Secrets danced in his eyes and Jillian felt troubled. She hoped he would confess in his own time, and yet when he did, as much as she'd wanted Graham to share himself, she suddenly was afraid of what his secrets would be.
* * *
"I have the key to the treasure."
Jillian's pulse quickened with excitement as she stood behind her husband, who was sitting at the table the next morning. She glanced at the papers strewn about. Calculations. From a short piece of wood, Graham had carved what resembled a key.
Last night, they had dressed in dark clothing and set out for the Great Pyramid. Graham had short shovels and an electric torch in his rucksack. The night porter had ignored them as they left the lobby. A short while later, they had arrived at the Great Pyramid. Moonlight spilled over the sand, turning it a ghostly gray. Graham and Jillian measured the distance from the western wall according to the clues they'd discovered. Then they began to dig, and discovered a small stone block with the outline of a key upon it.
This morning, after tracing the outline of the key, Graham had made a duplicate.
"I didn't know they had locks," she confessed.
"They were an advanced culture thought to be inventors of the first locks."
"Are we headed directly to the treasure?"
"No, we need to visit a tribe I know. The Khamsin, who raised my brother, live south. But first, we need to purchase supplies for the trip—and I thought you'd enjoy touring Cairo."
Cairo, with its towers and minarets and Islamic architecture, had Jillian exclaiming with wonder. Graham indulged her in a quick shopping trip in the souks, admiring her womanly curves as she bent over to examine a gold pot offered by an eager vendor. The rich, vibrant emerald tones of her day gown, with its froth of ivory lace, complemented her creamy complexion and vivid red hair. Never again would she wear ugly, repressive gray. Her father had swathed her in it like steel armor. Slowly, Graham was coaxing her true spirit to emerge. He knew she felt unnoticed, unappreciated and unloved, and he wanted to change all that.
But he didn't want her with him while journeying to find Khufu's treasure. At the Khamsin camp, he planned to leave her in his friends' care, while he journeyed alone into the deep desert.
In the desert he would face his tormentor, for while they had toured Cairo that afternoon, Graham had spotted another redhead ducking cleanly out of sight. And there was no mistaking that face. He knew it too well.
They departed for the Khamsin camp the following day. Graham surprised Jillian by renting a dahabiya to travel down the Nile. The two sat on a plush divan on deck as the captain steered the craft. Wind caressed Jillian's cheeks, played with strands of hair escaping their pins. Her eager gaze drank in the sights as the dank smell of river water tickled her nostrils. Donkeys plodded alongside the riverbank, towing carts piled with vegetation. Curious children stared.
"I feel like a redheaded Cleopatra leaping forward in time," she murmured as she waved to the children.
Graham smiled. "Wait until you meet the Khamsin, the tribe that raised my brother. The Khamsin are unlike other desert tribes. Tents are not cordoned off to segregate genders. Men and women eat together, and the men have only one wife."
"A progressive tribe keeping with modern times?"
He chuckled. "An ancient tribe proudly tracing their ancestry back to the times of Pharaoh Akhenaten. The times caught up to them. Elizabeth, the sheikh's wife, helped."
"Odd name for a sheikh's wife."
"She's American. Very spirited, modern and very much in love with her husband. She's a suffragist. She's nearly taught the entire tribe, men and women both, to read."
Jillian hid her surprised excitement. "She did?"
"Elizabeth loves to break traditions. Both she and Jabari are concerned about the Khamsin's ability to merge with modern society and keep the tribe financially solvent. I'm sure they'll be eager to solicit your advice."
"Tell me about the tribe," Jillian urged.
Graham obliged, informing her that the Khamsin lived deep in the desert. "The sheikh has a bodyguard called a Guardian of the Ages, who protects Jabari with his life. I became very close to Jabari and Ramses, his guardian. Ramses is married to Katherine, whose father is an English lord."
More surprises. "Does this Ramses like the English?"
Graham chuckled. "Once he abhorred them. But he's deeply in love with his wife, and has grown to respect the English. He no longer calls them the white-bellied samak—fish."
"Good for you he no longer abhors them," she murmured.
"He's a jokester. He teases me about being English."
Her husband looked so very English in his wide-brimmed hat, the cream-colored suit with its ivory tie. Except for one tiny fact. Graham hadn't shaved this morning. A heavy beard was already shadowing his cheeks.
It was as if he had begun to change before her eyes.
They docked at a small village where Graham purchased four camels from local villagers. He loaded two camels with their trunks and supplies he had purchased in Cairo. The Khamsin camp lay deep in the eastern desert, he informed her.
Green lines of vegetation bordering the Nile boasted towering date palms and cultivated fields, but soon they left those behind for the open desert. Sweat trickled down Jillian's neck. Graham guided his camel alongside hers, seemingly unaffected by the scorching noonday sun. Beneath the shady brim of his hat, he studied her with those intense dark eyes.
They took several short rest breaks. Muscles she had never used ached from the long ride in the hard camel saddle. The scent of unwashed animal and desert heat stung her nostrils. Jillian shifted her weight, blinking wearily. It felt as if they had ridden for hours through towering canyons that Graham called wadis, and into the high desert. The bleak, desolate landscape depressed her. Surely no life could exist in this arid land flanked by high mountains of limestone and granite. A cloudless blue sky seemed as hard as the rocky sand beneath their camels' hoofs. How could anyone live in the deep desert?
She squinted as she spotted tall date palms and green and yellow vegetation in the distance. Black tents dotted the horizon. Surely a mirage caused by the relentless, burning heat? But she could see tiny figures moving about. The Khamsin camp?
Graham halted his camel and urged her to do the same. Excitement blazed in his eyes. He cupped his hands around his mouth and let loose a piercing, undulating sound.
Startled, Jillian stared. Her husband, with his very English dress, suddenly seemed as Egyptian as the surrounding sand.
Figures stirred in the distance. Wild, undulating shouts echoed back at them. Then she saw several figures grab horses and ride toward them. A cloud of dust rose on the horizon.
Jillian swallowed hard. Graham gave a reassuring smile. "Don't be scared. It's the traditional Khamsin greeting to welcome a son of the desert home."
Despite his assurances, terror gripped her at the wild, warlike shrieks. Graham dismounted his camel and assisted her in dismounting, Jillian's heart lurched as a small band of indigo-draped warriors galloped toward them. Warriors on their Arabians hooted and screamed, then pulled to a stop bare feet from them. The warriors wore indigo coats reaching to mid-thigh, and blousy indigo trousers tucked into leather boots. Indigo turbans adorned their heads.
All had short-cropped beards and mustaches. A tall, commanding figure jumped off his horse and strode toward her smiling husband. The two embraced, while the other warriors stared at her.
Graham pulled back, glancing at her fondly. "Jabari, this is my wife, Jillian. Jilly, this is Jabari bin Tarik Hassid, sheikh of the Khamsin Warriors of the Wind."
She didn't know whether to curtsy or salaam. Her nervous gaze flicked to the long scimitar strapped on his belt. To her surprise, the handsome sheikh took her hand in his and shook it. "A western custom my wife likes. She thinks men and women should be treated as equals." He spoke perfect, albeit accented, English. Warmth radiated in his smile. "I am most pleased to meet you, Jillian."
She s
miled and murmured her thanks. A shorter, more muscled warrior at the sheikh's side stared with open curiosity. Gleaming white teeth flashed in an impish grin as he glanced at her husband. Graham introduced him as Ramses.
"You have taken a wife at last, my friend. And a most charming one, as well." The shorter warrior swept her an elaborate bow. Mirth danced in his odd-colored amber eyes. "I am most honored to meet you, your ladyship."
"Grace," Graham corrected.
Ramses looked bemused. "I thought her name was Jillian."
"It is. She's my duchess. So the address is Your Grace. Just as I am Your Grace."
"My friend, you are anything but graceful."
"It's an English title." Graham's lips twitched with mirth. "I didn't make up the rules."
Ramses turned to Jillian. "I am honored to meet you, your most graceful gracious ladyship duchess."
Jillian smiled as Ramses winked at her.
"Let's get you settled, your supreme dukish graciousness. After that, take your lady to meet Elizabeth and Katherine. They would love to talk with a graceful gracious English duchess."
They settled into a large, spacious tent with soft carpets covering the ground, low tables and a curtain sectioning off a bedroom. A real bed, low to the ground and quite comfortable as she sat upon it, dominated the room. To her shock, Graham quickly undressed. He dug into their trunk and withdrew an indigo outfit matching that of the warriors.
"I wear the binish when I visit. The Khamsin consider me a brother and even use an Arabic name for me—Rashid," he explained. He slid a long, lethal-looking sword into a leather sheath attached to his belt. He did the same to a curved dagger.
In Egyptian dress, he looked dangerous. And very much a stranger. Jillian offered a brave if wobbly smile.
"Well, when in Rome, dress as the Romans," she said. "Do you want me to find dress similar to what the women here wear?"
"You're perfect the way you are."
"But I should dress for the desert if we're to take the long journey to find the treasure." She poked at her skirts.
A blank look came over him. Jillian grew suspicious.
"Unless you're not planning on taking me. That's why you wanted to come here first! To leave me with your friends."
The duke sighed. "Jillian, it's not safe for you to cross the desert. There are many hazards, and even the hardiest men can die out there."
"Graham—"
"We'll discuss this later," he said firmly. His expression shuttered and Jillian knew he'd talk no more of it. He settled a hand on the small of her back, steering her out of the tent.
Stares accompanied them as they walked through the camp. Jillian dragged in an uncertain breath. Graham took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
They halted before a stubby tree, its high branches ripped with big spikes. A blond woman and a brunette sat beneath its shade, talking and laughing. A sleeping baby lay swaddled nearby. Children played at their feet. Dark-haired twins, they looked about two years old. A striking, blond-haired, dark-eyed little boy appeared about three. The women glanced up. Graham's expression softened as he introduced them. The blonde was Elizabeth, the sheikh's American-born wife. The green-eyed brunette was Ramses' English wife, Katherine.
"Why don't you sit with them and become better acquainted? Jabari, Ramses and I have matters to discuss."
It was a dismissal, but eager to chat with the intriguing Elizabeth, Jillian nodded. She watched her husband join the sheikh and Ramses in Jabari's tent. The flaps were rolled up to allow in a fresh desert breeze. Graham looked so foreign, as if the sand had swallowed him whole, absorbing and changing him.
Her chances of coaxing him out, of achieving the intimacy she craved were more remote than ever. And now he desired to leave her here, in this camp, while he ventured into the burning Sahara to seek the treasure alone.
Jillian talked with the two women, telling them of her marriage and the quest to find the treasure. And how Graham planned to leave her in the camp.
"I can't let him go without me," she told Elizabeth, feeling a little desperate.
"He wants you here for your own protection."
"What's out there that's so dangerous?"
A thoughtful look came over Elizabeth. "It's said among the Khamsin that in order to find yourself, you must go into the desert and lose yourself. Our warriors venture into the deep desert to meditate. The desert strips them down to what they essentially are. Sometimes it drives men mad, for they don't like what they find."
Jillian shuddered. Graham, alone in that vast desolation, exposed to the merciless heat and even more merciless ghosts haunting him? A frightful image filled her—her proud, restrained husband howling with anguish as he faced his demons. She could not allow him to face them alone.
"I must go with him. How can I make him take me?"
Mischief filled the American's cobalt eyes. "I have discovered a man can be quite pliant after certain nocturnal activities."
Jillian thought of what her father had done to her. "Or I could hide all his clothing."
The woman named Katherine gurgled with laughter. "That wouldn't stop Ramses. He'd march into the desert naked just to prove himself. Stubborn man." Her gaze softened as she glanced at the tent where her husband sat talking with Graham and Jabari.
"If you wish to go with him, then learn all you can about living in the desert," Elizabeth put in. "Convince him you'll be an asset, not a liability."
Jillian perked up, thinking of learning. "Will you teach me how to manage in the desert?"
The two women exchanged knowing glances. "Of course. We both will," Katherine replied.
Doubt assailed her. "Graham is quite stubborn. Even if I show him I can make the trip, he won't take me," she worried.
A knowing smile touched Elizabeth's mouth. "Stubborn, yes. And very possessive of you—I can tell. Perhaps Graham needs a subtle push to convince him leaving you here may not be to his best interests. An attractive wife alone, surrounded by curious men... Wouldn't you agree, Katherine?"
The petite brunette glanced in the direction of the other tent. An impish smile curved her lips. "I'll talk to my husband. I think he can help."
Chapter Sixteen
Jillian stood out from the other women with her delicate alabaster skin, clear green eyes and riot of flame tresses. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat shading her from the harsh sun. Her white gown had billowing sleeves and an emerald ribbon at the waist. Graham wanted her to look English. She did not belong here amid the sand and hot winds, and amid his murky past.
He sat facing the Khamsin sheikh and guardian. He had told them of his plans to find Khufu's treasure. Ramses gazed out to the horizon where the long stretch of the Nile cut Egypt in half.
"The western desert, the land where the jinn roam. Men die out there," Ramses intoned solemnly.
"I have no intentions of dying," he informed them grimly. "I know how to navigate by starlight. I can identify a camel's tracks no matter how harshly the wind blows to conceal them."
"And you got lost in Cairo trying to find the Shepheard's hotel," Jabari put in.
Graham glared. "A hotel in a city."
Jabari smiled. "A very large hotel in a city. Face it, you could not find the Great Pyramid without a map—"
"And several guides," Ramses finished helpfully.
Graham ignored their jibes. "I have a map Jillian will provide for me. The cave is north of Farafra. If I take the old Darb Asyut route, it will get me there in less time."
The sheikh and his guardian exchanged uneasy glances. "Farafra, land of the cow," Ramses murmured, using the ancient name for the oasis. "I have friends there."
"That route you speak of is treacherous," Jabari warned. "It is a long, hard ten days by camel. The red sand can swallow a man whole if he sets foot into it. There are few wells."
"I have iron water tanks purchased in Cairo," Graham said.
The sheikh looked troubled. "Farafra was long besieged by marauders. There are
Bedu roaming the sands who lie in wait for the unwary traveler."
Graham fingered the sharp scimitar strapped to his side. "I'm not unwary."
"But alone..." Ramses observed. "You are not safe, my friend, no matter how fierce a warrior you are."
"I will send several men with you," Jabari decided.
Tension coiled in his stomach. Graham ran a hand over his growing beard. "I will not risk the lives of your men, Jabari."
"You will risk it," the sheikh rejoined. "I will not allow you to leave here alone."
Graham studied the pair, wondering if he could trust them—even these, the two men he knew who held honor above all else. A natural caution restrained him from telling all.
But the sheikh's wise eyes searched his face. "You are withholding knowledge. What is it, my friend?"
In the distance, Graham heard the throaty laughter of his wife. Carefree, untroubled. How he wanted to keep her that way, and guard her from the terrible truth.
His gaze flicked to them. "I'm being followed."
Jabari's expression tightened. Ramses put a hand on his scimitar hilt, a gesture Graham recognized the warrior made when feeling defensive. "Who is it?" Jabari asked.
"Someone I know," Graham said guardedly. "An Englishman who desires the treasure and knows it's buried in the cave."
He didn't dare tell them about the fiasco in London with Stranton. Or the real reason he wished to travel alone—to kill Stranton at last, or be killed by him. Graham would not risk anyone else in his personal battle.
"A greater reason to take a band of men," Ramses said.
"No. Traveling with a large caravan is like waving a flag. I must maintain the ability to blend into the sands if necessary, and shift as the dunes shift. I don't wish to attract any more attention than I must." His even gaze met theirs. "Do you remember what happened to my parents all those years ago?" Death screams echoed in his head.
The sheikh glanced toward the women, who were quietly talking beneath the sheltering shade of a thorny acacia tree. "And your wife?"
The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) Page 18
