizing about running her lips over his neck while unbuttoning his shirt wasn’t the best way to kick off their partnership. “I think you’re right about the public’s perception of Egypt. It’s why this gallery is the most popular in the museum. Everyone loves to imagine the Egypt of myth, full of flowery and dramatic overtones.”

  “I don’t think the Egyptian tourist board minds much.”

  “No, but it does diminish the region’s rich history.”

  “That’s why we do what we do.”

  Rowan was caught by his comment. “How do you mean?”

  “The myths of ancient Egypt might have been what got me into what I’m doing, but it’s the reality of preserving pieces of history that keeps me in the game.”

  “That’s rather poetic.”

  That grin flashed once again. “It’s also rat
her lucrative, so I can hardly complain. I’m one of the lucky people who gets to combine what I love with my career. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” She took a few steps around the base of the statue until she could look up at the vertical rows of hieroglyphs that ran along the back of the statue and extended her phone toward Finn. “You’re taller. Can you take some photos for me?”

  Even with Finn’s added height—nearly a foot on her—the statue was considerably higher than both of them. He took the phone, his large fingers brushing over hers as he took the small device. All her effort to disregard his effect on her fled at the warmth of his touch.

  Electricity ran the length of her arm and she couldn’t stop the desperate urge to look at him. Those large shoulders, framed by the tailored cut of his suit jacket, held her attention longer than was necessary. Nor was it professional.

  But it was the raw hunger in his gaze that prevented her from looking away. His observation was that of a lover—complete and absolute—and Rowan fought another shiver as that sultry stare came to rest on her lips. Something flashed in his eyes—regret?—before he turned away from her and lifted the phone. “Let me take a few and you can look at them to see if they’re what you need.”

  “Of course.”

  Even though the statue was still too high to get a full-on photo, Finn’s longer reach enabled him to get the majority of the writing in view. “Here. See what we’ve got and if you can do anything with these.”

  Rowan flipped through the images Finn had captured, discarding a blurry one and another that didn’t fully capture the hieroglyps in the frame. It was as she came to the last two photos, though, that she knew he’d captured what she needed. “These are great. I’ve got the full inscription.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “Pretty much what’s been reported. His name and title are included along with a dedication to Amun-Ra.”

  “That makes sense. Worship of Amun-Ra was at its height during the reign of Ramesses and his father, Seti the first.”

  Rowan expanded the images on the phone, manipulating the screen until she could see several of the glyphs near the bottom. “The last few glyphs suggest something more personal.”

  “Can you read it?”

  “It’s a little faint and I’d like to compare it to some textbooks.”

  “This statue has been evaluated top to bottom, for nearly two centuries. It’s not possible that no one’s figured the words mean anything more than a listing of his accomplishments and a prayer.”

  A dull excitement throbbed in her veins. It was the knowledge that something was just out of reach. “No one’s discovered the secret cache in Nefertari’s tomb before, either.”

  “You think there’s something more to it?”

  The jovial camaraderie she’d felt from Finn since they’d entered the Egyptian hall had vanished, replaced with something darker. More serious.

  “If I’m understanding the glyphs correctly, this provides incontrovertible proof that Nefertari was his beloved wife.”

  “But history has always been clear on that. He had several wives, as was custom, but Nefertari was his great love.”

  How did she explain what was a sense more than anything else? “Yes, but it looks like marriage markings. Likely the same markings we’ll see on the wedding cache. It’ll be a key piece in the authentication.”

  “We already know that. The one thing everyone’s been clear on from the beginning is that the tomb is original and, up until now, undiscovered.” Finn’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “So you know how I was sort of making fun of how Hollywood has glamorized Egypt?”

  “Sure. Ancient pharaohs and mummy resurrections and the like.”

  “Well, if I’m reading everything correctly, among other things there’s a curse on the wedding cache.”

  * * *

  “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you believe that.”

  Finn watched those slim shoulders stiffen before she let out a delicate shrug. “It’s not about what we believe. It’s about those who are trying to get their hands on it.”

  Whatever he’d expected, Rowan’s harebrained revelation had turned every expectation he’d had for the evening on its ear. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? We’re not here for fun this evening, are we?”

  “No.”

  “Rowan—”

  She held up a hand. “Look. Can we get out of here first? We’ve been on every camera in this place for the last twenty minutes.”

  “You think someone’s watching us?”

  “We can’t discount it.”

  “If you were worried about being watched, we could have played this a hell of a lot differently.” His words came out on a growl, and the fierce stabs of anger at the idea she might be in danger surprised him in its ferocity.

  “How so?”

  Whether it was that simmering frustration or his sheer inability to stop thinking about getting his hands on her, Finn didn’t know.

  And he no longer cared.

  With quick movements, he had his hands at her waist, pulling her close as he pressed her back against the base of the Ramesses statue. Those incredible blue eyes widened for the briefest moment before he saw acknowledgment—and welcome—in their depths.

  And then her arms were around his neck and his mouth was hot on hers and there wasn’t any room for rational thought.

  Need flooded his system in harsh, pounding waves at finally having her in his arms once more. He’d thought about her for years—those odd moments that would grab him by the throat and shake him with the intense sense memories of their fated evening together—but the reality was far better.

  Phenomenally better.

  Finn sunk into the kiss and allowed all those pent-up years to take over. Her small, slim body wrapped around his, welcoming him and driving him crazy. Her soft, lush lips pressed to his, open and demanding as she matched his movements. Her champagne-tinged tongue parried his thrust for thrust.

  And when a small sigh escaped the back of her throat, floating up around them in the dark and quiet of the museum, Finn knew his sanity was on a crash course with oblivion.

  Those same lips that were driving him crazy curved against his in a smile as she pulled back. “Was that what you had in mind?”

  He bent his head and pressed his forehead to hers. “For days now.” Years, really.

  “We should probably get out of here.” Her gaze drifted in the direction of the nearest mounted security camera, one of hundreds. “I think we’ve given a proper amount of distraction.”

  “I’m not quite done yet.”

  He pressed his lips to hers for one more kiss. One more taste of that incredible mouth. One more moment with her arms wrapped around his waist and her indigo-blue gaze open, honest and wanting.

  “Finn—”

  She broke off the kiss once more, and even as he knew it was for the best, he wanted more. Wanted all.

  “We need to go.”

  “Of course.”

  Finn followed beside her, his hand resting against her lower back to ensure they kept up the show for anyone who might be watching until they reached the Great Court. “We got what we came for.”

  “And avoided a throng six deep of tourists.” Her lighthearted jest fell flat as they walked, that spark of attraction between the two of them drowning out even the simplest of remarks.

  “So we did.”

  They once again reached the entrance, and the night guard greeted them. “That was quick.”

  “Thanks again, Josh. I just wanted to show Mr. Gallagher a piece of Egyptian art.”

  “No problem, Ms. Steele. We look forward to having you both back.”

  Josh’s man-to
-man grin as they walked past confirmed he hadn’t missed the little show the two of them had put on in the Egyptian Sculpture Gallery. Although his body still bore the traces, Finn couldn’t argue with the results. He and Rowan had looked to the casual observer like lovers on an evening outing. Nothing more.

  Nothing more.

  So why did the thought twist him up and make him want more. A lot more.

  “It’s a nice night. Would you like to walk?”

  Rowan’s comment pulled him from the throes of frustration and Finn focused on her upturned face and bright smile. “It’s a bit cool. You sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “Here.” He stripped off his suit jacket and handed it to her, not ready to believe the thin material that clung to her like a caress could be all that warm.

  “Finn, I’m fine.”

  “It’s still a bit of a walk. Humor me.”

  He waved his driver on, instructing the man to wait for him at the Savoy before starting the walk toward the Strand. The heft of the museum faded behind them as the London evening wrapped around them, and Finn couldn’t fault Rowan for the suggestion of a walk. The night breeze was doing wonders for his head, airing out the sudden haze of madness that had descended the moment he’d pressed his lips to Rowan Steele’s.

  Just like before, on that night so long ago.

  Like a love-struck lunatic, he briefly wondered if she remembered, even though it had been more than evident she hadn’t recognized him.

  And what’d you expect, boyo? You were wearing a mask and she probably thinks you’re dead. That’s a fairly finite combination.

  Of course, he’d moved on—both their lives had demanded nothing less—but try as he might he’d never fully forgotten her. Kissing her tonight only reinforced his first impression.

  “Real nice trick back there, Peach.”

  “Thanks. Why do you keep calling me that?”

  “Because you’re lush and ripe, like a fresh peach.”

  A first impression that was now reinforced with the passage of time and a woman who was more than worth his interest.