by Cheryl Holt
“Yes, Nicholas. We’ll stay for a week or two.”
“Then what?”
“Then…I don’t know.” She shrugged, appearing very young, very alone. “We may rent a house in Cairo while I determine our next move.”
“Did you ask Uncle Cedric if I can help him dig?”
“We didn’t discuss it, but he’s invited us to supper, so you can ask him yourself.”
Nicholas was a bright scholar, tutored in the ancient ways of the pharaohs. While they’d waited for Kat to return, he’d regaled Bryce with archeological tidbits. At the news that he might be allowed to hunt for artifacts with his famous uncle, he grinned and dashed away, dragging Isabelle with him as they ran after the porters to watch their tents being erected.
Momentarily the dock was quiet, the boats emptied of their occupants. Bryce went over to her, hating to note the fatigue and worry in her gaze.
“Your brother and sister are gone,” he said, “so you can tell me the truth.”
“My uncle was surprised. That’s the truth.”
“He wasn’t glad you’re here though, was he?”
“What makes you think so?”
“I can see it in your eyes.”
She smiled a sad smile. “Perhaps in the future, I shouldn’t let you look so closely.”
“Where you’re concerned, I have a second sense. I can guess your emotions with no hesitation at all.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“It’s grand. It means we’re becoming friends.”
“Are we?”
“Yes,” he groused, “and don’t pretend we’re not.”
“All right, I won’t.” She sighed. “Could we sit in the shade on the boat?”
“Certainly.”
Cedric Webster might not have built any permanent structures, but he had gravel-strewn walkways, as well as a sturdy wharf where supply boats from Cairo could dock and unload their wares.
Bryce and Kat started down the sloping hill to the river, and about halfway there, she stumbled and he grabbed her arm.
“What the devil…?” he muttered. “Did you trip?”
“No. I’m just so hot. I loathe this accursed land.”
“No, you don’t,” he said as he steadied her. “You find it intoxicating. You told me so.”
She was a tad wobbly, so he scooped her up and marched down the path. She was light as a feather, seeming to be skin and bones, the only substantial weight on her the yards of fabric from which her outfit was sewn.
She was attired much as she would have been for an autumn day in Europe, but the desert weather didn’t resemble that continent in the slightest. She had on layers of petticoats, shoes and stockings, a jacket and bonnet.
When he’d initially arrived, he’d dressed inappropriately too, but months of heat and wind had taught him to strip to the barest essentials. He wore trousers, boots, a billowy shirt, and a hat with a brim. Always a hat, but he often stared enviously at the local men in their flowing white robes. They always looked so much more comfortable than he was.
Would she be willing to change her style of clothing? Would she be willing to pick different fabrics? Would she dare to live dangerously, to shed her bulky apparel? Her corset ought to be the first item to go, but it probably wasn’t his place to inform her.
“Put me down,” she insisted but without much force behind the complaint.
“No.”
“I can walk.”
“No, you can’t. You just fell. Be quiet.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
“You’re not? I could swear your legs aren’t working very well.”
“My legs are fine. I’m simply a bit disoriented.”
“And weak and exhausted.”
“You can really be a bully when the situation calls for it.”
“I can be, and this situation definitely calls for it.”
In a few more strides, they were on the dock. The gangplank was firmly secured so it only swayed a little as they crossed it. In a thrice, they were off the burning sand and on the boat. The temperature dropped dramatically.
He thought about sitting her in a chair on the deck, but she had to remove some of her heaviest garments. He proceeded to the ladder, but it would be impossible to maneuver down it while holding onto her, so he stood her on her feet.
“I’ll climb down,” he said, “then you come after me. I’ll catch you.”
“I can make it on my own. You don’t have to help me.”
“Haven’t we talked about how independent you are? Haven’t I explained that you can lean on me once in awhile?”
“Yes, I believe we have.”
“So…I’ll catch you. Don’t argue about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
She saluted as if she were a lowly private in the army. He laughed and jumped down into the hull. She descended with no trouble, but he lifted her anyway, just because he could. He carried her to her berth and balanced her on the mattress.
“We have to cool you down,” he told her.
“I’m feeling better already.”
“You must shuck off some of your clothes.”
“Well, I’m not doing it while you’re standing here.”
“Close your eyes and imagine I’m your favorite lady’s maid.”
He reached for the bow on her bonnet and yanked it off, and she wasn’t irked enough to protest. But when he grabbed her ankles and yanked off her shoes, she yelped with surprise.
“Mr. Blair!” she scolded in a very authoritative tone as if she was a princess lecturing one of her subjects.
“What?” He grinned, sure he looked innocent as hell.
“You’re not undressing me.”
“Just your shoes and jacket.”
“You most certainly will not.”
“I’m going to turn my back,” he said, “then you’ll take off your stockings.”
“Absolutely not. My feet will be bare.”
“I’m positive I’ll survive it.”
“It’s unseemly.”
“It’s just your feet, Kat. Now take off your bloody stockings or I will.”
He whipped around and waited, listening as she raised the hem of her gown, as she untied one garter, then the other, as she rolled down one stocking, then the other.
His grin widened. He hadn’t thought she’d comply. She was so snooty, he hadn’t expected he could command her.
“Are you finished?” he asked, and as he spun to face her, she scooted her legs under her skirt.
“Yes.”
“Do you paint your toenails?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I had a mistress who used to paint hers red for me. I really liked it.”
She gaped at him in astonishment. “I believe that’s the most scandalous remark ever uttered in my presence.”
“You need to get out more.”
“I can’t decide if I’m more offended that you keep mistresses or that you’d mention it to me.”
“I don’t keep mistresses. I’ve never had enough money. I just had the one after a big gambling win. But the money didn’t last long so the doxy didn’t last long.”
She clamped a palm over her eyes. “Oh, my Lord. My ears are burning.”
“I like shocking you. I like to drag you down off your high horse.”
She jerked her hand away and glared at him. “I don’t ride a high horse!”
“You’re perched on it all the time, and I’m trying to figure out who you are and where you come by such a puffed-up demeanor.”
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.”
“Yes, you are.”
She studied him and scowled. “You never had a mistress. You said that to discover how I’d react.”
He cocked a brow. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I’m the worst libertine ever. Or maybe I’m chaste as a nun.”
“Men can’t be chaste as nuns.”
“Then maybe I’m chast
e as a priest.”
She snorted at that. “I doubt it. Not with you being as handsome as you are.”
“You think I’m handsome?”
“You know you are, you vain wretch.”
“Well, I can’t deny that I’ve had a few paramours wax on about it.”
“I bet they line up to flatter you.”
“You could be right.” He reached for the row of buttons on her jacket.
She slapped his fingers away. “Behave yourself.”
“I won’t cease pestering you until I’m sure you can inhale without keeling over in a dead faint.”
“I’m not the fainting type. It’s simply too hot outside.”
“Yes, it is, and you’re swaddled in so much wool that you might be on an expedition to the Arctic.”
“I don’t have any other clothes, and I’m not comfortable with the local attire.”
“You have to get comfortable with it, or I’ll be picking you up off the ground every two seconds.”
“The native women don’t seem to wear much in the way of…of…”
She trailed off and she gestured over her body, unable to voice a word like corset in front of him.
“They don’t wear corsets or petticoats?”
“No, and I’m not discussing those items with you.”
“If you’d like, I can tell you what they have on under their dresses. I’m intimately familiar with it.”
“Stop it, would you? You’re embarrassing me, and you’re putting illicit thoughts in my head.”
“What sort of illicit thoughts?”
“I’m trying to imagine how you would know such a thing.”
“How do you think I know? I’m a scoundrel.”
She was fumbling with her buttons, but couldn’t manage them herself. Obviously she’d never buttoned her own clothing, and his curiosity spiraled.
He pushed her away, and with a few flicks of his wrist, he had the jacket tugged off. She had a sleeveless gown underneath, so instantly she was freer and less restricted. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.”
There was a pitcher of water on a stand next to her bed. He poured some into a bowl, dipped a cloth and laid it on her neck. He didn’t wring it out, but held it there, letting the cool water drip down her back. He dipped it again and swabbed it across her forehead and cheeks, across her throat and the bit of bosom that was exposed. Then he knelt down.
“You should purchase a new wardrobe,” he said.
“I had planned on it in Cairo, but we departed so rapidly there wasn’t time.”
“We can find you garments that are modest enough to suit your European sensibilities. If nothing else, we can get you into other fabrics. If you keep on in these heavy woolens, you’ll never survive.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“I noticed a native woman talking to the porters. She was attired quite fashionably. I’ll have her meet with you. We’ll see what she recommends.”
“When I fled Par…” She halted and began again. “When I left home, I never considered the change of climate.”
“And when I left home, I was given twenty pages of what to bring and what not.”
“Did you follow the list?”
“No. I didn’t have the funds for most of it, and I viewed myself as being very manly and tough. I traveled light to prove I could live off the land.”
“Could you?”
“With how our boat sank on those rapids, I would have lost it all anyway, so it’s just as well I didn’t have much.”
She laughed, and he liked watching how the merriment climbed into her eyes, how dimples curved her cheeks.
“Oh, you are so good for me,” she murmured.
“Of course I am.”
“You treat me as if I’m a normal person.”
He scowled. “I won’t try to figure out what that means.”
She waved away her odd comment. “Don’t mind me. I’m overwrought.”
“And you’re not normal. Not even close.”
He dipped the cloth yet again, laid it on her neck again. She was relaxing, her temper and exasperation fading.
“What did your uncle tell you?” he asked. “From how you were frowning when you stomped out of his tent, I could see you were angry.”
“I had written to inform him we were coming, but he wrote back to say we shouldn’t. I never received his letter.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Cedric doesn’t feel we should stay.”
“Why not?”
“He claims this camp isn’t appropriate for a woman or children.”
“Well, perhaps not for you and Isabelle, but Nicholas is very excited to be here.”
“Cedric suggested we rent a house in Cairo.”
“It’s probably best, but then what?”
“I have no idea. I was hoping he’d give me some advice, but he simply barked and scolded.”
She looked so dejected, and her woe ignited his masculine instincts so he yearned to protect and shelter and take care of her forever. Yet he had no ability to do any of those things, and even if he had he suspected she wouldn’t be interested.
She was a mysterious female who was pursing goals she couldn’t admit and chasing endings that would never include him. Yet he was overcome by the worst desire to make her happy. He’d like to march up to Cedric Webster and pound him into the ground for upsetting her.
He wondered if she’d feared deep down that she wouldn’t be welcomed by her uncle. Hadn’t she confessed to having no friends or support? Mr. Webster had proved himself as being no different than any of her other scurrilous acquaintances.
“Will you remain with me and help me?” she suddenly asked.
“Where? In Cairo?”
“Yes, and my next destination too—once I decide where to go.”
He nearly refused, nearly insisted he was heading to England as soon as he could. But he had no emergency luring him back.
His sole genuine tie was to his sister, but she was newly wed and busy with her own life and husband. So there was no rush to leave, and he relished the notion of Kat being a damsel in distress and his having learned the fighting skills to be her knight in shining armor.
“Yes, I’ll remain—for as long as you need me.” He couldn’t guess if that would turn out to be true, but it sounded grand and chivalrous.
“Thank you. You’re correct about our becoming friends.”
“I’d say I’m your only friend these days.”
“I have Pippa too.”
Pippa was much too busy with Chase for Bryce’s liking, but he didn’t voice the remark. “In the end, I’ll be much higher on the list than Miss Clementi. Just you wait and see.”
“You could be right about that.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her as he’d been dying to do after their embrace three nights earlier on the boat. Since then, she’d kept her distance, had arranged her schedule so she was never alone with him, so there hadn’t been a subsequent chance. But he had a chance now, and again he speculated as to what he was getting himself into with her.
He’d agreed to stay by her side, to be her ally and confidante, but they had a potent physical attraction. If he had his way, and he was sure he would, they’d grow intimately close.
She’d be paying him for his services, but they would gradually comprise more duties than protecting her from miscreants. He’d be her knight and her…what? If he’d been a woman, he’d know precisely what to call himself. There was an unsavory term for a man who was considering what he was considering with his employer, but just that moment he couldn’t remember what it was.
Without a doubt, he shouldn’t enter into such a seedy alliance. There was no benefit to it, but more and more, he was finding he didn’t want to exercise caution. She’d begged him to remain with her and that was exactly what he intended, unless and until fate or circumstances forced him away.
He eased he
r onto the mattress so she was on her back, and he was kneeling between her legs, her thighs spread, her skirt bunched up so he could press his loins to hers. As had happened when he’d kissed her previously, he was swiftly pitched into a fervor of unruly lust.
He was eager to proceed to acts he had no business attempting, and he drew away.
“Why are you kissing me,” she asked, “and why did we stop?”
“I’m kissing you because I can’t resist.”
“Why do I suppose you say that to every female you encounter?”
“Because it’s a cad’s favorite lie—but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“I am irresistible?”
“Yes, and you make me ponder all sorts of conduct I shouldn’t be pondering.”
“Which indicates we should go up on the deck.”
“Not just yet.”
“Why not?”
“We’re not finished.”
“Someone might come on board. They might see us.”
“We’ll hear them in plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time to what?”
“To pretend we’re not misbehaving.”
He crushed his lips to hers again, moaning with pleasure at how sweet it was, how arousing it was. He stroked his hands over her shapely hips, up her belly, to her lush breasts, and he massaged them in slow circles. Her nipples responded, growing taut and poking at the front of her dress, and he nibbled a trail down her neck, her bosom, to bite and nuzzle them through the fabric of her bodice.
She was laced into her corset, but in the hot, sultry air, how could she breathe? He’d like to yank off the blasted garment, but he didn’t imagine she was ready for such a drastic move.
He slid a palm under the material, for an instant caressing bare skin. She frowned and grabbed his wrist, and she skittered across the mattress. The space was very small though, so she couldn’t go far.
“What was that?” she said. “You were touching my…my…”
“Yes, I was kissing you and touching you. It’s what men and women do when they’re together. It’s enjoyable.”
“My heart is pounding so fiercely, I feel as if it might burst out of my chest.”
“Your pulse will decrease. Just relax.”
“I don’t have much experience with amour.”
“I can tell that about you.”
“When you start in on me, I don’t want to stop.”