by Addison Fox
“I don’t think I’m wired that way.”
“Even if you had a family?”
She was curious at Finn’s question. Even more so by the lack of clues on his face as to what he was thinking. Most everyone came to the subject of family—and one’s role within it—with a certain measure of personal opinion. It was a rare change to sense the absolute lack of judgment in him.
Rowan knew the loss of her parents had defined her life in a multitude of ways. The rush of adrenaline that fueled so much of her choices wasn’t easily satiated in other ways—nor had she looked all that hard for alternatives. But she also knew some of her choices were defined by her age and station in life.
Would she change if she had a family?
She certainly knew she’d put her children first, bar none. But was that even in the cards for her? No matter how she’d envisioned her future, a husband and children always occupied a sort of vague, hazy corner of her mind.
Nice to have but terribly hard to imagine in reality.
“I haven’t spent much time thinking about it. What about you? Would you give up the life?”
“I’ve never been one to tempt fate, so let’s just say it’s hard to imagine ever having to come to that choice.”
Rowan tried to detect something more behind his broad smile but Finn gave nothing away.
So why did she suddenly feel as if the sexy banter and get-to-know-you chatter they’d shared all morning had lost a bit of its luster?
* * *
Marriage and babies?
Finn was still cursing himself for the wayward questions as he followed Rowan down the long hallway toward her friend’s office. The evidence of higher learning surrounded them—a sensual mixture of the smell of old books and chalk, combined with the overtones of youthful excitement and anticipation.
When had he lost that?
He wasn’t that old. Hell, he’d done more before thirty than most men would do in a lifetime, and he still had a heck of a long life left. Or at least he hoped he did.
So why did he suddenly feel as if all his choices were on a pointless collision course with fate?
“Here it is.” Rowan stopped in front of a small office. “Will!”
A tall, thin man unfurled himself from behind a cluttered desk, and Finn was struck immediately by the warm light that filled the man’s eyes as he pulled Rowan into a tight hug. Aside from the odd picture they made, since Will was roughly six foot six to Rowan’s small, petite frame, there was a genuine warmth and a brotherly affection that spoke of long years of friendship.
“Rowan, my sweet.” Those cultured tones of England they’d laughed about earlier coated Will’s words before Finn received the brunt of his full attention. “Is this your friend?”
Rowan made brief introductions and it was only after Will had let go of his tight grip that the man spoke again. “I’m familiar with the work of your firm. The quality of the results is outstanding and we’ve placed a few students with your labs.”
“I’ve been well pleased with anyone who’s joined us from UCL.”
The tall man grabbed several folders off his guest chairs and gestured for them to sit down. It didn’t escape Finn’s notice Rowan pushed the office door closed before she perched on the edge of a stool next to Will’s desk. “Did you look at what I sent you?”
“I did. Let me pull it up again.”
Will began typing on his keyboard, dragging up whatever Rowan had sent him already, and Finn gave himself a few minutes to look around the office. Will’s small, disorganized space couldn’t be more different from the glass-enclosed environment Finn worked in at Gallagher, yet there was a commonality in their interests that was evident almost immediately.
Several books he kept on a small, sleek bookcase in his own office took prominence on Will’s shelves, and a monthly journal he had on his tablet sat in printed form on the top of a stack of mail on the desk.
Common interests, different choices.
Wasn’t that really what he and Rowan had been discussing on the ride over?
“I’ve been through all the files you sent me.” Will shot Rowan a lopsided grin. “You’re lucky I don’t sleep, although Debbie wasn’t all that happy with you last night.”
“I’ll send her a big box of chocolate in thanks for the help.”
Will’s grin was lopsided. “I already tried it. No dice.”
“I’ll call her and apologize. I’m usually nicer at it than you are. Knowing you, you probably grunted at her as you dug through all the information.” Rowan beat on her chest. “‘Me archaeologist. You my woman.’ All that flowery crap you’re so bad at and all.”
Finn couldn’t hold back the smile at the funny conversation between Will and Rowan—conversation that batted back and forth faster than a match at Wimbledon.
“Did you look at the glyphs?”
“Yes, and we’ll get to that.” Will tapped a few keys on his computer, and Finn saw a new web page load on the screen. “But first, how up are you on the chatter going down over this dig?”
“I ran the Egyptology forum sites the other night, after I accepted the job from Finn.”
Will nodded and Finn didn’t miss the narrow-eyed gaze. “You pay attention to the thread on the meaning of the jewelry.”
“What thread?” Finn shifted to the edge of his chair to get a better view of the screen. “I took a look at the chatter as well and didn’t see anything.”
“It’s buried pretty deep, but it’s there.” Will tapped a few more keys that brought up a message board. “Buried way down deep, but take a look.”
Finn scanned the screen, his gaze alighting on the repeated use of the words curse, fate and high priest. “You can’t be serious.”
Will shrugged, his gaze never leaving the screen as he navigated through several posts. “I’ve never been big on that sort of thing, but it doesn’t matter what I think. All you need is a fanatic with a mission and you’ve got a problem on your hands.”
“What’s it say?” Finn leaned farther forward but his progress was stopped by a towering stack of what appeared to be term papers.
“Oh, come on, Finn.” He didn’t miss the distinct notes of disdain in Rowan’s tone. “You can’t think anyone takes this seriously.”
Will raised his voice to be heard over her protests. “The rumors say that the wedding jewelry discovered in the cache will reunite lovers, bring people back from the dead, that sort of nonsense.”
“Anything else?”
A light flush crept up Will’s neck, but he kept going. “The wedding texts are also purported to house a recipe for a fairly strong sexual stimulant.”
“No way.” Rowan’s protests grew louder. “You think someone’s going to rob the tomb for an ancient recipe for Viagra? Come on. I might not think Baxter Monroe knows his head from his ass, but he’s still a scholar. That has to count for something.”
Even though he had no great love for Monroe, Finn did acknowledge Rowan had a point. With that thought came another, swiftly on its heels. “What if it’s a front?”
“For what?” Rowan looked up from her perch over Will’s shoulder, where she read the posts.
“To raise interest. Pull things off course maybe and hide the real prize. Nothing perks up the media like a good dose of sex talk, in any form they can get it. Add that to ancient Egypt, which has a high degree of interest anyway, and you’ve got a newsperson’s dream.”
“It still doesn’t make a lot of sense.” Although she disagreed, Finn was intrigued to watch her work through the details out loud. Which wasn’t all that different from watching her eat breakfast or ride the Tube or talk to Will.
She fascinated him.
A dull throb settled in the base of his skull at the increasing evidence of his interest in her.
&n
bsp; Why had he thought this was a good idea? Rowan Steele might be one of the world’s experts on the provenance of antiquities, but there were others. Well-qualified individuals who could work on the project and whom he’d have no interest in seeing, let alone talking to, after the authentication was over.
“This is modern times. The world’s sort of moved past believing in curses. People are too attached to their technology to believe some supernatural force is going to sweep in and hurt them.”
“So if we go with Finn’s idea, what could it be a cover-up for? I leave you to ponder that.” Will pulled them both back to the problem at hand as he pointed toward the screen. “Want to go over the glyphs on the back of the Younger Memnon statue?”
“You found something?” Whatever Rowan had been willing to argue vanished in the face of more details that would lead to better understanding the discovery in Nefertari’s tomb. “Those last two glyphs on the statue?”
“You were right. They are about Nefertari.” Will leaned forward, his gaze focused on the computer screen. “‘Great king’s wife, his beloved. The one for whom the sun shines.’”
Finn thought through the translation, but couldn’t understand how there was anything new. “Those epitaphs for her have been found on other markings. It’s not uncommon.”
“No, but this last glyph is.”
“So you agree with me?” Rowan had already moved to stand over Will’s shoulder again.
“I agree the glyph’s highly unusual, but I don’t think it’s tied to a curse. At least not overtly beyond the standard ‘don’t mess with the tomb or else’ language.”
“What do you think it is tied to?” The excitement threaded underneath her words was unmistakable as she pointed toward the computer screen. “Especially since it hasn’t raised any questions up to now.”
Will sat back in his seat with a heavy thud. “Because no one knew about the markings that hadn’t yet been discovered in the tomb. They’re the key. And the match.”
“Ho there. For the lay people over here who don’t read hieroglyphics.” Finn waved his hands. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Excitement practically telegraphed itself off Rowan’s small form as she danced her way around the desk. “The glyphs are clues to Nefertari’s lineage and the family who gave her to Ramesses in marriage.”
Even without the level of knowledge Rowan and Will possessed, Finn knew the reality of what they suspected was more than extraordinary. Nefertari’s heritage was one of the greatest mysteries in Egyptian history. “What does it say?”
Will spoke first, intoning the same inscription from before. “‘Great king’s wife, his beloved. The one for whom the sun shines. Descendant of all that is good.’”
But it was Rowan’s voice, quiet and full of ceremony, that added the context that made it real. “That last glyph matches the first images sent back already from the dig site.”
“Which means when we excavate more deeply into the chamber, we’ll find the rest of the message.” Finn pointed toward the screen. “Do you have the images sent back?”
Will flipped through a few screen before Finn stopped him.
“There. That one.”
The picture was dull, the lighting not optimal in the photograph, but the evidence of what Rowan and Will both believed was easy to see. Finn pointed toward the lower corner of the screen, where the imagery faded off into hard-packed earth. “That’s it, right? The advance team in there already believes there’s about six more feet of wall to uncover.”
“That’s the spot.” Color rode her cheeks into a vivid pink, and in that moment, Finn saw the love and excitement she had for her job. For how she made her life.
This was not a woman who’d be content to live behind the scenes or ride a desk.
Ever.
“We’ll discover where Nefertari came from, Finn. One of the oldest mysteries in Egyptology will be explained.”
The excitement he saw there—the near blind devotion to possessing that history—rose up and gripped him by the throat. He’d seen that same look once before, on the face of a young girl as she admired the rich patina of gold that overlaid a priceless bracelet worn by Queen Victoria.
And in the depths of that excitement, he saw the proof that she’d take any risk to attain her goal.
* * *
Finn was still off-kilter from their meeting a few hours later as they walked through St. James’s Park. The jostling, packed subway car that had carried them back toward the city center hadn’t helped his mood, but he knew the root of his discomfort went far deeper.
The October afternoon was a rarity in London with clear blue skies and a pleasant temperature that almost made their light jackets unnecessary. Despite the beauty of the day—and the beauty of his companion—he couldn’t shake off the unease that rode hard against his shoulder blades.
Their meeting with Will turned up little except the man’s promise he’d keep digging into whatever else had been found or cataloged to date at the site. He also promised to reach out to his private network to see what the word was on the cache.
Finn had been thrilled when this job came to Gallagher International. He knew it wasn’t without risks, but the opportunity and the ultimate payoff were considerable. Hell, he’d cultivated a relationship with the British Museum—and put up with wankers like Baxter Monroe—specifically to get access to opportunities like the Nefertari tomb.
So why was he so itchy?
The two of them walked along a wide footpath, Rowan’s smile broad and happy. She turned toward him and he was captivated by her warmth. “That was a productive morning.”
“I owe you some serious credit for the hieroglyphs on the Ramesses statue. While I enjoyed our late-night romp through the museum, I never expected those photos would pay off.”
“They’ll pay off even better when we get that wall fully exposed in Nefertari’s tomb. It changes everything.”
Was that the reason for his unease? That the job he’d prepared for had suddenly changed? “Come on, Rowan. You know we’re not going to get much of a chance at it.”
“Of course we will. We’re the only ones who know it’s there.”
“Right. And the moment you uncover it, Baxter Monroe will shut us out of there so fast it won’t be funny. We’re there to authenticate the wedding objects, not manage the scholarly aspects of the dig.”
“We’re both qualified to do both.”
“You’re qualified. I’m just the guy who provides the authentication services when they hit the mother lode.”
She stopped walking to face him, and Finn couldn’t help but notice how the bright blue sky was nearly a perfect match for her eyes. “You think I’m letting Baxter anywhere near the wall? He thinks the jewels are the big deal. I’m going to go for that darkened corner no one thinks matters.”
“That’s not why we were hired.”
“Who the hell cares why we were hired, Finn? It’s the find of a century. Hell, two centuries. Speculation has always run rampant about who Nefertari was. With this discovery we’ll know her lineage and even possibly how she came to be Ramesses’s consort. Despite the fact he had several wives, she was the one he loved and trusted above them all. This may explain why.”
Whether it was a combination of his strange unease from the morning visit to Will or the rising sense he was losing control of the work—work he’d deliberately brought Rowan in for—Finn didn’t know.
And suddenly, he didn’t care.
“It’s still not the reason we were hired.”
“So we change the game. React on the fly.”
“Like you did in the Warrington house twelve years ago?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Those blue eyes that so captivated him flashed over to anger in a blazing heartbeat.
; “You heard me. You barreled into danger at sixteen and you’ve obviously not gotten a hell of a lot smarter in the ensuing years. The dig isn’t ours. Doesn’t matter what you or I think about that—the museum owns it. They’ve got the permit on it. And it’s the British Museum that’s deigned to allow us on as hired guns. They want us to authenticate the cache, nothing more. Don’t forget that.”
“I can’t believe you’re copping out like this.”
“And I can’t believe I’m on the verge of asking you off the project.”
Rowan dropped onto a nearby bench. “You can’t do that.”
“I can and I will, if you’re unwilling to take my lead. This is Gallagher International’s project. I brought you in as a subcontractor for your expertise.”
The anger he wanted to hold on to flitted away at the sheer sadness that filled her face. “This is the project of a lifetime.”
“It won’t be if it gets you killed.”
Something in his words must have broken through because he saw a subtle change come over her. The anger hadn’t vanished, per se, but it was almost as if she picked it up and set it aside for the moment.
She tugged on his hand, pulling him down next to her onto the bench. As he sat, his large frame dwarfing hers, he couldn’t help but make the quick comparison between them. She was so delicate, like a tiny pixie.
A crazed pixie, if the thunderous look in her eyes was any indication.
“I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt for five minutes before I pull out my crazy-ass-bitch persona. But I warn you, it’s pretty damn lethal.”
“I’m not playing, Rowan.”
“Neither am I. So let me have it. Something has you weirded out and I want to know what it is.”
Well hell, how did he explain it?
It had all started in Will’s office. What had started as subtle humor at Rowan and Will’s strange sort of half language had morphed into something else as their discussion ramped up speed.
This project was historically significant yet the advance chatter was filled with curses and sex potions. Even the jewels themselves, while a significant find, had a strange air of distraction about them.
