by Stacy Henrie
“Where should we go now, Marcus?” Ethel asked.
He took off his hat and brushed his sleeve across his forehead. “It makes the most sense to ride closer to Nefertari’s tomb. Perhaps then some of the remaining landmarks will become clear.”
Once everyone had climbed back onto their respective donkeys, Marcus motioned for them to follow him onto a side road. This lane sported fewer tourists, allowing their group some room to spread out and enjoy the views around them.
Syble pulled in a breath of the dry air, relishing the moment. She’d been figuratively pinching herself since she and the Wandering Widows had reached Cairo. She was actually back in Egypt, and this time, she had a distinct purpose. If only Mr. Kirk could see her…She was on the brink of a potentially huge archaeological discovery, one that would forever change her reputation as nothing more than an unworthy heiress.
* * *
By the time they reached the tomb of Nefertari, Syble noticed that her companions, with the exception of Marcus, were showing various levels of fatigue. Maybe a break was in order. While she would have preferred to keep searching, she’d also come on this trip to offer assistance to her grandmother and her friends. And right now, Florence looked as if she might expire, as she’d warned them all earlier.
“Can I walk with you, Florence?” Syble extended her arm toward the woman once they’d both dismounted. Would the widow object to the offer as she had at other times on their trip?
To Syble’s surprise, Florence accepted her assistance and gripped her sleeve tightly. “I’m too hot and piqued to not surrender,” she murmured in answer to Syble’s unspoken question. “But tell anyone that, and I’ll deny it till the cows come home.”
Syble laughed. “I hope I’m as cantankerous and clever as you when I grow up.”
“Ha.” A rare smile eased some of the exhaustion from Florence’s face. “That may be the nicest compliment I’ve ever received.” She turned to look at the rest of the group, coming along behind them. “No, I take that back. The first time I met Marcus was shortly after my husband died. I’d wandered into the library to be alone and found this ten-year-old British boy reading away. We looked at each other and nodded, and he went back to reading. Then a few minutes later, he told me that he was sorry for my loss, and that even though my eyes were sad, they were still his favorite color.”
Florence’s blue eyes glowed with the memory. Apparently surrender wasn’t the only thing to come from her feeling tired. Her tale was the most sentimental, vulnerable thing that Syble had ever heard from the woman.
Casting a glance back at Marcus, who walked with Ethel on his arm, Syble couldn’t help wondering if he still liked blue eyes. Not that she truly cared either way. She was finished with admirers and suitors and men in general.
He caught her watching, and his eyebrows rose with silent inquiry. After shaking her head, Syble faced forward again, hoping to hide the warmth in her cheeks.
“Come on, Florence.” She picked up their pace. “Let’s be the first to enter the tomb.”
A delay in their search now seemed to be a better course of action. Otherwise, Syble feared she’d become too befuddled to pay attention to what mattered most—and it wasn’t just figuring out where to begin their dig either. She was here to prove her readiness to embrace a life of independence, a life in which she didn’t need a man—whether mildly charming and handsome or not.
* * *
“Aren’t these hieroglyphs extraordinary, Marcus?”
He nodded absently at his grandmother’s remark. But in truth, he’d only given the pictures a cursory glance. His gaze kept moving from the exquisite pictures inside Nefertari’s tomb to Syble walking arm in arm with Florence at the front of their group.
He’d been certain Syble would beg them to continue their search rather than stopping as the others wished to do, but she hadn’t voiced a single complaint. She had even offered assistance to Florence.
The feisty, often cynical widow had looked concerningly pale earlier, and Marcus had been grateful all four of them now had somewhere to sit and rest. During the dig, there would be tents and awnings to provide shelter, but for now, they were limited in what was available to them in the way of shade.
Marcus did his best to focus on the paintings, but his thoughts wouldn’t be so easily commanded. Instead they remained on the blond young lady ahead of him.
Syble might be frequently outspoken, determined, and theatrical, but she was also compassionate and loyal, whether to a course of action—as in the case of the map—or to a person—as she was demonstrating now with Florence. It was a quality he hadn’t found in Esme, despite her charming personality and beauty.
What would it be like to have someone as loyal as Syble as a friend? To be someone she would stand determinedly beside? He scoffed at the notion of the two of them ever being anything close to that.
“Did you say something, Marcus?”
Apparently his scoff had not been confined inside his head. “No, Gran.” Thankfully the lamplit tomb would make it more difficult for his grandmother to spy the flush creeping up his neck. He felt as embarrassed at the realization he’d sniffed aloud as he did at his bizarre trail of thought regarding Syble.
It was another reason to do all in his power to move things along with this dig. His true calling was clearing out his tomb—not rooting around in the earth for something that might not exist in the first place. Away from his real work, it was too easy to get distracted and have his mind wander in unhelpful directions.
When they’d finished peering at the painted walls, Rose suggested they stay inside the tomb to eat the picnic lunch she’d procured from the hotel dining room. Another group of tourists was already doing the same.
Marcus volunteered to fetch the picnic basket so the ladies could remain out of the sun. Privately, he wasn’t altogether a proponent of dining inside a tomb, though many people did it. After all, it had taken time to unearth this archaeological wonder. Why bring in food and other items that might clutter it up? On the other hand, he could see the appeal. Dining while seated inside a three-thousand-year-old tomb was, for most, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. As such, he hadn’t been surprised when Syble heartily voiced her approval of Rose’s plan. And with all the ladies firmly decided, there was nothing for him to do but defer to their plans.
The warmer outside air wrapped itself around him as he left the cooler interior of the tomb. He located Rose’s donkey and unlatched the basket. His stomach rumbled with hunger when he lifted the lid and the tantalizing aromas floated past his nose.
He paused on his return to the tomb to glance at the surrounding hills. Not for the first time, he wondered if they would even be able to distinguish any more of the map’s features. All of his other digs had involved excavating known or heavily researched sites and clearing tombs that had already been discovered. Even one of the first digs Marcus had helped on, a project in conjunction with laying the foundations of the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor, had been confined to a set area. Would they even be able find a place that resembled the one marked on the map?
The enormity of their task—and how greatly it might affect his timely return to his dig—weighed heavily on Marcus as he returned to the tomb, lunch in hand. The women had already seated themselves on the ground. Marcus joined them and waited as Rose passed out the contents of the basket.
Once he had his food, Marcus contented himself with eating rather than contributing much to the conversation. He had little to add, anyway, to the others’ speculations on where the map’s tomb might be located. Syble pulled the parchment from her satchel at one point, and she and Adelle studied it again.
“Should we return to searching?” Syble asked, after everyone had finished eating. She didn’t look the least bit fatigued as she climbed to her feet. If anything, her excited energy hadn’t waned at all since they’d left Luxor.
Florence shook her head. “I’ll stay put, thank you very much.”
“Me too.”
Rose placed the lunch things back inside the basket. “I want to look at the hieroglyphs a second time.”
Syble glanced at Marcus’s grandmother. “What about you, Ethel?”
“I think I’ll be along in a bit. If that’s all right with you, Marcus?”
He smiled his reassurance. “Of course, Gran. It’s a bit warmer today. I say take advantage of the shade here inside the tomb for as long as you wish.”
“Nana?” Syble prompted next, her hands resting on her hips. “Don’t you want to scout out the terrain some more? We have to be so close.”
Surprisingly, Adelle didn’t jump at the chance to keep searching. Instead she hesitated, as she looked at each of her friends in turn. Florence returned her friend’s questioning gaze with a stern one. In contrast, Rose’s glance conveyed encouragement while Gran’s showed compassion.
If he didn’t know better, Marcus would have suspected that Adelle actually did want to continue searching, but the others were silently communicating that she ought to remain behind. That made little sense, though. Adelle had never struck him as someone easily persuaded from her intended course. Much like her granddaughter. Why on earth couldn’t she continue the search, if that was her wish? What reason would she have to stay back?
Marcus removed his glasses and wiped them carefully against a section of his shirt. Perhaps the glasses were smudged and preventing him from seeing clearly.
“Why don’t you and Marcus get started?” Adelle said at last.
When he put his glasses back on, Marcus could find no trace of reluctance in the woman’s countenance. Clearly he’d imagined her earlier hesitation on whether to stay or go.
“None of you want to come with us right now?” Syble peered pointedly at the group of widows, then regarded Marcus as if he were some kind of a threat.
The idea could not be more ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he planned to sabotage her and Gran’s dig or steal the map she clutched tightly in her hand. He was merely unconvinced that anything of value would come of it—and that was if they could locate the site first.
Adelle motioned in the direction of the tomb’s entrance. “Go ahead. We’ll join the two of you in a while.”
“Very well.” Marcus stood and offered Syble a friendly smile. “Shall we?”
She narrowed her eyes at the Wandering Widows. When none of them would meet her gaze, she grumbled something unintelligible under her breath before walking toward him. “I’m coming.”
CHAPTER 6
Marcus followed Syble out of Nefertari’s tomb. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the sunlight once again. A few more tourists climbed down from their donkeys and looked eagerly about. Other than a dragoman and the handful of donkey boys waiting for their groups, there were few people about at present.
“Do you feel like they’re up to something?” Syble asked, turning to face him.
Marcus glanced at the donkey boys seated nearby, who were passing food among themselves. “Are you referring to the donkey boys?” He kept his voice low to avoid being overheard.
“No.” Syble rolled her eyes. “I meant our grandmothers and Rose and Florence. They’ve all been acting strange today.” Her lips formed a frown. “Actually, they’ve been acting strange ever since we arrived in Luxor, starting when Nana insisted that I stay behind at the hotel with Florence and Rose instead of seeing her dig project.”
Come to think of it, that was rather odd. Why hadn’t Adelle wanted her granddaughter to view the progress on the dig she was funding? Did it have something to do with Marcus or with Syble?
“There have been an unusual number of confusing moments,” he admitted, “since the five of you arrived.”
Syble sniffed in obvious irritation as she unfolded the map. “You can say that again.”
“There have been an unusual number…” he started to repeat, keeping his face impassive.
Her gaze jumped to his, and her brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean for you…”
“I’m teasing, Syble. It was a joke.”
A slow smile lit her face, not unlike the ones she’d offered him last night. Something tumbled about inside his chest. Perhaps he’d eaten a bad morsel of food.
“Marcus Brandt is making jokes?” She gave a mock shake of her head, her blue eyes sparkling. “Wonders never cease.”
The amusement and happiness emanating from her was a rather charming sight to behold. Too charming. Marcus cleared his throat. “We should probably consult the map again before we start, so we aren’t wandering aimlessly.”
Syble didn’t immediately respond, almost as if she’d forgotten the reason they had come outside. “Oh, right. Sorry. I was just thinking.” She shook her head a bit, as if pulling herself back to the present. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the four of them are hoping that…”
“They’re hoping for what?” he prompted when she trailed off.
She flushed. “Never mind. Here’s the map.” She extended the map toward him, though she didn’t relinquish her hold when he grasped the other side of the parchment. Apparently she still wished to keep the map close. The smell of orange blossoms drifted past his nose as she leaned close to him and peered at the map.
Ignoring the pleasant scent as best he could, Marcus studied the drawings nearest the dark semicircle. The relatively nondescript hills that covered most of that section of the map renewed his discouragement. Besides the Arabic words he’d translated earlier, a depiction of the sun, and one hilltop in the center of the cluster that looked a bit like a battlement tower, there were few details to differentiate one piece of landscape from another.
He lifted his head to peer at the topography directly in front of him, though he knew it hadn’t changed in the minute or so that they’d been reviewing the map. “Locating a specific site such as this, without prior research or more thorough details, is going to be difficult.”
“Maybe,” Syble murmured. “What do you think the sun above the hills is supposed to represent?”
He scrutinized the picture. “Perhaps it means viewing this portion of the map at noonday or thereabouts.” He tapped the sun. “See how it’s depicted not as rising or falling but as full and straight in the sky?”
“Hmm. That’s good information, but I think our best bet is to find a hilltop that looks like this one.” She pointed at the turret-like depiction.
Marcus relinquished his hold on the map. “To a point, I agree with you. It’s the most distinctive feature. However, we must bear in mind that the terrain in this valley may have changed some over the last century.” He kept back the reminder that the map could be entirely made-up too, in which case, no amount of searching would prove successful.
“Are you giving up then?” She refolded the map, stuck it back inside her satchel, and hiked the strap higher onto her shoulder. “That doesn’t sound like the intrepid archaeologist the others believe you to be.”
Had he truly thought her charming only moments ago? “I didn’t say it wasn’t worth a try, only that we need to be realistic too. That hilltop might not exist in that exact form anymore.”
“Well, I’m not going to stand around speculating. I’m going to find our site.” With that, Syble spun on her heel and marched forward.
Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. “Where are you going, Syble?” he called after her.
“I told you.” She tossed the words over her shoulder. “To find that hilltop.”
“How do you know you are heading in the right direction?”
She whirled around, her hands propped against her hips. “I don’t. But we have to start somewhere, so I figured we could head southwest and see if anything stands out.”
As much as he didn’t wish to admit it, her plan didn’t sound entirely illogical. And that alarmed him. Debating with Syble must be eroding his good sense.
“Haven’t you ever taken a leap of faith, Marcus?”
He pushed out a heavy sigh as he strode toward her. “What would you call this?” He motio
ned to his shoes and the distance he’d narrowed between them.
“I would call that walking, not leaping.”
She acted the picture of innocence, the corners of her mouth neither rising nor falling.
“I’m teasing, Marcus,” she finally said when he reached her side. “It’s a joke.”
“Ah. Using my own words against me, once again?” He gave her a mock bow. “Well played.”
Syble laughed, and in spite of his lingering frustration, Marcus couldn’t help joining in. The cheerful sound of her laughter was contagious. Had he heard it during that trip eight years ago? He couldn’t recall, which was a pity. Inspiring her laughter might have proven to be as enjoyable as bringing out her ire—both then and now.
“Wouldn’t you prefer to ride the donkeys?” he asked. They didn’t have far to go to explore this side of the valley, but Syble might wish to spare her shoes.
She offered a shrug. “I prefer to stretch my legs.”
“Lead on then.” Marcus motioned her forward.
They walked along the valley floor, heading away from Nefertari’s tomb. Not once did Syble complain about soiling her shoes or her pink linen dress. Apparently her gumption wasn’t solely reserved for verbal sparring.
After a few minutes of silence, she threw a glance in his direction. “May I ask you a question?”
“I…suppose so.” What did she mean to ask him?
Her cheery laughter echoed in his ears once more. “Nothing too personal, I promise.”
“Very well.”
Syble’s merriment faded as she scrutinized him. “Why are you pretending to take the map seriously when you talk about it with the widows? Don’t you still believe it’s a fake?”
He hadn’t anticipated such a question, and he took a moment to consider how best to respond. “I am quite skeptical of the map’s authenticity—”
“I knew it.” She wagged an accusing finger at him. “Why are you doing this then?”
“May I finish?”
Her instant chagrin surprised him. “I’m sorry for interrupting. Go ahead.”