Reckless

by Shannon Drake

  Brian shook his head. “Why would anyone?”

  Camille looked at Hunter. “Miss Adair thought that she heard voices whispering in here the other day. Perhaps we shouldn’t have dismissed what she said.”

  Hunter groaned. “Camille, don’t go making a mystery out of this, please!”

  “But, Hunter, someone was in the storage room. You have said so yourself.”

  “Most probably one of the students, and why he ran, I will never understand. There is nothing in there, nothing of importance. Brian, if you don’t mind, let’s go back there together.”

  They went through the museum to the stairs. Hunter didn’t realize that he was studying everyone in the museum again until Brian said, “You said you thought that it was just an errant student.”

  “I did.”

  “Then…”

  “I didn’t say that I wasn’t anxious to know which student!” Hunter informed him.

  STANDING ON THE FRONT STEPS, Kat realized that she loved the museum. It was so grand and housed so many treasures. For several moments, she forgot all else and simply stared at the magnificent building. Then she looked about, pleased to see the very different people who enjoyed the exhibits. Some wore work clothing and had perhaps just left jobs for the day. Some were more elegantly attired. Some were children, led by a parent or perhaps a teacher. She was startled to feel a real sense of pride about being asked to be a part of an expedition that was associated with so fine an establishment.

  She hurried to the staff room, where she found Camille at the desk. The Countess of Carlyle once again greeted her with a smile and welcoming words. “Ah, Kat! I’m so glad to have you here. It’s not my usual way of being, but I’m afraid I’m a bit scattered. Would you take the book and the text over there—” she indicated a papyrus that was framed by glass “—and see what you can make of it? Thank God you learn so quickly!”

  “I don’t know if I’m that capable, but I’ll certainly try,” Kat said. She was surprised that Hunter was nowhere to be seen. And she was equally surprised at her disappointment.

  She had stayed up most of the night, going over every second of what had happened, and she had realized that she had to be far more intelligent about what she did. Still, though her dream had become tarnished, it hadn’t quite died.

  She looked up at Camille and tried to sound casual. “Is Sir Hunter about?”

  Camille, engrossed again in her work, lifted a hand but did not look up. “He’s down in storage room with Brian. They’re working on everything that must be on the ship with us.”

  “Oh. Well, I shall get to work, then.”

  “Use my office—there’s space on the desk.”

  “Thank you.”

  She went into Camille’s office and looked around. As she sat at the desk, she felt a chill. She had not forgotten the whispers she had heard the last time she’d been in this room. She frowned, trying to remember what she had heard.

  There had been two people, of that she was certain. They had been looking for something, and they hadn’t wanted to get caught. We shall have to pay for it…she’d heard, along with a long journey, a dark desert…better off dead…

  She started to rise, to go out and remind Camille of what she had heard. But she sat down again. She had tried to tell them what had happened. They had waved away her fears. She simply needed to get to work.

  She found paper and a pencil in Camille’s top drawer and painstakingly began looking up each symbol in the book. As she did so, she quickly became as engrossed in her work as Camille had been in hers. The papyrus told a story.

  Hathsheth, he who talks to the gods, who hears their words of wisdom and delivers them to all men. He who will sit among them, and great will be his reward. He will need all that was his in life; and he will be rewarded with gold, for golden was the knowledge he shared ever with Pharaoh, and golden was all that he lived. Worshiped he will be in the new life. He will lie by kings. He will take precedence over wives, even sons. For like Pharaoh, he will rise to the gods. But like the ancients, he will rest. He will lie in the gentle shade of those who built the kingdom; he will take with him servants and servers. Ever will he lie protected, by those who came before, by the sun, by the shade, on the left bank of the great and mighty Nile.

  She looked up, her fingers cramping, her neck stiff, and gave a start. She hadn’t heard him. Hunter had come in. She wondered how long he had been watching her.

  “May I?” he asked, coming to the desk.

  “I believe you may do whatever you wish,” she murmured.

  “Ah, if only that were true!” he responded, but his eyes weren’t on her; he had picked up her translation and read it aloud.

  He reached for the framed papyrus, twisting it to see the symbols himself. Then he did look at her.

  “This is excellent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Who would have guessed…?”

  Camille came in then. “You’ve finished?” she inquired.

  “Nearly,” Kat said.

  Camille, too, picked up her translation. She smiled. “Hunter, you see?” She was triumphant. “He is not in the Valley of the Kings! He is protected by the ancients…. Don’t you think this must be that he is near the great pyramids at Giza?”

  “Yes. I think your calculations on where to search have been extremely well done. I just hate to see you get so excited and then suffer even greater disappointment if we’re wrong.” He was smiling worriedly at her, his affection for her apparent.

  “Hunter, please don’t concern yourself so. I know there will be disappointments. But this will be our particular dig, and I’m ever so excited.” She frowned suddenly. “And I don’t intend to share it!”

  Hunter laughed. “We won’t share the dig, Camille.”

  “There is a bit more, if you would like me to finish,” Kat murmured.

  “Yes, yes, of course. No, it’s late!” Camille said. “Brian is waiting for me, and the museum is closing.”

  “I won’t take long,” Kat said. “Truly, I’d like to finish.”

  “I have to lock up below,” Hunter said. He kissed Camille on her cheek. “Go, meet your husband. Ethan is waiting. He’ll see Kat and me home.”

  “All right.” Camille smiled at Kat. “Not much longer though. That is work we can take with us. And you wouldn’t want to turn into one of those people who squint all their lives, from reading too much.”

  Kat smiled vaguely. “Good night, then.”

  “Good night.”

  “Kat, there are keys on the desk,” Hunter said, just before walking Camille to the main door of the museum. “Finish up and meet me at the main door. Be sure that this door is locked.”

  She nodded and went back to work.

  After a few minutes she was disappointed. It seemed that the rest of the writing did nothing more than continue to extol the virtues of Hathsheth. There were hints to his power in the words. He who looks one in the eyes, and sees what lies there. He who speaks, and the ground trembles. He who holds sway over man and beast.

  She looked over her work and shivered. If she was translating and understanding correctly, Hathsheth had condemned many wives to death, for they were apparently buried with him. Alive, she could only assume.

  Thanking God she lived in the modern England during Victoria’s long and prosperous reign, she rose at last, closed the desk, left the frame and paper neatly aligned and went out. The keys were on the outer desk and she carefully locked the door behind her.

  In the hall, she paused.

  The museum was empty. And now it seemed huge and cavernous. Her footsteps seemed to echo like thunder in the hall.

  Well, I shall not be sneaking up on anyone! she thought, trying to find some humor in the emptiness.

  But she failed. She still felt eerily uncomfortable.

  She left through the exhibits. Giant statues, jewelry. A row of glass casements that showed mummies in various stages, some still in their inner coffins, some in wrappings, some
in stages of being unwrapped. Long-dead, contorted faces seemed to stare at her.

  She hurried her steps.

  Then she heard something from upstairs. She had locked the door, hadn’t she? But…

  She gritted her teeth. She was letting her imagination run away with her. And yet… Sighing, she turned. She averted her eyes, not wanting to see the pinched brown faces of the mummies. At the top of the stairs, she hurried toward the door to the offices.

  Only night-lights illuminated the hallway now. As she started toward the door, her heart seemed to leap to her throat.

  There was something on the ground in front of the door.

  Something. Or someone.

  Not moving.

  For a moment, she froze. Then she burst into action, dashing forward. Someone, yes, a body, crumpled in front of the locked door.

  She hunkered down, her heart still in her throat.

  And when she saw who it was, she began to scream.

  Chapter 9

  THERE IT WAS AGAIN, Hunter thought, that deep, heart-wrenching concern. And the sight that now seemed to cut him to the core was that of Kat bending over an obviously stricken David Turnberry.

  He had been at the main door when her scream had sent him flying up the stairs at a record pace. And when he had arrived, she had been on the floor, David’s head held tenderly in her lap as she dabbed at a cut on his forehead with material ripped from a panel of her petticoat.

  Swallowing his gall, he rushed forward with a true concern for the life of the young man. David was rousing now, groaning softly.

  “Move back!” he told Kat a bit too harshly.

  She did so, and as he hunkered down, David’s eyes blinked open. For a moment they were wild. Then they focused on him. “Sir Hunter…”

  “Stay still a minute,” Hunter said, dabbing the cut with the piece of Kat’s petticoat. The wound was superficial, he quickly realized, bleeding so because head wounds always tended to bleed a lot. After a minute, he had stanched the flow.

  “All right, now, sit up carefully,” Hunter said.

  Still groaning, David allowed himself to be helped up. Then he leaned against the wall.

  “What happened?” Hunter demanded.

  “Are you all right, David? Hunter, will he be all right?” Kat asked anxiously.

  “Yes, he’ll be fine,” Hunter said. “David, what happened?”

  David shook his head. “I was coming to see you,” he told Hunter. “I had called the museum… Lady Carlyle said that you were here, working with Lord Carlyle. So I thought that perhaps I would still find you here. I came in just at the closing, but the guard knows me, of course, and he said you were still here. I was on my way up to the office and then—”

  “My God,” Hunter interjected. “How did you manage to miss me as I walked Camille to the door? We must have—”

  “And then?” Kat interrupted Hunter to demand the rest of the story.

  “Uh, I think…I think…”

  “Yes?”

  “I think I…tripped into the door and slammed my head into the nameplate,” David finished.

  “You tripped right in front of the door and hit the nameplate?” Hunter repeated incredulously.

  “I must have!” David said a little desperately.

  There was a mat in front of the door. It was possible that someone not paying attention could trip. But it was most unlikely.

  “David, that’s preposterous!” Hunter said.

  David let out a little grunt of agreement. “But I’m afraid it must be true. What else could have happened? There’s no one else in the museum.” He looked up at Kat, his smile weak, his eyes wistful. “You didn’t decide I needed a knock on the head, did you?”

  “Of course not!” Then she looked at Hunter. “There is no one else here.”

  “We’ll make sure.” Hunter rose.

  “Where are you going?” David asked with apparent alarm.

  “I’m going to get the guards to search the place.”

  “But I’m fine. Surely—” David began.

  “It seems there are pranksters afoot,” Hunter said. “I want to know that the museum is secure when we leave this evening.”

  Just in principle, he was not fond of the idea of leaving Kat alone with David, but he was also sorely disturbed by the incident and beginning to wonder himself what was really going on. He moved quickly down the stairway, calling out for the guards. There were only a few remaining, but his voice echoed in the halls and they quickly came running. He explained the situation, and the men went off.

  They weren’t going to find anything, though, he was certain.

  The museum was huge. And if someone knew it at all well, he would be able to find any number of nooks and crannies, offices, maintenance closets and more in which to hide.

  Had someone struck David Turnberry? Or was this just a ploy on the part of the young man?

  He returned up the stairs. “The guards are searching the museum,” he said. Naturally, David was leaning against Kat, and naturally, Kat still had that tender look in her eyes.

  “Shall we go to the police or get a doctor?” he asked.

  David slowly shook his head. “There’s nothing to tell the police. I believe I fell. And I don’t think I need a doctor. I mean…I don’t think I even blacked out for more than a second or two.”

  “All right. Let’s get you down the stairs.”

  “I’ll help you up,” Kat said.

  “No, let me,” Hunter said impatiently. “I’m far stronger.”

  He didn’t exactly push her out of the way, but he did press himself between the two. David, however, was fairly capable of standing on his own.

  “I’m all right,” he insisted.

  “Yes, but we don’t want you tumbling down the stairs, especially as you’re so prone to tripping,” Hunter said dryly. “How did you get to the museum?”

  “I rode my horse.”

  “Then Ethan will take you in the carriage—you shouldn’t ride after a head injury—and I will ride behind on your horse,” Hunter said, trying to tamp down his growing temper. It irritated him no end to think of the two of them alone together in his carriage. And it was at his insistence!

  But it seemed there was little else he could do.

  Ethan was waiting just outside the main doors. He gave David and Kat over to his keeping, then returned to talk to the main night guard. They had found nothing thus far, but the man assured Hunter they would keep a sharp eye out during the night.

  When he came out, he searched the street for David’s horse. He found the animal and mounted it in an extremely foul mood.

  IT WAS STRANGE. Here she was in a carriage again with David, and this time, completely alone with him.

  And his face, despite the cut, was still beautiful, and his eyes were filled with painful adoration. But her mind was somewhere other than on his feelings for her.

  “David,” she asked, allowing him to rest his head on her lap. “Are you sure? Are you quite certain that you tripped?”

  He smiled. “I must have.”

  She shook her head. “But, David, when I fished you out of the water, you said something that has bothered me since.”

  “Oh?” he said carefully.

  “You said that you were pushed.”

  His eyes closed, beautiful lashes sweeping his cheeks. He opened his eyes again, then shook his head slightly, his smile rueful. “I must have been babbling. I think I also believed that you were an angel or a mermaid.”

  “David, you went off a sailing ship.”

  “On a day when I shouldn’t have been out. The tossing of the craft was wretched, and I possibly—”

  “There is a cut on your head.”

  He reached up to touch her face. “Actually, you are an angel. Still so concerned for me. And I…oh, Kat!”

  She caught his hand and pulled it back down, frowning. “David, are you not concerned?”

  “I feel foolish,” he muttered. “Off a ship, and then
down on a floor. Quite frankly, I am embarrassed.”

  He was lying, she thought. He was afraid. But of what, or of whom? And if he was afraid, why wouldn’t he admit it?

  “It is ridiculous to be embarrassed,” she told him. “Especially if you are afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid!” he claimed, and sat up.

  She sighed, looking out the carriage window. “Well, then,” she said softly, “allow me to be afraid for you.”

  “Kat! You’d never be afraid of anything, would you?” he asked, and she was startled. Her gaze flew to his, for there had been the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice.

  But he was smiling at her, and the look in his eyes was that look again, so pained, yet adoring. As if he were saying, I love you so! And you are hurting me, denying me….

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t be going on this expedition,” she told him.

  “No, I have to go.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to,” he repeated. “I just have to go!” he repeated.

  “To prove that you can?” she inquired softly.

  He stiffened, his father’s son, almost literally looking down his nose at her. “Anyone can go to Egypt. I am part of a legacy. I will be part of discovery, of riches found. And you needn’t be so afraid for me. Really. I am an excellent rider. I’m even a good sailor. I handle a gun with accuracy.” He inhaled and exhaled. “I am a man of courage.”

  “Of course you are. I did not suggest anything else! But even the bravest man may be a victim!” Kat said in protest.

  Again, he smiled at her. And he reached out his hand to smooth back a tendril of hair from her forehead.

  “I would never need be afraid, ever, would I, with you by my side?” he asked softly.

  She stared back at him, not pulling away and yet, strangely, not touched by the tender look in his eyes. “But I can’t be by your side, can I?” she said.

  The carriage had come to a halt. The door was opened with force.

  Hunter was there. “Ethan will see you in, David,” he said curtly, and offered a hand. David looked at Kat.