“Which makes you a valuable commodity within the network.” Briefly, he touched her shoulder. “Never doubt that.”
She turned away. “I shall try.”
After an hour of touring, they finally reached the upper court. Most of the tourist traffic had declined, for that hour of the afternoon was extremely hot, and the fine limestone dust of the country was everywhere, rendering breathing difficult. Crispin passed her a corked bottle of water, and she accepted with a grateful smile. Perspiration gleamed on her forehead and upper lip. It trickled down his back, pasting his shirt to his skin. Too damned bad they were out in public and not at the dig, for he couldn’t strip to his shirtsleeves without causing a scandal.
Again, columns lined the court as they had on the lower areas. Fine dust covered the stone flooring. At the rear of the courtyard, a dark opening loomed. The rounded archway was decorated with paintings of the queen, kneeling in deference to the sun god. Her court was clustered behind her, also kneeling, and among the throng was a depiction that resembled the lauded Moses.
“I have a good feeling about this.” Her whisper raised the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “It’s the only place where any sort of clue can be in this temple.”
He nodded. “Where did Lord Ramsay find the piece of the staff?”
“Somewhere not far from here. As I said, the dig turned up Hebrew slaves; no doubt they’d worked on this site.” She slid a glance to him as she wiped at the sweat on her lip with the back of her hand. “Did you wish to visit him?”
“Not in this lifetime.” He gestured at the doorway. “Please, go in first.”
“Gladly.” When she went inside and he followed, it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. “Did you bring a candle?”
“Of course.” From the leather satchel, he drew forth a short stub of a candle as well as matches. Once he lit the wick, shadows flickered over the limestone walls, which were covered with reliefs depicting various scenes and stages of the queen’s life, or things she’d had done during her reign. There were many pictures telling of building projects, or farming, etc. “Where do you want to start?”
She traced her fingers over the walls, ducking through passageways where she did the same thing over and over. “Look. The reliefs in the front are the most recent. They tell of the battles she won, the alliances she formed with other rulers, the state of the country.”
“The growth of her step-son.”
“Yes. I wonder if she knew how much the boy hated her.”
“I’m sure she did. It would have been difficult to hide.”
Instead of studying the paintings that were still bright with the colors the ancient Egyptians used, Crispin watched his partner. Joy and anticipation animated her face. Excitement bounced in her eyes as she crept along the walls, reading as she went. Here, among the ruins and the ghosts of the past, she was in her element.
Damn you, Rathesborne, for shoving her light under a bushel and stunting her growth.
“The farther we go back, the earlier the history of her life.” The cadence of her voice was rushed the more she read. “Look here.” She tapped a picture of the queen, face missing. “She is standing next to a man, who is not her husband.” Gently, she blew the sand away from the drawings. “And see here? The shorn head and the lock of hair?” Then she squealed and the sound echoed eerily through the chamber. “He’s holding the staff. This is Moses as a young adult, perhaps not more than five and twenty.”
Her excitement was infectious. Crispin went through another arched doorway. Everywhere on the walls was the queen and Moses appearing very much like a ruling duo. “Juliana, come quickly.” When she joined him, he pointed to a picture tucked away in a corner behind a pillar. “While the country is adoring a victory on the battlefield Hatshepsut won and the large number of slaves killed in the conflict, Moses broke his staff and flung the three pieces to the ground.” He peered at the wall closer and brought the candle near his face. “It’s difficult to discern here, but he’s been painted as annoyed.”
“Yes!” She fairly vibrated with joy. As she squatted down, she pointed. “And here, he’s storming off. Perhaps this is the defining moment when he knew he had to leave the pharaoh’s court forever?”
“Who can say? It’s all speculation now without being able to talk to a witness on the scene, as it were. But who is this woman?” He tapped a finger to the depiction of a young woman with black hair, beautiful in robes of royalty. “She has a hand outstretched to him.”
Juliana peered closer at the drawing. “I’m not at all certain. Perhaps a member of the court?”
“I don’t know, but I wish we had the expedition artist with us.” Then he caught his breath. “Look at this.” In a section of relief toward the floor, half covered with drifted sand and in a different style than what decorated the temple proper, pictures danced across the wall of Hebrew slaves carrying out golden treasure as well as two of the staff pieces.
“Why only two?” Juliana asked in a whisper.
Crispin stared hard at the drawings. He knelt in front of the pictures and then brushed away the grime with his free hand. “Here.” He handed her the candle, which she stuck on one of the bricks with some splashed wax. “Is this what I think it is?” His voice was also low even though no other people were in the sanctuary.
She kneeled beside him and then caught her breath. “One of them left the group.” When she brushed at the sand, she gasped. With wide eyes, she looked at him. “The slave hid the other piece somewhere in this temple.” She touched a grouping of tiny pictures. “It appears to have been done in haste, during the commotion following the battle and Moses’ exit.”
“Exactly what I thought as well, but can we be so lucky?” Was it truly that simple?
“We need to find another picture that will perhaps show us.” She stood. Crispin did too. “But this is definitely more than we had before.” Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “This is the break in the case we’ve needed.” Then she flung herself into his arms and furrowed the fingers of one hand into his hair.
“Finally, this is getting exciting.” In more ways than one. He hugged her close in his enthusiasm, breathed in her faint jasmine scent, and then swung her around in a circle that lifted her feet off the floor. When he set her down, the desire to kiss her grew strong. He held her gaze for the space of a few heartbeats and the come hither look in her eyes gave him all the permission he needed. Crispin lowered his head.
“What a touching picture the two of you make.” Icy cold sarcasm dripped from the announcement.
Their lips had barely touched before Juliana sprang away from him as Lord Ramsay entered the passageway.
Bloody hell.
“What the devil are you doing here, Andrew?” she asked with a fair amount of ire as she scuttled backward. When she stumbled, she kicked sand against the portion of relief they’d just examined.
Clever girl.
“My apologies for interrupting a romantic interlude,” the peer said instead as he sized Crispin up, animosity clear in his dark eyes. “I had no idea the two of you would choose such a tourist site for a tryst.” He slid a glance to Juliana, his leer decidedly lecherous, and in the flickering light of the candle, his face took on sinister shadows. A trick of the light or a product of Crispin’s own doubts? “I suppose you couldn’t pass up the chance since I gave you a taste when we were together.”
“Buggar off.” Juliana tossed her head. She crossed her arms at her chest. “We merely came to tour the site, as we’ve been doing all day throughout Luxor.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “It was something you could never manage to do for me.”
“You never asked me to.” Lord Ramsay’s shrug only lifted one shoulder. “I would have been delighted to escort you about Egypt... still can,” he added in a softer tone.
The tendons in her throat moved with a hard swallow. “I’m content in giving that honor to the duke.”
“More’s the pity,” the man said in a bare
ly-there voice.
Crispin gawked as he bounced his gaze between the two of them. Obviously, she hadn’t managed to put the relationship from her mind. “Should I leave you alone?” His chest tightened. Anger often grew into carnal feelings. Is that what was happening here?
“As if you would give me that courtesy, Your Grace.” A tiny grin of grudging respect pulled at the peer’s lips. “So, the two of you are here. As am I. Are you hunting for clues or leading the duke on a merry chase, Juliana? Only one of those skills is what you excel at.”
The gall of the man! “Damn you!” Hot ire rose through Crispin’s chest at the continued slights against her while couched in a weird sort of courtship behavior. Juliana’s jaw dropped. When Lord Ramsay’s grin widened, he charged. The two of them fell hard to the stone floor. “Apologize to the lady this instant.”
“I won’t. Miss Barrington is a wanton widow; she’ll make no excuses for that. If you think you’re special because she’s bestowed her favors on you, that is your mistake.” Lord Ramsay got off a punch to Crispin’s cheek that made him see stars. “She’ll leave you when someone else comes along—with a better prick or greater information.”
Did this brute have no manners? “Leave off besmirching her character,” Crispin demanded. He rolled them both over and when he straddled the other man, he pummeled his face with both fists. “Else you’ll answer to me.”
“Enough!” Juliana marched over to them. She yanked on Crispin’s shoulder. “Both of you are acting like spoiled children fighting over a toy... and I refuse to be that.” But Lord Ramsay surged upward and rolled them over. They crashed into Juliana’s legs in the process, which thumped her over onto her arse. The golden pendant tumbled out from her bodice and glittered in the faint candlelight. Her bonnet was knocked askew.
Botheration. Crispin couldn’t tell her to hide the pendant lest he draw the other man’s attention to the staff piece. When he glanced at his adversary, Lord Ramsay’s eyes had narrowed. Had he seen and recognized the relic? No way to tell.
Pain exploded through his jaw when Lord Ramsay landed him a facer as a result of his woolgathering. “You’ll pay for that, you jackanapes.”
“Stop it!” Juliana’s screech echoed off the wall, but still Crispin grappled with his nemesis, neither wishing to concede defeat.
The commotion brought a handful of tourists running into the passageway, and when the burliest of the set came toward them, Juliana scrambled to her feet.
“Help us.” She attached herself to his arm and dragged him closer. “Hurry. This man attacked us as we were touring.” Somehow, she managed to infuse her voice with enough fear to convince any man of anything. No doubt such manipulation was part of her training. She battered her eyelashes. “I didn’t realize Luxor was so dangerous that we’d be robbed by one of our own countrymen.”
A stout woman crossed to Juliana’s side and put an arm around her. “Harold, do something. This young lady is quite beset. Why, she’s shaking with fear.”
Crispin spared another glance at the “shaken” woman in question. She could have been an actress on Drury Lane at that moment for all of her manufactured fright, but at least she’d tucked the pendant back beneath her bodice.
“Right.” Harold grabbed Lord Ramsay beneath the arms. “That’ll be enough of this, you bounder.” Another man helped and soon they hauled the annoyed peer from Crispin’s body. Without another word, they escorted his protesting self out of the sanctuary. The ladies trailed after them with murmured felicitations, and Juliana thanked all of them profusely, promising to return to her lodgings straightaway to recover from the fright.
Once alone, Crispin lurched to his feet with her help. Ire flashed in her eyes and he steeled himself for her imminent rage. “Will you never learn, Your Grace?” She turned her back to him, her shoulders stiff and her spine rigid. Annoyance fairly radiated from her. “Why must you always take the low road? I do not need your defense. I was doing well enough before you arrived to play hero.”
The chastisement slammed into his chest. Cold humiliation coiled through his gut. “But I am here now, and I’ll continue to stand up for what’s right.”
Juliana sniffed. “By picking fights with everyone you meet because they might happen to look at me wrong?” She shook her head. “It’s unbecoming.”
“Be that as it may, he insulted your reputation.”
“Is it an insult if the accusations are true?” she asked in a quiet voice, her head bowed.
Icy fingers squeezed at his heart. “Then you plan to sever our association once you have what you want from me?” Anger vibrated through his voice. For the first time since meeting her, the sting of hurt feelings burned. He’d been so confident she’d perhaps come to care for him. “Furthermore, let us define exactly what it is you want from me: intimacy or the staff?” Had she used him all along?
Apparently, I am too damn trusting. But it was better than the alternative.
“It’s... complicated.” With a halfway stifled sob, she strode away from him to fling herself onto her knees in front of the relief they’d uncovered.
“Then un-complicate it and talk to me. I cannot fix what I don’t know is wrong.” His tone was more harsh than he’d intended, for it was apparent she wasn’t listening to him. Disappointment stabbed through him. “So you won’t even give me the basest respect and answer my question?”
“Do shut up, Your Grace.” It was what she always set when annoyed or exasperated with him. Juliana put her face close to the wall. She blew away the dust and grit. “Could this be what I think it is? I caught a glimpse when I fell, but you two nodcocks demanded my attention at the time.”
“Again, pardon my ignorance in defending your honor.” Due to a swelling eye, his vision wasn’t the best, but he sank to the sand on his knees beside her. Because he was a damned fool, and any excuse to be near her, he’d take. “What?” He touched his lip. Blood came away on his gloves. Damn it.
She dug into the accumulated sand at the bottom of the wall and put her face to the floor almost as if she were praying. “The slave didn’t leave this temple.” Juliana tapped at a collection of pictures. “He hid that piece in this very room.” She traced a tiny red block. “Look for a brick painted this color. No doubt it will blend in with the original reliefs.”
As Crispin stood, his body protested the movement. Perhaps she was right, and he needed to learn how to control his responses. Bit by bit, he examined the wall nearest him, but not finding a solid block of red, he continued to sweep his faulty gaze over the wall. “Dear God.” He squeezed himself behind a pillar. There, as if part of a sandal was a red square, perhaps three inches wide and three inches tall. “It’s here. The pictures of the slaves are untouched. Either Thutmoses III’s people didn’t notice or didn’t care.”
Juliana crawled over to his location, but in the tight space, Crispin couldn’t kneel. “Move over,” she demanded and thumped at his calf. When he did, she wriggled into place. Pressing her fingers to the block, she fairly growled when nothing happened.
“Do it again. Sometimes ancient panels need encouragement.” The muscles of his stomach clenched with excitement.
Juliana once more applied pressure. Slowly, the brick popped out toward her with the sound of stone grinding against stone. “Clever.” She pried off the protruding piece and then squealed. “There’s something here.” Carefully, she withdrew a linen-wrapped object about a foot long. Then she handed it up to him. “Open it.”
He did so with shaking fingers. “It’s the staff piece.” Solid gold and carved with hieroglyphs, it was a heavy weight in his hand. “Nice job.” When she didn’t respond, he frowned. “What is it?”
She peered closely again at the wall. “I was right. There is supposed to be a jewel atop the staff.” With a finger, she tapped the painting. “See the bit of white just here on the golden eagle piece?” As he nodded, she continued. “A slave took it to the Valley of the Kings.” She pointed out the reliefs that depicted a j
ourney. “There’s a tomb there, meant as the final resting place of the queen.”
“Perhaps in the Queen’s Valley?”
“It’s as good a guess as any.” Excitement shook her voice. “That’s where we’ll find the jewel, and I’ll wager once we have all the staff pieces, something incredible will happen.”
“But we’re not digging in the Valley of the Queens.”
“Perhaps we’ll find a clue directing us further.” Then she frowned. She replaced the brick. “But where? That area is extensive.”
“We need more information, and perhaps a council of war with Archewyne.” He tucked the staff piece into his satchel and then helped her into a standing position. “Let’s return to the house. I’m in desperate need of tea.”
“Agreed.” But she kicked sand back over the reliefs they’d uncovered.
Once in the carriage, heavy tension brewed between them. “What?” he asked. “I can almost hear you thinking.”
“Why do you let Andrew bait you? He is nothing. A fortune hunter and a rogue.”
“Yet he still features into your affections.” Crispin blew out a breath of frustration when she didn’t answer. “He is a vile weasel. I won’t stand for him insulting you.” Or for giving him an opportunity to win you.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m made of sterner stuff. I won’t burst into tears when a man makes a derogatory comment or slanders my reputation.”
“Perhaps, but I cannot stand his smarmy arse.” He grinned and then immediately regretted it, for his whole face hurt from bruises. Yet Juliana answered his grin. “If he is who you want...” He deliberately left the statement open-ended.
“Do shut up, Your Grace.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts.
They said nothing else during the short trip to Archewyne House.
Silence lingered throughout the building, for everyone was out, no doubt at the dig site or sleeping during the heat of the day.
“Come.” Juliana led him into her room. “I’ll clean and dress your wounds, but you’ll look a fright for dinner. And you’ll feel it too.”
What the Dashing Duke Deserves (Lords of Happenstance, #3) Page 17