The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind)
Page 17
She went still, feeling suddenly sick. "What happened?"
"It has to do with... the unsavory circumstances surrounding his detainment. I was present when he was arrested."
She stared. "He was arrested on charges of indecent exposure. Why were you there?"
"Several other lords were as well. It was a raid in which we were present," Graham said tightly. "Your father was caught in an indelicate situation."
He studied her, a defiant glint in his eyes challenging her to question exactly what the circumstances entailed. Jillian closed her eyes, seeing a closed door, hearing a small, frightened scream from behind it.
"I don't want to know," she whispered.
Was that relief in his eyes? No matter. Jillian lifted her chin, meeting his hard stare. "I'm not afraid of my father anymore, Graham. I'm your wife. I'm going with you. If you want to find the treasure, you'll take me."
"No, Jillian. You will give me the map and we will end this discussion," he snapped.
Graham's dark eyes crackled with fury. He strode toward her, every muscle taut with tension. Barely a foot from her chair he halted, his powerful body leaning toward her. She felt the heat of his anger like a live coal. Jillian shrank back, remembering her father's temper. Instinct urged capitulation.
She squeezed her eyes shut, shivering violently. "Go ahead, Graham. Punish me for being insolent, but I will not draw the map. I will not," she whispered.
A razor-sharp silence hovered in the air. Then she heard the duke say in a very soft voice, "Jillian, look at me. Look at me. I would never punish you. Don't be afraid of me. Don't."
She dared to open her eyes. His hard anger had faded, leaving behind a weary look.
"You win, Jillian. You shall accompany me. But I warn you, you may end regretting this. We both might."
* * *
Egypt, Ta-meri, Graham informed her. Land of love. Their arrival in Cairo filled her with enormous relief. It had been a difficult crossing. Graham had run hot and cold. During the day he'd kept his distance, brooding as he paced the ship's deck. At night he'd made love to her with a ferocity she'd never seen him display. Afterwards he'd held her tightly, murmuring soft words in Arabic.
The tension gripping her husband had grown the closer they came to Egypt. Even after they settled into the elegant Shepheard's Hotel and a silent porter unpacked their trunks, Graham paced restlessly. He looked over his shoulder, as if her father were following them close behind.
Jillian took the copy of the papyrus map he'd traced and studied it. She pointed to the intricate symbols. "Where do we look first?"
He glanced over her shoulder at the map. "The key is outside the pyramid. The key you seek is external, in the position that points to Ra, the chambers will direct you. The pyramid's exterior western wall."
Jillian studied the map. "How so?"
"I studied Flinders Petrie's detailed report of all the Great Pyramid's measurements. All the pyramid's chambers are west of the vertical passage system. Vertical points to Ra, the Egyptian sun god. But first we need to extrapolate the clues from the pyramid's interior in the King's Chamber. Best to do it that way during the day, looking like regular tourists."
"Fascinating." Jillian beamed at him, but he did not lose the tension riding him.
It wasn't until they set out for a tour of the Great Pyramid that he relaxed. The short camel ride filled her with excitement and left her rollicking as if caught in a great wind. Brilliant sunshine stoked her body and a soft breeze blew. As they dismounted and walked to the pyramid, Jillian ground to a halt. Her mouth parted with astonished wonder. The structure dominated the tawny sands, standing in stark relief against the sharp blue sky.
A deep sense of heady excitement filled Jillian. The Great Pyramid was no longer the majestic temple others had described. It was here. She had fulfilled a dream harbored since childhood, when her father had returned from his trip to buy Arabian horses and told her about seeing Egypt's splendid sights.
Her hand shot out, gripping Graham's arm and staying his quick, determined stride.
"Solid. Lasting. Nothing can compare," she marveled.
Graham turned. Appreciation danced in his gaze, momentarily erasing the secretiveness there.
"The pyramid is like you. Intricate, filled with wonders and mysteries. Yet inspiring awe, for all who see it must agree upon its beauty," he murmured.
She felt touched by his poetry, yet disturbed. "Is that how you see me, Graham? The pyramid is splendid yet remote—cold stone. It doesn't invite warmth or closeness." Her chest tightened. "It's built as a tomb. Is that what I am, Graham?"
He touched her cheek. "You see it as an Englishwoman does, a monument built to house a dead king. See it as an ancient Egyptian would. Consider its purpose."
"To house the dead."
His expression sobered. "To house new life. Death was only a journey for ancient Egyptians. A journey to new life. This pyramid was fashioned to assist the pharaoh on his way to eternal joy in the afterlife."
Graham moved behind her, wrapping his arms about her waist. His warm breath tickled her ear as he murmured to her, "Look at it. That's what you are to me. A journey to new life."
Disappointment sharp as glass speared her. She had hoped for something deeper, more meaningful, more revealing. But his words, while clever, had not brought about any change. Her attempts to probe this man and discover his layers, to achieve the emotional intimacy she craved, all failed.
Perhaps what she wanted was too much to ask.
Jillian turned in his arms and smiled. "Shall we investigate?"
For a moment, the mask fell from his face and she glimpsed an aching loneliness. Then he returned her smile.
"Would you like to climb it?" he asked. "You should, seeing as it's your first time."
"Oh! May I?"
He escorted her to the structure, eyeing the sweep of her long saffron skirts. Jillian watched with breathless excitement as Graham hired two Egyptian guides. "I'm afraid you'll need help. Some blocks are five feet high," he told her.
"What about you?"
"I can manage on my own." He glanced at her. "Do you mind if I go on ahead? I haven't done this in some time, and I'm anxious to get to the top."
She smiled. "Go. I won't hold you back."
Graham flashed a smile, then took off with the powerful grace of a jungle cat. He hauled himself up each block with seamless agility. He climbed, khaki suit stretching over wide shoulders, black hair gleaming in the endless sun. Jillian murmured her thanks as the two Egyptians pulled her upwards on the higher stones. Determined to do as much possible on her own, she managed the smaller ones.
When she finally reached the top, she saw Graham standing like a pharaoh, scanning the horizon. Tourists flowed past like a stream of water. He seemed so aloof. Something in his stance and proud arrogant carriage reminded her of the ancient kings in this foreign land.
But when she drew closer, a shiver wracked her. Once more she had the eerie feeling her husband was not what he seemed. Witnessing him now, arms folded across his muscled chest, his expression set like grim stone, a flash of insight hit her:
He did not resemble a contented pharaoh surveying his kingdom. He looked more like an embittered invader, determined to conquer. It was as if the sands had scarred him.
What battles raged inside this man, battles he never wanted to share with her? Graham was a fortress built as lasting as this pyramid, locking her out. But the pyramid, like the man, could be invaded. One need only find alternate routes inside, just as explorers had with Khufu's tomb.
Graham shared himself when they made love. He seemed more emotionally vulnerable then. Jillian's feminine intuition told her she had found the way to pry open her husband.
He turned his head and noticed her. "There you are. How did you fare along the way?" he asked.
She stood, slipping an arm about his waist as they both drank in the austere magnificence of the ancient sands. But he seemed stiff as carved wood. Sens
ing he needed distance, Jillian released him and walked off to be by herself.
When they had descended and joined the line of chattering tourists entering the structure, she felt a distinct change. His aloofness slipped, replaced by thrumming anticipation. Graham did not gasp with awe at the long alley of steps or the oppressive weight of stone surrounding them; he ignored the guide's enthused, halting English explanation of the hieroglyphics etched on the walls. Impatience shadowed his face.
Mindful of the need to cloak their real intentions, Jillian latched onto his arm. When he would have rushed on ahead, she held him back. Caught by her weight tugging at him, he turned and saw her. A rueful smile trumped his impatient look.
Reaching the King's Chamber at last, they milled about with the others, feigning bored interest. Graham pulled her back as the last tourist left the chamber. They were alone.
The lighting in the chamber cast his angular profile into shadow. Excitement danced in his eyes. Her husband looked as enthralled as an ancient explorer first discovering the ruins.
They combed the chamber thoroughly, Graham selecting the west end, Jillian the east. Their search was interrupted by another group of tourists. When the last visitor drifted out, the duke jammed his hands into his trouser pockets and joined her. "Nothing. But it must be here."
The map indicated a major clue was specifically in the King's Chamber. Tomb robbers had swept the room clean, picking it over as thoroughly as vultures on carrion.
"There's nothing here."
Jillian glanced at Graham. "Perhaps you are thinking in English terms. Be an Egyptian. Think as they did. Let's take another look at the map. Explain to me the hieroglyphics."
He unfurled the copy of the papyrus he had traced and read aloud: " ‘In the chamber of Khufu, the key to unlock the treasure is found, visible to all but hidden from those who would rob the sacred dead. Follow Ra's path, then follow the Nile's opposite course.'"
"The map says to take the clue from the Great Pyramid itself, for it is like the pharaoh: layers upon layers, complex and intriguing."
"So we must look beyond the obvious. But the map indicates the key is found in a very visible spot." Graham carefully rolled the tracing and tucked it away. "I don't see anything clearly visible here."
Jillian studied the empty King's Chamber. "What if the key were not an actual object, but something else? Let's break down the problem. First, what is a key?"
Intrigued, he replied, "It unlocks something."
"You're thinking in concrete terms. Let's view the abstract. A key can unlock a solid object, such as a door, a box, a chest..."
"Or a mystery."
Their gazes locked. Graham's filled with excitement as he slowly digested her meaning. "And what if the key to unlock the treasure were hidden in the King's Chamber, but was not actually a physical key, but... what? What would tomb robbers be unable to steal? What is hidden and yet visible?"
Jillian began pacing. "If Khufu wished to hide a clue in his burial chamber for his son, where could he order it hidden in plain view?"
Her footsteps rang in the chamber, clicking on the stone in precise movements. Graham looked at her feet "Jillian! That's it. What is constant and visible, yet hidden?"
She halted, casting him a puzzled look.
He pointed to her feet "Walk five paces."
Obeying, she carefully stepped five paces and then abruptly stopped. "Measurements!" Jillian exclaimed. "Oh, Graham, yes!"
He rubbed his jaw. "The map says ‘Follow Ra's path, then follow the Nile's opposite course.' Ra, the sun, travels from east to west. The Nile's opposite course is north to south because the Nile flows south to north."
Jillian measured east to west of the chamber, then north to south while Graham kept watch out for visitors. "Then outside the western wall of the pyramid, we go ten-point-four-six meters westward, turn south and go five-point-two-three meters," she surmised. "What's the third clue?"
Graham read aloud, " ‘In an empty space destined for a king, find the depth of a man's life as he descends into the afterlife.' " An empty space destined for a king. "A sarcophagus intended for a king who was never laid to rest there. But the body was stolen long ago."
Graham gave her a slow smile and went on, "What if it were never there? Some theorize that Khufu's mummy wasn't stolen, but hidden in another burial chamber. If so, then the sarcophagus..."
"Would be a ruse and remain empty." Their gazes whipped to the immense stone coffin. Missing both its lid and the king for whom it was built, it stood out in the empty chamber near the western wall. Jillian measured the depth and wrote the numbers down on a pad kept in her reticule. "Nearly one meter."
"The key must be buried that far down. We'll have to return tonight to dig," he mused aloud. "Come, let's return to the hotel."
Chapter Fifteen
Back at the Shepheard's, they raced to their suite like schoolchildren, giddy with joy over their discovery. Jillian whipped off her wide-brimmed hat and set it upon a table, eyeing the water closet. A bath before dinner sounded delightful.
Graham's black eyes danced with fevered excitement. "I want to study these measurements."
He sat at the small wood table, armed with paper and pencil as she stripped off her white blouse. Jillian glanced up and saw Graham wasn't studying the figures they had jotted down. His hungry gaze caressed her instead.
"Perhaps we should have an early dinner," he said thickly. His gaze flicked to the bed, covered with mosquito netting.
Jillian smiled. "I'd like that.
After a splendid repast in the hotel's elegant dining room, they adjourned to the immense ballroom for drinks and dancing. The duke ordered champagne for them both. Bubbles tickled her nose as she lifted the flute and sipped.
A giddy feeling, accentuated by the champagne, filled her.
The immense bar and ballroom boasted majestic pillared lotus columns modeled after the ones at Karnak, a ceiling with jewel-toned Oriental murals, and linen-draped tables where an assortment of the wealthy and powerful observed the dancers. An orchestra played while couples swirled by. A balmy breeze floated through the open doors leading to the famous terrace. A delicate floral scent from the blooms in large Oriental vases flanking the columns mixed with the heavier scents of men's powerful cologne and women's exotic perfumes.
Despite her excitement at being abroad, and at the new and fascinating scenery before her, Jillian only had eyes for her husband. The buzz of elegant couples and polite, hovering waiters did not exist. Graham swirled the liquid in his glass, studying her over the rim. His glass remained full, while hers was half empty.
"Do you want to dance, Jillian?" he asked.
She saw him staring at her with avid hunger, and instinctively knew what he wanted.
"The waltz is a fine dance," she said, watching him.
"I did not mean the waltz," he purred. "Would you like to dance with me upstairs?"
He stood and stretched out a hand to her. She put her fingers into his as he pulled her upright.
Clearly the excitement of their find had translated into a different land of excitement for him. She sensed a warrior's triumph, an eagerness to claim a prize far more corporeal and earthy than the key to unlocking some treasure.
Graham wasted no time as they entered their room. He tumbled her onto the bed, his kiss devouring. The kiss was hard and fast, crushing her mouth against his, his hands roving her body, fumbling at her gown.
Jillian sat up, letting him unfasten it. Cool air billowing from the opened windows washed over her naked flesh as the gown and underlying chemise fell free. Clad only in her stockings, she kicked off her soft kid slippers, smiling.
His gaze darkened and widened as he slid off the bed and shed his clothing. Graham joined her on the bed, kissing her.
She lay beneath him, raising her hips as he opened her legs, his ragged breaths filling the air. In one powerful thrust he was inside her. A startled gasp fled her at the thick pressure in her wet core.
<
br /> Her hands pushed at the hard muscles of his chest, tangled in the thick thatch of hair as he strained above her. Jillian gripped his muscled arms, hiding her face in his shoulder as he moved. Her scream of pleasure was buried in his skin. The duke shuddered and groaned as he released his seed.
He looked down at her, eyes half lidded and drowsy with pleasure. "Ah," he sighed.
"I do enjoy how you dance," she said impishly. A nasty tug of jealousy filled her. "Did you"—she plucked at the damp sheet—"have many lovers before me?"
To her surprise, he looked sheepish. Graham slid off her, rolled to his side. He rested his head on his hand.
"My dear Jillian, how many lovers do you think I've had?"
Irritated, she pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts. "How should I know? I'm not that experienced. I'd say several. While you were my first," she added sullenly.
"As you were."
Dumbstruck, she stared. Graham reached over and gently tipped her open jaw closed. "I've something to confess, dear wife. That night in the brothel? You weren't the only virgin."
"It can't be."
"It was. You were my first, Jilly."
Deeply touched, she gazed at him. Truly there was something special about his confession. It endeared him to her even more.
"Is there a particular reason why you waited?" she asked.
Tenderness etched his face. "I waited for you. I suppose it was my fate that we would be together. I'm glad it was you. Even with that ridiculous wig."
Jillian smiled. "Even though you explicitly asked for anyone but a redhead with green eyes?" Her smile faded. "Why did you not want that, Graham?"
"I have my reasons," he said, his voice a husky whisper. A dark shadow crossed his face.
"Graham, there's something you're not telling me."
"Yes," he said. "Perhaps someday I might tell you. For now, just know this. No other woman but you was meant for me, Jilly. I know that now."