by Stacy Henrie
“I’ll do it,” he said with a decisive nod.
Instead of looking happy or relieved, Syble eyed him with confusion, as if she didn’t quite believe his answer. This was the first time, since spying her striding down the terrace in his direction, her chin in the air, that her confidence had slipped. Had she been so certain he would refuse? The thought that he’d surprised her pleased him very much. Clearly she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.
“Shall I repeat my answer?”
Syble’s gaze rolled upward again. “I heard you the first time. I’m just…Never mind.” Her earlier puzzlement fell away as she smiled up at him. “That’s wonderful news, Marcus. When do we start?”
“The day after tomorrow.” He took a step toward the terrace doors. “I’ll need to cover up the entrance to my tomb tomorrow to ward off anyone trying to reach the treasury room ahead of me. We can narrow down the area on your map the following day. Then, come Monday, I’ll arrange to have my current crew meet us at the new site.”
She fell into step beside him. “Can’t you simply hire a new crew?”
“I could. However, I’ve worked enough seasons with this particular group that I trust them and they trust me. I wouldn’t want to attempt a dig with anyone else. Besides, these men were already expecting another week’s worth of work. It wouldn’t be right not to continue to employ them.”
Syble glanced his way as they entered the hotel. “You really are experienced, aren’t you?”
The tone of fascination in her voice proved to be as much a compliment as her words. Did she truly mean them, though? In his experience, he had met many girls who were initially interested in what he did, but their curiosity typically waned over time.
Especially if a titled gentleman who wasn’t so reserved and didn’t like to dig about in the sand caught their eye.
“You sound a bit surprised,” he said with a smile.
Her brow scrunched in contemplation as she shook her head. “No. It’s just that you really did end up doing the very thing you were passionate about all those years ago. I think that’s pretty remarkable.”
It was his turn to be taken aback. Had Syble Rinecroft truly called him remarkable? Perhaps she wasn’t the same girl he’d once known, at least when it came to finding fault with nearly everything he did.
“I have felt passionate about Egypt for a very long time. What about you?”
When she stopped walking, he did the same. “What am I passionate about?” At his nod, she said, “Right now, I’m passionately invested in living life to the fullest and enjoying this grand adventure.” Her smile rivaled the hotel lights.
“Those are certainly pursuits worthy of enjoyment,” he conceded. “But they’re rather of the moment, are they not? Is there something more long-term that you have a passion for?”
Her countenance changed at once as irritation rolled like storm clouds across her features. “There’s nothing wrong with living in the moment, Marcus.”
And to think, they’d been getting on rather well the past few minutes. “That isn’t—”
“You know what, it doesn’t matter.” She waved her hand in the air. “I appreciate you agreeing to help with this dig. What I do or don’t do with my future is for me to decide.”
Her smile didn’t seem so bright in this moment—almost as if she’d been hurt by his words. “If I said something amiss, Syble, I am sorry.”
“Why don’t we chalk it up to another area where we don’t see eye to eye?” She extended a gloved hand toward him. “But for the sake of this dig and our grandmothers, let’s agree to disagree?”
He accepted her handshake, noting the way her hand fit snugly within his. As he stared down at their joined fingers, he felt a strange sensation race up his arm. Almost as if he’d touched an electrical current. When he looked at Syble, he found her watching him with wide eyes. Had she felt the odd charge too?
Blinking, Marcus tried to remember what she’d asked him. Oh, yes. To agree to disagree. Though in this moment, he couldn’t imagine what they would disagree about in the future.
“I am willing to do that,” he murmured.
Syble dropped his hand and stepped back. “Wonderful.” Her voice sounded slightly breathless, her cheeks more pink than normal. “We should tell the others the good news.”
Nodding absently, Marcus trailed her as she started back in the direction of the dining room. What exactly had just happened? He shook his head, certain he simply needed a good night’s sleep. Rest would surely help him stop imagining he felt more than tolerance and patience toward Syble. The connected moment they had just shared must be a trick of the mind—a result of the pressure he’d felt this evening over what to do.
Tomorrow everything would look and be as it should. Except that he wouldn’t be returning to his dig. He worked to keep himself from frowning at the reminder. It was only a matter of time before they would all agree to abandon this new project, and then he’d be back to doing something concrete and known. Something he could truly feel passionate and confident about.
* * *
“Syble?”
“Hmm?” She didn’t turn at the sound of her grandmother’s voice. Instead she continued to stare down through the hotel window at the moon’s reflection on the river, her fingers fiddling with the sash of her robe.
She ought to be grinning with glee—their dig was actually going to happen, now that Marcus was on board. Rather than feel elated, though, she felt strangely…unsettled.
Syble wanted to believe her discomfort came from the prospect of working with someone who didn’t believe in the authenticity of her map and whom she found generally annoying. But she didn’t want to lie to herself—she knew those weren’t the reasons. Did that mean this disconcerted feeling stemmed from her and Marcus’s earlier conversation?
She hadn’t minded his question about what she was passionate about doing. But his response to her answer had been more than irritating. It had cut deeply, laying bare some of her fears.
For so long, she’d been passionate about finding romance and falling in love. Yet just when she’d believed such a thing would finally happen, her most admired suitor had chosen someone else. Was her desire to live in the moment part of the reason Mr. Kirk had chosen not to marry her? The possibility brought a renewal of the deep-seated ache Syble hadn’t felt since three months ago, when her grandmother’s offer had lifted her out of her sadness and set her on this new course.
There’d also been that odd moment during her and Marcus’s handshake. His hand had fully enveloped hers, the color of his tan skin a contrast to her white glove. Instead of feeling swallowed up by his handshake, though, she’d experienced a bizarre sense of calm and belonging. That had been followed by a jolt of something that set her heart beating faster but not in an unpleasant way. It was similar to what she’d felt the first time Elijah Kirk had surreptitiously held her hand. Only this wasn’t Mr. Kirk or any other suitor. This was Marcus.
“Syble? I’m ready to turn out the light when you are.”
She spun around. Her grandmother had been reading in bed, but Nana had set her book aside and drawn up the covers.
“Oh, yes. Sorry.” Her long nightgown brushed her ankles as she stepped away from the window. After removing her robe, she draped it along the foot of her own bed.
“Is everything all right, my dear? You’ve been unusually quiet since we left the dining room.” Nana studied her. “I would have thought you’d be spinning about the room with excitement, not staring solemnly out the window.” When Syble made no comment, her grandmother added in an encouraging tone, “Everything will be fine now that Marcus has agreed to help us.”
Syble released a sigh as she crossed the room. “You’re right, and I am thrilled.” A flicker of elation sputtered to life inside her, and she managed a real smile. “Tomorrow I finally get to take the first step to finding the map’s hidden tomb.”
“Are you concerned the two of you won’t get along duri
ng the dig?”
“No, not really.” Syble turned out the light.
She could be polite and agreeable when she chose, same as Marcus. What had her feeling anxious, though, was what might happen if the two of them actually stopped annoying each other. The moments when they’d gotten along on the terrace had been far more disconcerting than their arguments. But Syble wasn’t about to confess that to anyone, not even her grandmother.
Her strange musings about Marcus were probably the result of being tired. After all, finding out he was the archaeology expert the group had been discussing, then arguing with him over the veracity of the map, and finally convincing him to help had all been very exhausting.
Slipping under her covers, she drew in a long, calming breath, a trick she’d learned from Gwen. “Like you said, Nana,” Syble whispered into the dark, “everything will be fine now that Marcus has agreed to help.”
The dig would go forward as planned, and soon everyone would know of the validity of the map. In the meantime, that left only one thing for her to manage—her interactions, both unpleasant and partially pleasant—with their expert of an archaeologist. But Syble could handle it. Of that, she felt confident once more.
CHAPTER 5
“Isn’t this amazing?” Syble freed one hand from gripping the reins of her donkey to gesture at the earthen hills beside them.
From beside her, Florence gave an audible snort. “That’s one word for it,” she grumbled loudly. “Though that’s not how I would choose to describe a donkey ride through the desert.” She shifted about, probably trying to get comfortable. But each time she changed her position, the donkey boy at her side looked worried.
Poor thing, Syble thought with a chuckle. He was likely afraid Florence would shift too far one way or the other and end up in the dirt, for which he might be blamed.
“I believe we’re nearly there,” Marcus said, twisting on his own mount to look back at Florence. He rode at the head of the group, though Syble had the map inside her satchel.
Florence’s frown deepened. “Will we have to endure this sort of travel every day to visit the site?”
“I don’t mind,” Rose spoke up. “There’s something to be said for seeing the ruins of Egypt from the back of a donkey.”
Syble’s grandmother joined the conversation. “Marcus suggested that once we know where to begin digging, we camp in tents near the site itself. It may save us time and…sore backsides…to stay closer rather than returning to the hotel each evening.”
“What about food and water?” Ethel asked, throwing Marcus an anxious look.
“I already have a cook on hand as part of my crew, and we’ll be sure there’s a reliable water source before we make camp. However”—he glanced back at the rest of them—“if that isn’t amenable to everyone, any of you ladies who wish to may stay at the hotel and make the trip to the site whenever it’s convenient for you.”
Florence arched her eyebrows from underneath her large hat. All of them wore hats, even Marcus. But Florence’s was the only one that looked more suited to a garden party than an archaeological dig. “When has anyone ever found donkeys and convenience to go together, Marcus?”
“A valid point, Florence,” he said, the smile in his voice evident.
Syble smiled too, both at the widow’s talent for witty sarcasm and at Marcus’s unaffected reaction to it. She liked that he treated not only his grandmother but all of the widows with kindness and respect.
Her smile faded a moment later as she realized she was thinking well of Marcus again. That was certainly not the purpose of her time here.
“Shall we take Marcus up on his suggestion to camp?” Nana asked. “At least for a few weeks? We can return to the hotel on the weekends as Marcus does.”
Syble nudged her donkey, hoping the creature would move a little faster. Their journey to the Thebian necropolis wasn’t more than a few miles from the landing-stage on the West Bank, but she was so eager to begin searching that it felt as if they’d already traveled twice that far.
“I don’t mind living in a tent.” Syble tipped her head back to peer at the hilltops from beneath her hat. “It sounds adventurous.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Rose said. “What about you, Ethel, would you like to camp?”
Marcus’s grandmother glanced between her grandson and her friend. “I think I might like to try it.”
“As would I,” Syble’s grandmother agreed. “Florence? Are you willing to try it too?”
The oldest of the widows heaved a loud sigh. “I suppose it’s better than riding out alone. You’re likely to stumble on to me lying by the wayside some weekend, shriveling in the sun from exhaustion.”
Her friends protested such a grim attitude, but Syble couldn’t help giggling at Florence’s flair for the melodramatic. It wasn’t as if the woman would actually be alone either. Even now, there were plenty of other tourists headed in the same direction they were.
Near the temple at Medinet Habu, Marcus halted his donkey and looked backward. “May I see the map again, Syble?”
He’d studied it before they had left Luxor and had begrudgingly agreed that the region depicted on the map could very well resemble ancient Thebes, just as the professor they had consulted with believed. Syble had informed him that she would carry the map during the boat ride across the Nile and on their donkey ride, so at the conclusion of his perusal, he had handed back the map, which she’d stowed inside her bag.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him in general or in helping with this dig—she simply didn’t trust him with being the keeper of the map. Not when he still believed it to be nothing more than a fake.
“Syble, the map?” he said a second time. “May I see it?”
She became aware of the others watching her, their expressions ranging from amusement to curiosity to mild impatience. The latter had been Marcus’s response. Belatedly she realized she still hadn’t replied to his request.
“Yes.” Syble guided her donkey to a stop alongside Marcus’s beast. “You may see the illustrious map once more.” She removed it with a flourish and passed it to Marcus.
He looked as though he wanted very much to roll his eyes, but he was too much of a gentleman to do so. Which was a disappointment. Syble would have liked to see him do something a little unruly and out of character. Instead Marcus nodded politely and dismounted from his donkey. Syble climbed down as well.
The rest of the group surrounded the two of them as Marcus perused the map. Every so often, he lifted his head and surveyed the surrounding landscape before refocusing his attention on the symbols on the worn parchment. His singular focus made Syble wonder if he was a far better actor than she suspected or if he was attempting to take the map seriously, at least for now.
“I believe I’ve narrowed down the general area some more,” Marcus declared, giving them all a triumphant smile.
It was a nice smile, one that held victory and passion but no arrogance—and it transformed his normally studious but handsome face into something altogether knee-weakening.
Syble nearly choked at such an erratic thought. The excitement of the map was clearly addling her brain, and the sooner they figured out where they were going, the sooner she could clear her head. “Where does the map lead to?”
“We already know the temple drawn here seems to represent the Temple of Luxor.” Marcus stepped closer to Syble and indicated a drawing near the bottom of the map. “These three monuments here, which form a triangle of sorts, would then be the mortuary temple at Medinet Habu, the ancient village of Deir al-Medina, and the mortuary temple honoring Ramesses the Second.” He tapped each one with his finger. “Which makes this temple here the one erected to honor Queen Hatshepsut, and the section of hills just above that would be the Valley of the Kings.” When he looked up, his green eyes were aglow with excitement.
In her muddled state, Syble figured it best not to stare overly long into those nice-looking eyes, so she trained her gaze on the map once mor
e. “Wait.” She frowned. “That identifies most of the landmarks on the lower half of the map, but it doesn’t tell us much about the most important area.” She pointed to the mark of an x.
“Except it does. Knowing these other landmarks now helps us understand the rest.” He placed his finger on the Valley of the Kings and traced it straight across. “This is likely the valley where Ernesto Schiaparelli discovered the tomb of Nefertari four years ago. I visited the site a year after that, and I believe these brown hills here represent that same region.”
“Nefertari? The wife of Ramesses the Second?” Rose released a happy sigh and clasped her hands together. “We have to visit her tomb.”
For once, Florence didn’t protest. “If it’s someplace cool to wait out this heat while the rest of you are searching for your lost tomb, I’m all for visiting the queen’s resting place.”
“Any other details you can identify to help us locate the site?” Nana asked. She had climbed off her donkey too and stood peering over Marcus’s shoulder.
He gave a thoughtful nod. “There appear to be some words written upside down in Arabic.” Marcus twisted the map around and scrutinized it up close. “After all patience,” he translated, “beautiful things await?” He lowered the map, his countenance perplexed. “That’s not much of a clue.”
“But it is,” Syble announced with confidence. “What requires more patience than digging about in the sand to find a hidden tomb? Yet when you do…” She motioned to the characters on the parchment. “Beautiful things, like treasures and antiquities, await as the reward for all of your efforts.”
Skepticism still etched his features as Marcus handed her the map. “I suppose we shall see.”
The doubter had returned, but Syble wasn’t going to let his disbelief ruin their tiny breakthrough. They were much closer to figuring out where to begin digging than they’d been when they had started out.
