Page 9

T HERE 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.

I T 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.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

And that was all. He accepted Hunter’s assistance from the carriage, and Ethan helped him to the house. Then Hunter entered the carriage.

He said nothing but stared at her while they waited. In the shadows, it seemed that his look was menacing.

“What?” she whispered, annoyed that the word sounded a little desperate. “I did nothing.”

“I did not suggest that you did.”

Again, he was silent. And she could not bear it.

“He is in danger, I believe,” she said.

“What?”

“David is in danger,” she said firmly.

Hunter let out a sound of impatience and looked toward the house, anxious to be on his way.

He looked back at her suddenly, angry. “You would create a drama where there is none in order to justify your continued obsession.”

She felt as if she had been slapped. She braced herself against the carriage wall, staring at him. “I am creating nothing. When I dragged him from the sea, he looked up and said something about being pushed.”

“Strange, he never mentioned such a thing to anyone else.”

“I know. He pretends he does not remember now.”

“Perhaps he does not remember because it did not happen.”

“All right, Sir Hunter, you tell me how he managed that cut on his forehead tonight! By tripping into the door? That is ludicrous!”

“Did you see or hear anyone else about?” he demanded.

“No,” she admitted. She sat up. “But I told you…the last time I was at the museum, I did hear whispering.”

He sighed, looking away again.

“Hunter, I am telling you, it’s the truth. I heard whispering. I wasn’t exactly…forthcoming because I was so nervous. You see, I had gone…exploring a bit. I looked at your office, and at Lady Carlyle’s. And it was then that someone slipped into the outer office.”

He was staring at her intently. The interior of the carriage was in shadow, but she could feel the rapier sharpness of his eyes. “Many people come in and out of the office.”

“No, but this was…furtive. They were whispering about finding something. And about…the desert being dark, I swear. I believe that David is in danger.”

Ethan had returned. The carriage jerked into motion again. It was so sudden and unexpected that Kat was thrown to the opposite seat, landing right on top of Hunter.

She felt the instant grip of his hands on her, steadying her. She felt the rush of his breath on her face, the searing heat of his body.

He didn’t release her as he said, “You silly girl! I think that you would say or do anything to follow David about, to remain close!”

He still didn’t release her. And she felt as if she’d been glued where she was, unable to break his hold, unable, even, to look away. She was crushed against his chest, between the spread of his thighs, and there was something about the awkward position that seemed to light a fire in her, equal to that he seemed to emit.

Finally, his hold eased ever so slightly. His thumb traced a path over her cheek, down to her lips, treading over them lightly, ending at her chin. She couldn’t breathe.

“No,” she whispered. “It’s truly that—”

“He’s not what you want,” Hunter interrupted.

“I can handle myself, I know it,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Can you? Maybe, because you are playing with nothing but a callow youth? If he were suddenly to cast the world aside to claim you legally and before the masses, you would be sorry, can’t you see that?”

She could not respond, for suddenly, he kissed her. And it was far different from that kiss she had experienced just the night before. Hunter’s lips were firm and possessive from the second they touched hers, creating a thunder of a heartbeat within her chest. They were not light, they did not tease, they were not awkward. His mouth molded to her mouth, created a passionate fusion, and his tongue pushed between her lips, and with liquid fire to it, something intimate and stirring, rousing, liquid, molten. His tongue demanded, sought, and she was startled to feel an immediate response inside her, a desire to allow the demand. There was a hunger in his kiss, vitality, strength, a force of life that seemed to quicken the very soul. She should have been fighting him. She should have been pulling away. But she could not move, in fact, did not wish to move, for she was eager to know more of this ever greater warmth, his hands upon her now, touching her…

Then his mouth lifted from hers. His subsequent words cut deeply into her, stilling the rise of fire.

“Oh, yes. I see that you can handle yourself in the midst of assault!”

“Oh!”

That did it! She shoved hard against his chest, then slammed her hands on his knees to rise, to thrust herself back into the opposite seat. One of her hands slipped, however, landed high on his thigh, touched—

“Oh!” she cried again, struggling for balance. She would have touched him anywhere then, just to escape.

But by then, his hands were on her waist, cleanly lifting her and setting her firmly back in her seat, well away from him.

And at last, blessedly, the carriage came to a halt. Trembling, she wiped the back of her hand over her face. He didn’t notice, for he was already out of the carriage. She shrank back when he reached for her, but he would have none of it. She needn’t have feared. He was obviously anxious to be done with her for the night, lifting her out, setting her down in one rapid motion.

She spun away, still quite speechless, and nearly ran for her front door. It opened, and Maggie was there. Kat tried to still the wild beating of her heart, fearful of betraying the storm of sensation and emotion he had created.

“Good night, Sir Hunter!” Maggie called cheerfully from the door.

She didn’t know if Hunter responded.

In fact, she didn’t even know if Maggie spoke again or closed the door. She raced for the stairs.

“Kat!” Maggie called. “Will y’not be having your dinner?”

“Oh, Maggie, bless you…but no. I’m…um…exhausted, not hungry, thank you.”

“Child! Your father will want to see you!”

“Oh, Maggie, please, beg Papa to understand…I’m just too exhausted!”

And she ran on to her room, still shaking.

Tired, oh, God, yes, she was tired! But could she sleep?

She tried, but tossed and turned all night, still feeling the burn. And something far worse. How could Hunter’s touch have caused this tempest, when David’s had not?

H UNTER DID NOT HAVE TIME to assess his own eddy of emotions because there was a carriage in front of his house when he returned.

Lord Avery had arrived.

He frowned, thinking that he had barely left David Turnberry at the man’s house.

He entered through the side, frowning when he saw Emma Johnson preparing a silver tray with a glass of whiskey.

She shrugged. “His Lordship arrived just a few minutes ago. Would you like a whiskey, too?”

“A very large one,” Hunter said, nodding his thanks and striding through to the parlor.

“Lord Avery,” he said.

The man was agitated, pacing before the fireplace. Emma entered almost right behind Hunter, carrying her tray.

“My thanks, good woman,” Lord Avery said, taking a glass. Emma gave Hunter another look that indicated the man had given her no reason for his arrival, and when Hunter had taken his glass from the tray, she quickly took herself out of the room.

“What is it?” Hunter asked.

“I am torn,” Lord Avery said. “Sorely torn.”

“Mmm, so am I this evening,” Hunter murmured.

“I beg your pardon?”

“No, ’tis nothing. What is your dilemma, Lord Avery?”

The older man swallowed down his whiskey, as Hunter had already done so. They stared at each other with empty glasses.

Lord Avery opened his mouth, then shut it again. He let out a sigh.

“Dear Lord Avery, what is it?”

“I don’t believe that we can bring the girl,” Lord Avery said at last.

“Pardon?”

Lord Avery began pacing again. “Lord knows, Margaret will not make up her mind about anything! So this is surely as much her fault.”

“This…what?” He frowned. Had David Turnberry been in any way sincere? Had he told them tonight that he was in love with the artist’s daughter?

“Hunter, I feel like the most wretched excuse for a peer of Her Majesty’s realm! There is nothing specific, really. Are you blind, my good fellow? That little waif is not just exquisite, she’s like a lava flow! Her every movement, her smile, her eyes… Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe she’s a tart in any way. She’s just…dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Hunter echoed.

He’d thought the same thing himself on occasion. In fact, tonight, on the ride back to his house…

“You’re saying that she’s done nothing,” Hunter said. “But she’s dangerous.”

“I see the way they look at her.”

“They?”

“All those young fellows.” He waved a hand wildly again. “All those fellows Margaret refuses to choose between!”

“Ah.”

“But if I renege, what will her father think? And he is a fine man, a truly fine man. I would dare say that I call him a friend now! Ah, would that the lass who saved the boy’s life have been the sister! Sweet, gentle and more like…well, a little more like a mouse.”

“Is Margaret anxious that Katherine Adair not accompany us?” Hunter asked.

“Margaret adores the girl! She is eager to have her as a companion.”

“Is there really nothing specific that has happened?” Hunter asked.

Lord Avery hesitated. Sighed for at least the tenth time. “Young David. When he came in tonight, he said that she found him on the floor when he had apparently hurt himself. And the way he spoke of her…forgive me for being a father, but that’s what I am. I will not have such competition for my Margaret, and that is that.”

“I see,” Hunter said. And he did. And he had wondered several times himself if there had been a way to ground Kat. When it had all begun, he had thought himself the one in control. He had certainly considered himself to be in control of himself, if nothing else.

But he wasn’t. He was as smitten, or at least as much in lust as every one of the young swains around her were!

So. That was it. Lord Avery had decided. He did not need to be an ogre himself!

And yet…

“You’re forgetting that you did promise her father she would be tutored in art.”

“There must be another tutor.”

“You don’t trust me to look out for her?” Hunter grated his teeth, wondering what the hell he was doing. Did he want to be able to say, without lying, that he had tried his hardest?

No. He wanted to see her. Wanted to touch her, wanted to have her, wanted to quell the fierce desire that shook him to the core. He wanted to believe that she was just a woman, like so many others who had come through his life.

“Sir Hunter! If the woman were your mistress and those chaps knew it, none of them would be brave enough to so much as kiss her cheek! But I know and you must know, she is too young and innocent, as well too well protected by her father, to be a man’s mistress. Hunter, I have so agonized over this!”

“She is also an excellent assistant,” Hunter mused aloud. “She is uncanny with her ability to learn. She can translate intricate pages already.”

Lord Avery paced again. “Can you call Emma for another whiskey?” he demanded.

“Of course,” Hunter said.

And he strode out to the kitchen to find Emma, who was, of course, attempting to eavesdrop.

“Will you bring another round of drinks, please?” he said.

“What? Oh, yes, surely, Sir Hunter!” Emma said.

“You’ll be able to hear us better while you’re doing that, too,” he said, a quirk of humor stirring within him.

“Sir Hunter!” she protested. But then she came to him and whispered indignantly, “You can’t let him do this! Why that lass…she risked her life and asked nothing for it!”

“Mmm,” he said noncommittally.

“Hunter, she is lovely and polite and charming and…you mustn’t let him do this!”

“Thank you, Emma, I’ll bear your thoughts in mind. He is, however, Lord Avery.”

“And he has no expedition without you!”

“I beg to differ. He will have Brian Stirling, Earl of Carlyle, and his countess, and they are both excellent Egyptologists.”

“You are the best! You are the most knowing, you have fought the queen’s wars, you speak the language, you…you know everyone in Cairo.”

“Thank you, Emma. Could you get the drinks, please?”

He strode back into the parlor. He didn’t know how Emma managed to pour the drinks so quickly, but she was right behind him again.

Lord Avery took his. Hunter did the same.

They looked at each other and swallowed them down in a gulp.

They were replaced on the tray.

Emma frowned. “Lord Avery, will you be having another?”

“No, thank you. That’s it. I’ve said what I’ve come to say.”

Emma stared balefully at Hunter.

“That’s all, Emma, thank you,” he said.

With a whish of skirts, she departed. Slowly.

“Lord Avery, let me ponder the situation tonight,” Hunter said.

Lord Avery frowned, but then he nodded. “I do not jest when I say that I am worried. Why…I am worried now for her father! I take responsibility for that girl when we sail. As I would expect the man to look after my child.”

“Sadly, neither are children, Lord Avery.”

“Precisely!”

“Let me think about the right thing to do,” Hunter said.

“Am I a fool?” Lord Avery asked. “I thought it all such a fine idea! And the man, the father, what a true talent! They are innocents, all of them. I’d not hurt them. But I’d also not cause a tear to fall from my daughter’s eyes!”

“I don’t believe that Lady Margaret will be at all upset,” Hunter offered.

“I don’t know,” Lord Avery said. He shook his head. “Perhaps I am blowing this situation all out of proportion… You’re right. A night’s sleep. A night’s sleep may well make sanity of it. Thank you, Hunter, for the suggestion.”

He smiled a brittle smile. “I will take my leave, then. I will talk to you in the morning.”

“Call me at your convenience, Lord Avery.”

“Bah! I hate those gadgets. We’ll talk.”

“We’ve two days before we leave. There’s much still to be done.”

“We’ll talk,” Lord Avery said with assurance, and he turned to depart by the front door.

“Good night, then, my lord,” Hunter said.

And so Lord Avery donned his hat and cape and departed. Hunter took a seat on the crimson sofa.

Emma made an immediate appearance.

“You mustn’t let that poor child be cast out of this!” Emma said.

“Hardly a poor child, ” he murmured.

“Sir Hunter!”

“I’ll have another whiskey, Emma.”

“Humph!”

“In fact, just bring the bottle.”

“Sir Hunter!”

“I’m thinking, Emma.”

“Humph!”

She went to the kitchen, returned with the bottle and another clean glass. His tray, however, did not hold only whiskey. She had seen to it that, despite the hour, he was given a hot supper.

“Sir Hunter, you must eat.”

“Fine!”

And she walked out.

He picked up the bottle and swigged straight from it. The whiskey burned down his throat and into his gullet.

He drank more.

H E BECAME AWARE OF A pounding on his door, and it felt as if someone had taken a hammer to his head.

He groaned and thundered out, “Go away!”

“Sir Hunter!” It was Emma.

“Is there a fire?”

“A fire? No.”

“Then go away!”

For a moment, he thought that he had been left in peace. Then the door to his room opened. He opened an eye slowly. It wasn’t like Emma to just walk in. He slept in nothing but his flesh, and there was no guarantee that the covers would be in a proper position.

But it wasn’t Emma. It was Kat!

Her hair was down, a luxurious fall over her shoulders. She was wearing one of her sister’s perfect concoctions, something with a bodice that enhanced the breasts and made the waist minuscule. For once, her eyes were a soft hazel, guileless, and he knew that she was nervous, that it had taken her a great deal to come into the room.

He groaned, turning into his pillow, offering her the expanse of his back.

“Sir Hunter, please!” she said.

He rolled back, wishing he had forgone the whiskey. And why the whiskey?

Her!

“What?” he demanded.

“You have to help me.”

“No, I don’t.”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Eliza is worried. She said that Lord Avery was very upset when David came in last night, that for some reason it seemed that he was angry with me! I can’t imagine why.”

He stared at her then, at the length of her, at the perfection of her form, the classic beauty of her face, and the wildfire of her hair.

“Nor can I,” he said sarcastically.

“He seems to think that I’m…trouble.”

“You are.”

“What? But I must go on the expedition!” she said.

Ah, yes, she must go. David was going.

“Could you get out of my bedroom, please? As you can see, I’ve not risen.”

“You have to listen to me, please.”

He stared at her. She wasn’t going.

“Excuse me, then.” He rose. He was glad to hear her gasp at his nakedness. He walked across the room to the bathroom, slamming the door.

He poured water and doused his face, needing the cold. He put on the bathrobe hanging on the door.

“Sir Hunter?”

He took his time, brushing his teeth.

At last, he threw open the bathroom door. “Coffee?” he asked.

“It’s outside the door,” she said, swallowing.

“Why don’t you get it?”

“Right away.”

Of course there was coffee. Emma had conspired with the girl. She hurried out, found the waiting tray on the floor and brought it in. “Cream, sugar?” she asked.

“Black.”

She handed him a cup. Her hands were shaking, he noted.

He sipped it, sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at her. Then he shook his head. “What on earth can I do for you?”

She swallowed. “There is a way, I believe.”

He arched a brow. “And that would be?”

“You…um…you’d have to become engaged to me.”