Past Betrayals, Past Loves

by Walters, Janet Lane;

  Duncan rested his hands on her shoulders. Heat infused her. She should move away. Instead she leaned back. “Thought you were going to the shore.”

  “Discovered more interesting matters here.”

  “And your friend?”

  “Lorna.” He chuckled. “She’s there. Clive plans to stay at the beach house after the sales. Lorna has ideas about me but we’re not involved and never will be.”

  He wasn’t taken. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm against her chest. Did she want to be involved with him or any man? There were her father’s illness and her plans for school to keep her busy. She turned to leave and found herself in his arms.

  His mouth seized hers. S shudder swept through her. Was almost as if she knew his scent, his touch, his taste. She fitted against his body with perfect alignment. As though entranced she slid her arms around his neck. He pressed her against his erection. They moved in a synchronous dance.

  She opened her mouth to his probing tongue. The kiss continued until she felt lightheaded.

  He raised his head but kept her imprisoned in his arms. “Come to my house with me.”

  At first she couldn’t make sense of his words. Her heart thundered and she felt as if she’d run miles through the desert. “What?”

  “We can close the gate and finish what we’ve begun. No one will see us.”

  With the speed of a snail sanity returned. “I don’t even know you.”

  “What better way to become acquainted.”

  Lord, she was in trouble. She inhaled several deep breaths and nearly succumbed to his heady scent. “I don’t think so.”

  He laughed. “Maybe after we stop at the bakery.”

  She pulled free. “A rain check on the coffee.” As she raced up the drive from the Hook and down the street, she glanced over her shoulder. He wasn’t following. For that she was thankful. What happened back there? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  * * *

  Duncan waited until Astrid vanished in the distance. He groaned. So much for a subtle seduction. He’d grabbed her like an invader seizing the spoils of a battle. He couldn’t believe he’d acted like a boor but once his mouth had touched hers, the only thought in his head was a frantic desire to possess her completely.

  “Now what?”

  Apologize, a little voice said. He shook his head. She’s been as involved in the lethal kiss as he had been. She couldn’t say she had been unwilling, or that there hadn’t been an explosive connection.

  He groaned and started walking. He needed a plan. Except, all his energy remained focused on the part of him he’d always had under control. Even with her gone, his erection throbbed and ached for release.

  He opened the gate and stepped into the garden surrounding the large stone house. Moments later, he stood in the shower while a frigid spray failed to wash away his desire for the tall dark-haired Astrid whose curves had fit his body perfectly.

  What did he want from her? He laughed. The answer was evident. Sex. Mind-blowing sex. Would a thousand encounters feed the hunger he felt?

  He briskly dried. He’d better decide what else he wanted before he was mired in quicksand. He needed to know more about her before he plunged into the morass. He could ask Clive for information but his friend had his own agenda concerning Astrid.

  Duncan frowned. He had the impression she didn’t like Clive. Why? Who would know?

  He dressed, and for the second time, headed to the bakery. A plan began to unfold. This afternoon, he would visit Lloyd. If he helped her father, Astrid might be willing to become involved in a lengthy affair.

  * * *

  What had she been thinking? The question followed Astrid into the apartment and into the shower. She’d never acted or felt the way she had in Duncan’s arms. What was she going to do about her heated response to the man? She didn’t know him, yet being close to him felt right and the kiss had stirred responses she felt in every cell. Could she handle a wild affair? Anything so volcanic was sure to grow cold after the eruption occurred.

  She pushed these thoughts aside. She had enough on her plate to give her acute indigestion.

  Once she’d dressed, she left the apartment and tapped on Sarah’s door. The older woman answered. A gray Persian cat mewed a welcome. Astrid bent and scratched the cat’s head. “Portia looks good.”

  Sarah laughed. “She’s growing fat. Come in.”

  “Can’t. I’m on my way to see Dad. Are you available to work in the shop today and tomorrow? Clive needs to attend the sales Dad had scheduled to visit.”

  “What time?”

  “Between noon and one.” Astrid groaned. “I have a luncheon date with Paula. I should cancel but I don’t know her number.”

  “Maybe it’s in your dad’s files. She seems nice.”

  Astrid nodded. “I felt a connection to her. Most of my old friends have moved away so I need to make new ones.”

  “You will. See you later.”

  Astrid drove to the hospital and arrived just as an aide delivered his breakfast tray. When she saw what he’d been served she grinned. “None of the fat-loaded foods you prefer.”

  He shrugged. “Hungry.”

  “Then eat and I’ll fill you in on what’s happening at Antiquities.”

  Though he spilled some of the cereal, he managed to eat most of the serving. She told him about Clive’s decision to attend sales this weekend.

  “Good.”

  “What will he be buying?”

  “Maybe nothing.”

  “Do you mind if I clear the clutter in the apartment?”

  His smile, thought crooked, brought one from her. When he tried to lift the teacup, his hand shook. She took a straw from beside the water pitcher. “Try this.” She bent the straw. “What do you know about Duncan Garrett?”

  “Good man. Lost. Treasure. Help him.”

  Astrid tried to make sense of the string of words. “What treasure?”

  “His family. Stolen. Long ago. Help find.”

  “All right, I will.” I just won’t go to bed with him, she added silently.

  “Letters. Read.”

  “I will. Wish me luck today. Aunt Sarah is helping.”

  “Good.”

  She kissed his cheek. As she left the room, a doctor strode down the hall. When the nurse Astrid had spoken to the day she had first visited waved her hand, the doctor paused.

  “Miss Logan. This is Doctor Gregori.”

  He doctor smiled. “I’m your father’s physician.”

  “How is he doing? He seems improved.”

  “Better than expected but that’s the beauty of prompt treatment. If he continues to improve, I’d like to arrange a transfer to a rehab facility early next week.”

  “Wonderful.” She asked questions about his treatment. The doctor’s answers reassured her. “Do you think stress was a factor?”

  “Possibly but lifestyle is more probable. Long hours, fatty foods, lack of exercise, age.”

  Astrid nodded. “Over the summer I’ll work on changing his habits. Thanks.” As she hurried to her car, she decided to involve Sarah in the health campaign.

  After opening Antiquities, she checked the cash register and the credit card set-up. She hoped she would remember how to use them. When she felt comfortable with the machines she strode to the Egyptian collection. Using the display cloth as a barrier, she lifted the necklace, crown and pectoral and carried them to the office. Once Sarah arrived, Astrid intended to store them in the vault.

  The bell above the door jangled. “Paula, aren’t you early?”

  “Actually I knew you would be stuck here. Ran into Clive at the bakery.” She smiled. “Since he’d not here to interfere I thought I get some work done.”

  “Good idea.” Astrid paused. “How about dinner this evening? At the apartment. We can order in.”

  “Let me do a pickup. How does veggie pitas with heavenly dressing sound. There’s a place uptown that makes them.”

  “You’re on.”
<
br />   “What time?”

  “Say seven. I’d like to pop in to see my dad before dinner.”

  Paula pulled a portfolio from her case. “Show him these. I think he’ll enjoy.”

  Before long the shop filled with browsers. Several people made purchases. During a lull, Astrid sorted through the stacks of papers on her father’s desk.

  At four, Sarah waved her over. “You need to make a deposit. I’ll lock up and set the alarms.”

  “Thanks. Before I leave I need to put some things in the vault and find something to replace the items Dad wanted me to remove from display.” After doing this, she counted the cash, leaving enough to start the next day. After filling the deposit slips, she walked to the bank and left the packet in the night slot. At the apartment she stood in the middle of the main room. Where to begin? She found a stack of index cards to mark the places in the open books.

  What was Dad looking for? There were books about many countries but there seemed nothing to tie them together. She stacked them in a corner of the room.

  Once the chairs and coffee table were clear, she moved to the couch. Beneath a stack of books she found a necklace made from a single strand of beads. A cylinder seal carved from onyx hung from the center. Without thinking, she lifted the necklace from the cushions. A wave of dizziness claimed her. She collapsed on the couch.

  * * *

  Istari smoothed the clay on the tablet, and once again checked her observations of the stars. The Assyrian army had been camped outside the city for nearly a week. Soon, they would storm the gates. With a sigh, she shut out the cries of the hungry and frightened people. She could no nothing to soothe their fears and she'd given all the stores food the temple could spare.

  She choked back a cry of despair and raised the stylus to mark her findings. She checked her observations against those provided by the astrologers.

  “Alas, poor Babylon. Your night has come. War is a part of life. Countries wax and wane like Sin, the moon. Sleep well my beloved land until the dawning of your new day.”

  Though tempted to scrape the tablet, she knew nothing could change the approaching time. During her days in the temple of Marduke, she had become a reader of the future and a student of the past. Her own chart showed she would leave the city of her birth as a prisoner. She carried the tablet to the main room of the temple and placed it on the altar before the statue of the god.

  Lamaru, the youngest of the priestesses, ran from the entrance to the living quarters. “Istari, Ishtar-ishtaru sent me to find you.”

  Mardu, priestess and kin to the rulers of Babylon, stormed toward them. “Why does she want to see this one? Does she think she can name one who has no family as her successor?” Her fleshy fingers extended into claws. “Istari, you are not fit to serve Marduke. Who knows what your parents were? You were a foundling.”

  Istari eyed the other woman. Why hadn’t she lost weight the way the other priest, priestesses and servants of Marduke had in the days since the siege began? Mardu’s lush curves were a mockery.

  “Ishtar-ishtaru is my foster mother. Why wouldn’t she want her child’s presence at her death?”

  “She must choose her successor yet she remains silent.”

  “As is her choice.”

  Mardu glared. “We will see who is named Ishtaru. Before another day passes I will rule this temple and you will be driven into the streets where you belong.” She marched away.

  Istari released a sigh. At least Mardu would be gone for hours while she searched for kinsmen to gain their support in her quest for power. Those relatives may have already fled the city. Even if they pressured Ishtar-Ishtar to name Mardu as high priestess, the city’s fate was written in the stars. The king and his advisors were responsible for the trouble. For months, the astrologers and diviners had given warnings the rulers had ignored.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Lamaru said. “She envies your knowledge and your beauty. She wants to be high priestess so she can command reluctant men to lie in her bed. She’s always bringing some new slave to her sleeping chamber, but she really wants those of noble blood as her lovers.”

  Istari frowned. “If she’s not a virgin how will she perform the Tammuz rite?”

  “She whispered to one of the others of the many ways a woman can appear untouched.”

  Istari shook her head. “Through Mardu the corruption of the rulers had tainted the temple. But the tainted mattered not. The day of the city and the temple drew to an end.

  She scurried down the hall leading to the sleeping chambers where her foster mother awaited death. She paused in the doorway and struggled to remain calm. Ishtar-ishtaru lay on a low bed. Her skin was ashen. Except for an abdomen swollen in imitation of pregnancy, she appeared skeletal.

  Bel-mar-tammuz, Istari’s foster father and consort of the high priestess, knelt beside the bed. The illness of his beloved had aged him. His noble face was scored by lines and his dark eyes showed heavy grief.

  Istari knelt beside him. “Foster mother, I am here.”

  “And the stars,” Ishtar-ishtaru asked. “What say they of the future?”

  “Alas, the dark night comes for Babylon.”

  “And for you?”

  Istari sighed. “My fate is to be a captive and serve Marduke no more.”

  “Nay, you will honor him in your heart.” The dying woman smiled. “Never have I doubted you or your love. Ah, Bel-mar, remember the small girl you found in the market and brought here to ease my sorrow over my barren state?”

  Bel-mar touched his consort’s arm. “She became the child of our heart and the joy of our lives.”

  Ishtar-ishtaru sighed. “Remember how her big eyes peered into every corner of the temple. Question after question. Always wanting to know what and why.”

  “We taught her,” Bel-mar said. “She learned to read and write before most boys begin their schooling.”

  “My child you have given us laughter and fulfillment,” Ishtar-ishtaru said. “Would that we could give you the same but these days aren’t for pleasure. Bel-mar, the necklace.”

  Istari’s eyes widened. For the first time in the years since she’d come to the temple, her foster mother’s neck was bare. The symbol of her office was in Bel-mar’s hand. The temple seal dangled from the single row of beads strung on a metal wire. “I am not worthy. No one knows my origins.”

  “Who better than one of the people to serve Marduke in his final hours in Babylon,” Ishtar-ishtaru said. “Bel-mar fasten the seal for my fingers have no strength.”

  Istari blinked tears from her eyes. “I will treasure your gift and the god with joy. Go soon, mother of my heart. Do not linter to witness the end.” She kissed the older woman’s cheek and fled the room. In the hall, she collapsed against the wall and waited for her tears to cease.

  When she reached the main room of the temple, Lamaru saw the necklace. “She chose you.”

  A group of priests and priestesses gathered around Istari. “Is she gone/” one asked.

  “She lives but barely.”

  “What will you have us do?” one of the priests asked. “This is no time for a gathering of the nobles for the Tammuz ceremony.”

  Istari nodded. “There will be no rite of passage for me. You’ve seen the charts and heard the prophecies. I would see everyone depart the temple. Hide in the city. The gates will fall by morning and by evening, the invaders will hold the temple. I will face them alone for ’tis written in my stars that I will go into captivity.”

  Though many protested, Istari exhorted them to leave. As she watched the departures, she wondered if she would see any of her companions again. She knelt before Marduke and sent wishes for their safety on the winds.

  “Istari, let me stay.” Lamaru knelt at the altar. “I have no one and nowhere to go.”

  Istari nodded. The young priestess was another foundling. A band of friendship had grown between them. “If I can, I’ll protect you. Come, let us take bread, cheese and beer to Bel-mar and sit with Ishtar-
ishtaru.”

  Through out the night, they kept a vigil over the dying priestess. Of Mardu, there was no sign. Istari prayed her enemy had found refuge with her kin.

  As the first rays of sun brightened the sky, her foster mother breathed her last. Bel-mar rent his clothes and streaked his face with ashes from the fire.

  As the day moved forward, the sounds of fighting drew near. Screams and the clash of metal on metal forced Istari from her silent grief. She rose and walked to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Lamaru asked.

  Istari turned. “Even on a day as evil as this, duty must be done. I have neglected the god and he must be served.” She hurried to the main room of the temple to perform the neglected duties. With care, she drew the curtains around the painted statue of Marduke and knelt at his feet to beg forgiveness.

  The shouts grew louder. Screams pierced the air. When she peered around the curtain, her hand flew to her mouth. The Assyrian soldiers were expected but Mardu’s presence in their midst wasn’t. The plump priestess stood between two men in the fore of the invaders. Istari stepped into view.

  “That’s her,” Mardu shouted. “Istari, the false priestess.”

  One of the men strode toward Istari. The other held Mardu against her side. Istari’s breath caught in her throat. The warrior was handsome with well-developed muscles. When he seized her arm, she felt as though lightning pierced her core.

  * * *

  Ashur-dagan-shu’s heart thudded against his chest with the thundering beat like the hooves of his chariot horses. He’d never seen a woman who matched the beauty of this priestess. Though her dress covered her from neck to ankle, he noticed her narrow waist set off by the short overskirt. Tall, slender, perfect features. She could be the goddess come to life.

  “I am Ashur-dagan-shu, leader of the Assyrians. I claim all that lies within this temple for my king.” He pulled her into his arms. “I claim you as mind.”