“GOOD DAY, MR. NAZZAL.” Sidney ushered the Egyptian into her room. Her voice was steady, her demeanor serene and she was confident there was no outward sign of the kiss she and Harry had just shared. Nothing to indicate her insides were quivering with what was probably sheer, undeniable desire. Good Lord, if Nazzal hadn’t arrived when he did Harry could have had her right there on the floor. Or she could have had him. For a woman who had not yet lost her virginity, she was more than eager to do so now. It seemed it just took the right man—and the right kiss—to turn a woman who had never given a great deal of thought to longings of the flesh into someone who could think of little else. Undeniable desire was apparently quite a powerful thing. Perhaps it would fade, was no more than a momentary peculiarity, although she doubted it. Pity, there were other pressing matters to attend to first. “I didn’t expect you quite so soon.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gordon, Harry.” Mr. Nazzal nodded a greeting to Harry then addressed Sidney. “I found our quarry much more quickly than I had expected and I knew you were eager to proceed.”
“Wonderful! I don’t know how to thank you.” Sidney beamed.
“Oh, but you do,” Mr. Nazzal said with a smile. “Are you ready?”
“I just need to get my hat and gloves.”
“I beg your pardon,” Harry said, obviously a bit disgruntled. Perhaps that’s what happened when undeniable desire was indeed denied. She bit back a grin. “What does he mean—you know how to thank him? And where are you going? Don’t think for a minute you’re going anywhere without me.”
“Goodness, Harry, we didn’t expect you to be here, did we, Mr. Nazzal?”
“In truth, I suspected he’d be here,” Mr. Nazzal said.
“That’s right.” Sidney’s gaze slid from one man to the other. “The two of you had a little chat without me.”
“I assure you, Mrs. Gordon—”
“Sidney, it really wasn’t—”
“It’s of no consequence.” She waved them quiet. “Harry, I never intended to do this without you.” She drew her brows together. “Well, actually I had intended to do this part without you until I saw you lurking in the streets rather than enjoying a day on the Nile.”
Mr. Nazzal snorted in amusement and tried to hide it with a bad pretense of a cough.
“Yes, well, good. I am part of this now, you know, and I do not intend to be left behind,” Harry said firmly then paused. “Where are we going?”
“Whenever my grandparents were in Egypt, they employed the same man—a Mr. Bishara—to serve as guide, interpreter and general superintendent.” She picked up her hat and stepped to the wall mirror to adjust it. Aside from a slight flush in her cheeks—which was rather becoming—there was no evidence at all that a few minutes ago she was more than willing to throw herself into bed with Harry Armstrong. She pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time but later... “He managed all their trips, expeditions and digs, arranged transportation and hired workers. They trusted him implicitly. They had a long and beneficial relationship for nearly a quarter of a century.” She turned toward them and pulled on her gloves. “According to Grandmother’s journal, he was with them when they found the cache of artifacts in question. He was charged with drawing a map and marking directions, some way to locate the cave again. It was the sort of thing he did routinely.”
Harry glanced at Mr. Nazzal. “Don’t you see any problems here?”
Mr. Nazzal shrugged. “I am an eternal optimist.”
“Then let me spell them out.” Harry ticked the points off on his fingers. “First—this must have been a good thirty years ago. You don’t even know if Bishara is still alive.”
“He is,” Mr. Nazzal said. “He is old but still breathing.”
“And we are going to see him.” Sidney nodded. “Now.”
“Then let me rephrase—you don’t know that he’ll be able to remember any of this.”
“We don’t know that he won’t. It’s a chance well worth taking I’d say.” Sidney sighed. “Really, Harry, is all this explanation necessary?”
“Yes,” he snapped.
“Well, go on, then.” She gestured impatiently. “I assume there’s more?”
Harry nodded. “As I said, it’s been thirty years. That cache may be long gone by now.”
“It could have been long gone hundreds of years ago and yet no one ever found it.” There was something wickedly enjoyable about countering Harry’s overly rational points. “Now, are you finished?”
“No.” Harry huffed. “Even if we manage to find this cave, in the desert, after thirty years of sandstorms and who knows what else and the cache is still there, and we find the pectoral and put the medallion back in the larger piece, that doesn’t mean it will indeed then give the location of a city that vanished more than three thousand years ago.”
“Yes, but it might. Goodness, Harry. Isn’t the unknown part of adventure? Isn’t not knowing what makes it so much fun?”
Harry stared at her for a long moment. He had the distinct look of a man trying to come to terms with himself. Or perhaps with the past. Or possibly deciding to move forward.
“Well?” She was doing this whether he joined her or not. Without thinking she straightened her shoulders. Millicent would do it alone if she had to and so would Sidney. But the idea of doing it with Harry made it much less terrifying. Even Millicent would be a bit daunted by the task ahead.
“Very well.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Let’s go find your lost city.”
Now there was the man she loved. Richard Weatherly couldn’t have done it better. She knew all along Harry would—
The man she loved?
It was pointless to deny it. How long had she known she’d fallen madly, passionately in love with the annoying, arrogant, amusing, decent man? Did she realize it just now when he’d truly kissed her for no other reason than he wanted to? Or did she know the moment he mistook one of the ladies for her at the docks in London? Did she know it always?
Harry glanced at Mr. Nazzal. “And what do you get out of this?”
“Aside from being a witness to the solving of a centuries-old mystery?” Mr. Nazzal asked. “Any objects recovered will, of course, remain in Egypt—which was never up for discussion at any rate although Mrs. Gordon has graciously agreed to give up any claim based on her grandparents’ original discovery. For which she has my thanks.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Not that she would have made such a claim but it was nice to be thanked.
“If the pectoral does indeed reveal the location of Itjtawy, any excavation attempted will be under the supervision of Egyptian archeologists,” Mr. Nazzal continued. “Mrs. Gordon will be part of it if she wishes and you as well if you’d like.”
“Yes, that does sound like an adventure,” Harry said wryly.
She beamed. “Then we should be off.”
* * *
HAD HE ASKED—Sidney would have told Harry she had every confidence he could find the residence of the family of Ahmed Bishara without any assistance and it was not at all necessary for Mr. Nazzal to accompany them. Fortunately, he did not ask and Sidney was grateful for Mr. Nazzal’s guidance. In no time at all, they had maneuvered their way through narrow, winding streets in one of the oldest areas of the city and were sitting with Mr. Bishara in his son’s house.
She guessed Mr. Bishara was probably the same age as Effie, Gwen and Poppy, somewhere in his late seventies, but he might have been centuries older. Wizened was the only word Sidney could think of to describe him, as if years spent in the desert had sucked all the moisture from his body. He wore a patch over one eye and tended to cackle more than laugh. She did wish she spoke some Arabic beyond yawm jayid, “good day,” and shujraan, “thank you.” It was beyond frustrating to listen to Mr. Nazzal speak with Mr. Bishara and not know exactly what was being said. Harry did seem to understand most of it—at least he nodded and occasionally asked a question. Evidently he was more fluent in Arabic than he had previously admitted. They had agreed it would be best to let Mr. Nazzal handle the discussion as Mr. Bishara might be more forthcoming with a fellow countryman. Sidney could do little more than sip the bitter coffee she’d grown to like during her stay in Egypt and try to appear as if she could follow what was being discussed.
Finally, Mr. Nazzal turned to her. “My apologies, Mrs. Gordon. Mr. Bishara has lived a long and interesting life and seems to enjoy a new audience for his stories.”
“Understandable.” Sidney smiled at the old man. “Does he remember my grandparents?”
“Quite fondly, it seems,” Mr. Nazzal began. “On their last exploration, the one where they found the hidden cache in the cave, there was an unfortunate accident. One of the workers was badly injured. Bishara did not say exactly how.” He glanced at the older man who beamed a toothless grin. “Regardless, that led to the rumor that the objects had been cursed by the tomb robbers who had originally hidden them. Nonsense, of course, but those working for your grandparents refused to have anything to do with the find.”
“Which is probably why your grandparents left it, intending to return on their next trip,” Harry added.
Sidney nodded.
Mr. Nazzal continued. “Mr. Bishara, however, being a sensible man, thought it was nonsense and after your grandparents left Egypt, returned to the cave and took the artifacts.”
“Did he?” Sidney raised a brow.
“You must understand, Mrs. Gordon, he was very aware that if he did not collect the cache, others who had worked for your grandparents would. In addition, he had a family to support and he was getting older as were your grandparents.” Mr. Nazzal shrugged. “He could not be certain they would return or that they would continue his employment.”
“He then sold the items a piece at a time, so as not to arouse suspicion,” Harry said. “He separated the medallion from the pectoral because he could sell two pieces and make twice as much.”
“Of course,” Sidney murmured.
“It was after he sold the medallion that he had a streak of misfortune. Among other things he broke his leg and lost his eye.” Mr. Nazzal turned to Mr. Bishara and asked him something. The old man responded in an animated manner then flipped his eye patch up, apparently to show his missing eye and indeed there was nothing but an empty socket. Sidney tried not to wince but her stomach was not as cooperative. The Egyptian replaced his patch with a slight smirk. One couldn’t help but wonder if he rather enjoyed the response to his missing eye and this was a parlor trick for him. “That led him to believe the pectoral was indeed cursed. He’d already sold everything else but he returned that piece to the cave.”
“I can see why he might think that,” Sidney said weakly and was glad they hadn’t brought the medallion along.
Mr. Nazzal again spoke to the old man who shrugged and barked a command to one of the ladies lingering in the shadows of the room. She left at once but returned a moment later and handed him a yellowed scrap of paper. He passed it to Mr. Nazzal.
“Fortunately, Bashir is nothing if not practical. He kept directions to the cave.” Mr. Nazzal handed the paper to Sidney, who glanced at it briefly, long enough to note it was indeed a map but crudely drawn and worn, then passed it to Harry.
Harry studied the fragile scrap for a moment then folded it and put it in his pocket. He exchanged a few words with Mr. Bishara, who occasionally gestured at Sidney, and directed some comments toward Mr. Nazzal, a distinct warning in his tone. One didn’t need to speak the language to understand—the old man thought the medallion was cursed. Better not to let him know they had it although she was fairly certain Mr. Nazzal had already come to that conclusion. A few minutes later, they took their leave.
Harry suggested it might be best not to discuss any of this until they were safely back at the hotel as one never knew who might overhear. He cast her a pointed glance as he said it and she smiled innocently in return. It was a short enough ride but it did seem like forever. She could barely contain her excitement. This could lead them to the lost capital of Egypt. Sidney had always thought she was a patient sort but apparently, at the moment at least, she was wrong.
“Well?” she said as soon as she closed the door to her suite behind them. Her gaze shifted from Harry to Mr. Nazzal and back. “Will we be able to find this cave or not?”
“Possibly.” Caution edged Harry’s voice. He unfolded the map and spread it on the desk.
It didn’t look like any map she had ever seen but was a disjointed collection of squiggles and lines and arrows and in the corner, the face of a clock. Even so, she refused to be discouraged. Fortunately, it seemed to make sense to Harry and Mr. Nazzal. And they did have her grandmother’s drawing of the cave.
“There’s enough on this map to give it a try,” Harry said at last.
“Excellent.” She resisted the urge to bounce up and down like an overexcited child. “When?”
“We do need to study this more carefully, along with the latest maps of the area. Give some consideration as to the best way to get there and back. Purchase a few supplies.” Harry thought for a minute. “It’s not that far from Cairo. Somewhere in the region between Dahshur and the ancient site of Memphis.”
“When, Harry?”
“What do you think, Nazzal? Can we manage it by, I don’t know—” Harry grinned “—tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Sidney widened her eyes. “I think tomorrow sounds perfect.”
“I can assist with whatever you need,” Mr. Nazzal said.
Sidney glanced at the Egyptian. “You’re not coming?”
“It’s not really the sort of thing I do.” Mr. Nazzal shrugged and turned to Harry. “You should leave no later than dawn. Do you think you’ll need to set up camp?”
“Best to be prepared for anything, I think,” Harry said, and the men launched into a detailed discussion of what might be needed. Mr. Nazzal pulled out a notebook, made a quick copy of the map and jotted notes as they talked.
Sidney paid as much attention as possible given she was bursting with excitement. Tomorrow, with a great deal of luck, she would recover at least part of her grandmother’s last find. It seemed only fitting for Sidney’s own grand adventure to be a legacy of sorts of the woman who had started her down this path.
“I think that’s it, then.” Harry folded the map, blew a long breath then cast her a wicked grin. “Tomorrow, Sidney, we might just find out if this is nothing more than a wild-goose chase or something quite significant.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Mr. Nazzal said. “You might want to consider what to tell your friends. I assume you’re not going to want them to accompany you.”
Sidney shook her head. “I wouldn’t think so.”
“And we definitely don’t want Corbin along,” Harry added firmly.
Mr. Nazzal stepped to the door and pulled it open, then turned to her. “I nearly forgot. You might be interested in something else Bashir mentioned about your grandparents.”
“Yes, of course.”
“He said your grandfather, while quite competent and knowledgeable and recognized as the head of their excursions, was not the one behind any of their discoveries.” He grinned. “It was your grandmother.” With that he took his leave.
Harry smiled. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t it all wonderful?” Without thinking, Sidney threw herself into Harry’s arms and laughed. “Quite, quite wonderful.”
“Well, yes. I would say it’s wonderful.” He chuckled and his arms slid around her waist. Even finding a lost city paled in comparison to the feel of Harry Armstrong’s arms around her. There was little better in life than Harry holding her close. “You do realize this is a long shot. Even with this map, there are a lot of caves. The chances we will find this cave are slim.”
“Yes, but we might.”
“And even if we do, the possibility that the pectoral is still there after thirty years is remote.”
“But it could be.”
“And should we be lucky enough to find the cave and the artifact, there’s no guarantee that it will provide so much as vague clues about the location of Itjtawy.”
“Good Lord, Harry.” She drew her brows together. “Sometimes the quest alone is enough. The journey is more significant than the destination. The ends aren’t nearly as important as the means.”
“That’s all very well and good but I want you to be prepared if this doesn’t work out as you want it to.”
“Oh, I’ll be terribly disappointed if this is all for nothing. But isn’t risk part of it?”
“I suppose it depends—” his tone was abruptly somber, the look in his eyes intense “—on what you’re risking.”
Her breath caught. “It certainly wouldn’t be much of a risk if...” His gaze searched hers, his gray eyes the color of an oncoming storm. “If...what I mean...well...if what you’re risking...”
“What are you risking?”
“Everything,” she whispered and pulled his head to hers.
His lips met hers in a gentle exploration that melted her insides and weakened her knees. Her mouth opened to his eagerly and he responded in kind. She wanted to taste him. To touch him. And dear Lord, she wanted him to touch her.
Her arms tightened around him and she pressed herself closer to him. She could feel the hard heat of his body through his clothes and hers. He slanted his mouth over hers, hard and demanding and she demanded in return. All sense of restraint and caution shattered. This was what wanting a man meant—this overwhelming need for his lips and his touch and more. Need that claimed and swept her away.
The world—her world—distorted, shifted to a fog of sensation and desire. Of lips and hands, of tugging and pulling and the distinct sound of something tearing. Within moments, Sidney had nothing on but her corset and chemise, her clothes discarded, tossed on the floor or the chairs or who knew where. She wasn’t sure how it happened and, aside from a twinge of trepidation when she realized his coat and shirt were gone as well, found she didn’t care. Her back pressed against the wall and the moment her breasts flattened against his bare skin she shivered with the remarkable feeling of the solid muscles of his chest pressed against her. The hard length of him nudged between her thighs and there was yet another twinge of trepidation. She had no idea when he’d discarded his trousers. Claiming to be knowledgeable about what truly transpired between a man and a woman was a far cry from actually being engaged in such a thing.
He pulled his lips from hers to kiss the side of her neck, his mouth trailing ever lower. She moaned. A tiny still-rational voice somewhere in the back of her head whispered she could call a halt to all this if she wanted to. He sank down before her and cupped her breasts in his hands, caressing and teasing. He took her breast in his mouth and she was lost. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. He teased and tormented first one tightened nipple then the next and she marveled that she hadn’t slid down the wall to puddle in a molten mass of sensation at his feet. And oh dear Lord, she wanted more.
Time stretched, slowed, blurred. Nothing existed save the feel of his mouth, his hands, his flesh beneath her fingers. He trailed kisses down her stomach and slid his hand between her legs. She cried out when he touched her, the intensity beyond anything she’d ever felt. He stroked her until her breath came in short gasps and an awful joyous yearning threatened to tear her apart.
Harry rose to his feet, his body sliding against hers. She ran her hands over the hard ridges and valleys of his back and his neck and his arms and wondered at the heat of him. Searing her body and reaching into her soul.
Her leg entwined around his and his erection slid between her thighs. She could feel him slick against her and realized with an odd sense of satisfaction that was her doing. Any lingering doubt vanished.
He slid his hands behind her to cup her buttocks and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer. He slid into her slowly, the feeling odd yet not unpleasant, and she urged him on. Longing that was almost frantic gripped her. She needed him, wanted him joined with her, united with her, one with her. And she wanted him now. She dug her heels into his backside. He pushed deeper and then stopped and stared down at her.
“Sidney, is it at all possible that you’ve never—”
“Do you really want to discuss this now?” Her voice was breathless and she rocked against him. “Now?”
“Now seems the appropriate time.”
“Not to me!” Oh Lord, this was so extraordinary.
“Sidney, if there’s something—”
“Do shut up, Harry.” She captured his mouth with hers and pressed hard with her heels. She gasped against his mouth. The ladies were right—it did sting a bit. And her inner core throbbed with his invasion.
Harry paused and Sidney’s heart swelled. The man knew without words that she needed a moment. Slowly he began to move within her. Her discomfort eased, mellowed, transformed. With every stroke, the sort of pleasure she’d never known, never suspected grew more and more intense, claiming her senses, narrowing her very existence to nothing more than spiraling need. Her fingers dug into his back and she urged him on. She vaguely noted odd whimpering sounds of sheer pleasure and realized they came from her. Somewhere, deep inside, a spring wound tighter and tighter and she feared its release. And ached for it. Craved it. Demanded it. He thrust into her faster and harder, and her body rocked against his in response, driven by unyielding desire and newfound passion. He groaned against her and his body shuddered and he thrust again and again. And when she thought surely she would die of the taut, increasing tension within her, release exploded through her. She shook with the power of it and cried out and clung to him. Unimagined pleasure, absolute and all-consuming, swept through her, claimed her body and marked her soul. And she marveled that she could survive such sheer, unadulterated joy. And more that she had found it in the arms of the man she had not been inclined to even like but instead grew to love. The annoying, arrogant, wonderful man.
And realized finding a lost city might not be the greatest adventure ahead.