by Laura Martin
‘Shabti,’ Emma interrupted.
Sebastian looked at her appraisingly.
‘Late third-century BC, if I’m not mistaken. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say it was from the tomb of a very wealthy man.’
Emma glanced at Sebastian. He was momentarily lost for words. Emma didn’t think it was an occurrence that happened often.
‘How do you know that?’ he asked.
Emma shrugged. ‘I’ve studied a little around the subject.’
That was an understatement. Egyptology had once been a hobby for her, but in the last few years it had become more of an escape. When all else had seemed bleak, Egyptology had been her saviour.
‘How did you come by this piece?’ Emma asked.
Sebastian studied her for a second, as if contemplating whether to tell her the truth.
‘It was just lying around,’ he said with a shrug.
Emma felt acute disappointment. She’d wanted him to be honest with her, no matter how unpalatable the truth. She’d had enough lies from men to last her a lifetime. Here was just another man who lied rather than admit the truth. When they reached Cairo she would put him from her mind, even if she struggled to forget the thrill she experienced when he looked at her and smiled.
Chapter Two
Sebastian leaned in closer to the delectable Miss Knight, raised a hand and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He felt her stiffen at the contact and shift farther away from him. He frowned. If Sebastian was good at anything in life, it was reading other people’s expressions and mannerisms. A few minutes earlier, when he had first introduced himself, he’d detected a spark of desire in Miss Knight’s eyes. Now she was positively frosty. He wondered exactly what he’d done to bring about this change.
‘It’s a well-preserved piece,’ Emma said, tracing her thumb over the Shabti in her hand. ‘I’m sure it’s worth a lot of money.’
A good few hundred pounds. Enough to keep him in business for months to come.
‘And such historical value. It’s a shame, really,’ she mused.
‘A shame?’
‘That it will end up on the bottom of the Nile.’
With a swift movement she leant over the edge of the felucca and held the Shabti above the water.
He lunged forward, catching her wrist in his hand. Her fingers still gripped the artefact but it would only take one movement to send it to the bottom of the river, never to be seen again.
‘I don’t like being lied to,’ she said.
Sebastian almost laughed. She was doing this because he’d lied to her?
‘How did you come to be in possession of such a piece?’
He shifted slightly, aware his body was pressed up against hers in a most delightful manner. If he wasn’t careful, her protective old bodyguard would have a sword up against his throat for bad behaviour.
‘I had a scroll,’ he said. ‘It hinted at the location of a chamber under the Temple of Horus.’
He saw the interest flash in her eyes and he relaxed. Here was a woman who loved Egypt. She wouldn’t destroy a piece of its history by dropping it into the Nile.
‘I spent a week searching for it and today I got lucky.’
‘And the men who were chasing you?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘They’d noticed my sustained interest in the temple and were out to take the Shabti for themselves. The market for genuine ancient Egyptian artefacts is one where demand is greater than supply. No doubt they worked for one of the more underhand antiquities dealers in Cairo.’
‘Was there anything else in the chamber?’
He could hear the excitement in her voice and found her excitement enthusing him. He let go of her wrist and leant back, relaxing.
‘The entrance was hidden under a huge stone slab. Once I managed to move it to one side, it revealed a narrow staircase.’
He watched as Emma unconsciously brought her hand back over the side of the boat and cradled the artefact between her fingers. Her eyes were alight with a passion he knew was reflected in his own when talking about archaeology.
‘I had to take a flaming torch down the stairs to illuminate the chamber below. The flickering light revealed the most wonderful paintings all over the walls.’
‘Were they colourful?’ Emma asked.
He nodded.
She looked back towards the Temple of Horus wistfully.
‘All the paintings I’ve seen whilst I’ve been in Egypt have been exposed to the elements,’ she explained. ‘The colours have faded. I’d love to see something so well preserved.’
Seb nearly found himself promising to take her to see the chamber below the Temple of Horus, but thankfully stopped himself before the words formed on his lips. The last thing he needed was to spend time acting as tour guide for a wide-eyed English lady. She might be a very pretty lady, but she was off-limits. She had that air of the upper class about her, and, although Seb had left the English gentleman part of his persona behind many years ago when he’d left England, he knew better than to dally with an unmarried innocent young woman. As much as he wanted to.
Emma Knight was exactly the kind of young woman his father had been so eager for him to marry all those years ago. Petite, blonde, pretty and innocent. The very embodiment of the saying ‘an English rose’. Seb had refused then, and now he was too old and worldly-wise to get himself in trouble over a pretty face and an enthusiastic smile.
‘I would offer to take you to the chamber,’ Seb said smoothly, ‘but unfortunately I’m not sure I’d be welcome.’
She nodded, clearly disappointed to have missed such a well-preserved slice of Egypt.
‘The chamber had a few statues dotted around, and on a raised stone platform was that Shabti.’
Emma glanced down to the Shabti in her hands, running her fingers over the engravings one last time before holding it out to him.
‘Thank you,’ he said, slipping the artefact back into his bag.
‘Will you sell it?’ Emma asked.
He nodded.
‘I would find it so hard to part with something so beautiful.’
Seb shrugged. Once, many years ago, he’d felt the same, but he couldn’t afford to be sentimental now. He had a business to run, and employees who relied on him to sell the artefacts they found, not become attached to them.
Mohammed shouted from the front of the boat and pointed ahead of them.
‘Cairo,’ Seb explained. ‘Is it your first visit?’
Emma nodded, her eyes widening with excitement.
‘You won’t want to miss this.’
Seb stood and held out his hand to help Emma rise to her feet. They moved to the edge of the felucca and watched the city take shape before their eyes.
Ten years ago when Seb had left England he’d been directionless, moving from place to place. He hadn’t known where he would settle or how he would make a living. He’d sailed down the Nile in a felucca very much like this one and when he’d caught his first glimpse of Cairo he’d known he was home.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Emma said.
Seb had heard Cairo being called many things but beautiful wasn’t the usual response. Most people fresh from the rolling green hills of England thought Cairo was dirty and dusty. Only a few saw the gem nestled in the desert, the charm of the whitewashed buildings and the narrow streets.
‘This is only the beginning,’ he said quietly to Emma.
She turned to him, the enthusiasm evident on her face.
‘I want to see it all,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually here.’
Seb watched her as she looked out at the dusty city. He wondered what this well-brought-up young lady was doing so far away from home. There were plenty of Europeans in Cairo—the West had become interested i
n what Egypt had to offer in the last few years—but you didn’t see many unmarried, basically unchaperoned young women out here on their own.
He glanced at Emma’s elderly protector. He was originally from Egypt, if Seb wasn’t much mistaken. He watched his young mistress like a hawk, but Seb doubted he would be much use if she actually got herself into a dangerous situation. And he didn’t think Miss Emma Knight was the retiring kind of woman who kept herself out of danger well.
‘What are your plans when we reach Cairo?’ Seb asked.
For the first time since he’d met her, Seb noticed a veil come down over Emma’s expression. She glanced at him warily.
‘We will be staying with Colonel and Mrs Fitzgerald,’ she said after a few seconds. ‘They were friends of my father and have promised to help me arrange some trips to see different temples and tombs.’
Intriguing. If he wasn’t much mistaken she had a hidden agenda, something she didn’t want him to know about.
‘Mrs Fitzgerald is at the centre of the Cairo social scene.’
Emma looked at him quizzically. ‘There’s a Cairo social scene?’
He laughed. ‘Nothing like what you’d be used to in London, I’m sure.’
‘Are you part of this social scene?’
Seb glanced at her again. Anyone else with that question he would have assumed was flirting with him, but Emma’s face was free from guile. She was just genuinely interested.
‘The runaway son of an English lord? I’m the guest of honour at most of these events. The community here does love a little bit of scandal.’
He saw her face fall as he said the word scandal and wondered if Emma was running from something back home, too. He couldn’t imagine the woman in front of him being embroiled in anything worth gossiping about. She was too open, too sweet in nature.
He didn’t have time to enquire further. Mohammed shouted a request and immediately Seb was on his feet, helping his old friend guide the felucca into the jetty.
Seb breathed in the smell of the city. He felt at home in Cairo. He loved going on trips around Egypt, searching for lost temples or tombs, seeking the pharaohs’ treasures of old, but he felt most happy in Cairo.
Once the felucca was secured Seb waited whilst Ahmed and Emma got ready to disembark.
‘There’s a bit of a gap,’ he said. ‘Watch you don’t fall.’
Emma gathered her skirts in her hand and lifted her foot to step over the side of the felucca. Seb could see she was going to trip before her foot even met the wood. She stumbled, careening towards the water. Instinctively he leant forward and swept her into his arms. He lifted her over the side of the boat and set her gently down on the wooden jetty. Her body was pressed against his and he could feel she was trembling slightly. She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the sun, and her lips parted a little.
Seb felt his head dip towards hers slowly. One arm was looped around her waist, holding her close to him. The other hand reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. It was an intimate act, and Seb could feel Emma’s body responding to him. In that instant she wanted to be kissed. And he wanted to kiss her. But he wasn’t stupid enough to act on his urges.
Reluctantly Seb released her. Emma’s head dipped low, her eyes refusing to meet his, and he saw the first tint of a blush colouring her cheeks.
‘Thank you for catching me,’ she said, looking up at him again.
Seb swallowed. She was everything he couldn’t have, and right now she was everything he wanted.
Chapter Three
‘It’s far too dangerous for a gently bred young woman to be gallivanting off into the wilds of Egypt without a proper escort,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said. There were murmurs of agreement from the other guests around the table.
‘I wouldn’t be on my own, I’d have Ahmed with me,’ Emma protested.
‘Still, it’s not right. If I allowed you to risk yourself in such a way, your dear papa would never forgive me.’
Emma resisted the urge to point out her dear papa was dead. And that he’d spent most of his youth dragging her mother from camp to camp to study this or that new Egyptian discovery.
‘Really you’d be much better to stay in Cairo with us,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said. ‘We can help arrange for you to have a tour of the new Museum of Antiquities. And you can get up close to the pyramids.’
Emma nodded and tried to look enthusiastic. She was sure Cairo had a lot to offer her. She had been staring at paintings of the pyramids for years, dreaming of the day she’d see them for herself, but this was her adventure and she wasn’t going to let Mrs Fitzgerald stand in her way of seeing the more inaccessible parts of Egypt.
‘Don’t you agree, dear?’ Mrs Fitzgerald turned to her husband, who was sitting quietly next to Emma.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said, not looking up from his plate. ‘Far too dangerous.’
Mrs Fitzgerald nodded triumphantly and promptly changed the subject.
‘I’ll put you in touch with just the chap to be your guide,’ Colonel Fitzgerald said to Emma quietly. She glanced at him but he hadn’t moved at all. She suspected his wife would not forgive him for going against her advice.
‘Thank you,’ Emma whispered.
‘So how long are you out here, Miss Knight?’ a portly older gentleman Emma thought might have been called Sir Henry asked her.
‘At least a couple of months,’ she said. ‘My father talked of Egypt and Cairo incessantly when I was young. Now that he’s gone, I want to experience everything he told me about.’
‘Shame a young girl like you hasn’t got a husband to take her around the sights,’ Sir Henry said, wiggling his eyebrows in a way Emma suspected he thought was suggestive.
She tried not to bristle and reminded herself to keep calm. She was twenty-five, past marriageable age in the eyes of the social circles she moved in. A few years ago comments like Sir Henry’s would have hurt her, made her feel inadequate, but Emma had become hardened to them now. She knew she would never marry, never have the family she had once craved. Now she just let the comments and questions wash over her, and tried not to be too upset when she mulled them over in her mind later on.
‘You might be well away from the first flush of youth, but I’m sure many men would still want you. Especially men of the older variety.’
Now Emma knew he was proposing himself. She looked him over and tried not to grimace. She’d rather be alone. It wasn’t that she thought physical appearance was everything. No, she’d rather have a kind heart and charitable spirit over a chiselled jaw and firm muscles any day, but she thought she should be at least a little physically attracted to any potential spouse.
‘Miss Knight decided not to marry after the incident,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said in a loud whisper.
Emma felt the heat start to creep into her face and looked around for some means of escape. It wasn’t that she’d decided not to marry, in fact she’d been certain she was going to get married. It was her liar of a fiancé who’d had other plans.
‘Ah, yes, such a shame,’ Sir Henry said. ‘But the right man might overlook that little indiscretion.’
Emma smiled blandly and wondered if she could pretend to faint. Or vomit onto her dinner plate. Anything to get her away from this conversation.
‘We’ve all made mistakes, after all. Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.’ Sir Henry leaned in towards Emma and gave her an encouraging smile.
Emma glanced around, trying desperately to find some way to end this conversation. Her father had once warned her people were less subtle in Egypt. They would say things to your face rather than whisper them behind your back. He said it was because the English community out there was so small, so intimate. At the time Emma had thought it would be refreshing, not to have people whispering about her
behind her back, but now she would give anything not to discuss her tainted past with people she’d only met a few hours before.
‘Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?’ Colonel Fitzgerald asked suddenly.
Emma could have hugged him.
‘But we haven’t yet had dessert,’ his wife protested.
‘I’m sure dessert will be waiting for us when we return,’ the colonel said.
He rose and offered his hand to Emma.
‘But your heart...’ Mrs Fitzgerald said.
‘Nothing wrong with my heart.’
Emma stood and allowed the elderly colonel to lead her onto the dance floor.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly as they joined the four other couples moving slowly across the floor.
The colonel nodded gruffly. ‘They’ll have moved on by the time we sit back down.’
He was right. When the dance was over Emma returned to her place at the table and was pleased to find conversation had turned to a dig a few miles outside Cairo.
‘There’s rumour it could be the big one itself. Rameses.’
There was a moment of silence around the table as everyone considered what a celebration there would be if Rameses’ tomb was uncovered.
The conversation continued and Emma turned towards Colonel Fitzgerald and listened to him discussing the fake artefacts flooding the market and deceiving well-intentioned amateur collectors back in England. As he spoke Emma glanced towards the door and felt her heart jump in her chest. Striding through the wide doorway, looking as though he’d just been blown in from the desert, was Sebastian Oakfield.
He caught her staring at him and winked, making the blood rush to Emma’s cheeks. She forced herself not to look away or bury her head as she wanted to, but instead gave a nod of acknowledgement before slowly turning back to the colonel.
She didn’t know why he affected her in such a way. They’d met only briefly. She couldn’t deny he was charming, but the fact that he was a practised charmer should have had her running for the hills even if nothing else did.
Emma risked another glance over her shoulder and almost fell off her chair as she realised he was making a beeline for their table.
