by Stacy Henrie
“All but the young lady.”
Syble had risen ahead of him? That was a first. “Did she eat?” He didn’t like the idea of her skipping breakfast.
The cook’s nod allayed his worry.
Marcus placed his napkin across his lap as the man left the tent. If he’d hurried, he could have eaten with Syble. The realization brought a jolt of disappointment. The two of them might have been able to enjoy a real conversation, one that wasn’t interrupted by either of them digging or by the presence of others. Perhaps he could have even drawn out that radiant smile of hers.
He did his best to swallow his regret as he ate his breakfast. But for the first time in ages, he felt a bit lonely eating by himself. At least the sounds of the crew starting their work outside and the hum of conversation could be heard inside the tent. It helped him feel less isolated.
Was that what his life had become, a series of secluded experiences? And why did the thought suddenly bother him? Even back in London, Marcus spent most of his time by himself.
Which is how I prefer it.
This time, however, the excuse felt as thin as a piece of papyrus. He did enjoy patches of solitude, at home and on digs, but being around Syble and Gran and the other widows had proven to be equally as enjoyable. Which begged the question—when their dig concluded, would he be content with returning to the way things had been? Or did he want to make some changes?
Syble had once accused him of missing life by burying himself in the pages of his books. To some degree, she’d been correct. As the youngest in his family, the only one with a British father, and someone with a rather unconventional career, Marcus had felt less out of place, less uncomfortable, when he had a solid, familiar routine to guide him—and a book always close at hand to escape into, vicariously living inside whatever he happened to be reading. Those habits had continued into adulthood. At least until he’d met Esme.
Marcus had read less and attended a greater number of social functions during the months he and Esme had courted and been engaged. The tidy plans he’d made for his life had been thrown into chaos by what he’d believed to be love. Yet when Esme had ended their engagement, he’d been left to pick up the pieces of his shattered world.
To ensure something of the kind never happened again, he had withdrawn even further into his quiet existence. He’d convinced himself that he was perfectly content with his books, his digs, his visits to the museums, and the company of his parents or other scholars of Egyptology for seven months out of the year. Studying and digging up history were enough—he didn’t need to create his own.
But now…
Syble had burst back into his life a few weeks ago, fully rattling his comfortable routine. But far from pushing him to entrench himself further into his set ways as she’d once done, she had instead brought a bright light into his world. One that had lit the dusty, neglected corners of his life, causing him to examine them more closely than he had in a long time.
Was it little wonder, then, that he felt drawn to Syble? That he’d spent more than one restless night imagining what it might be like if they could be more than friends?
The sudden absence of noise from outside the tent jerked Marcus from his thoughts. What had caused the crew to stop? He’d just set his napkin beside his nearly empty plate when Syble suddenly rushed into the tent.
“Marcus! They found a step.”
He jumped to his feet so quickly his chair toppled backward. A step cut into the rock signified one thing—the presence of a tomb. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, her tone full of excited impatience. The full smile he’d missed seeing reappeared on her lips at last. “You have to come see.”
Grasping his hand, she pulled him out of the tent and into the morning sunlight. The crew members whose faces Marcus could see mirrored Syble’s delight. Even the air itself felt charged with expectancy.
“You’ll never guess where they found it.” Syble hadn’t yet released his hand, though they were well beyond the tent.
Marcus relished the rare moment of having her fingers next to his once more. “In your chosen area, no doubt.” He smiled as he said the words, even as he repressed a rueful sigh. There would be no reasoning with her now.
But Syble shook her head.
“Was it mine then?”
“No.” Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement. She was clearly enjoying his bewilderment.
He offered an exasperated shrug. “I give up, Syble. Where did they find the step?”
“In between our two spots but closer to the hills.”
Marcus laughed. “It appears we were both wrong.”
“Or, as I’m choosing to look at it,” she said, offering him another smile, “we were right together.”
He quite liked that idea. That together, he and Syble were right—for the dig and for each other. It might not be reality. However, as they came to a stop beside the gathered crowd of workers and Marcus caught his first glimpse of the step, he decided that just for today he would let himself believe anything was possible.
CHAPTER 12
Syble had never experienced such a heady feeling of elation before. Was this what Marcus felt each time he discovered something on a dig? Another glance at his handsome face confirmed it. No wonder he loved his work here in Egypt.
She hadn’t realized she still held his hand until he let go and knelt on the ground beside the uncovered step. It was the first time since their trip to Karnak that Syble had given in to the pull to hold his hand. There had been plenty of other moments the last while when she’d longed to breach the physical and emotional distance between them with a touch—but she’d held back, protecting herself.
Watching Marcus carefully run his hand over the carved step, though, she didn’t regret her decision. Such an exciting discovery warranted dragging him by the hand from the tent. Especially since she’d learned from her reading what finding a step meant—a tomb lay buried nearby.
“We actually found something,” he said, looking up at her. The same note of awe filled his voice as had filled hers.
When he rose to his feet, she couldn’t help teasing him just a little. “So there really is a tomb here after all?”
A slow grin tugged at his mouth, sending flurries tumbling through Syble’s stomach that had nothing to do with not finishing her breakfast earlier. “There really is.” Then he swooped her into his arms and spun her in a circle. “We did it. We found a tomb!”
His spontaneity stole her breath as effectively as the feel of his strong arms around her. Syble tipped her head back and laughed happily along with him. Too soon he set her back on her feet, but he didn’t immediately release her, much to her secret delight. She left her hands looped around his neck, equally unwilling to let go. In his embrace, Syble felt cherished and appreciated, and she didn’t want the feeling to end.
How had she ever found Marcus annoying? Right now, she couldn’t think of a single reason. Instead her mind filled with all of the wonderful qualities she’d listed about him inside her notebook.
“What now?” she asked. He cocked his head as if unsure of her meaning. Since she still stood within his arms, did he think she was talking about something other than the dig? The possibility heated her cheeks. “How many more steps are there until we reach the entrance to the tomb?”
His boyish smile hadn’t dimmed. “There’s only one way to know. We need to keep digging.”
She told herself that he had to release her in order to address the crew so everyone could keep working. But Syble didn’t sense the same reluctance and disappointment from Marcus that she felt when their embrace ended. More than likely, his spontaneity in swinging her around had been a result of the exhilarating moment, nothing else.
After locating the basket she’d dropped in her hurry to find Marcus, she rejoined the digging. Marcus worked nearby. “We may very well uncover the tomb entrance by this evening,” he told her.
Another thrill raced through Syble at the thoug
ht, though it paled some in comparison to what she’d felt after viewing that first unearthed step. Or when Marcus had held her just now. Her face grew warm all over again as she bent over her basket.
She needed to stay focused. They were so close to unearthing what she’d known all along lay hidden here. It was not the time to explore the resurgence of her feelings and awareness when it came to Marcus. Perhaps a little teasing would restore their regular friendly interactions.
“Are you ready to confess I was right?” Syble raised her eyebrows at him. “That the map was authentic from the very beginning?”
His mouth twitched as if he were fighting a smile. “I believe I am nearly ready for such a confession—though not completely.”
“A noncommittal answer if I ever heard one.” She laughed as she filled her basket with more sand. “What will it take for you to confess the map was not a fake?”
Marcus wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Several months spent in a dark dungeon? Weeks of nothing to subsist on but water and moldy bread?”
“Really? You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Marcus. All you need to say is this.” Lowering the timbre of her voice to mimic his, she waved her hand as if addressing an audience. “You were right eight years ago, my dearest Syble, and you have remained right to this day.”
She expected him to laugh or to counter her little speech with a clever one of his own, but he did neither of those things. Instead he set down his basket, his attention trained on her and no one else. Resting his arm on his upturned knee, Marcus leaned slightly toward her.
“My dearest Syble,” he repeated in a low voice, transforming the endearment from playful to intimate. The intensity in his green eyes made it impossible for her to look away. And though he didn’t touch her face or wrap her in his arms again, she felt held within his warm gaze.
In that moment, she forgot about digging, about tombs, about the map. Everything else faded into insignificance, leaving only her and Marcus.
“I humbly confess that you were right eight years ago, and you have remained right to this very day.” The sincerity within his words drew her forward. “I admit to doubting,” he added. “Yet you never wavered in your conviction. And as maddening as that has been, both in the past and again a few weeks ago…” They shared a smile. “I do admire your steadfast faith and passion to this project.”
He didn’t move when he’d finished speaking, apparently waiting for her to reply. But Syble’s mind refused to form even one coherent sentence. Marcus was crouched near enough that she could see a small bit of soap he’d missed after shaving. What would it feel like to brush away that speck and touch his smooth jaw?
Syble lifted her hand to find out when an unexpected shout shattered the privacy of their moment. Sharp disappointment cut through her as she lowered her arm and turned to see the source of the commotion. Several members of the crew were talking rapidly in Arabic and motioning to where a piece of a second step had been unearthed from the sand.
The sound of Marcus clearing his throat drew Syble back around. “Does that satisfy your request for a confession?” The lightness of his tone sounded forced.
“Yes,” she said, her smile as equally as contrived. “That was a very satisfactory…confession.”
In truth, it was more than she could have hoped for. So why did it feel as if they were both talking of something else entirely?
A myriad of unspoken words seemed to pass between them. What confessions did they hold? Syble tried to tell herself she didn’t need to know them, didn’t need to share them. Because doing so would require opening her heart all over again, and that could only lead to pain and loss.
After setting down her basket, she climbed to her feet. The longer she crouched here at Marcus’s side, the more likely she was to do something that would upset their friendship and her well-meaning plans. “Nana and the others will be up by now. I should go tell them about the steps.”
Marcus responded with a nod. “They’ll definitely wish to watch as we uncover more.”
Syble started to move past him, but she couldn’t leave without allowing herself one last brief touch. Turning back, she rested her fingers lightly on his shoulder. “Thank you for sticking with us, Marcus. We wouldn’t have found anything if you hadn’t been here.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” His hand covered hers for a fleeting moment before he lowered it.
An unexpected longing rose inside her, one Syble hadn’t felt since agreeing to come to Egypt. But she folded her arms against it and turned her gaze to the exposed steps. “Just think, all those times we dug at night, we were so close. Yet no matter how deep we got, we still never would have found anything by staying in our respective spots.”
“A bit like life, is it not?” He stood, his basket still in hand. “To be that close to something but realize no effort in the world will produce the desired result?”
Again, she sensed a deeper meaning behind his words, though she felt too muddled to unriddle them right now. “Now that we’ve had our breakthrough, hopefully it won’t be too much longer before you’re able to return to your dig.”
Marcus nodded again, though his earlier enthusiasm had faded. “I suppose I ought to keep working.” He gestured over his shoulder.
“Right, of course. I’ll round up the widows.”
As she’d hoped, he smiled at that, even if it was only half a smile. “I’ll be right here if any of you should need me.”
Syble walked away, his last remark echoing in her thoughts as she headed for the tent she shared with Nana and Ethel. They’d needed Marcus, and he had proven himself dependable over and over again. Such steadiness of character was something she very much appreciated, especially after Mr. Kirk’s inconsistency.
Had she come to rely too much on Marcus’s presence in her life, though? What would she do when he was no longer an integral part of her day?
The questions didn’t prompt the same sort of homesickness she felt for her family or her friend, Gwen. This missing felt more poignant, more profound. And Syble suspected it would take a great many adventures and a great deal of time, years even, for the feeling to fade altogether.
* * *
Marcus threw all of his energy into excavating the staircase. However, no amount of sand, sweat, or newly discovered steps could erase his memories of whirling Syble around or of the hopeful way she’d looked at him when he’d confessed how right she had been about the map.
Had she sensed how close he’d come to confessing far more than that? Marcus ran a hand through his hair, not entirely caring that the tangles would be sand covered and standing on end.
Sharing this deep, awakening part of himself had not been his intent this morning. Yet the moment he had repeated Syble’s term of endearment and seen the way it affected her, he couldn’t fully hold back.
He might not have voiced his exact thoughts, nor had he held her hand as he’d delivered his heartfelt speech. But he had felt as connected to her as he had when she’d been in his arms earlier. The pull between them had never felt so strong. And for a few precious minutes, Marcus had almost believed this vibrant, animated woman could truly care for him—and not for just a few months but always. His hopes had risen even more when Syble had looked as if she meant to touch his face.
Reality, as it was wont to do, and at the most inopportune times, had rushed back in. Syble had lowered her arm and stood to leave. Her parting words about digging and never finding the tomb in either of their respective spots had filled him with an ironic sadness. Could there be a more appropriate metaphor for their relationship? They’d shared moments of deepening connection, but those weren’t likely to result in the discovery of something more.
Marcus cast a glance to where Syble worked nearby, after sharing the news of the steps with the widows. She remained as committed to this dig as any archaeologist, with no qualms about how she looked or what others might think of her. She was fully at home and entirely herself in any setti
ng, with any company. It was another quality he greatly admired about her. For his part, he often struggled with feeling out of place in social situations because of his less than outgoing personality and his scholarly pursuits—and that had only worsened since Esme’s rejection.
A new thought made him pause. Syble had introduced him to strangers these past two weekends, and not once had he felt different or boring or out of place. He’d felt accepted as he was—and that had been Syble’s doing. Each time she’d introduced him to someone, she had enthusiastically mentioned his career or his passion for Egypt in a way that made him feel proud of his work and interests. Her ardent praise and attitude were contagious, and Marcus had witnessed more than one young lady studying him with interest in a way he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
Perhaps, then, he truly could find some young woman who would be eager about his work as Esme hadn’t been. Someone who wouldn’t mind participating in his digs and who would enjoy living in Egypt for nearly half the year. The idea pushed gently at the tattered parts of his heart, binding them up with hope and healing.
He had Syble to thank for that too.
His gaze moved back to her. She would likely be thrilled to hear he was contemplating courtship more openly than he had in several years. What would she say, though, if she knew the only woman he could visualize working alongside him had her same blond hair, blue eyes, and infectious smile? What would she think if he confessed that the only girl he wished to court was her?
“Marcus?”
He shook off his complicated musings and lifted his head. Gran held out a water ladle as Aheed hefted the bucket beside her. It had been her idea for the Wandering Widows to help during the daily work by distributing water to the crew.
“Thank you, Gran.” Marcus stood and accepted the proffered liquid. He drank it all in one steady swallow.
Gran smiled as she dipped the ladle into the bucket a second time. “I can’t believe we’re so close.” Only she and Syble hadn’t grown discouraged when nothing had turned up for days. Even Adelle and Rose had expressed some concern a few nights ago at ever finding something.
