by Cheryl Holt
“No.”
She wiped her hand across her mouth to dislodge the taste of him, and he hooted with laughter.
“You amuse me, Lady Theodosia. I’ll say that for you.”
“I’m delighted to be of service.”
“Don’t discount how humorous you are. It’s been a very long time since anyone could get me to laugh about anything.” He pointed to the house as he had with Mrs. Valda. “Shouldn’t you be going?”
“Probably.”
“Would you like me to escort you to the foyer?”
“No. I’m sure we’d bump right into Aunt Edna.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“Yes, Heaven forbid. I’ve already endured a dozen lectures because of you.”
“Lectures about what?”
“About my seeming inability to avoid unsavory characters.”
“Do you make a habit of it?”
“I don’t think so, but she does.”
“On this occasion, you should listen to your aunt. There’s no one more unsavory than me.”
“I don’t believe that, but I’m not in the mood for another scolding, so I’ll find my own way to the foyer.”
“It’s straight ahead.”
“I know that.”
It was the moment she should have walked off, but it dawned on her that she might never see him again. The prospect left her very sad. Every second she spent with him was thrilling.
“Will you visit Mrs. Valda tonight?” she had the temerity to ask.
“If I get my chores completed.”
“You have no shame.”
“None.”
“I heard you say you were leaving.”
“Yes, I’m taking Preston Price down the river.”
“I met him at supper. He’s your client? You’re a guide?”
“Yes.”
“We’re traveling down the river too,” she stupidly mentioned. “Do you suppose we’ll cross paths?”
“Not if I can help it.”
She scowled. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“I wasn’t being rude. I was just stating the facts. Shrews are only permitted to insult me once, and it’s my specific intent to never lay eyes on Edna Wallace ever again. Now why don’t you go? I’ve warned you over and over that you shouldn’t tarry with me.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I’ve told you that before. You would never hurt me.”
“I might kiss you again though. You shouldn’t tempt me.”
“I am tempting you?”
“Yes, shocking as it sounds.”
“The first time was very unpleasant. Why would you try it again?”
“That’s precisely what I’m struggling to figure out. Why would I? I have no idea.”
When she’d leapt away from him, she’d put several feet of space between them, but as they’d been talking, he’d sneakily moved closer so he was right next to her again. He placed his palm on her waist and drew her to him so their bodies were pressed together.
He stared down at her in the most intriguing way, as if he liked her, as if she tantalized him, which was the silliest notion ever. But it made her very happy to consider it.
She held her breath, wondering if he might kiss her again as he’d threatened. Instead, he backed away and gestured to the villa.
“Go.”
“All right.” She couldn’t stop herself from adding, “I’m glad I met you.”
“I’m not glad I met you,” he retorted.
She snorted with exasperation. “You’re such a grouch.”
“Go,” he repeated.
For some crazed reason, she was anxious to linger a few more minutes. When he was being so uncivil, why would she? But she was beginning to feel foolish and worried she was immaturely smitten.
“Goodbye,” she said.
She waited, expecting he’d say goodbye too, but he didn’t.
He simply studied her with no expression on his face, and she thought he looked like the loneliest person in the world. What must it be like to be him? Shunned by polite society. Accused of a hideous crime he never could have committed. Reduced to guiding rich tourists down the Nile.
Edna had claimed he was an earl’s natural-born son. If so, his life in Egypt had to be a far step down from the life he’d previously led. Was he ever angry? Was he ever galled by what had occurred? He must be, but she would never have the chance to inquire.
“I’ll always think of you as my friend,” she told him. “No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll remember you as a friend.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I will anyway, Mr. Grey.”
She spun and left, and though she was dying to glance back to see if he was watching her depart, she kept on.
CHAPTER FIVE
The clock on the mantle chimed three times, and Preston shook his head with disgust.
He’d been so sure of the blasted girl. He was an expert on the female species, and from the moment he’d espied Susan Wallace at Valois’s supper, he could have written her biography.
And any holes in his conjecturing had been filled by gossiping guests. Edna Wallace was an unpleasant person who was genuinely disliked by all, and her enemies were happy to tell tales.
Susan and her mother barely knew one another, didn’t get on, and had quarreled throughout the voyage from London.
The reason for Edna’s presence in Egypt wasn’t a secret. Lady Theodosia was a walking scandal whose reputation Edna was trying to save.
As to Susan, there were plenty of whispers, mainly that she’d had an affair and was ruined too. Preston hadn’t been able to glean sufficient information to decide what was true and what wasn’t, but there was adequate innuendo for him to deduce that Susan was a strumpet at heart.
It would be simple to lure her into an indiscreet liaison.
He would also relish the opportunity to ingratiate himself. Decades earlier, he’d met Susan’s father, and the revered Colonel Wallace had been an arrogant prig whom Preston had detested. Yet by all accounts, he’d had a bit of money, so the chances were great that Susan had a tidy fortune that was just waiting for some smart fellow to snatch it up. Why shouldn’t it be Preston?
He glanced at the clock again, seeing that five more minutes had elapsed. Apparently, she was more cautious than he’d assumed.
He’d have to work to seduce her, which he hated. When he’d been younger, he’d relished the chase, but anymore he liked easy conquests and wouldn’t expend too much energy getting what he wanted. If a girl was timid, if she proved too shy and fretful, he’d simply find another who wasn’t quite so hesitant.
He prided himself on his ability to convince gullible females to do what they oughtn’t. Their families typically had a different view though. The whole basis for his hiding in Egypt was a recent untenable situation. A father and brother had taken umbrage over his flirtation with a certain innocent miss in Sussex, and there had been threats of a forced wedding, with Preston becoming a husband at musket point.
The little mouse had been fetching enough, but much too poor, so Preston would never have allowed himself to be shackled to her. He’d been married several times—but never widowed or divorced. He stayed as long as the money lasted, and once it was spent, he vanished.
Because of his clever scheming, he’d had an interesting life, but with each passing year, it was harder to pull off his scams. He had to constantly peek over his shoulder to ensure no one standing there might recognize him.
He went to the sideboard and poured himself a drink, and he’d just gulped it down when he heard a quiet knock on the door. He smirked, delighted to have been right about her after all.
Stealthily, he tiptoed over and guided her inside. A finger to his lips warned her to silence until he could spin the key in the lock and draw her across the room. She was wearing a hat, the veil shielding her face. It was a good ploy and hopefully her identity hadn’t been noted.
She yanked it off and tossed it on a chair. H
er pretty blond locks tumbled down her back.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” She sounded breathless as if she’d hurried to be with him. “I didn’t think my mother would ever leave for Valois’s. I couldn’t get away.”
“I’d about given up on you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I was afraid I’d finally arrive, but you’d be gone.”
“There’s no chance of that, Susan. May I call you Susan?”
“Absolutely—if I may call you Preston.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He held her gaze, his experienced eyes digging deep so she’d believe he found her to be wonderfully exotic and unique. If she turned out to have a small fortune, he would deem her to be wonderful and unique. He considered money to be incredibly exotic.
He clasped her hand and kissed it. Then, figuring he might as well push matters with her, he kissed her palm too. She was twenty, and with his being much older—he was forty-five though he claimed to be thirty-five—she’d be eager to seem mature and sophisticated. He was happy to permit her her fantasies.
“Will you have a drink?” he asked.
“I’d love one.”
“I have sherry, or there’s whiskey if you’re in the mood for something stronger.”
“Let’s have a whiskey.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
He poured two glasses, while she strolled over to the French window. He had a narrow balcony that looked out at the Nile. She was staring at the river, but didn’t dare step outside.
“We have a nicer view from our suite,” she said.
“I wanted to be placed in the other wing, but when I checked in, the hotel was full. This was the only room available. Many guests have traveled on since then, so I suppose I could move, but I’m too lazy to pack my bags.”
She chuckled. “How long have you been in Cairo?”
“Nearly a month.”
“Why the delay in your journey?”
“I had to learn my friends’ location. It required some investigation.”
Actually, he’d never planned a trip down the river at all. He was perfectly content to loaf at the Hotel Cairo where he could watch the rich tourists and their winsome, unsuspecting daughters.
But quite by accident, he’d stumbled on a prior acquaintance he’d rather not encounter, and he’d hastily arranged his departure. He couldn’t return to England just yet, so a rapid exit from Cairo was the logical choice.
He walked over to her and gave her the whiskey. To his astonishment, she downed it in three quick gulps.
“May I have another?” she asked.
“Is it your intent to get drunk so I can take advantage of you? If so, may I categorically state that you needn’t grow intoxicated? I can take advantage when you’re stone cold sober. I don’t mind.”
“I’m nervous as the dickens about being here,” she admitted. “I didn’t assume I would be, but I’m completely undone. Might I have a bit more?”
“Certainly.”
He poured it and was vastly humored when she downed it too.
“I’m not that frightening, am I?” he said.
“You’re not frightening in the least. I’m being a ninny.”
“You seem so mature to me.”
“I thought I could handle this situation with enormous aplomb.”
“Don’t you schedule clandestine visits with strange men all the time?”
“You know I don’t.”
“I know,” he blithely agreed. “I’m teasing you.”
“You’re the first for whom I’ve ever risked such an illicit rendezvous.”
“Is that right? Then I’m incredibly honored.”
He tamped down his surprise. At Valois’s supper, several guests had insisted she was totally ruined. The story was that she’d involved herself with a thoroughly inappropriate swain, and her mother had quashed the amour by dragging her to Egypt. Had the gossips been wrong?
Perhaps it had been more innocent than people presumed. Perhaps there had been no opportunity for it to become physical, and Edna Wallace was merely being cautious by removing her daughter from temptation. Or perhaps Susan was actually a ruined trollop and a very good liar to boot.
He hoped she wasn’t pining away for a lost love. It would be simpler to entice her if she was forlorn, but he wasn’t exactly the sort to listen to woeful tales of how her heart had been broken.
“Haven’t you a beau at home?” he asked. “I heard there was a special boy in London.”
“Have there been rumors about me?”
“Yes.”
“Drat it!”
“Are they true?”
“Well, I will confess that there was a boy in London, with emphasis on the word boy. He was very young, and I like older men.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. There was naught between us. Not really. He believed there could be, but I never would have been interested.”
Preston wondered at the comment, but not very hard. There were no overt indications of despondency. So…no broken heart. And for all her protestations about being anxious, he didn’t notice many outward signs of nerves. Or maybe, she was particularly susceptible to the effects of alcohol, and the whiskey had already calmed her. If so, he was delighted by the fact.
A loose girl with bad morals was his favorite kind.
“How long can you stay?” he asked.
“Not as long as you’d like, I’m sure.”
“But for a bit of time.”
“Yes, but I’ll have to keep my eye on the clock.”
“I’ll watch it for you.”
“I’ll watch it for myself. I absolutely have to be back before my mother returns, and pardon me if I don’t trust you to get me there.”
“You wound me with your doubts,” he facetiously said, and he laughed. She laughed too.
“You don’t have any good intentions toward me,” she said.
“No, none at all.”
“That’s what I suspected, so I will watch the clock.”
“If you must, but please be aware that I would never do anything that would prevent you from being able to visit me again.”
“I can come more than once?”
“Of course, darling. I expect you’ll come often, won’t you?”
“We’ll have to see if you entertain me. I hate to be bored.”
“I promise to provide all the amusement you seek.”
“You’d better. I haven’t had a moment of excitement since we left England.”
An awkward silence fell then, as if they’d expended all avenues of conversation, and he was quickly reminded of how tedious a girl could be.
He pressed her to the wall, his body stretched out the length of hers. She didn’t quail at his proximity, didn’t try to slip away from his tight grip. Was she still a virgin? Would it be a swift or protracted chore to have the answer revealed?
“We should get to know each other, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Yes, we should, but I have no idea how adults behave in a situation like this. I had planned to pretend I was very accomplished at flirtation, but I’ve decided to be completely frank. I’m at a loss as to how I should act.”
“I’m eager to guide you into my world. Let me show you where to start.”
“Will I like it?”
“I’m betting you will, or I wouldn’t have invited you here.”
He dipped down and kissed her, and when her arms went around his waist and she kissed him back with no small amount of finesse, he was certain he wouldn’t have to walk very far to push her down the wrong road.
Soloman leaned against the doorframe to Cassandra’s balcony. He was naked so he didn’t step outside, but he probably could have. It was late, so there was likely no one to see.
As with most Europeans in Cairo, she had a suite of rooms overlooking the Nile. Her bedchamber was stuffy from the day’s heat, and after their raucous bout of fornication, he needed the fresh air blowing o
ff the river to cool his hot skin.
He hadn’t meant to visit her. Although she was gorgeous and salaciously free with her favors, she could also be clingy and annoying. She was too used to having men fawn over her, and she wanted him to fawn too, but he never did. He regularly forced her to remember that she couldn’t order him about.
Though it was odd, he was feeling lonely and morose, when he was never dejected. Years earlier, he’d learned that it was pointless to stew or fret, pointless to dither over idiotic issues.
He’d been struggling to figure out why he was so gloomy, when it dawned on him that he wished he was at Valois’s villa so he’d have had a final chance to cross paths with Lady Theodosia. Was he mad?
The sly Valois had casually mentioned that Edna Wallace was coming to supper again, along with her daughter and niece.
Valois’s servants were extremely discreet, but also very competent, and they reported every detail that occurred in the house. No doubt someone had seen Soloman chatting on the verandah with Lady Theo, so Valois would suppose a romance was blooming, which was absurd.
Yes, Lady Theo tantalized him in a strange and inexplicable fashion, but he wouldn’t try to unravel her peculiar allure. Nor would he foster it. He had no desire to watch it grow into an impossible amour.
Cassandra approached from behind him and snuggled her nude body to his back. Her shapely breasts were particularly riveting, but he had to physically keep himself from flinching. He was so engrossed with his thoughts of Lady Theo that he didn’t want to be bothered by Cassandra.
“What is it, darling?” she asked. “You’ve been positively distracted all evening.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“I still don’t understand why you persist with this silly job of yours. The trips are so lengthy, and it takes you forever to return to me.”
He heaved out a sigh. “I told you: I’m not rich like your husband. I have to work.”
“But why aren’t you? The gossips all claim that you are.”
“Really?” He smirked. “Where have I hidden all my money? If I’m wealthy, why must I constantly toil away?”
“Your cousin, Benjamin, will give you money from your father. Yes? When the estate is settled and the title vested in him.”
“Is that what you’re hoping? Is that why you fraternize with me? Are you expecting that even if I’m not rich now, I might be in the future?”