The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic (Daughters of the Empire Book 1)

by Suzette Hollingsworth

  “You must embrace your gifts to fulfill your destiny.”

  “You have great courage, Miss Stanton. I doubt if there is anyone who could intimidate you. Ordinarily I can manage the most frightening of adversaries. You puzzle me greatly, and I love a puzzle. I comprehend you know what you want—and that we want the same thing. Frankly, I find that exciting.”

  “You are gravely mistaken, Lord Ravensdale.” Alita shook her head definitively. “You have no idea what I want.”

  15

  Unforgettable

  Val was perplexed. He had been certain this interlude was precisely what she intended, and yet there could be no mistaking the sadness in her large eyes, which shone like jewels against her peaches and cream skin.

  The sharpness of his disappointment surprised him.

  I am not accustomed to imposing myself where I am not wanted. He forced himself to pull away from her and to cool his approach.

  “It is unusual for me to be in the dark, but I am having great difficulty discerning what you wish from me, Miss Stanton. I’m sorry to tell you this is the best I can offer you.”

  “That is not at all true.” Slowly she raised her eyelashes, startling him once again into submission. She was fast gaining the upper hand.

  That I cannot like. He was beginning to feel like the circus lion in a cage with its tamer.

  On one point she had been right, Val knew—he had no idea who he was.

  He sensed that Miss Stanton was about to ask him another question. He was trying his damnedest to put an end to her inquisitiveness regarding his attributes and interests, and nothing was working.

  This was a new challenge for him. Generally he could squelch a young lady’s interest in his viewpoints simply by opening his mouth.

  At other times he could melt them where they stood. And yet, he was applying his not-inconsequential talents to diverting Miss Alita Stanton to no avail.

  The problem was that he was becoming intensely aroused in the process while Miss Alita continued to persist in her study of Captain Lord Ravensdale as if he were the most fascinating man on earth.

  He shook his head in perplexity. It was flattering. She was gifted in her Arts, he would give her that.

  “Don’t you think, Miss Alita”—he gazed into her eyes—“that we can find a better way to enjoy our brief time together? There is another language I would like to teach you—though I expect to find it will not be new to you—if you could cease and desist from prophesying my illustrious future for but a moment.”

  “It took me six weeks to arrive here, Lord Ravensdale. I was fueled only by the desire to impart to you the importance of your life. If there were anything I could say or do which would convince you, I would not hesitate to do so. However, I fear my journey has been wasted.” She looked at him with an expression of dismay. “Furthermore, you don’t appear to even like me. Your attraction is of a decidedly different nature. How could I convince you of anything given your feelings?”

  “Oh, that’s where you are wrong, Miss Alita Stanton.” He kept his gaze glued to hers. “I like you very much.”

  “But you don’t wish to see me again?” Her expression was distraught. “There is so much we need to speak of.”

  “I have learned to recognize danger and to be cautious”—he studied her with a deep longing—“to not walk into the lion’s den, so to speak. Frankly, you are much too much for me to handle, Miss Alita.”

  “What an absurd statement.” Her expression was deliciously innocent as she looked at him. “You are capable of handling a much greater challenge than myself, Lord Ravensdale.”

  This woman captivates me. Val burst out laughing. He knew he had to put a great deal of distance between the two of them.

  Very soon. That’s just what he would do.

  “I appreciate your confidence, Miss Stanton.”

  Val told himself to pull back, to no avail. He was fast becoming her captive, and he was not entirely certain if she were an innocent, as she presented, or a temptress, as he suspected.

  Alita Stanton was young. It surprised him such a young woman should be so advanced in the language of love.

  “Miss Stanton, as much as I have enjoyed it, let’s stop this charade. Would you like me to make love to you now?”

  She gasped. “No man shall make love to me until we are properly wed.”

  “I see, so that is your plan, is it?” said Val, both surprised and fiercely disappointed. “I had expected a different answer, but you never cease to surprise me.”

  “I assure you I have been entirely honest with you and this is no masquerade, Lord Ravensdale.”

  “And is it your wish to marry me?”

  “Do you wish me to answer you, my lord?”

  “Very much,” stated Val, discomfited at his desire to hear her answer.

  There was longing in her eyes, and it unsettled him. He held his breath for a long moment.

  Probably just the novelty of being with a woman who actually answers my questions instead of slapping me.

  “There is someone more suited to me.” Her lips parted, and he watched them intently.

  “There would have to be.” He felt his heart fall in his chest even as he felt no small amount of relief. “And who is the fortunate gentleman?”

  There was an emotionless resolve in her eyes. “Someone of my acquaintance.”

  “I didn’t expect it was someone you don’t know.”

  “And yet…” Suddenly the brilliance returned to her eyes. “You excite me, my lord. This time spent with you has been rather like an exhilarating waltz with the perfect partner.”

  “Exhilarating is the right word.”

  “At any rate, it is immaterial.” She looked away, and her expression was wistful.

  “I assure you it is not immaterial to me.”

  “I am quite aware that you have no matrimonial interest in me and are merely fanning your male ego in asking me these questions.”

  “Do let me have my delusions since it appears to be all I shall have.”

  She sighed heavily. “No doubt you are destined to be with someone far more exceptional than myself, Lord Ravensdale.”

  “Fascinating.” He smiled distractedly. “I fear to meet her if she can out-maneuver you, Miss Stanton. She will likely take over the world.” He shook his head. “And I am not a supporter of imperialism. I believe in self-rule.”

  “You must not be alone, Captain. You are so…thrilling.”

  He laughed, in spite of himself. I thrill her. He was the least exciting man alive. And she…she was the oddest combination of genuine forthrightness while, at the same time, prattling a great deal of contrived nonsense.

  Alita Stanton is absolutely enchanting.

  Suddenly, a melancholy washed over him, and the joy he had felt in their encounter began to fade. “Unfortunately, it is time to bring our meeting to a close. As I do not wish to enter into the state of matrimony and as marriage is the only course for you, it is imperative that you leave now.”

  “You wish me to leave?”

  “I do not. But it is the only course.” He rubbed his hands through his hair and beheld her with appreciation. She had played him for a fool, but he couldn’t say he minded.

  Still, he must remove the temptation. A gentleman always respected a lady’s wishes, no matter how much she teased him. “I wish the best for you, Miss Stanton. You deserve a brilliant match, and I have no doubt you will make one.”

  And lead your husband on a merry dance for the rest of his happy life.

  “Please reconsider, my lord,” she pleaded, her expression both anxious and hopeful. “Might we not meet for conversation while I am still in Cairo, Lord Ravensdale?”

  “With any other woman I would say ‘yes’ at the same time it would not be worth my time. With you, Miss Stanton, conversation would be most enjoyable. Almost more enjoyable than I could endure.”

  “How can one have too much enjoyment?”

  “Ah, but there is a fine l
ine between pleasure and pain. I fear being in a state of fevered titillation is a young man’s game and a bit too uncomfortable for my taste. What would be the point of such a meeting if it could not lead to matrimony or to other pleasurable pastimes?”

  “Lord Ravensdale, I have failed miserably at my mission. What happens between us is of no importance.” She looked away momentarily, as if saddened. “What happens to you is what matters.”

  “Ah, yes, that I fulfill my destiny.”

  “Precisely.”

  Val wished he had time for this type of delightful nonsense, but there were too many important events unfolding in the world which required his attention.

  “I agree. My destiny awaits.” Val remembered the piles of work on his desk and his required excursion to the south end of the city. “No, I think it is best we part ways. I cannot become ensnared in your trap. And I have my own plans to pursue which would be out of your area of expertise, Miss Stanton.”

  She rose timidly, her hands shaking. Her obvious distress at leaving him almost broke his resolve. He kissed her hand caressingly, memorizing her soft touch in his mind.

  “I will never forget you, Miss Alita Stanton,” he pronounced, escorting her to the door with a pained resolution.

  16

  True Colors

  Val’s prophesy was destined to come true. No matter how much he tried, the earl could not remove Miss Alita Stanton from his mind.

  She entered his thoughts at all hours of the day and in every state of consciousness. He began to dream of her—two could play at that game. Only his dreams were of a more personal nature.

  Pursuing women had not been an all-absorbing or even particularly strong diversion of his lordship’s. He had determined early on to be cautious in the arena of women. His passions were too strong and his spirit too driven to be ruled by someone else.

  Val exerted every effort to apply the same principles guiding his life in this situation, but this woman had taken hold of his imagination, and she wouldn’t release him.

  Leave her to dominate another thick-witted sap, Ravensdale, he uttered to himself. You might be without honor or conscience, but I never imagined you to be gullible.

  He approached the terrace of Shepheard’s Hotel, where one could see both world-renowned figures as well as anyone of any importance in Cairo if one dallied over coffee and pastries long enough. Since this was not a duty of his on this day nor a particular interest of his on any day, Val walked past the terrace towards the front door.

  Why am I here? Never mind that Shepheard’s was the only hotel in town for the well-to-do.

  There is no possibility she is staying anywhere else.

  I am not here to see Alita Stanton. I have no desire whatsoever to do so. I’d have to be crazy.

  A man had to have a drink on occasion. It wasn’t his doing if Shepheard’s had the best bar in town. In addition to the most expensive. Ah, well. Sir Evelyn would pick up the tab if he wrote it up to ‘local investigating’.

  Walking through the two-story arched entry way in the shape of a mosque dome, Val placed his feet on a Persian carpet fit for a King’s processional. Even with the glass-studded dome overhead, the lobby managed to create the feeling of an opulent tent.

  One expected Aladdin to appear with his lamp and genie except for the rattling of a noisy teleprinter intruding into the ambiance, the world’s latest news becoming visible as a pen took a rollercoaster ride across the white paper.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tickity-tap. Mary Todd Lincoln, First Lady of the United States, dies…The Royal Navy’s HMS Flirt destroys Abari village in Niger…Martial law is enacted in Japan…A cyclone in the Arabian Sea causes flooding in the harbor of Bombay, India, killing 100,000 people…

  A very sad state of affairs.

  …The First World Series, Chicago beats Cincinnati 2-0…Billy the Kid shot dead in Tombstone, Arizona…

  Surely somewhere in the world progress was being made.

  …The U.S. Congress passed the 1882 Immigration Act, giving authorities the power to deny entry to convicts, lunatics, idiots, and persons likely to become public charges…

  Ah, no more admittance into America. And presumably the deportation of vast numbers of the current residents as well.

  Val considered that they should be exiled to France. At least the lunatics would feel at home there.

  …The world’s first commercial hydroelectric power plant, the Appleton Edison Light Company, begins operation in the United States…The Married Women’s Property Act of 1882 in Britain is introduced into Parliament, which would allow women to buy, own, and sell property and to keep their own earnings…

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Women allowed to keep their wages rather than being required to hand over their earnings to their husbands? He highly doubted it would ever become law since those voting on the act were all men.

  Surely there must be some good news somewhere.

  …P.T. Barnum purchases an elephant by the name of Jumbo…

  There it was. A piece of news to give one hope.

  Val scanned the balance of the news quickly before walking past the spiral staircase toward the bar. In the background he heard the sounds of the tea-time orchestra coming from the dining room, where he glanced over to see native Egyptians dressed in crimson and gold embroidered jackets and over-wide bright white pantaloons, scurrying about with dainty sandwiches, pastries and silver tea services.

  Val’s regular seat in the elegant bar of Shepheard’s Hotel gave him an excellent view of the lobby and of everyone who came and went, while providing him with the ability to quickly remove himself from view behind a monstrous pillar.

  I’ve no excuse to be here. Shepheard’s catered to Europeans and wealthy Egyptians, not the best locale in which to mingle with the peasant population. The hotel bar was known for its friendly club atmosphere, far different from the seedy bars Val generally frequented.

  He sensed none of the friendliness here today. The place was nearly empty at three o’clock in the afternoon—tea time—despite a long mahogany bar and inviting, luxurious divans scattered about, piled high with cushions.

  “You’re a bloody coward, Ravensdale,” Val muttered to himself. There was no way to deny the fact he was here in the hope of spying on Miss Alita Stanton without wishing to meet her face-to-face.

  Val had chastised himself for many faults, but never for cowardice.

  I fear what the woman makes me feel.

  “It’s good to see you again. What would you like, sir?” the bartender asked in excellent English.

  The Egyptian was middle-aged, and his expression was bright and intelligent. He was a short, muscular man, balding, with a long, curled moustache, strong features, a handsome face, and a broad grin which appealed to his customers—except to the brand of Englishman who thought it was presumptuous of the help to smile in one’s direction. The bartender was no doubt a good judge of character, and he knew which was which or he wouldn’t be employed at Shepheard’s.

  Val studied the bottles of whiskey behind the bar, contemplating asking for a bottle rather than a glass. After some deliberation, Val sighed heavily. “Can you make a satisfactory cup of hot coffee, Zaheer?”

  “Of course, sir.” The bartender appeared surprised. “But wouldn’t you prefer English tea?”

  “I’ve lost my taste for it.”

  “An Englishman who doesn’t like tea. Unusual.”

  “Not as uncommon as you would think,” Val growled.

  Ever wanting to offer new taste delights, Zaheer added “I make the most delicious pot of mint tea which you have ever—”

  “Black coffee,” Val interjected. “Strong. With cream and sugar.”

  “As you wish, sir,” Zaheer nodded with a smile and a bow.

  Once Zaheer returned with Val’s pot of coffee, Val studied the bartender with an obligatory interest. He knew Zaheer to be highly respected in the Egyptian community, and it was therefore Val’s responsibility to be interested in t
he opinion of one who came into contact with so many from all walks of life.

  Besides that, Zaheer might have seen Miss Alita Stanton from a distance. Or heard something of interest.

  “Do you like your job, Zaheer?” Val asked in Arabic.

  “Anyone who is lucky enough to have a job likes it, sir,” he replied in Arabic, following suit.

  “Why do you work here? You don’t drink.” He knew that Zaheer was Muslim and it was against his religion to drink.

  “But you do.” Zaheer chuckled, a knowing light in his eye. “Enough for both of us, sir.”

  “Dispense with the sir,” Val directed. “You know my name. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Watching you increases my convictions against drink, Raven.”

  Val scowled, stirring the sugar and cream into his coffee before taking a sip. “Passable,” he proclaimed, even though it was an excellent cup of coffee.

  It would be even better with a shot of whiskey.

  “I haven’t seen you about here lately, Raven.” Relaxing noticeably, Zaheer quizzed him, continuing in Arabic.

  Val wasn’t about to correct Zaheer, or there was no telling what his name would become.

  “I’m looking for a woman,” Val stated bluntly. He might lie to himself, but there was no point in lying to anyone else.

  “Aren’t we all?” Zaheer laughed heartily. “Are you certain you’ve come to the right place, Raven?”

  “I’ve come to the wrong damn place, Zaheer, of that I have no doubt. And for the wrong damn woman.” Val stirred the cream in his coffee while cursing under his breath.

  “Oh? What is wrong with the woman?” It was a prerequisite of Zaheer’s profession to give the appearance of being interested, but he seemed genuinely so.

  “Not a bloody thing,” Val muttered. “And everything.”