by Cheryl Holt
When the ladies had excused themselves and left the men to their port, she’d snuck outside so she could regain her equilibrium and control her careening emotions.
What was wrong with her? Anymore, no matter the issue, she flitted from one extreme to the next, never able to discover any middle ground in her attitude, wishes, or conduct.
She had no hold over Mr. Blair, and apparently they possessed no heightened fondness. She must have misinterpreted their prior encounter, and it was certainly typical. Life as a royal princess insured that relationships were stilted and awkward.
Yet here he was, and her heart fluttered with exhilaration.
He kept coming until he was directly in front of her, close enough that his trousers brushed her skirt. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone standing so near, but she wasn’t about to protest. The sparks she’d noted the prior day had already ignited, the air practically sizzling with anticipation.
He was dressed formally in black trousers, a black coat, a snowy white cravat. It was an expensive suit tailored from exquisite fabric, and she wondered if he’d brought it with him for adventuring down the Nile. It was a frivolous piece of clothing to cart along on such a trip, but she was glad he had. He was stunning.
She stared into his amazing blue eyes. The moonlight made them sparkle like diamonds.
“Hello, Mr. Blair.”
“Hello, Miss Webster. Katarina. May I call you Katarina? Will you swoon if I do?”
“As we’ve previously discussed, I’m not the swooning sort. Yes, you may call me Katarina. Actually my friends call me Kat.”
It was a heady moment for her. Only Pippa and her immediate family used her Christian name. Others simply weren’t allowed, and she was giddy with astonishment over taking such a bold leap.
“Kat,” he murmured and studied her. “I like it.”
“What may I call you?”
“Bryce.”
“Bryce Blair—a very masculine name.”
“Is it? I’ve never thought so.”
He stepped even closer so his leg was pressed to her own, and he eased her into the balustrade, her bottom wedged against the marble stone.
She was astounded by his brazen advance. She wanted to put a palm on his chest and push him back an inch or two, but her anatomy was almost singing with elation at having him touch her.
“You didn’t talk to me when I arrived.” She sounded as if she was pouting. “I decided you were ignoring me. Or perhaps we weren’t really friends.”
“I didn’t think I should hog your attention. If I’d spent a single second by your side, I wouldn’t have let anyone near you.”
“You’re flirting with me.”
“I definitely am.”
“I don’t believe I’ve been flirted with before.”
“With you being so beautiful? That can’t be true. Are the men in America idiots?”
“No, but my father was a ferocious ogre. Any possible beau was too terrified to glance in my direction.”
“I’m not afraid to look.”
He laid a hand on her waist, which was shocking. She felt overcome—by the heat, by the full moon, by his gazing at her so intently—and she slid away.
“You might be a bit too much for me,” she said aloud when she’d meant to keep the comment to herself.
“Too much what?” he asked.
“Too much man.”
“No, I’m betting I’ll turn out to be just the right amount.”
She laughed, and it dawned on her that it had been ages since she’d laughed about anything.
“Did you survive the assault all in one piece?” he inquired.
“I’m stiff from when I fell to the cobbles, but other than that I’m fine.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“What happened to the reprobate who accosted me?”
He flashed his devil’s grin. “We probably oughtn’t to discuss it, but he won’t ever bother you again.”
“Thank goodness.”
Her nerves were getting the better of her, and she sidled away, but every time she moved, he moved too.
“Are you scared of me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then why keep skittering away?”
“I told you you’re a bit much for me. I wasn’t joking.”
“Have you a father or brother traveling with you, Kat?”
“No, just my friend, Pippa. You met her earlier in the dining room.”
“Two females? How daring you are.”
“I’m a widow. My children are with me too. Nicholas and Isabelle.”
“How old are they?”
“Ten and twelve.”
“They’re waiting for you at the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to be back soon, do you?”
“No.”
She rattled off her lies with ease. Long before she’d fled Parthenia, she’d concocted an entire fake history she could recite if she was peppered with questions about her life or family. The only thing she hadn’t changed was their first names. She’d suspected it would be difficult to remember who they were and they’d stumble into fibs.
“Valois sent me to fetch you,” Bryce said.
“How kind of him to make time for me.”
“But I’m not delivering you just yet. Let’s walk down to the water. I want you all to myself for a few minutes.”
She peered over her shoulder. “Is it safe down there?”
“Is it…safe? I’ll be with you. There can be no peril when I am by your side.”
“You’re awfully sure of that.”
“Since I arrived in Egypt, I’ve been learning new tricks. I can now be deadly when riled, and I exude a definite sense of menace. No criminal would risk approaching me.”
She was positive he was correct and that she’d accompany him. Still though, she asked, “What if you’re wrong?”
“Then we’re both in trouble.” He held out his hand, and when she hesitated, he said almost like a dare, “Come on, Kat. Live dangerously.”
“I never have.”
“Maybe you should start.”
She snorted. “You’re teaching me an important detail about myself.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t imagine telling you no.”
“And you shouldn’t tell me that. It’s just a walk on the beach in the moonlight.”
“You have the most wicked gleam in your eye. I’m certain you’re contemplating much more than a pleasant stroll.”
“You’ll never know unless you come with me.”
He was so delectable, so impossibly vain and magnificent, that she shuddered to consider what sorts of mischief he might ultimately convince her to attempt. If she’d had any prudence remaining, she’d have refused to go, but apparently her prudence had flown away.
As if they were adolescent sweethearts, he linked their fingers and gave a slight tug. It was all the persuasion she needed.
They left the verandah, following the path to the river. Burning torches marked the route so it was easy to see the way. The sounds of the party faded. All she could hear was the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees, a few night animals calling to one another, and her pulse pounding in her ears.
The trail ended at an ornate dock complete with benches in secluded alcoves where a person could tarry and stare out at the view. Lamps twinkled from boats at anchor, but also from houses on the other bank. She was in the middle of a large city, but felt as if she was isolated on a sprawling country estate.
They sat side by side on a bench. Water lapped down below, a cool gust of wind riffling her hair. Their arms and legs were nestled together, and he was still holding her hand. It was the most intimate, thrilling moment of her life.
For a long while, they enjoyed a companionable silence. She was dying to open her mouth and blather on about topics she couldn’t address. She wanted to mention her father’s death and Kristof’s perfidy, wanted to mention how alone she w
as and how afraid that she was making all the wrong decisions.
She wanted to disclose how frightened she’d been in Parthenia, how shocking it had been to find herself without a single friend but Pippa. Her father’s family had competently ruled for centuries, but at the first hint of conflict, she and her siblings had been disavowed by everyone.
That was the most egregious disgrace they’d suffered, the discovery that they had no allies. She had to hope her uncle would be glad to see her, that he’d welcome her and offer to assist. Yet what if he didn’t welcome her? What if he wasn’t glad?
No, no, I won’t think about that. Everything would be fine.
“You’re frowning.” He turned to study her.
“Was I? I’m sorry.”
“What is vexing you? You can confide in me. I’m a good listener and maybe I can help.”
“It’s nothing,” she lied.
“Tell me about your husband.”
“My…husband?”
For an instant, she was confused as to whom he referred, and she must have looked like a dunce, because he said, “You claim you’re a widow. Are you?”
“Yes…ah…he was a seafaring man.” His skepticism was obvious, so she added, “We were married young, and he drowned in a tempest many years ago.”
“You don’t say.”
“But let’s not talk about him. Let’s talk about you.”
He chuckled. “Why am I suddenly supposing you’re a woman of many secrets?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’re a very bad liar.”
“I am not. Lying, that is.”
“You shouldn’t lie to me. Your face is an open book, and I can read it clearly. Tell me why you’re really here to see Valois.”
“I already told you. I have to hire bodyguards and a guide to escort me to my uncle.”
“You’re bent on reaching him because…”
She glanced away, unable to hold his steady gaze. “He’s constantly invited me to visit, and I always wanted to. It was a perfect time to journey to Egypt.”
His chuckle grew to a full laugh. “We don’t have to chat about your troubles if you don’t wish to, but you should work on your story. If you’re going to make up facts, you should practice in the mirror so you can figure out how to appear honest and candid.”
They were quiet again, and she was bristling with the desire to divulge the particulars as he was urging her to do, but she couldn’t. First of all, it was humiliating to announce that she’d been declared a bastard child. And second of all, in the past few months, she’d learned not to trust anyone. Not anyone.
“After you’ve spoken with your uncle,” he said, “then what are your plans?”
“I can’t guess. It’s the reason I’m here. He’s my mother’s only sibling, and I need his advice on many matters.”
“Are you sure he’ll give it.”
No. “Why wouldn’t he?”
He shrugged. “I’ve met some of the archeologists who are digging. They seem a tad…obsessed to me. He might not like to have a gaggle of relatives show up.”
“He’ll be delighted to see us.” She wasn’t at all certain he would be.
“Well…good. After you’ve located him, will you stay in Egypt?”
“I haven’t decided. It’s a topic we’ll discuss.”
“If you eventually depart, where will you go? Back to America?”
“I don’t know if I would sail the ocean again.”
“Is Europe a possibility for you?”
“Maybe.”
“If you settle in London, we might cross paths there occasionally.”
“That’s assuming you can scrape up the funds to leave Cairo.”
“I expect it will happen before too long.”
“Who is your family in England? Would I have heard of them?”
“No. I’m an orphan—although I’ve recently found a sister I’d lost as a young boy. We’re searching for two of my brothers too. There were four of us, but we were separated when I was five.”
“You have stories to tell too.”
“Yes, but mine are all true, so I don’t have to keep any of them straight when I’m sharing them with strangers.”
From his manner, speech, and mode of dress, it was clear he’d been educated and reared appropriately, and she’d presumed he was from a higher echelon of society. She’d been hoping he might have an ancestry that would make an acquaintance between them suitable.
If he was an orphan with a catastrophe in his background, there could be no continuing connection. She desperately needed a friend, and it had been an eternity since notions of amour had been stirred.
Perhaps they could have a wild fling while they were both trapped in Egypt. Perhaps the desert would push them to improper conduct that she’d always deeply regret but fondly recall. She’d read about people who engaged in passionate dalliances during their travels. Evidently when one was away from home and removed from the regular rules about decorum, one was freer in his actions.
Would she ever dare entertain an immoral liaison? She doubted it, but it was humorous to consider. If she ever was interested, he would definitely be the man with whom she’d choose to misbehave.
“How do you occupy yourself in London?” she asked.
“Shall I shock you and admit it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m a renowned scalawag.”
He seemed so stable and well-adjusted. She couldn’t imagine him involved in frivolous pursuits. Loyally she declared, “Who says you are? I refuse to believe it.”
“No, I’m awful. I gamble—”
“Most gentlemen do.”
“And I supplement my income by acting on the stage.”
It was the last comment she’d anticipated, and she was so disappointed to hear it. Actors were deemed to be the most depraved scoundrels in the world. There was no worse statement he could have offered to prove how they should never have even the slightest cordiality.
“On the…stage?” she wanly said.
“Yes. I told you I’d shock you.”
“I’m not shocked. I’m…I’m…ah…I guess I am shocked.”
“My mother was a gifted actress and singer. I take after her.”
“You sing too?”
“And I play the pianoforte. I’m quite extraordinary, but I like to announce my low habits right up front. It keeps misconceptions from forming.”
“Yes, I can see that it would.”
“It helps me to discover whether someone is a genuine friend or not.”
He studied her, and it was obvious he’d issued a challenge. He’d pegged her as the kind of female who would judge and condemn over his circumstances.
Would she?
Was she the snob he pictured her to be? Would she snub him because he had talents that branded him as being too far beneath her lofty self? Or was she better than he assumed?
She wasn’t lofty anymore, but she’d had a lifetime of pomposity drilled into her. She was struggling to adapt, and she liked to hope she could befriend a remarkable person despite how he earned his living. She liked to hope she could overlook the vast differences separating them and establish a solid bond. Why couldn’t she?
As Pippa constantly reminded her, she was no longer a royal princess. She had to adjust her standards, had to learn how to mingle with and care about all sorts of people. Not only those with blue blood running in their veins.
“I was raised to be a terrible snob,” she said.
“I can tell that about you.”
“But I’m trying to change.”
He nodded. “Change is always good.”
“I’ve never chatted with an actor before.”
“Well, I’m not much of an actor these days. I’m changing too, remember? I’m trying to be an adventurer, but I’m not having much luck at it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It appears to me that you’re having an enormously grand adventure. You’ll still be bragging about it when you
’re old and gray. Your grandchildren will be so weary of your stories about your sojourn in Egypt that they’ll refuse to be in the same room with you lest you start in with another tale of your daring-do.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure you’re correct. When this is all over, I’ll likely reflect on it with relish. At the moment, it seems a bit dire.”
“You’ll get through it.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Have you asked Valois for funds to pay your passage home?”
“I wouldn’t offend him. He’s been very gracious, and so far I haven’t overstayed my welcome. But I’m certain if I began begging him for money, I’d rapidly find myself shown to the door.”
“Maybe you should search for an heiress and marry her. Isn’t that what desperate gentlemen usually attempt?”
“An…heiress,” he mused as if he’d never previously considered the notion. “Yes, that’s precisely what I need. How about you? Are you rich? Should I seduce you to grab hold of your fortune?”
“After that question, if I was wealthy I wouldn’t admit it.”
“I’ll expose all your secrets. Just you wait and see.”
“I will never tell them to you, so you shouldn’t expect to ever unravel them.”
“I’m already making progress.”
“How?”
“You just confessed to having secrets. Earlier, didn’t you claim you had none?”
“I am merely a widow who’s come to Egypt to visit my uncle. That’s it.”
“Liar.”
Before she realized what he intended, he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. It was quick and brief and very, very dear, and she was so surprised that she didn’t try to deflect it.
He hovered an inch away, and she was flummoxed and amazed. They’d been pleasantly conversing, sharing confidences, and she’d been unaware that he was contemplating such a brazen deed. She thought she should probably be irked by his audacity, but she wasn’t irked in the least.
She was smiling, wishing he’d do it again.
“You fascinate me, Kat,” he said.
“I can’t imagine why.”
“You’re smart and beautiful and mysterious and very alone. How could I not be fascinated?”
“What made you suppose I’d like to be kissed by you?”
