Reckless

by Shannon Drake

  “Ah, well, the fellow should have a holiday,” Hunter said.

  “Sir John?” Kat asked.

  “The true head of the department,” Camille explained.

  “Is Brian about?” Hunter asked.

  “Um, yes. He just went down the hall. He should be right back.”

  “I’ll take a quick look,” Hunter said.

  And he left Kat there, alone with this woman who was gazing at her with such perplexity—and who suddenly exclaimed, “Ah, Katherine Adair! Goodness! You’re the young woman who pulled David Turnberry from the Thames.”

  Kat blushed. She’d forgotten that she had been written up in the papers. “Yes,” she murmured.

  “What a heroic thing to do!”

  “Not really. I’m not an Egyptologist, but I am an excellent swimmer, you see,” Kat explained. “And…I’m not sure I’d realized it myself, but something of an artist. Because,” she added quickly, “my father is really an excellent artist. It’s rather a long story, but—”

  “But you’re to come with us on the expedition. Bravo! It will be delightful to have you along.”

  “Thank you.” Could this woman be serious? But, of course, Kat had read all about Camille, Countess of Carlyle, as well. She had been a commoner, a woman working at the museum, and there had been some terrible horror going on at the time, Kat couldn’t quite remember the details, but Camille and the earl had solved all the mysteries and married, and not even the most vile of the gossip journals could find a single negative thing to say about the woman.

  “Are you ready for a few hardships?” Camille asked.

  “Will you actually work the digs?” Kat cross-queried.

  “Indeed! I wouldn’t miss a minute. But you see… Here, come round and I will show you!”

  The map she had on the floor beneath the various parchments and papers displayed the lower half of Italy and the northern region of Africa. “First, you see, we take a ship to the coast of France. Then we’re on a train, and we’ll travel through Paris, ever southward, and here go through Italy, perhaps with a bit of time in Rome, then over to Brindisi, and we’re on a ship again. The journey itself promises excitement. The ship we board in Brindisi takes us to Alexandria, and from there, we go by train down to Cairo. The hotel there is lovely. But here! Here is where I am most anxious to be. I’m certain that everything I’ve read points to this little area here.”

  “It’s the tomb of a pharaoh?” Kat queried.

  “Better! The tomb of a high priest. He served Ramses II—the Great. And what a life that one led! Biblically, he was pharaoh during the exodus Moses led from Egypt. But he became pharaoh at a young age and rode out to be a great warrior-leader. He had a queen, of course, but quite a harem of wives, and hundreds of children. His oldest—groomed to follow his father—died at a young age. How is still in question. Oh, there are theories. But the tomb we’re looking for belongs to that of one of his high priests. A fellow who was supposed to have had incredible influence over the pharaoh—like a mesmerist, even! Therefore, he gained great power and tremendous wealth, and had his own tomb dug out of the cliffs here, near the temple where he kept people cowed and in awe! To find his tomb, and all that may be within, may help to prove—or disprove—many theories regarding Ramses and his life. It might clarify fact from fiction and myth. Oh dear, I am going on. I do hope I’m not boring you.”

  “No, not at all,” Kat replied honestly.

  “It will be boring, some of it. There will be days of just sifting through sand…but I do hope you’ll come to love it.”

  “So…there is a new person on our team, I hear.”

  Kat was kneeling on the floor when the Earl of Carlyle made his appearance. He was a very tall man, maybe half an inch more than Hunter’s imposing height, with a scarred cheek that might have lent him an air of danger, had he not had such a pleasant smile and such merry eyes.

  She struggled to stand; he raised a hand. “Please, don’t get up. I believe Hunter and I will be joining you on the floor. My wife is eager for Hunter to agree with her. I’ve learned that not only did you salvage a student from the sea, but brought to our attention a man we were seeking—your father.”

  Her eyes widened. “You really do think so much of his work, then?”

  “When you come to the castle, you will see,” he assured her.

  “Hunter, please, will you get down here and look at my calculations?” Camille demanded. “The painting is in the den, and it is fabulous,” she added, waiting for Hunter to lower himself to her side. He hunkered down, and she looked at him anxiously as he gave her work his most serious attention. There was a protractor on the ground and he made note of her translations and certain sites, then swept arcs on the map. “There…or…there,” he said at last.

  “Aha!” she cried with delight.

  “Nothing is exact, Camille,” Hunter warned. “If it were, we’d not be digging endlessly. The sands have shifted over time. What appears simple may not be so.”

  “Oh, but we will make a great discovery, I know it,” Camille said with pleasure.

  “We may discover sand and rubble,” he cautioned.

  “Whatever we discover, it will be my first dig,” she reminded him. “I have waited all my life for such an opportunity!”

  “I thought you’d waited all your life for me,” the earl said.

  She laughed, “Well, that, too, of course!”

  Watching them, Kat felt a poignant tearing at her heart, a wistful longing, such as she had never known before. Their feelings for each other were so evident, in words, in their laughter. Every time their eyes met.

  She knew what it was like to hunger for someone…but not what it was like to be so tenderly regarded in return.

  When she looked away, she realized that Hunter was watching her. His eyes were strangely grave, and she looked away quickly, determined that the man would not pity her.

  Nor would she fail him in any way.

  “What do these mean?” she asked, pointing to some of the hieroglyphs.

  “Ah, basically, they mean that he is a man who talks to the gods, and whom the gods honor,” Hunter replied. “He is the right hand of the pharaoh.”

  “And here, it says that as such, he rests near those who are great builders, men who will touch the sun,” Camille continued.

  Hunter was looking at Kat again as he asked, “Do you have that book, Camille? The one by Professor Lornette?”

  “I do. In the desk. I’ll get it.”

  “We have some logistics to go over, don’t we?” the earl asked Hunter.

  Hunter nodded. “We’ll set Miss Adair to some learning, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Camille rose to go into the desk and produce the book. “It’s the best, the most accurate and comprehensive, that I’ve read. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

  “I hope you’ll learn it,” Hunter murmured, and his eyes were on Kat again.

  “I shall set out to do so,” she said. He was always challenging her, and warning her, she thought somewhat resentfully. But then her mind began to spin again. She had been seated on the floor with a countess. She’d shared a meal with Lord Avery. And with David.

  She was about to embark on a fantasy that was so far removed it had never so much as entered into the realm of her dreams.

  She would be polite. And good at the work he wanted.

  “Hunter?” the earl said.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Brian,” Hunter said.

  “We’re right down the hall in the old workroom. There have been a few renovations round here lately.”

  “If you need anything…” Hunter said.

  “Go away. I’m here,” Camille said cheerfully, waving her hand in the air. When the men were gone, Camille asked Kat, “Is there anything that you need?”

  “I’m fine. Happy as can be. I shall just sit and study, unless I can be of any assistance to you. Then just tell me, please.”

  “Read away. And I will go back to some of my tran
slations, see if there is more to verify all that I’ve found!”

  They settled into an amazingly comfortable silence. To her surprise, Kat found the symbols and representations fascinating. Learning to put them all together was a bit difficult as first, quite different from translating, for instance, French to English. But after a while, it became easier to insert the implied meaning, and symbols began to run together more smoothly, making sense to her.

  “Kat?”

  She looked up, startled. Apparently, the Countess of Carlyle had been standing there for some minutes, looking at her. Not in annoyance, however.

  “You’re hooked,” she said, smiling.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Hooked on ancient Egypt!” Camille said happily. “Be careful, it can become an obsession. I’m taking a break. Would you like to come along? There’s a place here for tea…not open much longer.”

  Kat would have loved to go. But she didn’t dare. Hunter might return at any minute.

  “Thank you so very much. But I’ve little time and a great deal to learn,” she said.

  “As you wish. I can bring you back a scone or the like.”

  “I had breakfast, thank you.”

  Lady Carlyle left. Kat returned to the book, then looked up and gazed round. She was in some sort of main office, but where people worked, not where they greeted the public. This room was large, with the desk, filing cabinets and a few glass exhibit cases. She got up and walked to one, stared at it, frowning, for several seconds, then felt a shudder seize her.

  The exhibit was of a pair of hands. Mummy hands. Broken at the wrists.

  “Ugh!”

  Kat stepped back. She glanced at the door, unnerved, hoping someone would return. But seconds later, she realized that her curiosity was greater than her fear and she began to walk around the room again. Another case offered a far prettier sight. Shimmering gold jewelry.

  She found that jewelry had changed little over time. There were beautiful pieces there, thousands of years old, that might just as easily grace the fingers, wrists or throat of any wealthy woman today. Fascinated, she moved on. There were a few pieces of jewelry that held symbols she had just learned. “Ever in care of great Horus!” she read aloud with pleasure.

  A moment later, she finished with the cases. There were two doors in the room. She stared at them, hesitating. She was just a guest here.

  Ah, but one about to sail away—and work!—with a group of Egyptologists, amateur and professional. She walked resolutely toward the first door and opened it, stepping in. There was another desk in here, more filing cabinets, framed ancient maps on the walls and a few more exhibits.

  On the desk sat a stuffed crocodile with gaping jaws. She noted the stationery on the desk, saw the emblazoned initials HSM.

  Hunter’s office?

  Most likely. No, most definitely. There were several swords on the walls, some with plaques that described just how and when they had been received, gift of such and such a ruler. There was also a long, elegantly carved stick on the desk. She realized that it was a blowgun. Oh, yes, this was all Hunter’s!

  “Charming, I’m sure!” Kat murmured.

  She stepped out, found herself still alone and opened the door to the second room. Hands clasped behind her back, she wandered in. Camille worked here, she thought. Astonishing. The woman had married an earl, yet kept working at the museum. This desk was so evidently hers! Papers in just a bit of disarray on it, but there were items on the desk of pure beauty—a gold and enameled scarab, little pieces that appeared to represent various gods…

  Suddenly there was a sound from beyond the room, in the main office. Kat felt a moment’s panic. It had to be Lady Carlyle returning…or Hunter. And she didn’t want either catching her snooping about in areas to which she had not been invited.

  Still, she was ready to burst out the door when she heard a whispered voice. “No one is here!”

  “Well, do you see it?” Another voice, just as hushed, demanded.

  “No, we’ve got to go in and find it. Quickly.”

  “Quickly? We’ve made a mistake, a major mistake. There are far too many people working here today. We’ve got to get out.”

  Kat couldn’t make out the next words. But they ended with “…else we shall be to pay for it! And if the truth is known…better off dead!”

  Then something and “…we missed the other day.”

  “Fool!” Again, words she couldn’t make out. “Ah, well, there will be more chances! A long journey, a dark desert.” Something totally uncomprehensible, and then “…dead is the only answer.”

  Kat gasped, then clamped her hand over her mouth. She was alone here at the moment, and these people, whoever they were…

  “There’s someone coming.”

  At that whisper, Kat found courage. She burst out of Camille’s private office, certain that she would confront the intruders, and Hunter and the Earl of Carlyle would be coming in from the hallway.

  But she burst out into an empty room. Surprise stopped her for a moment, then she strode across the room to the door that opened to the hall, throwing it open.

  Again, there was no one.

  And to her distress, as she stood in the hall, the door closed. She turned to enter again, but the door was now locked.

  She swore softly. Words that might have distressed her father, but here, there was no one to hear them. At least, not at first.

  As she tugged at the handle, she heard footsteps. Alarmed, she looked up.

  Now Hunter was coming. “What’s the problem, Miss Adair?”

  “Rather apparent, I believe. I’m locked out.”

  “Ah.” He stopped in the hallway, staring at her. “The question is, Kat, what are you doing on this side of the door? I thought you were working.”

  “I was working.”

  “Ah…well, there’s little fresh air to be had in the halls here. Were you exploring?”

  “No!” she protested.

  “Then…?”

  “I heard whispering,” she said.

  He sighed, looking weary and amused. “Miss Adair, mummies do not come back to life and walk the halls of the museum. They don’t whisper, and they don’t run around in their wrappings. And their mouths are wrapped shut, so the idea that they—”

  “Hunter MacDonald!” came the soft, teasing voice of Lady Carlyle. She was approaching from the opposite direction. “Don’t let him taunt you, Miss Adair. The man has been known to wear mummy wrappings himself!”

  Kat was amazed to see Hunter flush. “Camille, at the time, I was afraid for your life!” he said.

  “Yes, you were.” She caught his arm and squeezed it, smiling with affection. “But be kind! This is all new to Miss Adair.”

  “Kat, please,” she murmured.

  “Only if I am Camille, and not all this ‘Lady’ here and there with every sentence! So what’s going on?”

  “Kat heard whisperers and decided to investigate,” Hunter said. “And thus locked herself out of the office.”

  Camille looked at Kat, smoothing back a stray lock of her hair. “There’s really no one else about.”

  “But there was!” Kat insisted.

  “Perhaps some of the students?” Camille suggested to Hunter.

  “I’ve not seen any of the fellows.”

  “Neither have I. Are you sure you heard something? The place is cavernous—voices can echo about.”

  “I heard people whispering,” she said stubbornly.

  “Men or women?” Hunter asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You were reading at the desk when I left you…and you heard something from outside?” Camille asked.

  Kat opened and closed her mouth. No, actually, I was snooping about in your private office, and the whispers came from just outside that door!

  She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Now you’re angry,” Hunter said.

  “And maybe you’re in danger!” she snapped back.r />
  He smiled, looking at Camille again. “Everyone did read about all that happened here, I suppose,” he said.

  Kat, frowning, looked from one of them to the other. They both seemed amused, doubtless certain that she had let her imagination get the best of her.

  “As I said, never mind!” she said to Hunter. “I think I’ve done quite well with your book this afternoon, and I believe I’ve learned a great deal.”

  “Take the poor girl home, Hunter!” Camille said. “There’s always tomorrow, you know. And if you and Brian finished up with the budget, we’re actually ahead of ourselves. Oh, you know you must be ready to sail on Saturday, Miss Adair.” She gave Hunter a fierce look. “Arrangements have been made?”

  “Emma is coming to look after the girls,” Hunter said.

  “I don’t need looking after,” Kat murmured.

  “Girls?” Camille said.

  “Lady Margaret has decided to go along. As far as Shepheard’s Hotel.”

  Camille laughed. “Emma will not be happy.”

  “Oh, she seems in a jolly enough mood about it all. She seems to have acquired quite a fondness for Miss Adair.” Why? I can’t begin to imagine! Kat thought he implied.

  “She’ll be whining and complaining all the way,” Camille warned.

  “Well, Lord Avery gets along swimmingly with Emma, and he’s been through several housekeepers in the past few months. And since his world rises and sets in Margaret, and Margaret loves Emma, as well, that’s the way it must be.”

  “Good enough, then. I believe my husband is eager to head home now, and it’s a bit of a ride. Kat Adair, delighted to meet you and to have you with us. Hunter, good night!”

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek. He nodded, watching her for a moment as she departed. There was a very deep friendship between the two, Kat decided. Almost like brother and sister. She couldn’t imagine such a thing herself. Especially since he seemed to have a talent for irritating her mercilessly.

  He studied her, then, in the hallway for a long moment. “It is growing late. I shall see you home.”

  “I’ve been waiting all day for the pleasure of riding again,” she told him.

  “You’ll get used to it. But we need only ride to the town house. Ethan will have the carriage there, and he’ll take you on to your father’s house.”