Page 15

T HE MORNING WAS FILLED with chaos. The Egyptian guides and workers were there, a dozen of them. The camels were letting out long braying noises, obviously distressed at the commotion.

“Eh! Watch the big one!” Allan cried out in warning as Kat walked by. “He keeps trying to bite me.”

“Allan, talk nicely to it, and you’ll get along,” Camille advised. She was dressed in a white shirt and a khaki-colored garment that looked like a skirt but was, in fact, wide, flaring pants. Kat’s own outfit was similar; her blouse, however, was cream, and her legs were clad in a shade of brown. She had on men’s socks and very ugly boots, but they were perfect for the desert, so she had been told. She also had a hat, another must, Hunter had assured her.

“Kat!” David called.

He was with the horses, and she walked over to him. “Hunter has said that she is to be yours,” he told her, indicating a bay mare. “She’s a beauty!” he said, and offered her a smile.

She smiled in return. Not even David could bother her today. “She is lovely. And nicely small.”

“Arabian horses do not tend to be as large as our English breeds,” David informed her.

“That one is fairly large,” she said, pointing out another of the horses, a beautiful animal with a dish-shaped nose, taut muscles and a dark coat that glistened in the sun.

“Yes, of course. Hunter’s mount,” he murmured. He stared at her. “Hunter always gets the best, doesn’t he?”

She didn’t like the innuendo in his words. It was sexual, somehow. “It appears that every horse here is exceptionally fine. It also seems to me that you have to choose one horse and not be looking for a different animal every other minute. What is the mare’s name?”

“Alya,” he said, seeming annoyed. He looked away. “There is Abdul. He is leading the caravan.”

A handsome Arab was atop a camel, calling instructions to his turbaned workers. Camels were loaded heavily with all manner of boxes and trunks. They seemed well equipped, however, to withstand the weight.

Her attention was suddenly drawn to an argument going on between a local man and Lord Avery. Lord Avery appeared perplexed; the local man kept bowing and apologizing, but he was insistent on something, as well.

As she watched, Lord Avery produced a wad of bills and gave them to the man. He in turn began bowing again, thanking Lord Avery.

One of the guides was mounted near Kat. He was young, with a quite beautiful face and almond eyes. He saw Kat glancing his way.

“Do you know what that was about?” she queried.

He only inclined his head toward her, and she knew that either he hadn’t understood her or didn’t intend to answer her, since it would not be his place.

“I’m Kat,” she said, nudging her horse closer.

He stared at her uneasily for a moment, but then accepted her introduction. “Lady MacDonald, I know who you are. I am Ali. At your service.”

“Please…I’m very new at this!”

He sighed. “Just a misunderstanding. Young men sometimes forget to pay the bills for their entertainment,” he told her. “Some of your party were out last night at Rashid’s…restaurant. Rashid asked Lord Avery for payment. There was nothing wrong. Everything here is a negotiation, you see.”

“Thank you,” Kat told him.

He nodded, smiling slightly. She liked him immediately.

“Mount up!” Hunter called suddenly.

“Wait!” came a cry from the front steps of the hotel. Margaret, in a pink dress, her blond hair almost white in the sun, was there, a picture of pure feminine beauty.

She hurried over and hugged Kat first. “I will come out in a few days’ time!” she promised. She wrinkled her nose. “Once you’re all set up!”

Lord Avery had followed, Lavinia on his arm, ready to wish them all luck and godspeed.

“If anything!” he warned Hunter and Brian.

“We are but a day’s ride,” Hunter assured him.

Lord Avery nodded. Kat saw that Margaret had given the others a brief kiss and hug. She remained with David. His head was lowered close to hers. She kissed his cheek, then hurried back.

Kat was proud to be able to swing unassisted onto her mare’s back. Hunter swung up onto the large Arabian stallion like one born to the saddle, which, of course, he had been. Then, with the camels still noisy and sand flying about, they were on their way.

The mare was wonderful, just the right size for Kat. Her gaits were as smooth as silk. The view! First, the city streets, people going about their business, so many of them, women balancing water jugs on their heads, children, goats, chickens.

They left the city behind and were out on the sand. It was golden, shimmering. The pyramids rose majestically, the Sphinx sat in royal splendor. It was impossibly magnificent. The sun played one way on the pyramids, then another. The colors changed subtly.

And for the first two hours, the journey was magical. Perhaps even the first three hours.

And then the heat began to seem oppressive. The sand seemed constantly in her eyes. It was no longer golden or shimmering.

Just…sandy.

The mare was perfect, but Kat’s legs were aching.

The pyramids were no longer gleaming. They were just…there.

But she was determined not to complain. So her throat was as dry as a rusty razor. So she might never walk again. So she was parboiled, inside and out.

“Brian! Hunter!”

Thank God! It was Camille, several horses ahead of her, who cried out.

“We must stop…we must break for just a minute, I beg you!”

“Camille, there’s a little watering hole, not even a true oasis, but it’s just ahead. Can you hang on for five minutes?”

“Five minutes! Indeed.”

Of course, five minutes was really half an hour. As she rode up to the small spot of water in the ground, surrounded by a few scraggly date palms, Kat feared that she would not be able to get off her horse without falling. Hunter was up front with the guide Abdul and Brian, studying a sheet. She realized with some trepidation that it was the sketch she had made of Camille’s missing map.

“May I help you dismount?”

She looked down. David was there.

She doubted she could make it on her own. “Yes, thank you,” she said.

He was circumspect, gripping her by the waist, giving her a chance for balance, then releasing her. He offered her one of his smiles.

“Thank you,” she told him.

He offered her his canteen. Again, she thanked him. At the first touch of the water on her lips, she longed to drink until the canteen was drained.

“Slow, steady!” he warned softly.

“I’m so sorry!” she said, and returned it.

He grinned. “I can refill it here. You just have to be careful. You can get very sick, gulping water out here!”

“I’ll remember that.”

She wobbled slightly as she made her way to the water hole, anxious to douse her face in it. Camille was there, perched on the trunk of a fallen palm. She had her hat in her hand and was waving it to cool her face. She offered Kat a sheepish smile. “It is very hot.”

“And it’s winter,” Kat added.

“It won’t be so bad once we make camp,” Camille said, and Kat had to laugh, wondering which of them she was trying to assure.

“Camille, are we looking for a location on the basis of what I drew?” Kat asked worriedly.

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly?”

“We knew approximately where we were digging. But that map gave clues that we could find nowhere else. Look. Look over the sand. What do you see?”

“Sand.”

Camille shook her head. “See how it undulates?”

“I believe that is heat rising.”

“No, no, the waves of sand itself. When you see those rises, no matter how slight, it means that something is probably buried beneath. Take the Sphinx—they don’t really know yet just how deep it actually goes. Desert sands are merciless. They can cover whole cities, rises, cliffs, all but the greatest of buildings. You see, there is an area, this we know, where there were cliff formations. Not true cliffs, but formations caused by changes over thousands of years. They made a natural cover for certain graves, just as the Valley of Kings was a natural site, due to the terrain. What we’re seeking is completely covered, but once discovered, it should be a complex, with rooms leading to shafts leading to more rooms.”

“I see. And we can find it by looking at the land.”

“Well…that’s where the map comes in. There were clues due to angles of the pyramids and more natural boundaries. That’s where your sketches come in.”

“Mount up!” Brian called. “Time to move on!”

Kat wasn’t certain she could so easily mount this second time. She was in far too much pain.

She looked at the mare, then felt that she was being watched. She turned around. Abdul, the handsome guide, his dark eyes gleaming, was there. He nodded to her, then the horse, then, in one smooth motion, picked her up and sat her on the horse. She thanked him and he nodded.

Off they rode. Sand flew, and a minute later, she saw that Professor Atworthy had come to her side.

He rode with his sketchbook in hand.

“Kat, you should be capturing these images.”

“Professor, I’m sorry. I am catching nothing but sand at the moment. I swear, tomorrow.”

He shook his head, tsking. “Ah, there is so much, so much!” He rode on ahead.

Somewhere along the line, they stopped for lunch—sweet cheese, bread and more water.

She stood by her mare, Alya, staring at her that third time. She knew there was no way she could leap atop her.

But once again, when she turned, Abdul was there. She offered him a rueful grimace. He nodded and set her on the saddle. Once again, she thanked him.

It began to grow dark. Amazingly, she was no longer hot. She was chilled. That morning, she hadn’t begun to see how she was going to need the canvas jacket Hunter had insisted she carry in her pack. Now she was most grateful for it.

At last, Abdul cried something to Brian and Hunter, and they came to a halt. The workers began to hurriedly dismount. Shouts rang in the dark, and the pack animals went down on their knees.

She sat on the mare, unable to do anything.

This time, Hunter came to her. He grinned up at her, but it was a gentle grin. “I did tell you that you needed the riding lessons,” he reminded her.

She nodded. “You did.”

“Don’t you want to get down?”

“I can’t!”

He laughed, reaching up for her. He steadied her against his own hard form. He started to move, and she clutched him again.

“Just…just one more moment!” she pleaded. “Hunter…I’m sorry! I’m in such wretched shape. I won’t be able to help with the tents, with unpacking, with preparations, with—”

He caught her chin, moving her face, directing her vision. Her eyes widened. She had never seen such efficiency!

They had come to something like the small oasis they had stopped at that morning. Here, there were more trees. And there was a strange rising slope in the sand, something that almost formed a natural barrier. A dozen tents were already pitched, sheltered by the wall, and around the tiny spring of water.

“Oh!” she said.

“We’ll just get something to eat, and then to bed,” he said.

“Lovely! Which is our tent?”

He pointed to the far end, where two larger tents were pitched. They were connected by a stretch of canvas on the ground and another above, which formed a roof. No walls. It was like a porch or a garden, in a way, a spot shared by tenants of a town house.

She started to stumble away from him, wanting nothing but to lie down and sleep. He pulled her back.

“No. Supper first.”

There were fires lit, and soon, the smell of something delicious cooking. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was. One of their workers was trying to turn meat over a spit and stir a pot at the same time.

She approached the man. “May I?” She wasn’t sure that he understood her, and so she reached for the spoon. The man frowned. “Please, I’m hungry,” she said. “Let me help!”

She offered him a broad smile and took the spoon. He frowned, but allowed her to do so and gave his attention to the spit.

Abdul crossed to them and began speaking heatedly to the man, who in turn lifted his shoulders. “Abdul! I want to help. We’re all out here together,” she said, not knowing if he understood.

She heard laughter, then a few words in Arabic. She turned. Hunter was there, talking to Abdul. He looked at Kat and shrugged. Abdul looked at Kat and shrugged.

She shrugged and kept stirring. Again, Abdul shrugged to Hunter, then moved on, apparently looking for the serving utensils.

“What was that all about?” Kat asked Hunter.

“They aren’t used to help, that’s all.”

“Is it all right? Am I offending anyone?”

Hunter laughed. “Not so long as you keep your help to stirring! But come on, Camille wants to see if you can add anything to the map at all.”

He helped Kat to her feet. Another of the Arabs came forward, having finished with whatever his last task had been, and took over the stirring. A fire burned by the tents. Chairs had been set out on the stretch of canvas.

Camille had the sketchbook, and she was studying it. Seeing Kat, she thrust it toward her. “Do what you can.”

“All right,” Kat murmured. She sat, and suddenly realized what she had seen on the lost map, something she hadn’t understood till today.

The little watering holes. Such as they were at now. Such as they had stopped at earlier.

“Ah!” she said, filling them in and remembering others. She thought of what Camille had told her earlier about the undulating sand, and she sketched in the ripples.

“My God,” Camille said. “Better and better.”

“Uncanny,” Brian said, shaking his head.

Kat added a few finishing touches, seeing the original in her mind’s eye almost as if it were directly before her.

She gazed up. Over her head, Hunter was looking at Brian.

“A hundred yards dead east!” Hunter said.

“A hundred yards dead east,” Brian agreed.

Kat never knew exactly what was in the pot she’d been stirring. She didn’t care. It was delicious, as was the lamb cooked on the spit and the bread she was given. She drank water and a cup of wine, and when she was done, she didn’t care about anything else.

Not the lack of facilities, not a long hot bath, not fresh, crisp sheets.

She went into the tent she shared with Hunter, climbed beneath the blankets fully clothed, and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

Nothing evil touched her dreams. They weren’t even about the endless sand in the desert, or the sound the camels made, or the way they smelled.

She dreamed that she was at the restaurant again, under the stars, with the view of the pyramids. And Arthur Conan Doyle was there. He was smiling, yet looking very grave at once.

Eliminate the impossible.

And then the possible, however improbable, is what is left.

So…just what were the actual possibilities?

K AT AWOKE TO MUCH CLANKING and commotion. The sound seemed far away, and she didn’t really want to be bothered by it.

“Up! Up!” A firm shake on her shoulder. She grudgingly opened her eyes.

Hunter was there. He seemed refreshed, had changed and, bizarrely, was smelling quite nicely. She felt the grit of the day before covering every inch of her.

“We’re moving,” he said.

“Moving?”

“The first bit of uncovering we did led to a structure below. It will make excellent housing.”

“A tomb!” she said, amazed.

He laughed, his eyes excited. “No, but, surely, once a storeroom of some kind. It’s perfect. And it means that we are on the right track! Come, come, up. One must on expedition.”

She rose, dusting herself off, tasting the sand and wishing, for that moment, that she were back at Shepheard’s Hotel.

He noted her discomfort and smiled. “It’s not so horrible, really. We’re fairly well set. There is the very small pool just beyond, and Abdul has managed to rig something of an enclosure. Go, take your leisure. You’ll see that the new circumstances are better.”

Their guides were magicians, it seemed. A series of canvas flaps had been arranged around a very small section of their precious little pool of fresh water. Camille was just emerging when Kat arrived on the scene, her face bright and clean, her hair loose and down her shoulders. She was in a pair of trousers and a simple shirt, ready to become thoroughly involved in the dig.

“Good morning!” she cried jubilantly. “We’re to start. Well, actually, they’ve started, as you can see. We’ll become involved in a bit of the lighter work, right away.” She frowned. “Trousers. You need plain and simple trousers. I have plenty. Wait, and I will get them for you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kat was refreshed and redressed. Again, she was amazed at the speed with which the workers could move. The canvas tents had disappeared. Not far from where they had been was a deep, newly dug crevice in the desert floor. Ageand sand-worn steps led down to an opening.

Following Camille, Kat looked around skeptically. “How do they know what this was?” she asked. “And that it wasn’t a tomb?”

“There are no paintings on the wall, no record of a great and glorious life or the afterlife to come,” Camille said. She pointed to symbols, vague and fading above the door. “That is the sign of the worker, the digger, the builder. Supplies were kept here. But, you see, supplies must be kept for something, so I believe that we are really just right where we should be!”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Come along now, let’s get up to the work zone!”

Before she could follow Camille to the area where the men were working, Hunter appeared, Thomas Atworthy at his side. The instructor pressed a sketchbook into her hands. “We record every step we take,” he said.

“Kat,” Hunter said, “if you will please work on the opening here, the entrance to the building we have found? Pay special attention to the symbols above the door.”

She nodded, then Atworthy spoke again. “Come, come. There’s a slight ledge where they were digging, a perfect place to sit!”

And so, her first morning was spent sketching, and with Atworthy at her side, making suggestions, she found that she was very pleased with all that she did. She became so involved that she forgot time and place until the professor at last tapped her on the shoulder. “They are breaking for tea,” he told her. He passed her a canteen and she thanked him, realizing that she was very thirsty. The sun had risen high. Thankfully, Hunter had insisted on the hat.

It was so much cooler down in the ancient storeroom, away from the sun. Cots, bedding and canvas tents had all been arranged within; it was almost as if they had separate rooms, for the area was expansive.

“There might even be a series of tunnels down here,” Hunter remarked as they gathered below, taking up camp chairs, passing out teacups, bread and cheese, and amazingly fresh and very English scones. But then, of course, they hadn’t been gone that long, nor had they gone that far; it just seemed as if they had traveled forever. “Definitely something we need to explore,” he said to Brian.

David came down the steps, removing his hat, wiping sweat from his brow, followed by Alfred Daws. “Good God!” Alfred exclaimed. “I must say, I’m impressed, Sir Hunter, Lord Carlyle, that you have done this so very often! It’s quite exhausting.”

“It’s just the sun, the heat. We’re not accustomed to it,” David said, offering a sheepish smile.

“Where are Robert and Allan?” Camille asked.

“Ah, coming. Robert is convinced that he need dig just a little farther and he’ll come upon something.”

“We could dig for days, weeks…months,” Brian warned softly.

“And once we make a discovery, we must dig even more slowly,” Hunter said.

“And we’re looking for the tomb of this priest…this Hathsheth?” Kat said.

“Exactly,” Hunter said.

“Aren’t we in a strange place for such a burial?” she asked.

“No.” Camille rose and went over to the little camp desk set up just inside the entry. She found the translation Kat had done back at the museum. “‘He who will sit among them.’ I believe that refers to the pharaohs who lie in the great pyramids, because it continues with ‘he will lie in the gentle shade of those who built the kingdom.’”

“And then, you see, we had the map,” Brian said. He looked around as he spoke, his tone casual. Kat had the feeling that he wasn’t really quite so casual, and she was certain that he and Hunter exchanged glances.

She remembered their conversation with Arthur Conan Doyle and his wife. Eliminate the impossible.

But…where did it really all start?

Had someone tried to push David off the sailboat that day, hoping that he would die?

And then…

None of it made sense. The only ones aboard the sailboat had been Robert, Allan, Alfred and David. They were all students and the best of friends! They might well seek to seduce a young woman and aid in such indiscretions for one another, but that was a long way from attempted murder!

“Goodness!” Alfred Daws said suddenly, looking at the sketches that had been done that morning. He looked at the professor and then at Kat. “These—”

“Ah, my protégée’s work!” Atworthy said with pride.

Alfred Daws gave Kat a sharp look and shook his head with admiration and surprise. “It’s so lifelike!”

“It’s exactly what your father captures, Kat,” Hunter said. “Something of another dimension. Life.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“And you managed to create a map that you’d seen…but a few times?” David asked.

“Sometimes, I remember exactly what I’ve seen. Not always, I’m afraid.”

“Still!”

Robert and Allan came in then, arguing lightly. “I told you that you’d not find a door waiting for you if you did just a few more feet!” Allan said, sighing. “Now they’ll all be done with tea and we’ll get no break!”

“You didn’t have to stay! You were just afraid that I was right!” Robert argued back.

“You may have a good fifteen minutes, lads,” Brian said, laughing. “And you are missing the point of the expedition. We are a team.”

“Exactly!” Allan said.

Robert shook his head, laughing. “Can’t help it. I want to make the great discovery!”

“Well, then, there’s opening the tomb, and then discovering what’s in it, isn’t there?” David asked. He looked at Kat. “I think I will it expedient to follow Sir Hunter’s lovely new bride. She seems to have powers that none of the rest of us possess.”

Kat couldn’t help but cast a quick glance Hunter’s way. His face was cast in shadow. “Kat, I believe, will be sketching as we go. Not digging.”

He set down his cup and headed for the stairs.

Later that day, when much of the work was ending, Kat went over to the area where the horses and camels were kept, not far from their small pool, or oasis. She found her mare and was stroking the animal’s nose, when she saw Ali not far away.

“Hello!” she called to him.

He nodded. She realized that he was there strictly to guard their livestock. She walked over to where he stood in the shade of a palm. “So far out here, are we really in danger from thieves?”

“Lady MacDonald, the poor will always envy the rich. And likewise, there are those who long to cash in on the work that others do.” He hesitated. “Each season, you know, there are a number of digs. Small tombs found, many that were robbed centuries, even millennia, ago. But this has been a rough season thus far. Articles found by day disappear by night.”

“Well,” she replied uncomfortably, “even we are robbing the tombs of the ancients, in a way.”

He looked at her with his dark almond eyes, as if hesitating to speak. Then he did so, and a certain contempt was naked in his voice. “I have seen, Lady MacDonald, landed Englishmen send out invitations, that they have acquired a mummy, that there will be a party for the unwrapping! The bodies have been used for fuel for fires. That brand of robbery disturbs me. But we are a poor country. There are those who come here seeking our treasures, yes, but determined that the important ones stay here and that the people are compensated for anything taken from the country. Should the treasures all remain? Yes, they belong to my country, to my people. Can we afford for them all to stay? No. And therefore, I am happy to serve such men as your husband and Lord Carlyle, for they do not seek to rape a land and a people. Will I guard this place with all the power and strength in me? Yes, for the thieves—be they my own people or alien—do not just rob from the English, the French or the Germans, they take from my country.”

He stopped speaking and flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no! Please. I am so grateful that you speak to me!”

“It’s not my place.”

She shook her head. “Ali…I…I don’t really believe in separation by status or class or…” She stopped, flushing. “Let me just say that I think you are my friend, and I thank you for your friendship.”

He bowed his head. “I work for your husband with the greatest pleasure.”

“Thank you,” she told him, and with a wave, headed back for the camp.

Camille was alone in the little area in the front of the building they had uncovered, reading, sipping tea. “You look all in!” she told Kat. “You’re down that hall—” She pointed. “Actually, this has been an amazing discovery already, though the walls offer little and there are certainly no treasures. I have sat here trying to imagine just what this place was used for…I mean, exactly. What equipment did they keep here? Did the architects work at a desk here, as we’ve done? Were the rooms lined with containers for the treasures, or the treasures themselves? Perhaps it was even used as housing for some of the more elite workers.”

“I’m afraid you know volumes more than I on this subject,” Kat said.

“Ah, but without you, Kat, we might have been stumbling around forever. You cannot imagine what an asset you have been. I remembered the map, of course—I was the one who discovered its meaning at the museum. And who could have imagined that it would disappear? But I haven’t your perfection of memory. And I do believe that the discovery will be incredibly important and that, indeed, it will be made. I’m sorry, I’m keeping you, and you look absolutely exhausted!”

“Oh, I believe I will become accustomed to this soon enough,” Kat assured her. She smiled and started for the hall Camille had indicated, wondering now, as Camille had, just what the structure had once been used for. She hesitated in the darkness of the hallway and looked back. “Thank you, by the way. Thank you very much.”

“For?”

“You have made me feel not only welcome, but useful.”

“Oh, my dear! Don’t you see, you’re perfect for our work. And for Hunter.”

Kat’s smile faded slightly. She was glad of the darkness. “Thank you,” she murmured again, and went on.

For a moment, the hallway was dark and she felt uneasy. She treaded where the ancients had, and it was a little unnerving. A lamp, however, was burning from a room ahead, and she hurried toward it.

Nearing it, however, she stopped. She heard Hunter’s voice, but he wasn’t alone. She realized that he was speaking with Ali.

“Sir, I do believe it is the exact piece,” Ali was saying.

“The pawnbroker was found dead, so the paper says. You know, of course, that we are getting this news quite late?”

“Yes. But it seems that they believe the pieces have been in a private collection, and that they recently came into the hands of the dead man. I believe that the scarab shown in the sketch was found earlier this year, near Dashoor.”

“Well, as you have said, we must keep our guard up.”

“My men are well trained,” Ali assured him.

“I know. You and your father are some of the best men I know. We are very grateful to have you with us.”

Ali said something, his voice very low. Kat realized that she had been eavesdropping. She hurried the rest of the way down the dark hall, anxious that she not be caught doing so.

The light seeped through a piece of canvas that had been rigged as a doorway. Kat opened the canvas and saw the two men, and the arrangement of the bedding and belongings within the area. A crude mattress of blankets and pillows had been set against one wall, while the trunk with her clothing and that which contained Hunter’s were set against the opposite wall. There was a camp desk with an oil lamp where Hunter and Ali stood, and camp chairs had been set around it.

“Hello,” she said to the men, smiling.

Ali bowed his head to her. “Good evening, lady. Forgive the intrusion. I will leave you now.”

“Good night, Ali,” she said.

And he was gone. “What was that all about?” she asked Hunter.

“The usual. One must always be careful. But then, we are aware of that already. Excuse me, I must see Brian.”

He left. Kat hesitated, then tore off the heavy boots and the trousers and the shirt she’d been wearing, folding them neatly, since they would have to serve again. In her trunk, she found a simple cotton shift and slipped it on.

Hunter did not return. At last, she crawled into the bed on the floor and closed her eyes. She opened them again. Last night, in the canvas cover beneath the stars, she had been exhausted, and she had slept easily. Tonight, she was chilled.

What had the ancient Egyptians done within these walls?

At last, Hunter returned. She kept her eyes closed, and yet, felt a deep chill when he doused the lamp. It was better when she felt the vital warmth of him beside her.

Moments later, she felt the touch of his fingers, moving lightly down her back. She inched closer to him, grateful for the touch.

Eager.

He turned her toward him. She radiated in the feel of his kiss, and even in the slightly awkward motions taken to dissolve clothing. It was amazing, in the pitch darkness, that she felt so cherished. Not just desired, cherished. But then again, she knew that he was well practiced at this art. Still, in the night, she felt only the delicious rise of sensation, so sweet, then so desperate. She heard his breathing, the pounding of hearts. Felt the slick dampness of his flesh moving against hers. The force of him within her…the burst of sensation that climaxed between them, a wonder all its own.

It was only as she drifted toward sleep that she realized that she’d been hearing bits of conversation from beyond the entry of their lair, where the desks were set, tea served and all gathered. Several of their party were still awake, talking about the day’s dig.

Robert…and then she heard Ethan’s voice, asking if the young men needed anything before he retired for the night.

David’s voice sounded, thanking the man, telling him no.

She was startled when Hunter spoke. “Does that bother you?” he inquired. There seemed to be nothing more in his voice than polite curiosity.

“No,” she said flatly, and turned from him, curling toward the wall.

She didn’t know how she could possibly know such a thing, but she was certain that he thought she was lying. She wished that she could tell him that she was not, that she hadn’t even known that people were beyond their little inner sanctum.

But more words wouldn’t have changed anything. He still wouldn’t have believed her.

Besides, she was certain that he didn’t really care.