“Would you…I mean, do you have an interest in seeing the actual dig site?” The words were out of his mouth before he knew he was forming them. All he really knew was that he needed to get back to work.
And he didn’t want to leave her.
She dropped her teaspoon against her teacup in a musical clang and looked up at him, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise. “Really?” she said.
He saw her delight spread to her face and her ample bosom within her khaki blouse heaved with excitement. Knowing that he had caused that reaction in her …it was all he could do not to lean over and kiss her right then. Instead, he looked down at the table and found himself mumbling. “Sure. If you want. We could go now.”
She stood up and swept her pith helmet off the table and into her hands. “I am ready when you are, Mr. Spenser,” she said brightly.
Life was so funny, Marvel thought as she wound her long hair up into a chignon and secured it with pins. Just when she thought she and Rowan were finally breaking past his obsession with his wife—that night on the boat had been positively magical even if it had ended with just a few passionate kisses on the deck—he runs away on some hare-brained excuse. Obviously he felt more for Marvel than was comfortable for him—at least until he accepted the fact that his wife wasn’t coming back. So while it was mildly humiliating for him to rush off like that—and certainly discouraging after the kiss—she had to admit—and she put her hairbrush down on her table when the thought hit her: she didn’t care all that terribly much.
Now why would that be?
She patted her coif and picked out a pair of dangling earbobs to wear at dinner. She liked how they drew attention to her long neck, one of her best attributes, she knew. The great man, Howard Carter, hadn’t dined with them yet which, as it turned out, was just fine. Marvel found him distracted and unforthcoming. Perhaps that was due to the first evening when she had bombarded him with questions and flattery. But she couldn’t help it. He was Howard Carter! They were going to discover the tomb of one of the wealthiest pharaohs of all time! There was a reason the crowds lined up three people deep to get a glimpse of Mr. Carter and his dig.
And she, Marvel Newton, was right in the middle of it. Right in the middle of history being made. She squirted a puff of scent in the air and waited for the mist to settle on her shoulders and in her hair.
No, she didn’t care if Carter joined them or not tonight. All her questions now had to do with the wondrously curious things she had seen on her tour with Mr. Spenser that day. Josh. He had asked her to call him Josh.
“Joshua.”
She felt a tingle go up her spine as she said his name out loud, rolling the syllables around in her mouth.
As she stood up from her dressing table, she thought, for once in her life, she felt like letting whatever was going to happen to her—happen. And that thought was so unusual, so startlingly unlike her, that she found herself smiling.
Joshua.
With one last glance in her hand mirror, she left her tent for dinner.
As soon as she stepped outside, she could feel that something was happening. The energy of the close knit little camp had changed. Instead of heading toward the flickering pathway lanterns that lit the way to the dining table—itself festooned with small lanterns on its stark white linen top—she found herself needing to step off the path to make way for two Egyptians who ran past her.
She could see that horrid Edward Digby standing in the opening of his tent smoking and watching her. He had come into camp the morning after she and Rowan had arrived. She knew Rowan would never have left her if he had known Digby would be here. Then she saw Josh materialize on the path heading toward her tent. He was a big man, every bit as tall as Rowan, and he carried himself with an ease and grace not usually found in a man that size. When she saw him, she felt her heart beat a little faster and her throat went instantly dry.
Oh, my goodness, she thought. Joshua.
“Marvel? You okay? I saw you nearly got run over there.”
“I…yes, I’m fine. What is happening? Have the reporters breached the walls?”
When he reached her, she found she was a little breathless because of how closely he stood to her. If she’d had a fan, she would’ve started madly fanning herself.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said, one hand resting on his hip in a picture of insouciance. “Pierce is back.”
“Oh?” The words should have sent tremors of delight up and down her inner thighs but amazingly, she felt only interest. She was aware, however, of Josh leaning in close to her as if to relate the next message sotto voce.
Or perhaps to kiss her?
“With Mrs. Pierce.”
She stared at him and was aware her mouth had fallen open. She was also aware that he was watching her intently for her reaction. She forced herself to recover.
“Well,” she said, breathlessly, “I certainly did not expect that.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm and turning her away from the dining area.
Rowan had found his wife? Was that possible? Could Joshua be trying to tease her? But then why were the camp servants running around?
As she walked next to the big American, Marvel drew upon every reserve of strength and feminine wile she had to cover up how she felt. She honestly didn’t know what she did feel, but she was determined not to show anything but complete composure. They turned a corner in the camp and suddenly she saw them.
Rowan—looking every bit as handsome and rumpled as ever—was kneeling next to a woman sitting in a camp chair. Their horses, still saddled, stood just a few feet away. Marvel watched as the camp handlers led the animals away.
“Pierce!”
Marvel jumped when Spenser called to Rowan. She watched him turn away from the woman—dear Lord! She was fat! Marvel felt a hysterical giggle bubbling up in her and she dug her nails into her palms to staunch it.
Marvel watched Rowan turn back to his wife and speak to her. He was clearly filling her in on who they were because when they finally reached them, Ella was smiling in a greeting. It was then, as Marvel approached them both, that she saw that Rowan’s wife was not fat.
She was with child.
Marvel glanced at Rowan whose face was flushed with happiness. In fact, she had never seen him smile so broadly before.
“Marvel, Spenser,” Rowan said, “may I present my wife, Ella Pierce.”
Ella smiled tiredly and held out her hand to Spenser. “Well, Mr. Spenser and I know each other,” she said, “but I’m very glad to see you again.” She looked at Marvel and her smile never wavered. “And to meet you, Miss Newton,” she said. “I understand Rowan’s been working for you and I’m thankful he had a friend during this time.”
“Not at all,” Marvel said, amazed at the woman’s grace and self-possession. She looked like she had ridden two days and three nights in the desert. Her gown—native by what Marvel could see—was stained and ripped, she was barefooted and her hair looked like she had long ago given up on it. Her face, however, was clean and her eyes gleamed with happiness.
Especially when she looked at Rowan. Which she did. A lot.
“Oh, my, Rowan,” Marvel said. “You didn’t tell me you were…that she was…”
“I wasn’t absolutely sure, myself,” Rowan said, looking adoringly at his wife. He reached out and took her hand and the two gazed into each other’s eyes as if Marvel and Spenser were not standing there.
Digby approached the group, his hands in his pockets as if to affect that he was largely uninterested in the sudden reappearance of Rowan and his wife.
“I don’t suppose you know what happened to my wife?” he said in a sneer to Ella. Rowan instantly turned on him, but Ella put a hand out to stop him.
“It’s okay, Rowan.” She looked at Digby. “Julia is living with a band of Bedouins not far from here,” she said. “She’s alive and happy.”
“You lie.”
“As it happens, I don’t.”
“You killed her and buried her corpse in the desert.”
“Care to back that up with evidence, you bastard?” Rowan snarled at him.
Again, Ella patted his arm. “It doesn’t matter, Rowan,” she said, and then glared at Digby. “I am happy to make a statement to the authorities—which I will do as soon as we are back in Cairo—to the effect that Julia Digby is alive and well the last time I saw her. In fact, very well.”
Flushed with frustration, Digby wrenched his hands from his pocket. “We’ll see about that!” he said impotently and stormed off in the direction of his tent.
Marvel looked questioningly at Spenser who shrugged. “He’s all mouth,” he said. He turned back to Rowan. “If there’s anything you need, Pierce, let me know. I know the tent’s a little small for two—”
“It’s fine,” Ella said. She looked up at Rowan. “In fact, it’s perfect.”
Spenser turned to walk back toward the dining tent and spoke over his shoulder. “Your wife will want to rest, Pierce. I’ll have dinner sent to your tent.”
Marvel smiled woodenly at Rowan and his wife and then turned to catch up with Spenser. They walked silently to the dining table. When they seated themselves, Spenser flapped out his napkin across his lap and nodded at the attendant to pour the wine.
“I guess you’re pretty shocked that he found her,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
Marvel waited until the man had filled her wine goblet and then held it up to Josh.
“Well, I say, thank God for small miracles,” she said, a smile tugging at her full lips. She watched his face go from uncertainty to a slow beaming grin as he lifted his glass to hers.
“I’ll second that,” he said, pointedly, his face relaxed and pleased. “In spades.”
After a long overdue bath, Ella lay on the camp bed and counted her blessings. She was clean, she was full of a lovely dinner—roast lamb and fingerling potatoes in real butter!—the baby had stopped playing football with her bladder, and Rowan, her gorgeous, darling man, was lying beside her, his hand resting on her hip.
“If I really died in that desert,” she murmured, “then I definitely ended up in heaven.”
“Well, you took me with you, in that case,” Rowan said sleepily.
“And you’re sure we can’t get frisky under the covers?” she whispered to him, turning with effort to face him. “I’m desperate to have you inside me, Rowan.”
He groaned. “No more than I am, babe,” he said. “Especially after you say shit like that, but I think the inn is pretty full at the moment.” He patted her tummy. “Wouldn’t want to do anything to kick off the big event before we can get you to a modern hospital in Cairo.”
“You don’t think we can make it back to the states? To 2013?”
He smoothed a long hair from her forehead. “Well, we’ll get back to Cairo okay,” he said. “And maybe even back to our own time, but they’re not going to let you get on a plane at eight and a half months pregnant.”
“So the baby will be born in Egypt?”
“He’ll still be an American citizen.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter as long as we’re in a modern hospital,” she said. “Do you know anything about Egypt’s health facilities post-revolution?”
“They haven’t deteriorated.”
“What were they like before the revolution?”
“Ella, angel, it’s all going to be fine. 2013 Cairo has the same topnotch labor and delivery capabilities that any third world country has after a major revolution.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I’m sorry, love,” he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “I’m horny as a son of a bitch and as much as I love holding you, it’s killing me.”
“I promise not to move too much,” she whispered, reaching for the front of his pants.
He groaned loudly but didn’t move her hand.
A piercing scream rent the air outside their tent making both of them jump. Rowan was on his feet before Ella was even able to fully shift onto her back.
“Rowan, what is it?” she gasped, struggling to a sitting position on the bed.
He didn’t answer her but she heard him exchange words with someone outside the tent and then he returned and pulled on a shirt.
“It’s Marvel,” he said, tersely. “Spenser’s heading there. If he needs help, he’ll yell.”
Another scream, every bit as loud as the first, punched the air. Ella saw Rowan’s face harden. When the scream was followed almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot, he picked up a pistol she hadn’t noticed before and handed it to her.
“Shoot anyone who comes through that opening who isn’t me,” he said.
“Pretty much my standard policy,” Ella muttered as she hefted the gun in her hand and watched him leave.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Spenser was nearly to Marvel’s tent the second time she screamed. When he raked back the flap into the tent, his gun drawn, he saw the King Cobra—its fanned hood wider than a man’s hand, a full twelve inches of its body off the ground–coiled on a silk dressing gown puddled at the foot of Marvel’s bed.
He dispatched the snake in one messy shot that sent the reptile’s innards spiraling around the tent like soggy confetti. When he looked up, he saw Marvel standing on the bed, her arms wrapped around the center tent pole, and wearing not a stich of clothing. Before he could avert his eyes—as if that were possible—he felt Pierce trying to push past him through the door. He turned and barred his entrance.
“It’s dealt with, Pierce,” he said hoarsely.
“What the…who…?”
“It was a snake. I killed it. Go on back to your wife.”
To Pierce’s credit, he turned and left without any more questions. By the time Spenser turned back to the inside of Marvel’s tent, she had pulled the bed sheet up over her nakedness. She still stood on the bed however as if immobilized in every other way.
Even from this distance, he could see she was shaking.
“I…I touched it with my foot,” she said, her shoulders trembling so hard she looked like she was about to start convulsing.
He was at the bed in two strides, and held open his arms to her. With what was without a doubt the sexiest whimper he had ever heard, she fell into them, dropping the sheet between them as she did.
* * * *
The next morning, Rowan watched Marvel light Spenser’s cigarette and then try to hide his lighter in her skirt so he would attempt to retrieve it. He was glad to see her setting her cap elsewhere and Spenser was a good man. He could probably handle her although the jury hadn’t come all the way back on that one. He grinned to himself. With any luck, he wouldn’t need to have the talk with Marvel after all. It had been his own bad judgment that had brought their relationship to the point of that damned kiss on the boat mere hours before he got the information that led him to Ella. He had to admit, as happy as he’d been these few days bringing Ella back to camp, the thought of letting Marvel down after he’d stupidly led her on hadn’t been high on his list of things he was looking forward to.
“You look pensive,” Ella said from the day bed in the tent. It had been an uncomfortable night for her. The baby seemed to be growing bigger by the hour and no position was endurable to her for long. They were both eager to return to Cairo.
“Just thinking,” he said, turning away from the sight of Marvel and Spenser rough housing around the dining table. Spenser had just pulled her onto his lap and appeared to be tickling her, if her high-pitched squeals were any indication. The man was clearly besotted with her. Rowan snorted. Good thing, too. If he didn’t treat her right, Rowan would have to beat the shit out of him.
“About what?”
He sat down on the foot of the bed and stroked her knee. “Nothing important,” he said. “One more night, and then we’re on the boat to Cairo.”
“What if I go into labor on the boat?”
“You’re not going to go into labor on the b
oat. But if you do, I’ll be there.”
He looked into her beautiful brown eyes and couldn’t believe how much he loved her, how much he was willing to do to make her happy.
“You’re looking at me funny,” she said.
“I’m looking at you adoringly, you twit,” he said, grinning. “Can’t you tell?”
“Hmmph.”
“How you feeling this morning?”
“You think that snake in Miss Newton’s tent was on purpose?” She was squinting at him like she was trying to figure something out.
“You mean do I think someone deliberately put it in there? Why would anyone do that?”
“I don’t trust that bastard Digby. He tried to kill Julia and he tried to rape me.”
“You never mentioned that.” He stood up and flexed his fists. He felt an immediate rage pump through him. He turned to look in the direction of Digby’s tent.
“Please don’t go start something with him, Rowan. There are a lot of things I haven’t had the time to tell you. My point is that Digby is quite capable of throwing a poisonous snake in a tent.”
“He doesn’t even know her.”
“Rowan, honestly! We switched tents with her. Hello? That used to be our tent.”
He looked at her and his mouth fell open. Marvel had talked them into switching tents last night because hers was bigger.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
“Pretty difficult to prove,” Ella said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and trying to draw her knees up.
“Your back hurt?”
He sat down next to her and ran his hands down to the base of her hips and massaged her. She groaned and pushed her body back into his hands. He nuzzled her neck. “Just a little bit longer now, babe,” he whispered.
“I know,” she said. “Rowan?”
He kissed her on the neck. “Mmm?”
“Have I told you yet about Halima?”
He felt her stiffen and he stopped what he was doing and moved around to face her.
“Is Halima a man?” he asked warily.
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