Among Sand and Sunrise

by Stacy Henrie

  Syble glanced toward him, then looked away. “In part, I understand how you feel.” He sensed she had more to say, so he waited without comment. “You asked me the other day why I was here instead of preparing for another season in London—and why I felt I hadn’t found the right man, even after three seasons.”

  Regret tugged at him anew when he thought back to their charged conversation that afternoon. “Again, I’m sorry for my lack of manners that day.”

  She waved off his apology. “I didn’t repeat your questions to make you feel guilty. I brought them up because I’m ready to give you the answers, if you don’t mind hearing them.”

  “I would be happy to listen,” he said in an earnest tone. It pleased him to know he’d earned enough of her trust that she would share something personal.

  Nodding, she clasped her hands together. A moment later she released them to fold her arms against her bodice, protectively. Uncertainty radiated off her in almost palpable waves. He had never seen her so hesitant.

  “I won’t judge you, Syble. I promise.”

  The smile she gave him reflected her relief and gratitude. “Thank you.” She faced forward again, seeming to pay as little attention as he did to the ruins they walked slowly past. “I thought I’d finally found the right man—one I felt certain I could grow to love, if we were to marry.” Her sigh sounded heavy. “He was fun and charming, and as he was the son of a viscount, my parents readily approved of him.”

  Marcus rubbed at the stubble on his jaw—he hadn’t had time to shave again before they had set out for Karnak. He had a sneaking suspicion Syble was speaking of Kirk. And knowing whom his friend had chosen instead, based partially on Marcus’s own advice, he recognized how Syble’s story would end.

  “We attended nearly all of the same events last season, and he even escorted my mother and me to several functions.” Syble offered a shrug, though the tight line of her shoulders belied the casual gesture. “He never officially asked to court me, and I knew he’d accompanied at least one other young lady to the theater and such, but I thought he’d come to care for me as much as I had him. I thought…we would be married.”

  The hurt in her voice physically pained him to hear. Clearly Syble’s feelings and expectations for Kirk had run much deeper than Marcus had realized. “What happened?” He had a rather good idea of what the answer would be, but he felt obliged to ask all the same.

  “My mother and I delayed returning to New York after the season ended so we could attend the wedding of my best friend, Gwen. A week before the wedding, Mr. Kirk came to see me.”

  Marcus winced at hearing her say his friend’s name aloud. Thankfully she was too absorbed in talking to notice. There was no need for speculation on his part any longer—the man Syble had come to care deeply for had been none other than Elijah Kirk.

  “He told me,” Syble continued, “that as much as he liked me, the other young lady was a better fit for his family’s expectations of what a future viscount’s wife should and shouldn’t be.”

  “Expectations?”

  Her chin rose an inch or two, though it trembled as she answered. “His parents expected him to marry someone who is quiet and discreet. Someone who speaks articulately but only when appropriate, and for the proper length of time.” She brushed some hair from her eyes, her lips tipping downward. “In essence, they wanted him to marry someone who was nothing like me.”

  That last statement rushed out on a tide of pain that swept Marcus along with it. Her heartache lay bare before him, and he wondered if he could have somehow prevented it. Perhaps if he’d spoken strongly in favor of Syble, Kirk would have chosen her over Miss Dyer.

  “You also asked why I came here, intent on finding this tomb.” She lowered her head as if too weary to keep it up in her usual determined stance. “I want to prove the validity of the map, and I wanted an adventure to take my mind off of my disappointment. But more than that, I want to find the tomb so I can prove my worth to Mr. Kirk and all the other gentlemen I’ve met. Our class is far too inclined to think the only thing of significance a woman can do is marry—and if no one wishes to marry her, she fades into utter insignificance.”

  Lifting her gaze from the ground, she sent Marcus an imploring glance. “I’m anything but discreet and quiet, and I do talk a lot and with far too much candor. Unfortunately, that means I’m unlikely to ever be anyone’s chosen bride. And yet I can prove, through this dig, that I still have value in the world.”

  He hated seeing how much Kirk’s rejection had affected her. It was little wonder Syble could relate to his own heartbreak over Esme. Nor was he surprised that she remained wholly committed to the success of this dig. However, she was wrong to think that she had anything to prove—that she had to find a way to bolster her worth to make up for being herself. Even after all these years, she still held true to who she was as a person. And who she was…was wonderful.

  An overwhelming desire to help her see that fact stopped Marcus. When Syble paused as well, he turned to her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “You already have value in the world, Syble, simply because you are you.”

  She averted her gaze. “I have three failed seasons that would indicate you’re wrong.”

  Marcus waited to continue until she brought her eyes back to his. “You had three seasons that didn’t lead to engagements. That is all they were. And since those men failed to appreciate you, I’d say the obvious conclusion is that you’re well rid of them. Furthermore, since you are determined to join the widows’ ranks after you leave Egypt, I would think you’d see your escape from marriage as a success rather than a failure.”

  As he’d hoped, his teasing prodded a hint of a smile from her.

  “Besides,” he added, “I find it far more admirable that you’ve not changed yourself for any suitor. That is more impressive than receiving a plethora of proposals each season.”

  Syble chewed on her bottom lip as if musing over his words. “You really find that admirable?”

  “I do indeed.” Hopefully she sensed how much he meant the compliment.

  “Maybe we’re more alike than I thought.” She tilted her head and regarded him fully. “You don’t seem to have changed who you are either. Certainly, you haven’t given up your passion for archaeology, in spite of Esme.”

  He nodded, pleased that she’d noticed such a thing. “I didn’t feel the need to change, because I believe God made me this way, with a fondness for order and archaeology and books and few social events.”

  Her light laugh filled him with immense relief. She’d been hurt in the past, just as he had, but she was not defeated. “God made me with a penchant for not being quiet and discreet.”

  “Exactly,” he said with a smile. “If you were quiet and discreet, we never would have figured out where your map was leading us. Nor would Gran be here, financing a dig and allowing me the opportunity to spend time with her as I do something I enjoy. For all of that, I thank you, and the Good Lord, that you are not quiet.”

  She released a sniff of amusement, but her voice revealed sincere appreciation when she said, “You’re welcome.”

  “As far as talking too much…”

  Syble rolled her eyes. “I remember all too well how you feel about that.”

  “Perhaps I did not fully appreciate it eight years ago,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But now…I find I rather like your talking and your candor.”

  He watched her visibly swallow. When she spoke again, it came out in an almost breathless tone. “Do you really mean that? Or are you just teasing me to win a smile?”

  “I meant every word. This dig would not have happened without you, nor would it be nearly as interesting.”

  With only the moon and stars for illumination, her eyes appeared darker in color tonight. Their depths hinted at more hidden discoveries if he was patient and willing enough to look. How could any gentleman have chosen some other young lady over Syble? She was resilient, intelligent, witty, beautiful, vibrant
…and incredibly kissable.

  The thought had Marcus lowering his gaze to her mouth. What would it be like to kiss those lips that smiled and frowned and spoke with such animation?

  Beneath his hands, Marcus sensed her shift closer toward him. It would take less than a heartbeat to cross the narrow distance between them. He hadn’t kissed a woman since Esme, yet he instinctively knew kissing Syble would be a far richer experience.

  A noise to their left had them both turning in that direction. Another cluster of tourists was approaching the formerly secluded spot. Their arrival shattered the privacy of the moment. Battling disappointment, Marcus released Syble’s shoulders. She stepped back as he did.

  “We should probably find our grandmothers.” Syble offered a smile, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “They’re probably wondering where we went.”

  He motioned her forward, then fell into step beside her as they retraced their path through the temple complex. Neither of them said much, beyond pointing out the things they passed. Marcus wasn’t sure if the lack of conversation stemmed from already having shared so much or from having their near kiss interrupted.

  He told himself he was glad the other tourists had come by. They had inadvertently saved him from crossing a line in his friendship with Syble. He did want to kiss her, but doing so wouldn’t change the fact that someone as lively as she would eventually come to find his company tiresome. Syble needed someone like Kirk, who enjoyed society and spontaneous outings. That wasn’t Marcus, and as they’d discussed tonight, it would never be. Not if he wished to remain true to himself.

  Still, as her friend, he could continue to help her see how wonderful she was as herself. He could also make up for any possible folly on his part where she and Kirk were once concerned by fully committing to this dig. It would require greater patience from him, but he would do it—for Syble.

  * * *

  She was supposed to be finding Marcus a potential wife—not coming within a whisper of kissing him in the moonlight. Or in any light, for that matter. Syble tightened her lips over a groan of frustration.

  Her plan had simply been to steal the pair of them away from the thwarting efforts of the Wandering Widows and to let Marcus know that to some degree, she understood his past heartache. Syble hadn’t anticipated how attentively he would listen or that he would tell her that he admired her for remaining true to herself. She also hadn’t expected he would go so far as to tell her how much he liked her talkative nature.

  But when he’d gazed at her mouth, she had been unable to resist the tangible pull to lean closer. Syble’s cheeks flushed at the memory. If the other tourists hadn’t happened by, she would have likely kissed Marcus. Which was definitely not in keeping with her plans—now or for the future.

  “There you are,” Rose called out as Syble and Marcus neared the spot where they had left the others earlier.

  At her friend’s salutation, Nana turned from studying one of the nearby statues and smiled. “Were the two of you able to see more of the complex?”

  “We were.” Syble hoped the dim light effectively hid her lingering blush from the observant eyes of the four widows. She did not need them suspecting how close she and Marcus had come to kissing. There would be no end to their attempts to throw them together then.

  Looking the perfect picture of innocence, her grandmother took a seat beside her friends as she suggested, “If there’s anything else you and Marcus wish to see, Syble, feel free to wander off again. We can wait right here for you.”

  Of course they could. But that was the last thing she and Marcus needed—more time alone together in this romantic starlit place.

  At that moment Miss Haleson, the brunette from earlier, walked past with her group, all of them looking as if they were ready to leave. The young lady smiled at Marcus. And though he didn’t exactly smile back, he did nod politely.

  This was the reason Syble had suggested their outing in the first place. If the six of them also left now, Marcus and the other young woman might have more time to talk…at least until one of the widows noticed.

  “I think I’ve seen everything I want to,” she said, glancing at Marcus. “Should we all head back to Luxor?”

  He studied her silently, his thoughts unreadable. “I suppose I’m ready as well.”

  Breaking eye contact with her, he moved to help Ethel and Florence stand, then he offered an arm to each of them. Syble took in the scene, impressed at Marcus’s continuous gallantry but saddened that it was no longer her walking at his side.

  “Is something wrong, my dear?” Nana asked as they fell into step behind Rose.

  Words and emotions filled Syble’s throat, begging to be shared. Except, the widows needed to see that she was fully prepared to join their ranks as an independent woman. She couldn’t have them knowing she’d nearly succumbed to the romance of the very outing she herself had set up to pair Marcus with someone else.

  “I’m a little worn out but glad we came.” She linked her arm with her grandmother’s and gave it a quick squeeze. “I’ll be fine in no time.”

  And she would. There was still one more day until they returned to the camp in the desert. Another day to hopefully introduce Marcus to more young ladies or perhaps further his acquaintance with Miss Haleson. Once they were all back at the dig site and Syble’s attempts to find Marcus a suitable wife would have to be temporarily set aside, there would still be other types of work for her to do in order to be the good, supportive friend he deserved.

  For one thing, Syble could do all in her power to hurry things along with the dig. Because the sooner they found and unburied their tomb, the sooner Marcus could return to his. Then, and only then, would her future plans be safe from one talented, generous, handsome archaeologist.

  * * *

  Marcus rinsed his razor in the bowl of water inside his tent, then peered at his face in the small mirror. He always removed his glasses to shave, which meant performing the task was done as much by feel as by sight. Satisfied with his efforts, he toweled off the soap and put his glasses back on.

  Twelve days had passed since the outing to Karnak. That meant they’d dedicated nearly three weeks to Gran and Syble’s project, yet they still had unearthed nothing new. Not for want of trying, though, especially on Syble’s part. Somehow she’d cajoled her grandmother into finally allowing her to participate in the digging, alongside Marcus and the crew. She wasn’t the only one eager to help either—all of the widows had expressed a desire to do whatever job they could.

  Syble had continued her after-dark digging three to four nights a week, and Marcus always stayed up to assist her. Unlike their first time, though, she insisted things would go faster if they each worked in different pits. While Marcus agreed with her in theory, such an arrangement also meant fewer opportunities to talk—or to find out the real reason behind Syble’s sudden drive to find her tomb as soon as possible.

  Even her reading habits had changed. Rather than her beloved romance novels, she’d taken up reading his research books while they were camped in the desert. She’d told Marcus that she hadn’t yet found any new information pertaining to finding the tomb, but that didn’t seem to deter her from continuing to read. It was as if, when they were at the site, nothing outside of the dig even existed.

  Only when they’d returned to the hotel the past two weekends had Syble’s determination shifted in focus—from digging and reading to drawing Marcus into conversations with nearly every young lady they came across. It was the same thing Syble had done during their nighttime outing to Karnak.

  Was she that eager to see him be more social, even while in Egypt? Or, since learning about Esme, did Syble hope to find him the “right girl”? Marcus suspected the latter, and so he’d finally cried off doing anything social after dinner last Sunday evening.

  In two more days, another weekend would be upon them, and he was already half dreading it. He missed the camaraderie he’d come to cherish between himself and Syble. He didn’t doubt
her friendship or her desire to help him. But their moments of easy conversation and clever teasing happened less frequently these days.

  Marcus wished to hear her laughter more, not some other young lady’s. He also found himself wanting her to challenge him to do something spontaneous again, rather than planning things that would lead to more social introductions. And, in spite of knowing the futility of it, he wished he could hold her hand again as well.

  He’d known all along that he wouldn’t be interesting enough for Syble. Perhaps that accounted for the distance he sensed between them now. The possibility saddened him as he put on his vest and did up the buttons. Still, he wouldn’t trade this dig for his right now, even if he could. He was grateful for his time here with Gran, with the widows, and with Syble.

  Sitting back down on his cot, Marcus lowered his head and shut his eyes. Praying had long been an intrinsic part of his mornings, as much as shaving and dressing.

  He thanked the Lord for the new day and the chance to strive to discover something. Marcus also expressed gratitude for his grandmother and for the friendships he had unexpectedly deepened with her traveling companions during their time here. Then he petitioned Heaven’s blessing, as he did each day and night, on their work.

  After he ended his prayer, Marcus stood and put on his hat. He’d already rolled up his sleeves in preparation for the work day. All he had left to do was eat breakfast. He exited the tent and waved in greeting to the crew who had just arrived. Not surprisingly, the dining tent sat empty, though he guessed Gran and the others would be along soon. Typically, they rose after the digging commenced.

  He took a seat as their talented cook entered the tent and set a plate before Marcus. He thanked the man in Arabic and asked, “Are the others still inside their tents?”