by Cerys du Lys
“My claim on you has been clearly established, I think, after last night. No one’ll dare molest you.”
“Not even Nigel?”
“Nigel will be with me,” he said grimly. “Do you play chess? My grandfather loves to play.”
“I’m not that good, but, sure, I can probably give him a game.”
He smiled the sweet and sunny smile that was so rare—and thus so devastating. “O, thou fair Helen, that can tempt me with thy beauty and thy wit.”
I flushed. “What’s that from, professor?”
“I made it up,” he said, pulling on his shirt.
“So you’re a poet, too, as well as a crook?”
He snorted.
Tilting my head to one side, I said, “You’re a puzzle. You translate ancient texts, you steal, you read Homer, and you knock people unconscious with a flick of your wrists. You’re a versatile dude. Will you play your flute for me sometime?”
He raised his eyes from his buttons to stare at me. “How do you know about that?”
“You played upon Pan’s pipes last night, remember?”
“Yeah, and you must have found my flute when you searched my drawers. Looking to understand me.”
“But I still don’t understand you at all.”
He grimaced. “Why don’t we keep it that way?”
He finished dressing and left me alone in the room.
Chapter 19
Ellie
I played three games of chess with Sir Avery and beat him once, which seemed to gratify the old man. “It’s rare that I find a woman who can defeat me at chess, my dear,” he told me, grinning as he turned over his king. “No wonder Nick’s fond of you. Do you beat him too?”
“We’ve never played.”
“He’s good. Taught the lad myself. He’s patient, you see, and able to plot his moves out well in advance. Nigel was too reckless to play well, especially against careful, plodding Nicholas-of-the-poker-face. When it was obvious he was losing, Nigel would upset the board and stalk away. He could never stand to be bested by Nick.”
“Did Nick best him often?”
“At some things—studies, mostly, or music.”
“Does he play other instruments besides the flute?”
“Yes, several. Damn well, too. Nigel always made fun of his playing the flute.”
More reasons to despise Nigel. “Did that bother Nick?”
“Hard to tell. You never know with Nick, do you?” He stared at me for a moment in silence, and then continued, “Nigel was better at sports. He was bigger and brawnier. He could batter Nick if he wanted to, and did. Nigel has a temper. So does Nick, when he’s pushed. But whenever they’d descend to physical blows, Nigel would emerge the victor.”
I doubted that would still be the case. Was being battered by Nigel the reason Nick had taken up hand-to-hand combat? I envisioned the grace of his practice session this morning. Was Nigel aware of his cousin’s finely honed skill? I fiercely hoped not.
“Tell me more about Nick’s childhood,” I urged him. “It’s not easy prying information out of him.”
Sir Avery was not averse. The picture he painted was of a bright and perhaps too-sensitive boy who had grown up in the shadow of his more outgoing older cousin. “Nick’s always been a bit of a mystery, my dear. Self-contained and intense. You never really know what he’s thinking, do you?” Here a shadow seemed to pass over the old man’s face. “You never really know how he feels.”
It struck me that Sir Avery loved his younger grandson, but wasn’t confident that the feeling was returned. I reached out and touched his hand. He smiled and patted my wrist. “No doubt he’s the same with you, eh? Not overly affectionate, that’s our Nick. Yet he’s very taken with you, Ellie. That was evident when you danced. Maybe you didn’t notice how everything in the room came to a standstill. Watching you, we were all transfixed. It was as if you and he were the axis upon which the whole world spun.”
“Whoa!” I interrupted, embarrassed.
“I know, I know, I’m being silly. But it was remarkable. Nobody’s ever seen Nick behave like that.”
It hadn’t been normal behavior for me, either. Nothing in my life had been normal since he and I met.
“Oh, to be young and in love,” said Sir Avery.
Ha! As if I would ever fall in love with a criminal.
Sex, on the other hand...he was smokin’ hot and my hormones, at least, were in love.
Later in the day, Sir Avery asked me about my photography. I was taken aback when his questions grew technical, asking how I would light an archaeological exhibit to get the sharpest and most colorful close-ups.
“Why?” I asked. “Were you thinking of offering me a job?”
To my dismay, he nodded. “Our photographer had to leave the island. We could use a replacement. Do you have your equipment with you?”
“Not exactly. That is, it’s on Nick’s boat.”
“Excellent. Let me tell you what we need.”
Shit. The last thing I wished to do was take photographs for a bunch of crooks. I didn’t want to help them in any way. But I had to listen and pretend to be enthusiastic while Sir Avery explained his plan for disposing of the stolen objects that they’d had been scavenging from the Aegean coast of Turkey.
“We’ll be removing them, slowly, one by one, over the next year or two,” he explained. “Most items are small—coins and potsherds and such—but there are also some larger pieces. These will be more difficult to export.”
“I see.” Nobody wanted to get caught with the loot.
“The objects must be properly photographed. It will make it easier for us to sell them. The pictures should be of the highest quality.”
“So you can command the highest price.”
“We did try to take some shots, but they didn’t come out well. Nick says it’s something to do with the lighting. Does that make sense to you?”
“Well, yes. Lighting is important.”
“Here, have a look.” He handed me several prints.
I flipped through them. “Who took these?”
“Nick.”
Well, well. Versatile though he was, I’d finally found an area where his talent was lacking. The pictures were atrocious.
“Do you think you can do any better?” Sir Avery asked me.
“I don’t know,” I said noncommittally. If I can’t, I’ll swallow my camera. “I’d have to see what you have to work with.”
“Nick can take you to the site tomorrow if the rain stops. Inshallah it will clear up. The damp is bad for my bones and muscles.”
I didn’t want to do it. Playing a role to save my own life was one thing. Becoming an accessory to a crime was something else. At this rate, Nick and I would be doing time together. I’d have to tell him that this was where I drew the line.
But Nick didn’t return to the compound all day, nor did he show up for dinner. When he did come in late that night, just as I was preparing for bed, he was wet and filthy and in a foul mood. Ordering me to sleep, he disappeared down the hallway into the shower, where he remained for a long time.
I lay stiffly under the blanket on our mattress, armored in my clothes, half fearing, half desiring his presence beside me. I’d opened the curtains on the window to let in some light, and I wondered if this would annoy him. When he finally returned to the room, I didn’t stir, pretending to be asleep, even though I expected him to come check me and find me faking.
But he didn’t check me. He didn’t come anywhere near me. He got himself another blanket and rolled up on the floor as far away from me as possible. He left the curtains open.
This sucks, I thought, as I huddled, shadowed by moonlight, in my cold and lonely bed.
Chapter 20
Nick
I was feeling edgy the next morning as we hiked toward the excavation site in the company of Metin and half a dozen workers. It wasn’t far, but the mountainous track was more suitable for goats than humans. The sun was shining bright
ly, but the ground was still a little wet from yesterday’s rain. Ellie and I were lagging behind the others because I had to compensate for her shorter stride. Although she was fit, she wasn’t accustomed to steep hikes over rough terrain.
I’d asked her to check out the site so she could determine how to take the photographs we needed. She’d promptly objected, insisting she wasn’t going to become an accessory to antiquity theft. I told her to have some faith in me and follow orders, which was not exactly warmly received.
She was curious about the site, though—that much was evident. “So, if there really is something there, it might testify to the historical accuracy of Homer’s writings about the storm that drove the Greek ships to disaster after the sacking of Troy, right?” she’d asked me.
“That might be one interpretation, yeah,” I’d admitted.
“If it was truly a shipwreck, why is the site so far inland?”
“It’s not far inland. You’ll see when we get over this rise. The coastline curves sharply, and the site is close to the bay where we left Voyager. The excavations are located on a small plain nestled between two promontories, and the island’s only freshwater source is nearby. If their ship was destroyed and the survivors faced with the necessity of setting up an encampment, the valley’s a likely spot.”
“Is that why your grandfather decided to dig there?”
“Partly. He uses common sense as well as pure gut feelings. He trusts his instincts. That’s why he’s always been so good at this. I’ve seen him sniff out a find that many a more scientific archaeologist has missed.”
“It must upset him that he can’t work on the actual site.”
“It’s hell. There’s nothing in life he loved more than puttering around in the excavations.”
“I can see why he can’t cross this mountain in his wheelchair, but couldn’t he have some of his men carry him here?”
“He does that occasionally, but he’s proud, and it’s hard for him to admit it’s necessary to be carried.”
“Is that why you’re helping him with the illegal excavations? Because you feel sorry for an old man whose career has been destroyed?”
And she was off again. I gave her a scowl. “Do we need another session with my belt around your neck?”
“So why do you steal things?” she retorted. I was obviously losing my ability to scare the shit out of her. “I can’t figure it out. How do you justify it?”
“Have I ever attempted to justify it?”
“Not to me, but—”
“Maybe I’m an amoral bastard who’s in it for the rush of adrenaline it produces.”
“And maybe you’re a liar. Maybe you have reasons—and plans—that you’re keeping secret.”
I reached for her, stopping us near the edge of a fifty-foot drop. “Maybe you’d be wiser to keep your speculations to yourself, slave. Before I begin to regret that I didn’t shoot you the other morning.”
She smirked. Fuck. Look at her—those violet eyes flashing with confidence. In the beginning she’d stood up to me in spite of her fear. Now she had no fear. I must have revealed more to her about myself than I’d intended.
She was starting to trust me. Even though she believed I was a thief, she liked me. Well, I don’t know about liking me, but she wanted to fuck me. She’d fuck me right now if I pulled her behind a boulder and laid her down in the sun.
I pushed her ahead of me along the track with a little more roughness than the situation called for. I couldn’t let up on her. If she saw through me, so might everyone else. “Don’t press your luck, sweetheart. There are limits to my good humor.”
I meant it. The pressure was getting to me. Grandfather was showing no signs of being ready to leave the island, and Nigel had dogged my footsteps yesterday, asking too many fucking questions. I’d done my best to allay his suspicions, but I didn’t feel safe. Late last night Metin had heard a noise on Voyager and awakened to see somebody—Nigel or one of his men—swimming away from the boat. He’d been snooping, obviously, and had managed to do some minor damage to the electrical system, damn him.
Remembering this conversation put me into such a foul mood that when we reached the excavations and Ellie did push her luck, I lost my fucking temper.
“I’m not going in there,” she said.
After touring the open dig area, we got to the section that was under the cliff side. Most of the stolen art objects were stored in a cavern beneath the cliff. It was a natural museum, a good place to keep artifacts. The environment was naturally dry, providing an excellent protection against the ravages of erosion. But Ellie balked at entering the cave, which was invisible from the outside. We’d found the entrance serendipitously when Erdal, one of the workers, had been puttering around on the cliff side, looking for mineral fragments.
“It’s quite safe,” I assured her.
She shook her head. Her body was rigid, her eyes dark with determination. “No.”
“Most of the artifacts are in there. If you’re going to take the pictures we need, this is where you’ll have to do it. We’ll have to light the cave artificially, and you’re the only person who knows how to do that.”
“Taking photographs for your little gang of thieves wasn’t part of our agreement.”
I felt my nerves start to fray. We’d already had this debate. “Our agreement, slave, was that you would obey my orders and I would allow you to live.”
“I refuse to participate in your sleazy crime.”
“Keep your voice down. Sinan understands English. A couple of the others do, too.”
“I don’t care. Look, Nick, this—all of it—is incredible.” She waved her hand at our surroundings, the trenches and mounds, carefully grid marked and separated, level-by-level, in the manner that confirmed the presence of professional archaeologists. “It’s even more impressive than I’d imagined. If the earring is authenticated and other objects found, it could be one of the great discoveries of this century. But it’s Schliemann all over again, isn’t it? He cheated the Turks, too. He absconded with the treasure trove of ancient Troy. I won’t be a party to it.”
Fuck. She had to choose this moment to rebel? Already her raised voice was attracting the workers’ attention. “You’ll do what I tell you.”
“I won’t.” Her gaze didn’t flinch from mine. “This is my line in the sand.”
Well, I wasn’t about to have any fucking lines drawn by her. Not here, not today. I clamped both hands on her shoulders and forced her toward the cave. I let my fingers slide up on her neck where some critical nerve bundles were...just to remind her. “If you want to argue with me, do it later, in private. In front of the others, you’ll play your role, and do it convincingly.”
But at the mouth of the gloomy, black cavern, she dug in her heels. I could feel her body start to tremble. “I won’t. I can’t. I’m not going in there.”
The “I can’t” didn’t register with me. It wasn’t until afterward that I understood. All I knew was that despite my absurd efforts to “train” this girl, she was defying me. And that Sinan, Nigel’s right-hand man, was watching our altercation avidly.
Most of the workers with us today were Nigel’s crew—men whose primary loyalty was not to my grandfather, but to my twisted cousin. I could not risk making them any more suspicious than they already were.
I twisted one of Ellie’s arms up behind her in a position I knew would hurt. “Let’s go, move it.” I forced her down, through the black slit in the rock face that marked the entrance to the cave.
She cried out, surprising me because I hadn’t hurt her that much. I already knew quite a bit about her pain tolerance levels. Had I miscalculated? The men were staring and muttering, and Metin jumped down to our side.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, looking from her face to mine.
Ellie was struggling. Her head turned wildly to Metin. “Help me,” she implored.
Fuck! Metin glared at me, his lips pressed tight. “What are you doing to her?” h
e asked in Turkish. He sounded harder and a lot less deferent than usual. “You said you weren’t going to hurt her—”
“Shut up or I’ll strangle the two of you,” I said softly, also in Turkish. “You want to rebel, fine, but you can do it when we’re alone. Loyalty and obedience in public. Without it we’re blown.”
“I’m sorry, Nick, I—”
“Save it.” Trying to figure an explanation the others would believe, I added, “I’m going to bend down as if to examine her ankle. We’ll say she yelped because she twisted it. You, Metin, pretend to look concerned, and as for you, Ellie...”
I switched rapidly to English, getting as far as, “You can just—” when she interrupted, saying in clear, idiomatic Turkish, “Don’t do it. If you touch my foot, I’ll kick you in the face. Enough. I’m not going into the cave and I’m not taking any photographs.”
Shit! She spoke Turkish. I felt sick. All I could think of was that she must be law enforcement, after all. An agent, maybe for Interpol.
Fucking hell! She’d lied to me from the start; she’d made a fool out of me. I’d worried myself into a frazzle trying to figure out how to protect her. But she must be capable of protecting herself. I wondered who her backup was, and how long it would be before they struck. If they came in early, they’d destroy everything I’d planned, everything I’d worked my ass off to arrange. I wouldn’t be able to save my grandfather, after all.
I lost it. I hissed in English, “We’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. We’ll hope that none of Nigel’s men did. Sinan!” I called the hefty, ugly man over at the same moment as I lifted Ellie into my arms. She fought me, but I was stronger and I used my strength. “The lady has tripped and sprained her ankle. I’m going to take her out to my boat, ice it, and bandage it up. Oversee things here for me, will you? Metin will help you, and I’ll be back later.”
“There’s an electrical problem with the boat,” Metin reminded me. “Someone slipped on board last night—I told you—”
