Crispin thrust once more, reigniting the tremors, and he bit back a cry or a curse, she couldn’t tell. He wrapped his arms around her, held her so close the pounding of his pulse and his ragged breathing rang in her ears.
“At the risk of sounding like a nodcock, that exceeded my expectations.” His rumbling laughter tickled her ear and sent renewed awareness skittering over her skin.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She snuggled into him, content to remain where she was for a few minutes more.
They stayed tucked against each other for long seconds. Every once in a while, he glanced his lips along her temple or grazed the spot beneath her ear that had her trembling, but he didn’t utter a word. Neither did she. The moment was perfect.
And it was fleeting. He didn’t belong to her any more than she did to him, there were no promises between them, and her heart squeezed from the sadness of that stark truth.
Eventually, Juliana stirred. “If we don’t make our way to the tomb, they’ll send out a search party,” she whispered as she pulled away from him. Immediately, she missed his warmth and the comforting protection of his arms.
“You’re right.” He looked away when she tugged her bodice into place.
Silly man. Didn’t he realize it was quite appropriate to peer at her after what they’d shared? But then, he was a noble sort, and he would never be anything else. She didn’t want him to be. While he tucked his now flaccid member into his trousers and did up the buttons, Juliana smoothed out her skirts. The thoughts and worries that had clouded her mind before were gone, and she felt refreshed somehow. She blew out a breath. “I’m ready to find that jewel and complete the staff.”
“So am I.” Crispin stood. He put the rest of his clothing to rights. “But we’ll also need to convince Lord Ramsay that he needs to part with his piece.” His grin sent queer little trembles through her belly.
“Leave him to me,” she managed to gasp out. Once before, with Phillip, she’d felt that sort of connection... and then she’d married him.
And I doomed him to death.
But at least now her thinking was clear on one point—Lord Ramsay was definitely not a temptation.
The duke straightened his cravat—a silly piece of clothing given the far-flung locale, but they had departed for the tomb directly after dinner. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
Heat seeped into her cheeks. “It happened, and I’m glad.” Suddenly shy, she lowered her eyes. “It was much needed, and I’m feeling more like myself. I haven’t for a very long time.”
“Excellent to hear.”
“Had I known how well we suit, I would have encouraged you much sooner... if I had been free.”
“Perhaps we were meant for this moment, so let’s not ruin it with what ifs or if onlys.” He stepped close, put a finger beneath her chin and raised her head. Then, he winked, and her heart squeezed. His optimism was contagious, and she grinned too. “Let’s not question fate, either, hmm?”
“Agreed.” When she would have said more, something honest, perhaps something that would give him hope, the rattle and clatter of falling rock echoed into the sudden silence. Juliana glanced up. A huge chunk of limestone tumbled down the cliff face. “Run!” Her scream bounced off the rocks and echoed through the canyon.
But it was too late.
The rock hit him on the left shoulder.
“Bloody hell that hurts,” he hissed out. “Are there avalanches here?”
Other smaller rocks rained down, and when he didn’t move, she grabbed his hand and yanked him out of harm’s way. With a string of curses, he stumbled and fell to his knees.
“Crispin?” Her pulse slammed through her veins. Another sound met her ears, one so out of place from the surroundings, she cocked her head in order to listen more intently.
Footsteps!
“Hold steady. I have to follow this lead,” she told the duke before returning to the path they’d taken to reach the plateau. Then she scrambled onto another path that led higher into the cliff. “Who’s there?” As if anyone would answer. There was no one lurking in the darkness, but plenty of hiding places waited for someone who had malice in their heart. Any number of boulders and large, jagged pieces of limestone were strewn about the area. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that one or more could have come loose naturally.
But she hadn’t imagined those footsteps.
With nothing else to do but return to Crispin, she did so with alacrity. He’d gained his feet once more, but his left arm hung uselessly at his side. A sheen of perspiration shone on his face. “I’m so sorry.” A dislocation such as that would send even the most stalwart of men into the throes of agony.
“It could have been worse.” Levity wove through his voice despite the pain in his eyes.
“Do shut up, Your Grace.” She ran to his good side and wrapped an arm about his waist. “Lean on me and let me help you home.”
He slung his good arm about her shoulders with a grunt. “We need to go to the tomb,” he insisted around gritted teeth.
“I can return once you have been seen to by the surgeon.” With a firm hand, she led him toward the path that went back toward the house instead of downward to the tomb.
“You are easily the most willful woman I’ve ever known.” Yet he grinned as if this was the most exciting adventure of his life instead of him just surviving an alleged attempt on his life.
“And you are easily the most noble man I’ve ever seen.” She held tighter to him while a piece of her heart flew into his keeping. The guilt she’d managed to forget about while with him returned tenfold.
Chapter Fifteen
November 7, 1822
Crispin was uncommonly cheerful as well as hopeful that morning while he assisted at the tomb as best he could using one arm. Since that sort of work didn’t demand much of his attention, his mind wandered.
After last night’s passionate joining with Juliana, he wasn’t so naïve as to think an excess of emotion on both their parts meant a future, but it was more than he had before. The key was keeping the momentum and trust present so she would see he wasn’t going anywhere.
Easier said than done, for the woman was fiercely independent and there were still deep secrets in her eyes she’d have to purge in order to free herself.
But they’d both been pleasantly satisfied last night. The one thing marring what they’d shared was the fact someone tried to kill him. Who the devil would wish him dead? He’d hardly met anyone while in Cairo, let alone when they’d removed to Luxor and the expedition house. And if he did have enemies, who even knew where in the world he was? It was quite the curious thing, and on an ordinary day, he would probably brush off the attempt as an accident. Yet following hard on the heels of the cobra in Juliana’s bedding, this did indeed smack of malice.
His shoulder throbbed like the devil, recalling him to the task at hand, and it had been an unpleasant endeavor for the surgeon to pop the dislocated joint back into place. Crispin’s cries of anguish, along with Juliana’s attempts to soothe him had brought Archewyne around, which had been a good thing, for it took all of the earl’s strength to hold Crispin steady so the surgeon could finish his work. Now, he wore a makeshift sling made from a fresh length of cravat, and the thing was deuced annoying. In a few days, he could begin using his arm again, but only slightly.
“About bloody time!” Archewyne’s shout, accompanied by the loud crumbling of the remainder of the barrier to yet another passageway yanked Crispin from his ruminations. “Herrick, get your arse over here.”
The excitement and urgency in the command had him running in double time, and when he joined the earl, who was hopelessly covered in fine limestone dust, he gawked at the gaping dark maw of the hole the workers had made. “I suppose it’s too early to hope this leads directly to a burial chamber?”
“Indeed.” Archewyne wiped his face with a sleeve, but that succeeded in smearing sweat with the dust and leaving a gruesome mask behind.
“However, there is a problem.”
“What now?”
“Look.” From behind, Juliana handed him a lit stub of a candle, which the earl then thrust into the blackness. The flame flared blue for a few seconds and then sputtered out. “The air is stale and without enough oxygen to sustain a flame.”
“Which means we cannot breathe properly while inside,” Crispin finished with a groan.
“Exactly.” His frown was the fiercest Crispin had ever seen it.
“So, we give it time for the air to circulate. Perhaps the situation will improve after lunch.” He clapped the earl on the shoulder. “Cannot rush these things, yes? Even the dead still manage to command respect, it seems.”
Archewyne grunted. “Has anyone ever told you that your optimism grows annoying at times?”
“Every day.” But he beamed, for the criticism never bothered him. He much preferred to keep a positive outlook, for such a thing moved everything forward that much quicker. “I’ll search for the bright side, while you concentrate on practicality.”
Another grunt, but this time it was accompanied by a slight grin. He dismissed the Egyptian workers, told them in Arabic to enjoy an hour’s respite, then he glanced at Juliana and landed his dark gaze on Crispin. “Unless the expedition has the most rotten luck collectively among its members, we must assume someone is deliberately trying to sabotage us from opening this tomb.”
“That makes more sense than thinking someone in this country has it in for me specifically,” he said with a slightly narrowed gaze. He glanced at Juliana. “Or you.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not to say there isn’t some of that at play within the larger picture.” With a smile at the earl, she continued, “I’ve learned during my time as a King’s agent to never assume anything and to suspect everything, even if the theory sounds outrageous.”
“Excellent advice.” Archewyne nodded in approval, and a flash of hot jealousy lanced through Crispin’s chest. “I’m proposing the two of you search out the area from last night where Herrick was attacked. Perhaps there are clues left behind that were hidden in the night.”
“Good idea.” He nodded in enthusiasm, for it would afford him the opportunity to find himself alone with Juliana once more. When he peered at her, he strove to keep his expression neutral. “Shall we? I’m rather hungry, so we’d best get to it straightaway.”
“Will you survive if something else happens to you?” But it was said with a grin that started tiny fires in his blood.
“Don’t let this sling fool you. I’m as hale and hearty as I ever was.”
Archewyne muttered a string of curses. “For the love of God, just go, Herrick. I refuse to play witness to verbal banter.” His intense gaze fairly burned through him. “Mission first.”
“Don’t worry. My mind has not been affected by recent events.” He refused to look at Juliana, but she caught his meaning. With a huff, she stormed along the already cleared passageway and then up the handful of stone-cut steps.
“I don’t want to know,” the earl said, and then he, too, followed Juliana’s path. “We’ll discuss strategy over lunch,” he called over his shoulder.
With nothing else to do, Crispin left the area, but he whistled a jaunty tune. Life wasn’t too bad, all things considered.
By the time he and Juliana had retraced their steps from last night and scrambled up the pathway to where the chunks of rock had fallen, the sun was high in the sky and the temperatures soared. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his good arm. Thank goodness he hadn’t gone through the torture of allowing his valet to put the jacket on him this morning.
However, there were no discernable footprints, for the ground was too rocky and covered with tiny limestone fragments and small pebbles. To be fair, the area hosted all sorts of unstable rock formations that could have succumbed to the deterioration of natural conditions at any time. Then again, it was a perfect hiding place for a person with nefarious dealings on their mind, for the area hosted plenty of crags and crevices for concealment.
“It’s impossible to tell if the rockslide was natural or man-made,” he finally said after peering through some of the brown, scrubby underbrush common to the desert.
“I’m quite adamant I heard footfalls last night just after you were struck,” Juliana maintained. She stood at the edge of the cliff with her hands on her hips, looking down in the valley toward the tomb opening, where two men lounged in the partially-shaded entrance while they snacked upon food brought with them.
“I never said I doubted your word.” He frowned as he joined her at the edge. “I am, however, eager to find the root cause of the two scares we’ve had.” Anyone could have sat on this ridge and watched the proceedings at the tomb. If there was frantic, excited activity, the watcher would see it, and they would know something had been found or progress had been made. The back of Crispin’s neck prickled, and he whirled about, but no one was there.
“You feel it too.” It wasn’t a question.
“Something isn’t right.” Again, he sent a glance about the area, but only the cliffs and the sand met his gaze. “I cannot put my finger on it.”
“Perhaps after lunch, we can pinpoint the cause of the alarm.” Yet the haunted shadows in her eyes put doubt into the statement.
“We shall see.” He turned his head, seeking out her eyes with his. “Do you wish to talk about what happened last night before my shoulder was smashed?” He certainly did, and above all, he wished to know if she wanted to further the relationship.
Her cheeks pinked, but it was hard to determine if it was from his question or the sun, for she hadn’t worn a bonnet this morning. “What’s there to say? We gave into mutual attraction and need, had a little bit of fun, and then your life was in jeopardy.” Juliana shrugged as if what they’d shared had been nothing. “It was what we’d both needed at the time.” Then she picked her way back down the path.
Crispin stifled a sigh. Women, and especially this one, were complex knots that would take great patience and a myriad of days to unravel, but a lump of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach. Was that all she’d wanted him for? A surcease of worry and guilt?
Damn and blast.
Lunch only made the difference in banishing the empty feeling in his belly. Juliana kept up a lively conversation with other guests around the table but was careful not to look at him or direct questions his way. Lady Archewyne’s attention remained fractured between lunch and her children. Everyone else discussed the possibilities for the tomb and the guard roster.
“Awfully quiet, Herrick,” the earl said once everyone finished and all but he and Crispin had exited the dining room. “Care to tell me why?”
Crispin shrugged. “I’m trying to listen to my gut.” He flicked his gaze to the doorway where Juliana talked with the young lady artist just beyond in the corridor. “I feel as there is a piece of vital information missing that would clarify some things.”
The earl nodded. “I agree.” He narrowed his eyes and followed the direction of Crispin’s notice. “Take her on a walk. I’m going back to the tomb, so stay within shouting range, but remember you’re an agent. As is she. And if she’s withholding intel, it’s your responsibility to ferret it out. Pretty face or not.”
“Understood.” It was on the tip of his tongue to confess to the bit of sin that had occurred last night, but knowing Archewyne, he’d already discerned the truth, and that was not a topic he wished to introduce. “Let us hope this conversation is productive.”
“Make certain that it is.” Then Archewyne strode away, barking out orders, leaving Crispin standing awkwardly alone, his attention riveted on Juliana.
He tugged at his cravat, loosening the suddenly strangling length of fabric. “Buggar it,” he whispered as he moved through the hallways toward his bedchamber. “It is much too hot to observe conventions,” he muttered to himself and then pushed open his door. Once inside the room, he yanked off the offending piece of clothing. With
a string of curses and movements that sent agony through his sore shoulder, he divested himself of his waistcoat. Then he slipped the sling back into place, stuffed his arm inside with another few curses, and finally left the room, determined to do things his way and not the earl’s.
When he returned to the common room, Juliana talked quietly with Lady Archewyne on a low sofa. “Ready to return to the dig?” he asked her after nodding politely to the countess. “That is if Lady Archewyne is willing to part with your company.”
“By all means.” The countess waved a hand. “While the children are busy with afternoon studies, I mean to nap.” She flashed him a tired smile. “I have vastly underestimated how quickly my strength is sapped in this heat.”
Tremors of alarm surged down his spine. “Do you need me to ring for the surgeon?”
“Stand down, Your Grace.” She chuckled and Juliana grinned. “I am with child, not near death.” She patted Juliana’s knee. “Go with him. Miles needs the two of you more than I do at this moment. He quite intends to make headway in the tomb today, breathable air or not, I think.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of as well.” Crispin glanced at Juliana. “We best not dawdle. I’d rather not invoke the earl’s wrath.”
“Neither do I.” She stood and then smoothed out her skirts. To the countess, she said, “If you should encounter an emergency, please send for me. I feel quite useless at the tomb just now.”
“Give him time. If, or should I say when, he discovers reliefs and hieroglyphs, he’ll bellow for you.” Lady Archewyne waved to both of them. “Please tell Alfred to come see me before you depart.”
Once they took care of the task, Crispin and Juliana left for the tomb.
“I approve of your state of undress,” she said by way of breaking the silence that had sprung between them. “I’d wondered how long it would take you to relax your personal standards.”
Heat slipped up the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the sun overhead. “There is only so much a man can take before conceding to the elements.”
What the Dashing Duke Deserves (Lords of Happenstance, #3) Page 20
