“WE NEED TO TALK,” Harry said the moment he had deposited her onto the bed. How thoughtful of him to pick her up and carry her to the bed. She would have been quite happy to remain a disheveled heap sagging against the wall. It wasn’t as if she could walk on her own. Every bone in her body seemed to have dissolved into a quivering state of spent ecstasy.
“Do we really?” All she really wanted to do was curl up like a contented cat in the sunlight. Preferably, with Harry wrapped around her.
“Yes, we really do.”
“Very well, then.” She heaved a frustrated sigh, moved to the side of the bed and got to her feet.
“What are you doing?”
“From the tone of your voice I gather we are about to have a discussion of a stern nature. Unless I’m wrong?” she added hopefully.
“I would say that’s fairly accurate.”
“Well I’m not going to have such a discussion clad in my chemise and corset. It’s...undignified.”
The corners of his mouth quirked upward. “We would hate to be undignified.”
She started to unhook the front of her corset then paused. “Turn around, if you will.”
“That’s ridiculous. There’s little left that I haven’t seen.” He grinned. “And you do realize I’m naked.”
“Indeed you are.” Her gaze traveled over him. She might well be inexperienced in such matters but Harry Armstrong did strike her as a fine figure of a man.
He cleared his throat and her gaze jumped back to his. “Perhaps you could hand me my trousers.”
“I suppose I could. But first—” she fluttered her fingers at him “—turn around.”
“Very well.” He huffed and turned his back to her. The man had the backside of a marble statue. Greek or Roman—she really couldn’t decide. It was all she could do to keep from reaching out and running her hands over his bottom, but he would probably not take that well as he did have a discussion of a stern nature planned. “This is absurd.”
“I don’t care.” She finished with her corset and pulled off her chemise, torn in more than one place. She bit back a grin. Sidney Honeywell’s chemise torn in a fit of passion. Who would have imagined such a thing? She found her robe at the foot of the bed and shrugged it on. “Do you still want your trousers?”
“That would be nice.”
“Very well.” She glanced around the room. Clothes were scattered everywhere. Goodness, it looked like the setting of a French farce. She located his trousers under a table and fetched them for him.
“Now perhaps you would turn around.”
“I don’t think so, Harry. I’m rather enjoying the view.”
“I was rather enjoying the view and you made me turn around.” He stepped into his trousers. He really did have an excellent backside.
“I know. Dreadfully unfair of me,” she said and sat on the edge of the bed.
He buttoned his trousers and turned toward her. “Tell me more about your dead husband.”
“Now?” Oh dear, she did hope he didn’t think he was being clever. Or subtle.
“Yes.”
“It seems rather inappropriate.”
“He’s dead.” Harry shrugged. “I daresay he won’t mind.”
“Still I scarcely think—” She rose to her feet. He stepped in front of her, his eyes narrowed and she reluctantly sat back down and sighed. “What would you like to know?”
“Where did you meet?”
“Oh, you know, out and about.” She waved vaguely. Admitting the truth about her alleged widowhood was only a scant step away from admitting the truth about her stories. She wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “One never remembers those sorts of silly details.”
“Every woman I’ve ever known has remembered those sorts of silly details.”
“Then I’m unique.” She cast him her brightest smile. “How delightful.”
“How long were you betrothed?”
“Hardly any time at all.” Good Lord, he had a lot of questions and each one came faster than the last.
“Where were you married?”
“London.” The man was engaged in his own version of the Inquisition.
“What was his name?”
“Charles,” she said and sent a silent thanks to her friends as she surely couldn’t remember any other name right now.
“Where did you live?”
“London.” She was saying the first thing that came to mind but so far, the answers required no particular effort.
“When were you married?”
“I’ve never been good with dates.” These questions were coming entirely too quickly. She barely had any time to come up with acceptable answers.
“How old was he?”
“Older than I.”
“How did he die.”
“Eaten by crocodiles,” she said without thinking and winced.
“Last night you said he wasn’t eaten by crocodiles.”
“Did I?” she said innocently and shook her head. “It can be quite confusing and—”
“You said he drowned.”
“Well, he did.” She searched for something clever to say and could find nothing. “While he was being eaten.”
“That must have been most distressing.”
“You have no idea.” She buried her face in her hands. “I try not to talk about it.”
For a long moment he didn’t say anything and she thought perhaps he might just let this subject drop.
“You’ve never been married at all, have you, Mrs. Gordon?”
“For you to question my marriage as if it never happened and to malign poor, dear dead Charles...” She forced a sob that sounded horribly like a hiccup.
“Sidney.” A warning sounded in his voice and the bed on either side of her dipped. Even without looking, she knew he’d trapped her between his arms. Knew if she raised her head she’d be looking straight into his gray eyes. Knew it was past time to admit to what he had obviously determined. “Sidney?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve never done this before.”
“I beg your pardon.” Even so, there was no need to make it easy for him. She snapped her head up and met his gaze directly. “Never done what before?”
“A man does tend to notice that sort of thing, you know.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Obviously you’ve never been with a man and I doubt you’ve ever been married. Is your name even Gordon?”
“Of course.” She paused. “Well, one of them.” She blew a resigned breath. “Sidney Althea Gordon Honeywell. Delighted to meet you.”
“Miss Sidney Honeywell.” He grinned. “I like it. Dare I ask why you’re pretending to be a widow?”
“Mr. Cadwallender thought it was for the best.”
“Imagine my surprise.”
“Now that that’s settled.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down onto the bed.
“Nothing is settled,” he growled against her skin but didn’t pull away.
“Really, Harry?” She nuzzled his neck. He moaned softly and she grinned. “Nothing?”
“There’s more we need to discuss,” he said in a ragged voice.
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Isn’t there anything else you wish to confess?”
“Not really.” She nibbled at his earlobe and his body tensed against hers. “I think there are other things we could do.”
He rolled over until she was beneath him looking up into his eyes. “I think...” He stared down at her.
“Yes, Harry.” She adopted what she hoped was a sultry tone. It wasn’t difficult. She wanted him again as much as he wanted her. At least judging from the obvious evidence. And it would no doubt be great fun to try it lying down. She rubbed her leg against his. “What do you think?”
“Bloody hell, Miss Honeywell.” It was fascinating to watch the look in a man’s eyes change from determined to aroused. “You are damn near irresistible.”
She giggled. “Thank you, Mr. Armstrong.”
He hesitated. “About that.”
“What? Isn’t Harry Armstrong your real name?”
“Well yes, of course, but—”
“I told you mine. If you have another name I should very much like to hear it.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Sidney, are you in there?” Effie’s voice sounded from the other side of the door.
“Good God!” she whispered, a distinct sense of panic fluttering in her stomach. “They’re back. I didn’t expect them so soon. What time is it?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced around. “My watch is here somewhere.”
“They can’t find you here!”
His brow furrowed. “There’s no other way out except for the window.”
“Well, then—” She waved at the window.
“Absolutely not.” He stared at her. “I am not sneaking out a window.”
“Very well.” She pushed him aside and stood. “Then hide.”
“Sidney?” Gwen called. “How are you feeling?”
Harry groaned. “It’s all three of them, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course, they always travel in a pack.” She raised her voice. “Sorry, one moment please.” Sidney scrambled around the room collecting various items of clothing.
Harry just stood there looking rather stupidly helpless. “Where am I supposed to go?”
She thrust the bundle of clothes at him. “Under the bed.”
He shook his head. “I’m not hiding under the bed.”
“You do have a lot of objections for a man with no ideas!” She frantically scanned the room. “In the bedroom, then, and I’ll close the curtains.” She pushed him toward the bedroom, then yanked the curtains closed behind him. “Don’t make a sound, don’t even move. I’ll try to keep their visit as brief as possible.”
“Sidney?” Poppy said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, quite all right.” Sidney sprinted to the door, cast one last look around—it would have to do—drew a deep breath then pulled the door open. “How was the Nile?”
“Oh, you know. Endless, eternal, that sort of thing.” Gwen and the other ladies filed into the room and immediately took positions on the sofa, apparently intending to stay.
Effie studied her closely. “Were you sleeping?”
“Oh, not really,” she said weakly and sat on a nearby chair. “Just resting.”
“She does look a bit flushed, don’t you think?” Poppy said with a frown. “I do hope you haven’t caught some sort of rare disease. One never knows what might start with a headache.”
“What are you talking about?” Effie stared at her friend. “She wasn’t feeling the least bit poorly—remember? She simply wanted us to get Harry and Daniel out of her way.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot.” Poppy frowned. “Still, I do think she looks rather flushed.”
“She does at that.” Gwen cast her a thoughtful look then continued. “I am sorry but Harry managed to evade us. He can be quite clever when he puts his mind to it. Did you do what you needed to do?”
Sidney nodded. “I did.”
“And?” Effie prompted.
“And...” Sidney said slowly. She wasn’t entirely sure how much to say. She trusted all three ladies implicitly but they did have an appalling tendency to say things without thinking. “And I shall need your help again tomorrow.”
Eagerness sparkled in Gwen’s eyes. “What do you want us to do?”
“I won’t know for certain until we hear from Mr. Nazzal but I imagine you will have to keep Daniel occupied.”
“Oh good. That’s always fun.” Poppy grinned. “The man gets so delightfully inconvenienced.”
“What are you and Harry up to, dear?” Effie asked pleasantly.
There was no point to protest Harry’s involvement. The ladies knew he wasn’t with them today. If it wasn’t for these friends, Sidney wouldn’t be in Egypt at all. She wouldn’t be on the greatest adventure of her life. And she never would have met Harry. They deserved to know everything. She caught a faint flutter of the curtain out of the corner of her eye. Well, not everything.
“Very well, then. It goes without saying not a word of this leaves this room,” she said firmly.
Effie and Gwen leveled the exact same warning look at Poppy.
“You needn’t look at me like that.” Indignation rang in Poppy’s voice. “I’m not the only one who speaks out of turn. Why, I can name any number of times—”
“We’re sure you can but now is perhaps not the best time.” Gwen cast her friend a conciliatory smile. “Sidney has something to tell us.” She paused then raised her voice. “Harry, did you want to join us or are you happy where you are?”
Sidney bit her lip. She wasn’t sure if she wished to laugh or cry.
“I’m fine where I am, thank you,” Harry said at last. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
Effie leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Difficult to do with his bare feet sticking out from under the curtains and the light from the window silhouetting him rather perfectly.”
“And there’s a stocking hanging from the sconce,” Poppy added.
“Now, then,” Sidney said firmly, “do you want to hear this or not?”
The ladies nodded.
Sidney quickly explained about the medallion and the pectoral, about Mr. Bishara and her grandmother’s journal. When she was done, all three ladies stared. For a moment, none of them said a word—obvious testament to their disbelief.
“Good heavens, Sidney.” Gwen shook her head. “This is a venture worthy of Millicent Forester herself.”
Poppy beamed. “And how brilliant of you to have figured it all out.”
Effie reached forward and patted Sidney’s hand. “Your grandmother would be quite proud of you, my dear girl.”
Sidney wasn’t certain but she could have sworn Effie’s eyes misted with tears. Sidney’s certainly did. She blinked hard and sniffed. “Thank you, Aunt Effie.”
She drew a steadying breath. “You do realize, this is all highly speculative. We might not find the cave or the pectoral could be gone. Any number of things could go wrong.”
“But you do intend to try?” Gwen asked.
“Of course.”
“That’s all one can ever ask, dear.” Gwen nodded then she and the others rose to their feet. “Now, we need to freshen up and change for dinner.”
“Yes, well, we shall see you at dinner, then,” Sidney said with relief and ushered them toward the door.
Gwen paused at the door, glanced at the curtains and raised her voice. “You do understand this sort of indiscretion calls for marriage, don’t you, Harry? Nothing else will do.”
“I am aware of my obligations.”
“While there is no official connection, do keep in mind we consider Sidney to be family just as much as we feel that way about each other,” Effie said in a hard tone. “We will not look kindly upon anyone who does not do right by her.”
Sidney bit back a groan. “Ladies, you really do need—”
“Do not think this a threat, Harry,” Poppy called. “We would never threaten anyone. You may, however, consider it a promise.”
“I understand that, ladies.” Surely that was not amusement in Harry’s voice. Surely he was smarter than that.
“See that you do, Harry.” Effie smiled at Sidney and at last she and the others took their leave.
The door closed behind them and Harry called from behind the curtains. “Are they gone?”
“Yes.”
He stepped out from his hiding place and grinned. “I thought they’d never leave.”
“Neither did I,” she said absently. Now that they were gone and she had a moment to think, she wasn’t at all sure she liked what she was thinking. Or what she had heard. “You should go as well. I do need to dress for dinner.”
Caution sounded in his voice. “Is something wrong?”
“What could possibly be wrong?”
“I have no idea.”
She turned away from him, as much to give herself the opportunity to think without being distracted as to give him a measure of privacy to dress.
A few minutes later, he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the side of her neck. “Until dinner, then.”
She nodded.
Behind her he hesitated then apparently decided discretion was indeed the better part of valor and took his leave.
How could everything be so wonderful one moment and so dreadful the next? Sidney probably wasn’t being the least bit fair but she didn’t care. She didn’t need Harry Armstrong’s protection and she had no desire to be anyone’s obligation.
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU think you’re doing?” Sidney said as Harry locked the door to her room and proceeded to pull off his tie. The last thing she wanted in her room right now was Harry. She’d tried to avoid speaking unnecessarily to him at dinner although it was nearly impossible as they all sat at the same table. Immediately after dinner, Mr. Nazzal had arrived to discuss tomorrow’s arrangements and they had adjourned to her rooms. The Egyptian left a few moments ago. “I thought you were leaving?”
“I don’t know why you thought that. I am going to have another miserable night’s sleep on the sofa of torture as I did last night. As I will do every night until that medallion is out of your hands.” He glanced around. “Where did you hide it?”
She nodded at the chest of drawers.
He grinned. “You said it wasn’t in the chest of drawers.”
“It wasn’t.” She shrugged. “Now it is.”
He took off his cuff links and set them on a table. “I was rather hoping I wouldn’t have to sleep on the sofa tonight.” He glanced pointedly at the bed.
“We have an important day tomorrow that’s certain to be quite strenuous and I would like to sleep tonight.” She nodded and moved to the bedroom, yanking the curtains closed behind her. She had no desire to talk to him at the moment. In truth she wasn’t at all certain how she felt. Or rather what to do about how she felt. It was most confusing. She was certainly upset and somewhat hurt as well. And apparently angry.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“I really have nothing to say.”
“You’ve been saying nothing all night.” Frustration sounded in his voice. “I know you’re angry with me, as does everyone else who was with us this evening, but I can’t fix the problem until I know what it is. At least tell me what I’ve done!”
“Good night, Harry.”
“I don’t think this is the least bit amusing, Sidney.”
“Then we have that in common.”
Sidney struggled to get her evening gown off but she’d decided against calling for a maid with Harry in the room. Under other circumstances, she might ask him for help but then one thing would lead to another. She shivered at the mere thought of one thing leading to another. How on earth could she want the man this badly when her heart felt like a leaden weight in her chest? An obligation? Hadn’t she taken care of her mother, managed their household, studied everything she could find about Egypt and then become a rousingly successful writer? That was not the kind of woman who was anyone’s obligation. Damn the man—she was Queen of the blasted Desert! She threw on her night things, snapped off the light and fell into bed.
“It’s no fun arguing by yourself, you know,” Harry called after a few minutes of silence.
She refused to say anything. Hopefully he’d think she was asleep, not that she thought he would. Besides, she had no idea what to say. On one hand—it did seem rather unfair to fault the man for doing what was expected of him. Of being willing to do the right thing. On the other—an obligation was not how one wanted to be regarded by the man one loved.
“Can we at least talk in the morning?”
Not that he had done anything at all yet. He certainly hadn’t offered to make an honest woman of her. Marriage had not been mentioned. Nor had she expected it. She really hadn’t thought about it one way or the other. Still, when one has fallen head over heels for a man, one did tend to hope that he felt the same way about you. One certainly did not want to hear that he considered you an obligation.
An obligation? That was even worse than kissing her out of necessity.
She tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity but was probably no more than an hour or so. She wasn’t going to get any sleep like this. It was pointless to even try. Nor did it seem right that the cause of her restlessness was probably having no problem sleeping at all. What nerve of the man! She threw off the covers, stalked to the curtains and flung them aside. “An obligation? You think of me as an obligation?”
“What?” His groggy voice sounded from the sofa.
“You’re asleep?” How could he possibly sleep when she was so upset? How...inconsiderate!
“What?”
She flipped on the overhead light and took a measure of satisfaction in the way he cringed in the brightness. She at least was prepared.
“I don’t want to be your obligation, Harry. I want—well, I’m not sure what I want but I don’t want to be someone you’re with out of duty or expectations.” She raised her chin. “And I certainly don’t need to be.”
He rose stiffly from the sofa and a twinge of guilt stabbed her. She ignored it. “What are you talking about?”
“Right here in this very room, you told Effie and Gwen and Poppy you were aware of your obligations.”
He blinked at her. “That’s what you’re angry about?”
“I don’t want to be an obligation.” She knew she was repeating herself but it did seem to be a pertinent point. “Not to anyone but especially not to you. I have made my own way in the world, for the most part, for years. Why, for the first time in my life, I haven’t had to concern myself about money—money I earned on my own. Some of us don’t have fortunes and wealthy uncles you know.”
“You’re mad, you do realize that.” He stepped closer. She didn’t like the look in his eye.
She stepped back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He ignored her. “Fortunately for you—” he scooped her into his arms and started toward the bed “—I like a touch of insanity.”
“I assure you, I’m completely rational!”
“You are a lunatic, Sidney Honeywell.” He dumped her on the bed and she scrambled under the covers. She had obviously pushed him too far. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. “For future reference—not that I expect you to be in a situation even remotely comparable to this for the rest of your days—the things a man says to an old lady who is demanding he make an honest woman out of the woman he loves while he’s hiding behind a curtain, half-dressed, should be taken not only with a grain of salt but the entire salt cellar!”
She stared.
“As for you being my obligation, yes, you’re my obligation. You became my obligation the moment I realized I couldn’t live without you.” He shook his head in obvious disbelief then sat on the bed and removed his socks. “And I refuse to sleep on that blasted sofa again!”
“I see.” This was certainly something to consider. Not that she really needed to do so. Her heart warmed, her ire vanished and she held her breath. “Would you say that again?”
“Which part?” He stood and unbuttoned his trousers.
“The good part.”
“The part about my not being able to live without you?” Harry stepped out of his trousers, slipped into bed and pulled her into his arms. She toyed with the idea of resisting but it seemed pointless. And stupid.
“Yes, well, that was good,” she murmured. “But not that part.”
“Then perhaps you want to hear the part where I said a man should not be held accountable for comments made while he’s hiding behind curtains.”
“Also good but not exactly the part I was curious about.”
“I can’t think of anything else—”
“Good Lord, Harry.” She twisted out of his grasp, sat up and glared at him. “You know exactly what part I’m talking about.”
His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “I’m really not sure.”
“Are you truly trying to drive me mad?”
“I told you I like a little insanity.” He grinned and drew her back into his arms. “In the women I love.” He paused. “Although that’s not entirely true.”
“It’s not?” Her heart froze.
“No.” He chose his words with care. “I used the word women which is not accurate. I have never said that word to any woman.”
“Which word? Women?” she said innocently.
“No, not women.” He studied her suspiciously. “You know what word I’m talking about.
“Say it, Harry.”
“I said it once.”
“Not to me.”
“I said it about you.”
She shook her head. “Not the same.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re teasing me, Miss Honeywell.”
“Indeed I am, Mr. Armstrong. It’s a great deal of fun.”
“I can think of something even more fun.” He ran his hands along her side and tried to inch up her gown. “However, if you don’t take this shroud with its endless yards of fabric off right now I shall have to rip it off.”
“Harry!” She didn’t know if she should be appalled or thrilled. Or a little of both. She grinned. “Would you?”
He laughed and between the two of them her nightgown was soon gone without so much as a lost stitch. But with a great deal of laughing and touching and all sorts of things they hadn’t done earlier today that were quite, quite delightful.
And later, as she drifted off in the arms of the man she loved, she realized there was still one minor point she had yet to clear up. Although really she’d already settled it. He just didn’t know it yet.
The man had lost and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be right there when he realized that or very, very far away.