by Cheryl Holt
“Good.”
“I didn’t know passion could be like this. I didn’t realize it could be so exhilarating.”
“It can quickly spin out of control though. It’s the reason maidens have chaperones. So they can’t have too much fun.”
She snorted with amusement. “But it can’t lead anywhere. You understand that, don’t you? If you were expecting we might court or woo or wed, I must inform you that I—”
“Hush, Katarina. It’s not courting, it’s not wooing. It’s just kissing.”
“More than that too.”
“I’d like it to be more, but we’ll never do what you don’t wish to do.”
“I like kissing you.” She looked shocked, as if she’d admitted to a great and unforgiveable sin.
“I believe I’ve told you that you should like it. We’re adults, and we’re alone in Egypt. Live a little.”
“I’m predicting—with scant effort—you’ll convince me to see things your way.”
“I should hope so, or we have some very boring months ahead of us.”
“Will you entertain me with kissing?”
“Whenever you desire it, my lady.”
“You can obviously provide services beyond being a bodyguard.”
He grinned his devil’s grin. “Some very interesting services.”
“I’m glad I was smart enough to hire you.”
“I am too.”
She smiled, and the most potent wave of affection swirled between them. It felt as if they were connected, as if they belonged together, as if they’d always been meant to find each another. Fate had brought them down the Nile at the same moment.
Any wild deed might have occurred, but the boat rocked slightly, someone coming on board up on the deck. Ultimately her sister called, “Katarina? Where are you?”
Bryce chuckled. “It seems your sister is to be your moral compass.”
“A good thing too. If she hadn’t arrived, I can’t guess what I might have done with you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, next time I’ll push harder to get what I want.”
He stood and went to the ladder. “We’re down here, Miss Isabelle.”
“Mr. Blair?”
“Yes. Your sister was overheated, so she’s resting where it’s cooler.”
Isabelle appeared and stared down at him. “Is she all right?”
“She’s perfect,” Bryce said. “Absolutely perfect.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You are so naughty, Chase Hubbard.”
“I try to be.”
“You succeed at it spectacularly.”
Chase grinned at Pippa and linked their fingers, hurrying her toward the bathing ponds.
Cedric Webster might be dodgy and mad as a hatter, but he’d had the good sense to build a series of pools that brought drinking water into his small tent village but also provided a fine means for washing. Considering the heat, grit, and sweat that accumulated during the day, it was a welcome relief.
Palm trees and ferns had been planted, paths graveled and groomed, and benches discreetly arranged. It was the perfect spot for an assignation, and once he’d pointed it out, they’d decided to use it as often as they could.
It was late, any sane person asleep. Mr. Webster ran the place like an army camp, everyone up at dawn and working like slaves—actually there were slaves on the property—until the sun set in the west. Mr. Webster claimed the slaves weren’t his, but who else could be their owner?
They weren’t treated badly, being fed, clothed, and housed. They simply had to toil away like…well…slaves. If he’d have been one of them, he’d have stolen away long ago, although that was probably harder than it sounded.
On one side, they were surrounded by thousands of miles of desert. On the other, there was the river, which should have been an escape route, but the poor creatures had inked tattoos that marked them, so even if they’d made it to Cairo, they’d have been captured and dragged back.
Chase didn’t have moral qualms about many things, but he liked to suppose acceptance of slavery was beyond the pale—even for someone of his low character. Yet apparently it wasn’t. The females were very beautiful. They did his laundry and cooked his food and, while he hadn’t requested more unsavory services, he’d certainly received the impression that they’d be delighted to supply those too.
How had he stumbled into such a bizarre situation? He definitely understood why Cedric Webster stayed year after year with no archeological triumphs to show for his efforts. If Chase could have created the ideal life for himself, he’d have selected one similar to Webster’s.
Chase thought it must be grand to be so wealthy. Webster loafed and pursued his hobby, but never had to worry about money.
Pippa stopped and maneuvered him over to a pond. There were seven or eight of them, and she’d snooped about earlier in the afternoon and chosen her favorite.
They’d sneaked off twice since they’d met, but he was beginning to wonder if she was worth the bother. She talked a good story and pretended to be loose, but she really wasn’t, and Chase never wasted energy on women who teased him. There were too many willing doxies who were happy to deliver what he sought, and doxies were more fun anyway. They didn’t require wooing or cajoling.
With her blond hair and blue eyes, her plump figure and feminine curves, Pippa would be accustomed to men panting after her. The idiots in her country probably tagged after her like dogs on a leash, but Chase wouldn’t much longer. Not unless something interesting happened.
She halted at the pool’s edge. “Isn’t this lovely?”
“It’s very nice.”
“Let’s take off our shoes and wade in the water.”
“Forget your bloody shoes. Let’s get naked and swim.”
“Naked! Are you mad?”
“No. Why shouldn’t we? It’s late and there’s no one to see.”
“I’m not taking off my clothes.”
“Then why are we here?”
The question flummoxed her. Obviously she expected they’d have another evening where kissing and caressing were all she’d allow. He didn’t mind kissing, and she was proficient at it, but a fellow could only continue for so long before his poor cock couldn’t abide the torment.
They either had to get down to business, or he had to find a partner who knew her way around a mattress.
He plopped down on the sand and kicked off his boots. His stockings were next, then his sword, pistol, and the knives he carried at all times. Since arriving in Egypt, he’d suffered so many disasters and had encountered so many dangerous characters that he never went anywhere without an arsenal of weapons.
She was still standing, glaring at him as if she was angry. Whatever her plan by coming with him, he wasn’t acting as she’d hoped. She ordered men about and they obeyed, so clearly he was at the wrong party.
Usually he was easy-going and tolerant with females, but he’d been anticipating a torrid tryst ever since she’d whispered in his ear at supper.
He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on the ground so, in a thrice, he was wearing just his trousers. In London, he’d always been neatly barbered, but during his sojourn in Egypt, he’d let his hair grow, and it hung down his back, currently tied into a tidy ponytail. He yanked at the ribbon, his hair sweeping across his shoulders.
“What are you thinking?” she hissed. “You’ve removed most of your clothes.”
“I told you I’m taking a swim. I’ve been hot and sweaty all day. I need a bath. No offense, but you could use one too.”
“But…but…what if a servant walks by? What if he tells Katarina?”
“First of all, we’re away from the main path, and everyone is in bed. Who is there to see us? And second of all, what could they tell Miss Webster? You’re fully clothed, I’m mostly clothed—”
“Your chest, arms, calves, and feet are bare!”
“Yes, they are, and I don’t give two
figs for Katarina Webster’s opinion. She’s not my wife, mother, or sister, and she has no authority over me.”
“What if she fired you for moral turpitude?”
“Turpitude? Really?” He scoffed with derision. “She doesn’t have a replacement for me as a bodyguard, so I’m not worried. But if she did send me packing, I’d return to Cairo in no worse shape than when I joined this pointless expedition. I was penniless then, and I’m penniless now.”
On his mentioning Miss Webster, he experienced a minor twinge of guilt. He was being paid to protect her, not to trifle with her traveling companion. At that moment, if mischief erupted, he was away from the camp and would be completely ineffective as a sentinel. He wasn’t doing much to earn his wages, but then again he didn’t understand why Miss Webster was so afraid.
They were at a secluded village in the desert. No one appeared to be following or watching them. The chance of a brigand creeping in by riding across the sand was nil, and while an outlaw could stealthily sail up in a boat, why would anyone?
“Sit down and take off your shoes,” he told her. “Don’t behave like a prude. I hate persnickety women.”
“I’m not persnickety.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me. You prance around like a mare in heat, but so far I haven’t seen much evidence that you have any idea how to tempt a man like me.”
“A man like you?” She was practically sneering. “What would that be? A scoundrel and scalawag?”
“Yes, that describes me perfectly. I gamble, cheat, lie, and steal too. My friend, Bryce, is the gentleman. If you’re yearning for flowers and poetry, you’re flirting with the wrong fellow.”
He thought they were fighting, though he couldn’t figure out why, and he wouldn’t fuss with a grumpy shrew.
She stared down her pert nose, then seemed to reconsider her foul mood. She was so peculiar. One minute, she acted loose and available. The next, she might have just stepped out of a cloistered abbey. She dropped down beside him.
“You constantly surprise me,” she said. “I never know what might happen.”
“In my book, that’s a good thing. Who would like to dabble with a stuffy boor?”
“I agree.” She flashed her prettiest smile. “I’m sorry to be such a grouch. I get so exasperated with Katarina, and I have no confidante to whom I can complain. I guess I’m taking it out on you.”
“I guess you are too, and I don’t like it. We don’t have to have a fling. We can simply be friends.”
“No, I don’t want that. If I didn’t have you to entertain me, I’d go mad.”
“The desert can be overwhelming.”
“Kat’s talking about renting a house in Cairo. It will be better there. We won’t be so isolated.”
“It’s not so bad here, is it? The tents are spacious and comfortable and the slaves courteous and competent.”
“Slaves!”
“Who did you think all those dark-skinned people were?”
“Well…servants.”
“Yes, servants. Slave servants.”
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Since I arrived in this ghastly country, I’ve stayed in much worse places. In my view, this camp is actually quite pleasant.”
“Monsieur Valois’s villa was nice,” she said. “I wish we could live somewhere like that.”
“He’s rich as Croesus.”
“As is Katarina, so hopefully once we’re in Cairo, she’ll select a property that will suit my expensive tastes.”
“You have expensive tastes?”
“I grew up with Kat, so I was showered with fine things. Why would I lower my standards?”
He chuckled. “What a mercenary little trollop you are. Is that the only reason you’re traveling with her? Because she’s rich?”
She pondered, then admitted, “I suppose.”
“You don’t like her? I thought you were her best friend.”
“I am, but I have my own wants and needs. I’m happy to revel in the largesse she tosses my way, but I’d like to possess some of my own.”
“Gad, you’re greedier than I am. At least I like Bryce for who he is. Not for what he can give me. Of course he’s poor as a church mouse so he couldn’t give me a farthing even if I begged him.”
“Katarina is all right.”
“High praise indeed, Pippa.”
She genuinely perplexed him. What sort of person despised her best friend? What sort of person hung on simply for the lofty style of living that was provided? Tons of sycophants did it, and Chase probably would too if he had the chance, but he liked to believe he was true and steady in his relationships with the people who mattered.
He had many faults, but for the most part, his friendships were valid ones. He and Bryce had met at school as boys. Bryce had been an orphan and charity case, and Chase no better than that. His father had been a French count, his mother the man’s notorious mistress, and Chase their scandalous love child.
They both died when he was very young, his French kin paying for his education but no more than that, and it was the very devil struggling to survive with no parents, family, or means of support.
Yet he was clever and tenacious and had become quite successful. Well, other than being stranded in Egypt without the resources to leave. The salary he’d earn from Miss Webster would rectify that situation very soon. He really ought to take more pride in his position, ought to try to keep her safe.
If he’d had a conscience—his was very small and very quiet—he’d have felt guilty about his behavior. But he rarely felt guilty about anything.
“How will you get your own largesse dumped on you?” he asked. “What is your plan? Will you marry a wealthy man? Will you rob a bank? What?”
“I already have a scheme in the works.”
“What is it?”
Her smile was sly and devious. “If I explain it to you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“Not Mr. Blair. Especially not him.”
“All right. What is it?”
She studied him, then confided, “I’m about to receive a reward.”
“For what service?”
“I’m watching Katarina for someone.”
He scowled. “Who?”
“Her…family. She has relatives who were upset when she left.”
“Why would they care?”
“She’s rich, and with rich people, it’s always about the money, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Her brother, Nicholas, is heir to a great fortune too. There are several powerful cousins who’d like him to return so they can be in charge of him.”
“And you’re…what? Just watching her? How will that garner you a reward?”
“I’m sending reports about where she is and what she’s doing.”
“These cousins of hers must be very, very interested.”
“They are.”
“The reports are worth a lot of money?” he asked.
“Not the reports precisely. Her kin might grow tired of her antics and decide they want her home. I can help make it happen.”
He frowned. “Meaning what? Would you tie her up and kidnap her?”
She shrugged. “I can’t predict what might transpire, but if I needed assistance with a certain task, and I had a fellow willing to aid me, there’d be remuneration for him too.”
“You don’t say?”
“If I found the right fellow.”
He let the subject drop.
He was never concerned about rich people and their problems. Nor could he deduce if she was actually plotting or simply boasting. Would there be money at the end of it for a betrayal? At that moment, he was content to piddle along behind Miss Webster, doing nothing and being compensated when he was finished.
But what if there was a possibility of earning more than he’d expected? What if he could earn quite a bit more?
He had no connection to Miss Webster and owed h
er no loyalty, but if he engaged in unsavory conduct, Bryce would be furious. He always hated to disappoint his friend, but Bryce wouldn’t necessarily have to ever learn of it, would he?
“Take off your shoes,” he said. “And your stockings. Don’t make me beg.”
After all their talk of conniving and schemes, she was in a much better mood. “I am awfully hot.”
She bent over and fussed with buckles and laces, and eventually the shoes were off.
“Turn around,” she said.
“Why?”
“I’m going to remove my stockings. I don’t want you to see my legs.”
“Heaven forbid.”
He scooted away from her and waded into the water. It was the perfect temperature, cool and pleasant on his heated skin. The pool was only three or four yards across, and it was part of a string of pools that funneled the water from one to the other.
He went out to the middle where it was just above his waist, and he dunked down until he was fully submerged. Then he leapt up, causing a huge splash, as if he were an ancient god, rising out of the Nile.
She was still sitting in the sand, although her feet were finally bare. Her hair was down, the combs pulled away so the curly blond locks had tumbled down her back.
“That’s more like it,” he murmured.
“I’m trying to be more like you.”
“Good. I detest prudes.”
“So you’ve said, and I heard you every time.”
“In light of our circumstances, there’s no need to be morally correct. We’re alone and no one knows what we’re about.”
“I know, but I’m forcing myself not to care.”
“Aren’t you flirtatious and loose? You pretend to be.”
“I guess I’m not as decadent as you. I’d like to be, but I’m not.”
“After you spend a few more hours with me, my bad habits will rub off.”
“Here’s hoping.”
She came to the edge, but didn’t dip in her toes, and he wondered if perhaps she couldn’t swim. He walked over to her, spun her, and started unbuttoning her gown.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m undressing you. It’s easier to move in the water without so many layers of clothing.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“And we should keep your gown dry. You’ll want to put it on when we’re finished and we head to our tents. It would be difficult to explain why it was damp.”
