by Cheryl Bolen
"You should be ashamed of yourself. The man practically gets killed trying to save your life and you're embarrassed for him to see your bare legs!"
Daphne was right to chastise her. Rosemary rushed to Mr. Maxwell. "See, Daf. The vile creature who abducted me tried to drive a huge dagger into Mr. Maxwell's heart. Thankfully, Mr. Maxwell was quick enough to move away, but the dagger slashed his arm."
"We'll get him to our hotel and call for a surgeon," Daphne said.
"You can open your eyes," Rosemary said to him.
She stood before him as his eyes opened. With two days' growth, his dark beard was filling out. She rather liked it. He looked more mature, more manly.
His dark eyes whisked over her. Then he shut them again.
But in that second when his eyes caressed her half naked body, she tingled all over.
Chapter 13
"Dear love, allow me to wrap my veil around you. It will quite make you decent." Daphne proceeded to cover her sister with the creamy white fabric. From the corner of her eye, Daphne noticed a man in trousers—an unusual site in Cairo, to be sure. She looked up to see the redheaded Mr. Petworth coming toward them, a dejected look on his face.
"Mr. Petworth, where's your prisoner?" Daphne asked.
"I'll need to question him in Arabic," Maxwell added.
Petworth shook his head sadly. "He's gone."
Maxwell's voice hitched. "He escaped?"
"No. He died from the wound you inflicted."
"I'm not a bit sorry," Rosemary said. "He was a horrible man. He tried with wicked determination to kill dear Mr. Maxwell, and he's the one who slashed through my tent and stole me away in the night. He also struck me. I'm not a bit sorry he's dead."
"It seems he deserved his fate," Mr. Maxwell said. But his voice lacked conviction.
"Pray, Mr. Maxwell," Petworth said, concern in his voice, "what's happened to your eyes?"
"Oh, you can open them now," Rosemary said. "I'm mostly covered." Rosemary turned to the soldier.
Mr. Petworth quickly averted his gaze from Rosemary. His glance dropped to the scholar's bloody sleeve, and he rushed to him. "Let me see your wound! Was it his dagger?"
Mr. Maxwell nodded solemnly as he lifted his sleeve to reveal a gash so deep, it flapped open on either side.
Rosemary fainted.
Her body toppled forward—right into Mr. Maxwell's arms. "Poor Lady Rosemary." Then he picked her up. "We must return to the hotel."
Daphne hovered over her sister. She had some experience with fainting sisters and deemed this nothing out of the ordinary. "When we get there, the first thing we do is send for a surgeon. Come this way. We've three horses tethered just around the corner."
Mr. Maxwell transferred Rosemary's limp body to Mr. Petworth while he mounted. Then Mr. Petworth hoisted her up into Mr. Maxwell's arms.
"Where are the others?" Mr. Petworth asked Daphne.
She explained that Jack believed Williams—unaware they knew where he lived—would be returning to his lodgings, and they hoped to capture him there.
Just inside the walls to the European quarter, Daphne observed a curious sight. The same two men wearing fezzes who'd guarded Ahmed Hassein's shop in the bazaar stood just inside the gates. What would they be doing in the European quarter? Had Hassein sent them to spy on her and Jack?
She sighed. "Whenever we get a free soldier, we must send him back to Gizeh to apprise everyone that we've found Rosemary."
* * *
A short time before they reached their hotel, Rosemary awakened. She'd been dreaming she was being held in Captain Cooper's arms. At least she thought it was Captain Cooper. She couldn't see his face. She knew only that she felt secure. She felt cherished. She felt unbound happiness. Her arms came around him. She hadn't wanted to awaken.
It slowly became apparent that she was surrounded by the clopping of horse hooves, that the motion she was experiencing meant she was on a horse. Being carried by . . . her lover. A smile lifted the corners of Rosemary's mouth, and then her eyelids lifted. The first thing she saw was his spectacles, then the blood-drenched sleeve.
She was in Mr. Maxwell's arms! Her instant rush of affection was quickly doused by her concern for him. For emblazoned on her brain was the memory of how his mangled arm looked when he lifted away the bloody sleeve. Her spine stiffened. "Mr. Maxwell! I beg that you let me hold the reins for you. You mustn't move your injured arm." She snatched the reins from his hands.
He sighed. "Thank you, my lady. I believe I will bow to your kind offer. It seems the movement has accelerated the bleeding."
"I'm terribly worried about you."
"I was terribly worried about you. Both after the abduction and after you fainted."
"I remember now." She groaned. "Did I truly faint at the sight of your ghastly wound?"
"You did, my lady. We were all concerned."
"Save your concern for your arm, my dear Mr. Maxwell."
At the hotel, the redheaded soldier lifted her down from Mr. Maxwell's horse. While the two men and Rosemary went up the stairs, Daphne went to request one of the hotel's servants fetch a surgeon.
Rosemary could not wait to replace Daphne's veil that she'd endeavored to wrap around her. She'd had the devil of a time keeping it from unfurling to reveal her nearly naked. She longed to don one of her morning gowns. With stockings and shoes. She hurried to her chamber, tossing back a glance at her brave protector. "As soon as I'm dressed, I shall come to your chamber."
"You ought not to" Mr. Maxwell said. "I can't have you fainting again."
"I give you my word that I will not. The horrible vision of your terrible injury is embedded into my mind. I shall never be able to forget it." She wanted to say, "I shall never be able to thank you properly for endangering your life for me," but her gratitude would be expressed later. After he was on the mend.
Getting him medical attention was all that mattered now. "I won't have a second's peace until I know that you're being properly taken care of." Gone were her sweetly feminine tones. She spoke forcefully.
"There's also the matter that I will have to be undressed above the waist," he said. "It will not be proper for a maiden to see such."
She froze, glaring at him. "This maiden has bared more than half her body to you, my dear Mr. Maxwell. May I suggest that English rules of propriety be abandoned by us both under the present circumstances?"
His bespectacled eyes solemnly met hers, and he slowly nodded.
Within five minutes, Rosemary was dressed and striding into Mr. Maxwell's bedchamber.
Daphne eyed her. "Good news. There's a French surgeon living in the European quarter, and we've sent for him."
"That is good news." Rosemary saw that Mr. Maxwell had donned his trousers and was sitting on his bed, shirtless, as Mr. Petworth and Daphne were examining his wound.
"May I come see?" Rosemary asked.
"If you promise not to faint," Mr. Maxwell said.
"The severity of it won't shock me this time." She came to stand on the other side of his bed. "Do you not believe, Mr. Petworth, that we should bind the wound to reduce the bleeding—at least until the surgeon comes?"
"I do."
"I've brought some linen we can use," Daphne said. "After the surgeon comes, he will want to stitch the arm back properly."
The very idea of driving a needle into Mr. Maxwell's flesh made Rosemary's stomach queasy, but she vowed to be strong for the most gallant man she'd ever known. Even more queasiness sloshed within her when she saw that his sheets were covered in blood.
Daphne asked Mr. Petworth to try pulling the long gash together while she attempted to wrap the linen around his arm. "We don't know how long it will be before the surgeon arrives," Rosemary's pragmatic sister said. "He could be in the middle of an amputation or something equally as vital."
Mr. Maxwell looked as if he were turning green. "I beg that you not mention amputations."
"I'm sorry, but I'm sure amputations are for . . . well
, things like the shattering from a musket ball." Daphne said. "Your injuries, I am certain, can be addressed by simple stitching."
"I beg that you not mention stitching." Rosemary transferred her attention from Daphne to the patient. "Should you like me to hold your hand, Mr. Maxwell?" How had those words popped from her mouth? She hadn't meant to say them. How embarrassing!
Grimacing from the pain, he turned to her. "That would be lovely."
She placed her hand in his, and they clasped together. Despite that he was a slender man, his hand was not small. It was a great deal larger than hers, and his clasp was firm.
In her entire life, no physical action had ever affected Rosemary so profoundly. Butterflies flitted in her chest. Her breath grew short. She quite decided that hand holding was a wonderful thing.
"When I was a lad, my mother sat by my bed when I had the fever," he said, his voice gentle. "She held my hand, and I believed that it transferred her good health to me."
Rosemary tossed her head back and laughed."Pray, I hope you don't think of me as a mother."
An embarrassed expression swept across his face, and he stammered, "I . . . I didn't mean to imply- -"
"I was just teasing." She remembered that his mother had been his champion in ridding their house of a mummy. It was obvious he and his mother had a loving relationship, and because of that she did not object to reminding him of his mother.
It was most difficult for her to watch what Daphne and Mr. Petworth were doing to her poor Mr. Maxwell, so she met his dark eyes and attempted to take his thoughts away from the pain he must be enduring.
Now that she knew Mr. Maxwell, she no longer noticed his spectacles. Just like with Daphne. For the first time, she actually looked into his eyes. His brown eyes had no honeyed flecks; they were almost black. "Do you know, Mr. Maxwell, your beard is already filling out, and I quite like the way it looks on you."
"I thought you didn't like men with facial hair," Daphne said.
"I must have meant fair-haired men. I believe it suits Mr. Maxwell with his dark colouring."
Her comments had him completely clamming up. He wouldn't even meet her gaze. She must have embarrassed him.
"Now that I am assured your terrible wound is being seen to, I must express to you my profound gratitude. You risked your life to save mine. I will never be able to repay so great a debt."
"There's no debt, my lady. I was happy to be useful."
"Useful! You were heroic! I've never witnessed such bravery."
"It was nothing, and I beg that you not speak of it again."
He was grimacing from the pain, and sweat beaded on his forehead. She had to restrain herself from stroking his brow. Really, she did not know what had come over her! She had never been particularly demonstrative. Until today.
Her first two ploys to distract his thoughts had obviously embarrassed him. Perhaps she should stick with Orientology. "Tell me, Mr. Maxwell, have you ever been in a mestaba?"
He nodded, then chuckled.
"What's funny about that?"
"We left behind seven of the Egyptians, four soldiers, Mr. Arbuthnot, and Lord Beddington with his army of servants to search every mestaba in Gizeh for you."
"I do wish Jack and our four soldiers would return," Daphne said. "We need to dispatch a soldier to Gizeh to call off the search."
Rosemary could tell Daphne was worried about Jack.
Footsteps on the stairs alerted them, and all eyes went to the door. A bearded, turbaned European stood at the doorway and in French introduced himself as the surgeon.
Daphne sighed. "Now that I know Mr. Maxwell will be in the surgeon's capable hands, I shall borrow Mr. Petworth to accompany me to where my husband is.
* * *
Once more, he had failed to capture that damned Williams. He must have seen them in close proximity to his lodgings and fled. Nothing could be more conspicuous than soldiers with fair skin, bright red jackets, white breeches, and towering beaver hats.
They had not seen Williams. But he wore black robes, and could go almost undetected in shadowy doorways.
Jack had gone back to Williams' dark room and waited, his pistol aimed at the door he had hoped Williams would enter. He waited and waited until well after the streets filled with Egyptians going about their day's work. Then his wife came scurrying up the stairs, accompanied by Petworth, thank goodness.
"Are you here, dearest?" she called.
"Yes," he grumbled.
"I've been so worried about you." She entered Williams' room, satisfied herself that Jack was unharmed, then allowed her gaze to fan over the chamber. "It's apparent that he was a military man at one time. His chambers are relatively tidy for a bachelor."
"He saves his nastiness for murder," Petworth said, snarling.
Jack couldn't agree more.
"I hate to think that a man who was unfit for the military has gotten the best of me," Jack said.
Daphne came to his side and set a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Not for long, love. With Mr. Petworth's able assistance, you'll find the evil man and bring him to justice."
"Where do you think he might have gone?" Petworth asked.
"My guess is that he's reporting to the man from whom he takes orders."
"If only we knew who that was," Daphne said wistfully. "Do you think it could be Ahmed Hassein? I can't help but think he's got something to do with all this. I saw his two guards in the European quarter this morning. Why do you suppose they were there?"
Jack's brows elevated. "It's very likely he wished for them to spy on us."
"They would have been much more inconspicuous had they dressed as native Egyptians," she said.
"Native dress reminds me of Maxwell," Jack said, moving to the door. "The last time I saw him, I caught sight of blood. Is he all right?"
"I think he'll be all right," Petworth said.
"But he's got a ghastly knife wound to his arm."
"Laid it wide open," Petworth added.
"We left him in the hands of a French surgeon. I was terribly worried about you."
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. "As you can see, I am fine—but feeling defeated." They began to walk down the stairs.
"I have no doubts you'll get your man. It's just taking longer than you're accustomed to," she said.
"We need to send a pair of soldiers to Gizeh."
They continued to hold hands as they descended the staircase. "Allow the men to eat something first, then dispatch a pair," she said.
Jack chuckled to himself. "I wonder if Arbuthnot's clothes have gotten dirtied."
She smiled. "I doubt it. He will find a way to avoid such unpleasantness."
As they rode back to the hotel, Daphne said, "You know, dearest, I'm not perceptive about these things, but I believe Rosemary has taken a fancy to Mr. Maxwell."
"She could not do better."
"You'll get no argument from me."
"You know, do you not," Jack said, "that even were Maxwell to return her affection, he would never act upon it?"
She nodded solemnly. "Because of the disparity in their stations."
He remembered how he had once resisted his acute attraction to Daphne for the very same reasons. He wondered if anything other than their near-death experience would ever have forced them to admit their love for one another.
Chapter 14
Jack felt guilty for ordering a pair of soldiers back to Gizeh when he and the rest of their exhausted party were planning to collapse in their beds. "I vow that you will have the next two days duty free," Jack had told the soldiers.
There was much to discuss when Jack and Daphne got to their bedchamber. "What did you think of Lord Beddington?" she asked.
"His answers to our questions seemed honest. He seemed amiable."
"You don't sound terribly convincing."
"That's because it's suspicious to me that he and his army of servants were already at Gizeh when we arrived—and somebody during that time prior to our arriva
l set the trap that could have killed Maxwell or your sister."
"There is that." She allowed her robes to fall to the floor, and she stepped out of them. "But I cannot believe Lord Beddington would try to kill the daughter of his old school friend. He and Papa were exceedingly fond of one another. I also have difficulty believing that one of the wealthiest men in all of Europe would have to resort to murder to obtain a coveted antiquity."
"I'm inclined to agree with you on that." He swept aside the mosquito netting and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.
"Allow me to assist." She went to her knees in front of him and helped yank them off.
"Perhaps we could get Habeeb to question his servants. If his underlings were ordered to rig up the stones, do you not think others would know that?"
"It's possible." His brows lowered. "Speaking of Habeeb, I wonder if he's been able to locate the women."
She lowered herself on to the bed. "If he had, he'd be sitting on that bench in front of our hotel."
"He does seem to be reliable." Jack fell back on the mattress.
"Another thing about Lord Beddington . . . how would he even have known we were in Cairo? It's been over half a year since he left for Thebes."
He rolled over to face her. "There is the fact these wealthy men with villas keep a staff here even when they're elsewhere. He could have sent a messenger to his staff in Cairo to alert them that he was not much more than an hour away. Perhaps one of his loyal retainers reported to him about our presence. Did he even say how long he'd been at Gizeh?"
"No, he didn't. I had the impression he may have been there a few days."
"Enough time to communicate with his agents in Cairo. Enough time to plan attacks on Amal and on Rosemary."
"But we have no reason to believe Lord Beddington's staff would be up to sinister activities. I do believe we should consider everyone until we find the guilty person or persons, but I'm more suspicious than ever of Ahmed Hassein after seeing his soldiers in the European quarter."
"That does arouse suspicion, though we aren't the only Europeans staying here."
"But I'm almost sure we are the most recently arrived."