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

by Suzette Hollingsworth

  “And now you do.”

  “And now I do.” A sense of excitement overcame her as she reflected on her discovery.

  “Ah, you didn’t know, but now you do. And what might account for this sudden enlightenment?”

  “I do apologize, my lord, but generally I don’t know future events. I only access feelings in the vast majority of cases.” Until coming to Egypt. Until meeting the love of my life. Until…

  “No need to apologize.” Val arched his eyebrows in an aristocratic manner. “Having to wait one week to learn the destiny of my lifetime was some inconvenience, I grant you, but one must allow for the incomplete focus of your youth. I forgive you.”

  She wanted to slap him. As she spun to face the captain, there was merriment in his eyes and gentleness in his expression—something she had not seen in Valerius when she met him. He did not fear her, he would not exert himself to please her, but he seemed more tenderhearted when his eyes alighted upon her.

  As if he were watching a cute puppy. Her fury might not be forgotten—it was agitated in some ways—but she couldn’t help but think this amused outlook was far better than the tortured state in which she had found Valerius.

  “If I stay, do you promise to be respectful, my lord?” she asked warily. “And polite?”

  “Respectful, to you, my dear Miss Stanton, yes.” He bowed to her. “As for ‘polite’, I don’t believe that characteristic is in my repertoire or that I have given any indication that it is.” His voice was smooth and sultry as he answered her. “Though I shall endeavor to make the addition if it will keep you here with me.”

  She offered her arm, giving him her answer without finding words. They continued walking at a slow pace, Flora having increased her distance behind them to something over five feet.

  “I desire that we should pursue a more private path,” he posed with a distinctly dangerous tone to his voice. “I suggest that we leave your maid at a bench, push her over a cliff, or drown her in the Nile.”

  She gasped, turning towards him with her gloved hand on her lips.

  “Please take no offense, Miss Alita. I only meant it is difficult to converse privately.”

  “Indeed?” Alita bestowed her haughtiest glance upon him. “I am having no difficulty in making conversation outside of the fact that you appear incapable of focusing your attention.”

  “My attention is singularly focused, I assure you, though I find your attendant’s presence intensely distracting and not conducive to forthright speech. It renders me positively tongue-tied.”

  “That is most distressing,” she quipped. “Stemming from your shyness, no doubt.”

  “How did you suspect, my dear? And to think I exerted every effort to hide my secret by over compensating. All in vain, it seems.”

  “Captain Lord Ravensdale,” she said, turning to face him, her frustration building. “I came here with important information to impart. Obviously discussion is a waste of your time. If you are in search of other diversions, why not transport me home and go to the brothel of your choice rather than seeking out the companionship of society ladies?”

  Val stared at her, appearing not to believe her words, before bursting into laughter.

  “Let me understand you, Miss Stanton. You think the pursuit of intimate relations is why I have been in your company?” he asked. “And the reason why I now desire a more private interlude?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Then you don’t know a damn thing about me. You have lost your credibility with me, my dear, I don’t believe you have ‘the sight’ at all,” he concluded, shaking his head before reconsidering her words. “But since you mention it, is there a possibility…that you…and I…?”

  “No! There is not!” she emphasized, surprised at the volume of her voice. She glanced back at Flora who did a little bunny hop in her tracks.

  “One merely wishes to have all the facts at hand.” He smiled, his amusement beginning to grate. He was having such a grand time, in stark contrast to her own state. “But recall, my charmer, it was your suggestion and not mine.”

  “I most certainly suggested nothing of the sort, Lord Ravensdale. And it is ungentlemanly of you to say so.”

  “I would do anything to accommodate you, Miss Alita, but the idea of a most pleasing interlude was erased from all possibility the moment I learned of your identity. I had completely forgotten the desire.” He added softly, “Until the next moment I saw you. And I never would have had the idea to begin with if you had not hidden your identity from me, I might add.”

  “Then why are you here with me, Lord Ravensdale? Flirting shamelessly, I might add.”

  “That is easily answered.” Val shrugged. “Up until now, the only humans of interest to me died three thousand years ago. I have so few amusements which involve any part of the currently living human race. Please don’t deprive me of this.”

  “I shouldn’t dream of it, but I would like an answer.”

  “Once again, your credibility is in question. I thought you had the sight.”

  “I’m not omniscient—I am not God—and I am sometimes incorrect.”

  “Clearly.”

  She swallowed hard. “I simply have a greater aptitude than most. I have learned to access the invisible, spiritual world.” She bowed her head. “It is almost as real to me as the visible world. Sometimes more so.”

  “Could you elaborate?”

  I don’t know why, you never believe anything I say. “As you wish. The boundaries between this life and the afterlife, as well as the connection we have to each other and to nature, is not as distinct as people believe. Most humans cannot access these other worlds which are in front of our noses. I simply have a stronger connection and ability to access the spirit world as well as the emotions and thoughts of others. Until recently, I did not have a connection to the future and past as well. Honestly, it is a bit overwhelming at times…I am receiving so many messages at once I sometimes do not notice the obvious in this world. Now it is my turn to ask the questions. I repeat, why you are spending time with me? I am receiving so much conflicting information.”

  “Alright then, I, a mere mortal, will answer you. Although it is evident to me you find me irresistible, my reason for being in your company is much more honorable than you contend.”

  “What other reason could there be than…than…?” Alita demanded, now fuming. She had no patience left. “Believe me, Lord Ravensdale, I feel the force of your attraction for me.”

  “Excellent,” he replied with meaning, his lips forming a sensuous smile as they began to move forward again, the palm trees to one side of them and the immense Nile River to the other.

  “Combine that unfortunate reality with the fact that you don’t take me seriously, Valerius,” she said.

  “Believe me, Miss Alita, I have never taken a woman more seriously.” Val’s voice turned sultry.

  “Lord Ravensdale, is it not true that you don’t believe anything I say?”

  “For the most part, true.”

  “So. You admit it.”

  “I have no intention of lying to you, my treasure. This is the aspect of our time together I most value.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Though you are rarely honest with me, the surprising outcome is that I find I can be completely myself with you. It is thoroughly refreshing.”

  “And yet you don’t believe anything I say,” she remarked. “So of what possible use could my companionship be to you?”

  He stopped abruptly, sensually running his hand along her chin as he lifted her head to look into her eyes. “I like the way you say the things I don’t believe.”

  Oh my.

  They arrived at an overview of the city, and he directed her to the lookout point. She glanced about from the hilltop, attempting to regain her composure.

  Cairo never failed to exercise a calming influence on her. She loved the combination of mosque-style buildings—domes everywhere—with tall, steeple-like buildings. Everywhere in the city there
was color and texture, noise and life, movement and change. And more color. Camels, donkeys, mud buildings, and sailboats mixed with modern architecture and palm trees. Turbans and English clothing.

  “Breathtaking, isn’t it, Miss Alita?”

  “Oh, yes!” She felt her calm returning as well as a happiness at being together.

  “Perhaps it is my reputation about town with women which led to your false impression of me?”

  “Reputation?” she turned to face him, alarmed. “I was not aware you had a reputation, Valerius.”

  “Precisely. I know very well I do not, in fact, have a rakish reputation, although I have many times been given the opportunity to develop one.”

  “How good of you to keep me apprised of your illicit invitations and tawdry affairs, Lord Ravensdale,” she replied icily. “It is difficult to express the level of interest I have in that subject.”

  “I only just told you, Miss Alita, there are no tawdry affairs. Well almost none. As to the illicit invitations, yes, I must admit those number in the—Do forgive me. I doubt you are interested in the number, Miss Alita?” He smiled, his flowing raven black hair in contrast to his white teeth.

  “Not in the slightest!”

  “But I would not deprive you of the knowledge of any aspect of my person, however repetitious recounting the experience is for me.” He ran his hands along his fawn-colored trousers, which fit him like a second skin.

  “I beg you to deprive me,” she said shakily.

  “I will be frank with you, Miss Alita.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” she fumed. “But I wish you might.”

  “I only wish to respond to the accusation which you only just made against my person. I have the right to a fair trial, you know. The material point is if I were merely in search of a warm female body, I would have long ago achieved that end, I assure you.” He turned serious, his glance seductive. She felt herself grow warm. “And with much less aggravation than I have experienced at your hand, my dear.”

  “Then do not allow me to aggravate your further, I beg you.” She managed to find her voice. “Go and enjoy the thousands of women throwing themselves at your feet—women who, I might add, never materialize in my presence are everywhere to be found.”

  “Thousands?” He shook his head as he moved to lean against the barrier in front of the lookout point, disbelief written across his face. “I wouldn’t say more than a hundred.”

  “How dare you speak to me like this!” But then, he never stopped talking. He talked…and talked…and talked. Honestly, she never met a man who liked to hear the sound of his own voice more.

  She corrected her thoughts abruptly. Actually, this is the first time Lord Ravensdale has ever spoken to excess. She had thought Valerius Huntington was the tall, silent type.

  Today she wished he might be. And what was the reason for this change?

  “How would you wish me to speak to you, Miss Alita?”

  “Not at all. I wish you to listen.” This, she could honestly say, he never did. She hoped Val’s increase in speech might indicate a turning point for his full repertoire of communication skills.

  “I am your devoted audience, Miss Alita.” He crossed his arms in front of his muscled chest, his white cotton shirt billowing about him.

  Alita steadied her breath, striving to compose herself. “The next step for you is to focus on your translating, Valerius. The progression will come naturally to you. Continue your studies, seek out the truth in all circumstances, and voice your opinion. I see your studies have fallen by the wayside. You are not as energized as you once were. You have lost your spark.”

  “My spark as you put it, Miss Alita, seems to be in place.” His jaw tensed as he clearly strove to maintain a gentleman’s composure. “But, believe me, I appreciate your interest, my dear.”

  “Will you return to England?” Alita asked, hoping against hope to see him again.

  “There is little to no chance of that,” he stated coldly. Val scowled as his eyebrows grew close together.

  “But what of your family?”

  “My family has an elaborate system which excludes me,” Val stated flatly.

  “I don’t understand,” said Alita, bewildered. “You are the heir. You have responsibilities.”

  “I have a responsibility to my country here—or so Sir Evelyn informs me. I also have a most competent agent who runs my affairs in England—and who is not intimidated by my family, which is no small feat.”

  “Is your family intimidating?”

  “Let me enlighten you, Miss Alita, on the illustrious family I am exerting every effort to prevent you from claiming as your own.” Val scowled. “My father was continually feeding his wanton appetites with the maids in our employ. He even had the audacity to go after my younger sister at one point. I should have killed him then, but instead, I moved my sister to a different location in secret. I found the situation deplorable and said so. He replied by threatening to disinherit me.”

  “And did he do so?”

  “I didn’t give a damn, though it is not possible for him to do so. I am the heir. But that was of no concern, my father’s behavior was. I told my mother of his escapades in order that she might protect her children, and she refused to believe it, despite the fact that we lost servants at an alarming rate.”

  “Unthinkable.” She shuddered.

  “She is a delicate, sweet woman, but she needed to see my father in a particular light. Possibly she took his failures to mean she was a failure as a wife—and because she had no ally but him. I became the receptacle for all the family guilt rightly belonging to my father. It was easier to dislike me than to face the truth, it seems.”

  “Oh, it is deplorable,” uttered Alita, grief overwhelming her. “To destroy an innocent young person so in need of his family’s love simply to maintain one’s imaginary world.”

  “So you see, between the lies of my family and the lies of my country, I am nothing but a damned nuisance to everyone.”

  She stared at him, this glorious man before her, a person so deserving of love and so easy to cherish. Deprived of an identity, of self-love, of a family.

  And they will have succeeded in making him invisible and nonexistent—precisely their goal—if I cannot convince him of who he is.

  “My father died, but the family maintains its delusions. Consequently, I have no desire to return to England. Nor am I welcome.”

  Alita considered the man before her. Valerius had been betrayed by both country and family. Yet his motives remained pure, and he was, at base, a truth teller.

  Unafraid to speak the truth as she was.

  Heavens. She had never realized it before this moment.

  And yet, they could not meet on a common plane.

  35

  A Weaver of Yarns

  “What happened to bring you to Egypt, Miss Alita?”

  She sighed heavily. “I believe I told you.”

  “Only that you came to find me.” He shook his head. “Something about a ball…”

  “My sight failed me on the most important day of my life. I needed a safety net woven from the fabric of the true nature of my being, and I didn’t have one.” She swallowed hard. “I still don’t.”

  How can you not see, even now, why you complete me? She looked into his eyes, locked onto hers.

  How is it that someone so empty of comprehension had been the only one to awaken her?

  “Certainly Egypt has been a journey in the discovery of the self.”

  “Self discovery, is it? Discovering who you are, Miss Alita, has been the singular endeavor of mine for some time.”

  “I have been entirely honest with you at every turn. When you know yourself, you will know me in the same instant.”

  “I hope that you will not regret knowing me,” he added softly.

  “I came to help you, but in the process, you have been God’s gift to my soul, to point me in the direction of the person I was meant to be.”

  T
here was no point pretending. It was all too clear God had given Valerius to her to teach her how to embrace herself, to stay in her center, to speak her truth, to overcome her fear. God had given him to her for a short time only, not for a lifetime, as she wanted.

  Wanted with all her heart. She closed her eyes and struggled not to give into the pain of her disappointment.

  “Would you care to sit, Miss Alita?” She nodded, and they both sat in silence for some moments overlooking the river. Flora sat on a bench some eight feet away.

  The waters of the Nile were high, and Alita studied the designs formed by the current, mirroring her whirling emotions.

  “I know the whole,” she murmured quietly. “I agreed to meet with you today in order to speak of your destiny. Surely you were aware of my hesitation to even meet you.” In all fairness to him, her feelings betrayed her. “I am determined you shall know I seek nothing for myself no matter how my feelings may rebel.”

  “I am your obedient servant. Tell me then.” He made an attempt at affecting interest. She had never seen him trouble himself before.

  His expression was strangely content. He had been the most troubled person of her acquaintance when she met him. Now he seemed a different man. “You will write stories of other cultures for the English-reading populace.”

  Val laughed heartily. “This is my great destiny which will change the face of the world? Writing stories?”

  “I do not jest.” She was not surprised by his response. “Only consider. The translation of The Arabian Nights had an enormous impact on the English, giving them an insatiable desire for all things Eastern. A fascination with and appreciation for another people’s culture and history promotes cooperation and conciliation far more effectively than any amount of governmental interference.”

  “That is true, Miss Alita. Reality follows perception. However, I—”

  “Once there is human feeling, once it becomes an idea in our consciousness on a grand enough scale, it becomes reality.” Alita’s excitement grew despite herself. “Your stories will have a significant impact toward bringing the world together with a power most politicians only dream of.”