She had argued fiercely about the arrangements, stating it wasn’t fair to either of the men, that they’d spent good coin for the luxury, but Crispin had put his ducal foot down—literally and figuratively—and the matter had been settled, much to Archewyne’s apparent amusement.
In a way, it had been great foresight giving Juliana the stateroom, for she’d taken ill not long after they’d set sail and had spent all of her time prone in bed. He and Archewyne had passed the time reading, studying journals of people who’d traveled through Egypt before or indulged in numerous games of cards as well as struck up conversations with the other people on the boat with them.
Never once had he opened the leather folio the earl had given him. He remained undecided about whether he wished to know all of Juliana’s secrets and sins. So it stayed untouched at the bottom of a trunk.
On the last evening aboard, Archewyne told him to retrieve his partner. “Sea sickness is not an excuse to miss pulling into harbor at Luxor.”
Partner. Crispin shot to his feet. “I rather like the ring of that.”
The earl rolled his eyes. “For this one mission, and because she’s floundering.”
“Understood.” He took a few steps away from their table where they were enjoying tea.
“Remember, Herrick. Mission first. Romance only if you don’t plan on remaining a King’s agent.”
Crispin laughed, for Archewyne’s obsessive desire to squelch the personal lives of those under his command struck him as hopeless as well as amusing. “There is no need to worry. I have no time nor plans for love.” He nodded to lend more credence to the statement. “I’m a man of adventure just now.”
Archewyne grunted. “That’s what they all say until a pretty bit of muslin changes their minds.”
“It came out right in your case,” was all Crispin said in response before he took his leave. The earl was a damn lucky fellow, for not only was his wife brilliant and beautiful, but she was also involved in the King’s agent network and she worked alongside him.
That’s the sort of relationship I’d choose if I wished to find myself involved or leg-shackled. Life, up to this point, had been generous and kind to him. His driving force now was to give back and make amends. Would making a conscious effort at finding romance hinder that?
Below deck, he knocked on Juliana’s door. When there was no answer, he frowned in concern. “Juliana?” As he pressed an ear to the wood panel, he thought he discerned a dull thud. Was she in peril or too ill to answer his knock? With his heartbeat accelerating, he tried the latch.
Not locked. Did the woman care nothing for safety protocols?
“Juliana, are you well?” He pushed open the door, entered the cabin and then quickly closed the panel after him. Oh, dear God. Fabric rustled from behind a silk privacy screen to one side of the small room where she was obviously completing her toilette for the day.
“Crispin? Is that you?”
“Yes.” The word rasped in the sudden silence. He turned his back, but that didn’t stop his mind from haring off in ten different directions, most of them ending with imagining what her body looked like sans clothing or finding out if her skin was as petal soft as it appeared. “I knocked, but when you didn’t answer, I grew concerned that something was amiss.”
“I roused myself an hour ago and bathed as best as I could. I didn’t mean to worry you.” More fabric rustled. He glanced over his shoulder. A light blue dress disappeared from where it had rested atop the screen.
Crispin cleared his throat and wrestled the inappropriate thoughts into boxes at the back of his mind. “Whether you’re sick or not, the earl says you should see Luxor as we pull in.” He focused his gaze on the window that ran flush with the deck. It was decidedly odd, this being in a woman’s company and not knowing exactly where he stood in her estimation, or she in his. “Unless you were having me on this whole time? Was being ill merely a cover to have time to yourself, plotting?” She was a masterful liar, after all.
“I was not.” Exasperation fairly dripped from those words. When she emerged from behind the screen, Crispin turned to face her. Juliana held the bodice of the dress to her chest, and her face was paler than usual, a true testament to the fact she hadn’t been well these past handful of days. In that moment, he realized he’d missed her company more than he probably should have, and that sent his pulse hammering into his temples. She offered him a smile. “Do up the buttons, please? The salary of a King’s agent doesn’t afford a lady’s maid.”
“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll not need one, for there are more than enough people involved on the expedition.”
“Good.” She presented her back to him and lifted the golden curtain of her hair away from the garment. A pretty, lace-trimmed petticoat peeked out from under the gown as well as a set of short stays. Why was she so comfortable with such an intimacy? “I’m afraid boat travel truly laid me flat.” The lingering scent of jasmine wafted to his nose. “It was like that when I arrived in Cairo.”
“I’m sorry. Perhaps the cook will have some ginger tea. That will help.” His fingers fumbled with the tiny pearl buttons, and it took more time than he would have liked to work the line of them that went halfway down her back. The heat of her body seeped into his digits and further slowed progress. Once finished, he lingered his fingers along her shoulders, not willing to part from her so soon. “Are you quite certain you are able to handle the rigors before us?”
Laughter tinkled from her and swept away some of his concerns. “I can survive whatever you can.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder, and her hair, held back with a few tortoiseshell combs fell along his hands when she released the mass. Mischief sparkled in her blue eyes. “I’ve always dreamed of adventuring abroad.”
Immediately, he was charmed and captivated. She was so different now than she’d been in all of their other meetings, as if she’d gained a bit of freedom and relief with this one simple trip. “Yet you’ve been in Cairo a year.”
“Out of necessity and shame.” Her good humor faltered.
Not wishing to have her retreat into herself, Crispin turned her about. “Whatever you’re struggling with, I shall be happy to help carry the burden for a while to allow you rest.”
“Oh, Crispin.” Juliana cupped his cheek, and he resisted the urge to nuzzle into her palm. He was a duke, damn it, not a kitten. “You are too sweet and noble for your own good sometimes, and it will be your undoing if you’re not careful.”
“Any man worth his salt would offer,” he whispered. The longer he stared into her eyes, the more he wished to lose himself in those blue pools.
“But any man didn’t.” She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to his in a fleeting kiss. Then she pulled away and stared at him, the emotions clouding her eyes inscrutable. Was she hiding again or merely confused?
“What was that kiss for?” Her mix of impetuosity and gratitude both bemused him and sent heat licking through his veins.
She shrugged. “I wanted to. As a show of thankfulness, perhaps.” Questions crowded her eyes, not the least of which was invitation. “I’m glad it’s you who caught me with that ushabti, for I never could quite manage to forget you.”
Botheration. If he continued down this path, there’d be certain ruin and complication at the end, just as Archewyne cautioned, but he couldn’t stop the fall. With a groan, he tugged her into his arms as he’d wished to do so many times. He fit his lips to hers and kissed her properly as he’d wanted so many months ago in London.
Oh, she was soft and warm, and she fit nicely into his embrace. When he moved over her mouth, she slipped her hands up his chest to twine about his nape, her fingers in his hair, and she matched his movements as if they’d been kissing all their lives. His heart pounded, his mind screamed a warning, and still he kissed her, introduced himself to her, seeking, asking, wondering, but not yet daring to take the embrace deeper. A man needed to finesse such things, after all.
When he finally pulled away,
they were both slightly breathless. By Jove, that was indeed a proper kiss, and it rocked him to his soul. How was it possible to connect so quickly and so intensely with a woman he knew next to nothing about?
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked in a barely-there whisper while a pink blush stained her cheeks.
“You needed it and so did I.” Would his mind clear and settle into the task ahead now that he wasn’t thinking about kissing her? His gaze dipped to her kiss-swollen lips and he stifled another groan. Doubtful. Needing to say something, anything, into the silence, he said, “We’re once more even.” He uttered a laugh and released her, but the sound was a rather shaky affair. “Don’t dawdle or Archewyne will roar.”
He left the cabin a different man than the one who’d entered it. Why couldn’t a King’s agent court romance while on a mission? How dangerous could it possibly be? Perhaps Archewyne was wrong. After a few minutes spent composing himself, he joined the earl and finished the tea he’d abandoned. “She had apparently just awoken and will be out presently.”
“Good.” If the earl had thoughts regarding the extended absence, he said nothing about it, and for that Crispin was grateful.
Thirty minutes later, the boat pulled into the harbor at Luxor. He, Archewyne, and Juliana stood on the deck, along with the other tourists.
The setting sun made everything ablaze with frantic golden and orange color. The water glittered with the last of the light and the docks teemed with life—both human and animal. Boats and small crafts came in from their fishing hauls. Everywhere commerce was alive and well.
Crispin took a deep breath and let it ease out as he stood with his hands propped on his hips. After all this time, after seeing the treasures come into his pawn shop, he was finally in this land of ancient kings and fantastical stories, where life had been lived and played out in battles of strength and betrayal and power. There was magic and adventure in the air, he could almost see it. And he couldn’t wait to start at the dig site, especially now that he had a legitimate partner by his side.
A glimmer out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head and looked at the golden chain about Juliana’s neck. The eagle staff head was once more hidden inside her bodice, but it recalled his attention to the mission. They were not here on leisure. Lives hung in the balance, and that staff needed to be found.
But he couldn’t help a grin. The future glimmered with as much vigor and life as the setting sun on that necklace, and in Egypt, right in this moment, it felt as if anything were possible.
Chapter Ten
November 3, 1822
Crispin stifled a yawn as he walked from the Valley of the Kings after a full day of work at Archewyne’s tomb.
Situated to the west of and over the river from Luxor, the tomb was at the far eastern end of the Valley. It had been hot and dusty work, for the entry passage was filled with limestone chips and sand that needed clearing before an assessment of anything else could be made. And it was tedious work carrying baskets of fill from the mouth of the tomb. The fragments were dumped some distance away so as not to contaminate the dig site. One of the native workers, who was part of the crew, had been assigned to sift through the rubble for anything of value—beads, jewelry, pottery scraps. Even with help, the basket brigade seemed endless and in the full, unyielding sun, it was a unique form of torture.
But he’d loved every minute of it until he’d stopped and his muscles protested the treatment.
Only one thing marred the pleasant burn of his overworked body: the fact that Archewyne had informed him over tea—taken on a blanket in front of the tomb picnic-style—the countess was hosting a welcome dinner and rout of sorts for everyone involved in the dig that evening. Why did societal niceties need to bleed into life so far removed from London? Would he never move away from that?
“I’m afraid I’m not feeling like doing the social niceties,” he complained to Juliana as they headed toward Deir el-Medina where Archewyne House sat. Thank God the earl’s father had had the foresight to build the expedition house so near to the Valley. Not that the walk through scrubby bush-covered hills and ragged rock formations was all that strenuous, but when one was already bone-tired, the trek seemed forever.
Damn and blast, I’m in danger of becoming one of those soft, lazy dukes who sit on their arses more than they do anything else. What’s next? Growing a paunch, losing my hair, acquiring a walking stick, grumping my way through parliamentary procedures?
Juliana wiped at her brow with her sleeve. “You shall do fine once you wash and rest.” Though just as dirty as he, for she’d thrown herself into moving the fill with as much gusto as the rest of them, she smiled. “Do the pretty, Crispin. You might discover where to find that staff piece if you use your charm on the local dignitaries or even the dig foreman.”
“True. I shall endeavor to give it my best then.”
“You were made for such things as diplomatic negotiations.” She patted his arm, and since he’d ditched his jacket and had rolled up his shirtsleeves, the heat of her fingers on his skin sent awareness rippling through him. “So why did you consent to coming out here? Surely your sponsorship could have been conducted from London.”
“I’m sure it could have, but I’m not a usual duke.” And for that, he was glad. “Ever since the mission in France, I’ve been eager to go back into the field. When this opportunity came up and I could blend my love of antiquities and travel, I couldn’t pass on it.” He glanced at her, and even with the grime that streaked her face and the limestone dust that coated her clothing, he thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Besides, why should I go home now that I have such an amiable partner?”
She withdrew her touch and he mourned that brief connection. “We are only partners because my last mission failed and I nearly botched this one.”
“On the contrary. I believe Archewyne put us together for one reason: our missions intersected. It has nothing to do with your performance. Do you take issue with that?”
“No.” She looked away. “I’m frustrated. Disappointed in myself, that once more I cannot come up to the mark.”
“Perhaps you will now that you’re not alone. It doesn’t make one weak to ask for help.” Crispin didn’t dare peer at her again for fear she’d spook. “If I am honest about it, I’m glad my first mission isn’t me being shoved out into the field and left to flounder. It’s rather nice having company.” If he could deflect the insecurity she felt and put it onto his shoulders, he would.
“Thank you.” She said nothing more.
They continued to walk in the ever-gathering shadows of the setting sun.
“You’re welcome.” He blew out a breath and lifted his face to the gentle breeze that chased across the plains. Never would he reconcile to being in such a place as this. “While you’re here, at least I know you’re safe. Things back in Cairo are perplexing at best.” He had a feeling those problems wouldn’t stay in Cairo, but at least they’d left the detestable Lord Ramsay behind, though if he was still attached to his own dig in Luxor, he’d turn up, especially with his interest in Juliana. “Did Lord Ramsay tell you what his plans were for the winter?”
“Oh, you mean aside from stopping short of issuing veiled threats against me or trying to win me back in the same breath? No, he did not, and neither do I care.” She inclined her chin a notch. “In the event you’re wondering, I slapped him when I left that night.”
“Indeed?” Crispin had the devil’s own time tamping down a grin. “No doubt the man deserved it.”
“He did. I hope never to see him again.”
That was a relief. “You and I are in agreement on that.” His stomach muscles tightened. “Let us also hope that Lady Archewyne did not invite members of other digs in the area to her event this evening. I wouldn’t put it past the smarmy bastard to come out of spite.”
When Juliana laughed, he glanced at her and caught the amusement flickering in her eyes as the sun completed its descent. Wou
ld she look like if she allowed herself to feel a full battery of emotions previously denied? “Will you land him another facer if he does?”
“I might if he thinks to pursue you.” This is not the way to charm a woman.
“Are you jealous?” she asked in a soft voice while glancing away once again. The brim of her bonnet hid her expression.
“Perhaps. I’m not certain what I feel.” But when he remembered the last kiss they’d shared, hot sensation streaked down his spine and lodged in his groin. What a liar I’m becoming. In an effort to change topics, he said, “Are you looking forward to the dinner then?”
“I am.” She turned her head and again caught his gaze with hers. A wistful light sparkled in her eyes. “I haven’t danced since...” Her swallow was audible. “Since my husband was alive, so I rather hope there is such entertainment tonight.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” She hadn’t adopted mourning colors. Was that due to her altered identity or from something else? For that matter, how long had it been since her husband had passed? We need to have a proper conversation, and soon.
“No.” The emphatic tone of that one-word answer told him the subject was closed.
“Fair enough.” They lapsed into silence while the sun finally dropped below the horizon. In Egypt, there was no sunset to speak of. One moment the sun was there, the next it wasn’t.
In the balmy warmth of the night and under the navy sky sprinkled with stars and having Juliana by his side, he didn’t want to be anywhere else on Earth. When they reached the house and its L-shaped configuration with a lovely palm tree-shrouded courtyard in the middle, he sighed. There was much to say for gratitude and living in the moment.
“Allow me to escort you to your room.”
“As a gentleman, as protection detail, or merely because you wish to?” Amusement clung to her voice. “Or perhaps you have something else on your mind.”
Heat crept up the back of his neck. “Does the reason matter?”
What the Dashing Duke Deserves (Lords of Happenstance, #3) Page 13
