Why was he looking at her as though he wanted to ravish her where she stood? No, she didn’t want to think about that. He was a large man and judging by those thick muscles, very strong. And what gave men the right to such sinfully long eyelashes? She gathered her wandering thoughts. “I know this is a joke, even though I don’t understand it, but it’s starting to wear thin. Please, tell me where I am.”
“You are in Kemet, in Egypt. And this is my home.”
She wanted to scream. “I know I’m in Egypt! I flew in yesterday.” Her voice rose in frustration. Couldn’t he stop teasing? Her head hurt too much for stupid games.
He shifted and she wondered what was on his mind. Calm down, Alex. Don’t antagonize him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.
Drawing in a long, deep breath she counted to three and began again. “Okay. If you want to play games, I have some questions.”
He sat up and the towel slipped further exposing a longer length of perfectly muscled thigh, which he made no attempt to cover. “I’m sure you will have many.”
That was something anyway. Maybe he was ready to cooperate. She dragged her gaze back to his face and drew in a deep breath. “What dynasty am I. . .? What dynasty did I land in?”
“Dynasty?” He frowned and offered her that knockout smile again. “Ah, of course. This is how the years come to be known to you. Do you mean in whose reign are we?”
Deep breath, Alex. “Whatever. In whose reign are we?”
“Amunhotep the Fourth, may he live forever.” He placed his hand over his heart. “It is the fifth year of his reign.”
Her mouth fell open. Now she knew for certain this was a joke. “You’re kidding, right?”
Dark eyebrows lifted in question. “Kidding?”
She blew out an angry breath. “Playing me for a fool.”
His broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug and he moved his leg one more time. Luckily the towel didn’t move with it. “Why would I do this?”
Amunhotep IV, who had changed his name to Akhenaten, just happened to be the husband of Nefertiti. It was a coincidence Alex couldn’t overlook. But her mind started wandering down a new track. Maybe this is a ransom attempt.
Eternal
Hearts
Jean Adams
Highland Press Publishing
Florida
Eternal Hearts
Copyright ©2009 – Jean Adams
Cover ©2009 – Cheryl Alldredge
Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—
except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information, please contact
Highland Press Publishing,
PO Box 2292, High Springs, FL 32655.
www.highlandpress.org
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, save actual historical figures. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
ISBN: 978-0-9787139-9-7
HIGHLAND PRESS PUBLISHING
Excalibur
Dedication
To the people of ancient Egypt.
May they live forever.
Patty Howell, Senior Editor
CHAPTER ONE
Please, God, don’t let me be too late.
Alexandra Kelly’s heart pounded as she lifted her long skirt and raced up the front steps of the rambling old wooden house. She wrenched open the front door and ran across the foyer, almost stumbling on the staircase as she took the steps two at a time.
Outside her grandfather’s bedroom, she paused for breath, fighting the tears. After a hard swallow, she tapped on the door.
A grim-faced nurse opened it and shook her head.
Alex touched her arm. “Thank you for calling me.” The woman nodded then disappeared down the corridor, leaving Alex to say goodbye in private.
Blinking furiously, she stepped inside and closed the door. Can I face his dying?
The huge four-poster bed made him look small and frail as he struggled to breathe. A far cry from the man he’d once been. The lined, weather-beaten face of Declan Kelly, the great Egyptologist, swam before her eyes. He’d always been tough, healthy, and virile.
He opened his eyes. “Nefert—” He frowned. “Alexandra? Is that you?” His voice sounded so very thin.
Alex cleared her throat. “Yes, Grandfather. I’m here.”
He lifted his head. “Oh, you’re in costume. For a moment I thought . . .”
“I didn’t have time to change. When Miss Western rang I dropped everything and came straight over.”
“Did the studio mind?”
“Absolutely not.” She hurried to his side and sat on the bed, taking both his hands between hers—his grip weak and frail. “I would never have forgiven her if she hadn’t phoned and you’d—” What am I saying? “Grandfather, you’re more important than any movie.”
He smiled. “Dressed like that you look just like Nefertiti.”
“Hush. Don’t tire yourself.”
He tried to laugh, but coughed. “Too late for that now, don’t you think?”
She bit back a smile. He may be dying but he hasn’t lost his sense of humor.
“I wanted some time alone with you before Brian gets here. But first, tell me. How’s the filming going?”
How like him to put others before himself, even now. “It’s going well. But I’m not here to talk about the movie. I came to keep you company.”
The moment she’d read for the part of Nefertiti the studio executives had given her the role. It was meant for her, they’d said. She’d known even before they offered and a strange tingling sensation had crept up her spine.
“Stand over there by the window.” Declan interrupted her thoughts and pointed to a shaft of late afternoon sunlight. He tried to sit up, but the effort exhausted him and he fell back onto the pillows. “Let me look at you.”
“For you, anything.” She stood, ran her hand over her sleek, black wig, and straightened the golden diadem circling her head. After adjusting the pleats cascading down the front of her white Egyptian dress she opened her arms, lifted her chin, walked across the room, and turned to smile with well-rehearsed queenly grace. “I am Nefertiti, Queen of Diadems, Beloved of Aten, Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt, Lady of the Two Lands, et cetera, et cetera.” She paused to give him her news. “We go to Egypt in a month’s time for the location work.” Guilt overtook her when excitement briefly displaced grief.
From the look in his eyes, his spirits had lifted. “You’re going to Egypt at last.” Again, he tried to sit and she hurried to his bedside to adjust the pillows. “Who’d have thought it? My little Alexandra, the ‘beautiful woman has come.’ I’m so excited, I could die.”
Her glance met his and her hearty laugh overshadowed his strained attempt. Oh, how I’ll miss his wry humor.
Exhausted, he fell back against the pillows. “That’s what Nefertiti means you know. ‘A beautiful woman has come.’”
She smiled and touched his arm. “Yes, Grandfather, I know.”
“Of course you do. And she was. Very beautiful.” His eyes glazed with an opaque hue that frightened her.
“Grandfather?” Hurry, Brian, please.
He lifted heavy lids to look at her. “I’m not ready to go quite yet.”
“What’s this talk of going?” As she leaned over him, her wig fell forward. She removed it.
He gasped. “Alexandra! What happened to all your beautiful hair?”
“The wigs wouldn’t sit properly, so I had it cut.”
“Does Brian know?”
She patted his hand. “He might run my affairs, but he knows how far he can push me. Even he wouldn’t want me to be that uncomfortable.”
“Maybe not. Just don’t let him take over your life, too.”
“He’s okay. Really. It’s just that since Mom and Dad died he can’t seem to show emotion, but I bet he feels it just the same.”
“Beats me why you keep old bossy-boots around.”
She smiled. “Because he needs me. I don’t want to pull the family connection out from under him. Protecting me is his way of showing how much he cares. But at twenty-five I can take care of myself. If he pushes too hard, all I have to do is give a tug on the reins.”
Alex shot a glance at the bed. Declan’s eyes were closed. Had he heard the last thing she’d said? She bit her lip. Keep him talking. While he talks, he lives. “Um, as I said, we go to Luxor next month. By the time we arrive, most of the sets will be in place.”
Thin lips smiled up at her and he opened his eyes. “A month. Just enough time for you to bury me and get over the mourning period.”
“Grandfather!”
He patted her hand. “Don’t be so squeamish, Alexandra. You know I’ve always believed in the Egyptian spirit. I’ll be happy with the winged ones.”
“Yes, I know.” A wobbly smile touched her lips as she gripped his fingers. “It was your passion for Egypt that excited my imagination. You made it sound so . . . colorful. All those tales of tombs and temples.” And soon he’d take his last journey in Ra’s sun-boat as it sailed toward the Western horizon. At least, that’s what he believed.
Memories bombarded her heart. She kissed his thin fingers. He was the only man who’d never taken her for granted, never asked anything of her. Yet when she needed it, she could always count on the unconditional love and support of Grandfather Kelly, no matter where he happened to be.
Until two years ago when he’d suddenly avoided all social contact. He’d been available by phone, but nothing more. Then he’d completely disappeared for two months, refusing to answer any questions as to where he’d been. No point asking him now. He probably wouldn’t remember.
He came awake with a sudden surge of energy. “Oh, Alex, I hope you get there.”
Her attempted smile failed. His short-term memory was slipping. God, he can’t have long. Brian, where are you?
“I’ve just said, Grandfather, I’m going next month.”
His grip tightened around her fingers with a strength that belied his weakened condition. “No, Alexandra.” He paused and his old eyes lit with inner fire. “I mean . . . the real Egypt.” The words came out on a sigh, and for a moment the Declan Kelly of old returned.
She reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I’d better check on what’s keeping Brian.”
“No. Wait.” He took the phone out of her fingers and motioned to the nightstand. “Before your brother gets here, look in there. There’s something I want you to do.”
Alex slid to her knees, opened the locker door, and stared. An Egyptian broad-collar, at least six inches wide, lay on a square of fine linen. The golden collar, encrusted with turquoise and lapis lazuli, shone in the shaft of sunlight. Another piece of rough, yet neatly folded, linen rested beside the first.
“Take them out.” Declan shot a quick glance at the door.
Alex complied and held the spectacular piece of jewelry up to the light. She gasped at all the gold. “Such a beautiful necklace. And so heavy. Just like the real thing.”
“It is real, and I want you to take it back to Egypt for me.”
“Back?”
The secretive smile on his lips didn’t waver. “Yes.”
She almost dropped the necklace. “Did you steal this from the museum?”
“I did not!” He couldn’t disguise his hurt look. “How could I go to meet Anubis with theft on my conscience?”
Alex scoffed. “Hah! When the god of the dead weighs your heart against the feather of justice, and it tips the scale, you’ll probably argue the scale is out of whack.” Almost afraid to look at the necklace again, she glanced down at it from the corner of her eye. “How did you come by this?”
Either his last outburst had exhausted him totally, or he chose not to answer. “Never mind that. Open the other cloth.”
Alex did so, aware of his smile as she rubbed the coarse material. “This isn’t ordinary cloth.” Warmth spread from the cloth to her fingers as she unfolded the large square. “More like rough linen.” She looked up. “Papyrus?”
He nodded and lifted his eyebrows. “The real thing.”
Inside was a map of an ancient temple. She glanced at him and frowned. “Where is this?”
He eyed her levelly. “The Temple of Thoth. In Thebes.”
Alex eased to her feet while studying the map. “I don’t understand . . .”
Her grandfather’s breathing became more difficult. He gasped, fell back and closed his eyes.
The map forgotten, Alex blinked back sudden tears. Hurry, Brian. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and entwined her fingers through Declan’s. “If that’s what you want me to do, of course I will.”
“There’s something else.”
His voice sounded urgent and she tried not to let him see how close she was to tears. “Yes?”
“Don’t let that brother of yours have me interred. The thought of going under the ground gives me the creeps. I want to be in my mausoleum where I can see my beautiful things. I’m leaving some of them to you, of course.”
She sniffed and shook her head to clear her blurred vision. “Anything you want, Grandfather.”
He handed her the phone and tried again to sit up, but couldn’t make it. “Don’t patronize me, Alexandra. Promise me.”
“All right!” she burst out, gulping back a sob. “I promise.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He reached out and patted her hand. “Now, come closer. There’s something important I want you to know.” She bent and placed her ear close to his lips. “I’ve seen wonderful things, Alexandra. Wonderful things.”
Dear heaven, he can barely breathe. “Tell me about them.” Keep him talking. Keep him awake.
She looked into his eyes, glazed now with his struggle for breath. “I’m so very sorry. Keeping you apart was unforgivable.”
Now he’s rambling. “What are you trying to say?”
“Do you remember?” He paused to suck in air. “A few months ago—when you saw me—in the lib—”
His grip loosened on her hand. It went limp and he let go a long, deep sigh. As she watched, his eyes fell closed. He’d gone.
“Grandfather!” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “What about a few months ago? Tell me. Talk to me. Please.”
But it was no use. Filled with sudden abandonment and loneliness, Alex bowed her head and let the tears fall. All she had left were memories of a wise and wonderful man whose death rent a gaping hole in her life—and a jewel-encrusted gold collar she’d promised him she would smuggle into Egypt.
She blinked. Maybe the tears had blurred her vision, but his age lines appeared softer, and he wore a wonderful smile. His ka was at peace.
Brian burst into the room. “I told you to wait for me.”
She stood and turned to face him, dragging in a long, painful breath. “Grandfather’s gone.”
Her brother stopped in his tracks. “I’m sorry, Alex. You were close.” He moved toward the bed, placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked up at him through watery eyes and he pulled her into his arms for a hug. A simple act, but it told her he shared her grief even though he couldn’t show it.
“Thank you,” she choked, her voice too raw for anything more.
“It’s just you and me now, Sis. He was a great old guy, if a little eccentric.”
Grateful for the strength of Brian’s arms, she squeezed him back. He withdrew, as though he’d shown weakness, but it didn’t matter. He’d come through for her when she needed his comfort the most.
“He had a right to be eccentric. He was one in a million.”
Brian kissed the top of her head, eased back from her and balked. “What in the world have you done to your hair?”
The gruffness in his voice was his way of getting his emotions under control. Nevertheless, she sighed. “I don’t really feel like discussing it now.”
“But it’s awful,” he insisted. “We’ll never live it down.”
“I have to wear heavy wigs.” She turned her back to him and with one final, lingering look, pulled the sheet over the dear face she would never see again. “Goodbye, Grandfather. I love you.”
“Why do you have to wear wigs? Didn’t it occur to you to use your own hair?”
“Grandfather just died. I really don’t think this is the time or the place to discuss my hair.” With a sigh she moved toward the door to call for the nurse.
“Sorry. It was a shock, that’s all. We’ll talk about it later.” He looked around the big room at Declan’s Egyptian collection. “In the meantime, we’d better get this stuff cleared out.” He tried to laugh. “Maybe you can even use some of it in the movie. And I’m sorry, Alex, but we have to be practical and make arrangements for the burial.”
Surely he could see how badly she was hurting. Couldn’t he soften just a little? “He doesn’t want to be buried. He’s built a mausoleum and he wants his artifacts with him.”
Brian spun to look at her with undisguised disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
Anger and hurt made her want to strike back. “Deadly.” She walked toward him, eyes narrowed. “I love you, Brian, but you try going against his final wishes and you’ll be looking for another job by the end of the month.”
If Brian understood one thing, it was just how far he could push her.
She could almost hear Declan cheering from his sun-boat.
* * * *
Luxor, Egypt
One month later
Alexandra glanced at the crowds in the arrival hall and spotted a small group of paparazzi off to one side. If they expected to see Alexis Kelly, her screen persona, they were out of luck.
With short hair and a face devoid of makeup, she wouldn’t be recognized. No one would notice one small woman in worn jeans slipping past. She’d even ditched her dark glasses, usually a dead giveaway. Anonymity would be a heady experience. She took a deep breath, crossed her fingers, and grinned. This’ll be so easy.
“Miss Kelly?” a male voice said as she headed for the exit.
She turned on her heel. “Yes?” Damn!
Had it been too much to hope she wouldn’t be spotted? The chauffeur she’d hired to drive her to the hotel stood at the edge of the arrival hall holding up a sign with the codename ‘Temple’ emblazoned on it. The sign, however, hadn’t fooled one tall, dark-haired man.
Tricky reporter.
Her heart sank as she glanced over her shoulder at the paparazzi. With gritted teeth, she addressed the newspaper-man. “I know you have a job to do, so let’s make it quick.”
The reporter smiled, nodded, and offered his business card. “The name’s Ethan King.”
She tucked the card in her purse without glancing at it. “Okay, Mr. King, shoot.”
He smiled. “First, my condolences on the loss of your grandfather.”
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she cleared her throat. “Thank you.” She lifted an eyebrow in challenge. This sounded like one of those ‘I knew your grandfather’ routines. “Did you know him well?”
“Yes, we’d met several times. I attended his funeral.”
“Oh.” Okay, so I was wrong to be suspicious. “I see.”
Ethan King grinned as though he realized he’d disarmed her. “How long will you be filming here?”
“About three months. Much of the studio work is done. I’ve given myself some extra time to sightsee, so I came a few days early. I’m very excited. Egypt is as much my passion as it was Grandfather’s.”
He nodded while he scribbled on his pad. “Where will you be filming?”
“Just outside Luxor and at Horizon of the Aten.”
He looked up and blew out a breath. “It can get pretty darned hot there.”
She smiled—sweetly. “We want authenticity, Mr. King.”
The paparazzi spotted her and came scurrying. Alex sighed and gave in resolutely to the barrage of questions. Flashes went off in her face and reporters jostled each other for a few words. The sooner she got out of here, the quicker she could take a long soak in warm, perfumed water.
The reporters finally dispersed, she gave Ethan King a stiff smile, and headed outside into the bright sunlight. Sensing his gaze, she turned and caught his curious look. He raised his hand in a casual wave.
Rather than respond, she climbed into the air-conditioned limousine and sank into the soft leather seat to enjoy her journey to the Ramses Hotel.
Alex peered out the window in awe. They cruised through markets with stalls over-laden with vegetables, bread, and fruits. She opened the window, allowing the clamor of voices to invade her excited senses, and letting the aromas of exotic perfumes and spices swirl around her. She made a mental note to come back and buy some of the brightly colored silks.
But first on her agenda was the Temple of Thoth.
Picturesque villages flashed by. Barely changed for centuries, they still fought a losing battle with the sand.
Ruins of ancient monuments stood lonely sentinel over the modern world. Alex recalled her grandfather’s tales and tried to picture how wonderful this must have looked thousands of years ago.
The car pulled up outside the hotel, jerking her to the present. Porters took her luggage and whisked her inside to reception. The concierge smiled politely and handed her two keys. “This is for your room, Miss Kelly, and this one is for your hired car.”
“Thanks. I’d like coffee and a sandwich sent to my room. Cheese will do. Say in about an hour.”
“Of course, Miss Kelly.”
Fifteen minutes later, Alex sank up to her neck in a relaxing bath, let go a long, deep sigh, and closed her eyes. Oh, how she needed this. When the dust of travel finally melted away, she stepped out, patted herself dry, and slipped into a blue silk robe.
The first suitcase she unpacked contained an Egyptian costume. She’d told the wardrobe department it was intended for use in publicity photographs with ancient monuments as a backdrop. She couldn’t tell them the truth, the real reason.
That the map of the temple had compelled her to take it. How could she tell them a map, a piece of coarse papyrus, had urged her to do anything? She could hardly believe the truth herself.
She rummaged through her underwear and pulled out a bag containing the jeweled collar. Why had she hidden it? The necklace was obviously a clever copy, despite what Grandfather had said.
Frustrated, Alex blew out a breath. Whoever heard of anyone smuggling artifacts into Egypt, fake or otherwise? She held it against her neck. The dress and collar sure looked terrific together. Maybe she could wear them one last time before turning the golden collar over to . . . Whom?
Maybe she’d misunderstood Grandfather when he’d said he wanted it taken to the Temple of Thoth. Nothing would be there.
Tomorrow she’d make a few discreet inquiries. In the meantime . . .
Alex slipped on the dress, hooked the collar around her neck, and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Jeez! In this getup, and with the right makeup, she could easily pass for an Egyptian noblewoman. If this collar were the real McCoy, it would be worth a fortune.
Come! Come!
Mild dizziness made her grab the dresser. Heck. That voice again, echoing in her head. It seemed to emanate from the map.
A knock on the door snapped her to her senses. “Who is it?”
“Room service, Miss Kelly.”
“Great. Thanks.” Her stomach grumbled. She was hungry. Ah . . . that explains the dizzy spell.
She admitted a slim waiter in gray livery. He offered a little bow. “Your sandwich and coffee, Miss Kelly.”
Instinct brought her hand up to try to cover the necklace when he stared at it. Heaven forbid he should think she was stealing a precious artifact from his country. “Wonderful copy, isn’t it?” She inclined her head at the table on the far side of the room. “You can put the tray over there.”
The waiter did as told, then paused discreetly by the door for a tip. She placed a handful of gold coins into his hand, all the while aware that his gaze never left the necklace even as she closed the door.
A small doubt nudged at her mind as she took off the bejeweled collar and examined it. It could have been stolen. The waiter could have recognized it from newspaper photographs. But the necklace couldn’t be more than a few years old.
The age of the mystery collar dissolved with a sudden urge to go to the Temple of Thoth when the shrill voice in her head sounded again: Come! Come!
Again dizziness overtook her. The voice in her head called her to the temple. Immediately.
How could she even think about going? Brian would freak out at the idea of her there alone. But he didn’t need to know. For goodness sake, she was a grown woman. She could do whatever she pleased. Besides, Alexandra Kelly had taken lessons in self-defense. I can take care of myself.
Come to me. Come to me.
“All right, already!”
Quickly changing into jeans and a fresh white blouse, she glanced at the golden necklace. The staring waiter had given her the creeps. It might not be a good idea to leave such an elegant piece of jewelry in the suite. After hanging the dress in the closet, she gulped down her sandwich, wrapped the collar in the linen map, slipped it into her basket, and went in search of the Temple of Thoth.
* * * *
Hapu Estate, Egypt
Year five in the reign of Amunhotep IV
Khafra stretched full length on the couch but couldn’t settle. Usually, being home with his family was pleasant after being at court. It was peaceful here. He could breathe. Unhappily, his peace would not last. The gods had spoken and he must obey. He must leave tonight. The last time he’d gone away, he’d seen the same sad look in his father’s gray eyes. Perhaps Rekhemire feared his son would never return. This time, he might not.
He stood and paced, his white kilt settling evenly about his thighs. “I’m going to walk in the garden.”
Rekhemire sighed and put down his rush pen. “I know that look of restlessness. What ails you, son?”
He couldn’t meet his father’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Father. I need to move and I know my pacing disturbs you while you work. But I have a lion inside me that needs taming.”
Rekhemire gave him a knowing smile. “What you need is a good wife. One who will keep that wild beast under control. In the marriage bed.”
Only one woman could accomplish that, but he’d seen her a long time ago and he would never see her again.
Rekhemire rubbed his chin. “I’m worried about you, Khafra. You’ve changed since you returned home from your travels.” He paused only a moment. “Why not visit the House of Pleasure? Plenty of women there to offer sweet delights.”
Khafra tried to laugh. “You’re probably right.” He turned and stepped out into the early night air. In the coolness of the garden, he took the path between two sweet-smelling lotus pools to where the spice trees began. He paused, enjoying the aromas, and looked at the sky, thick with stars. He loved this garden. Its serenity could quell a man’s restless spirit; calm the fire burning deep within him. This night was different. Nothing could quench his fear. Even though he could lose his life in the attempt, he must go. Egypt’s future depended on him and him alone. He drew in a long breath. It could be the last time he would enjoy this garden.
He had no interest in the House of Pleasure. Neither was he in the market for a wife. Just as well. He had more important business. Business a woman would never understand.
Nor would Rekhemire.
Sex could not extinguish the dread in his heart. He’d need all his wits about him, and every man knew that once in the perfumed arms of a woman, he could be lost for hours. Days. Khafra didn’t have that much time. With heavy heart he gave thought to the great mission he must accomplish. How could he live if he failed to save Egypt from her fate?
The moon had risen higher. Somehow he must find the right words to tell his father he had to go away and might never return. That he could die.
“Khafra?”
Gods. Nofret!
He groaned. His sister—the one person he wanted to avoid the most, even though he shouldn’t. Her heart would break when he walked away. Having to go was breaking his. He was nothing but a lowly cockroach for thinking he could take the coward’s way out.
Nofret always made it plain she adored him, her big brother, the charioteer, the warrior. But warriors are not supposed to be cowards.
She ran to him, slipped her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his bare chest. “You seem sad, Khafra.”
He managed to swallow. “Tiw.”
“Tell me why.”
Hiding the truth from his father was one thing, but he hated lying to Nofret. “Dear one, I . . .” The words would not come. They clogged his throat like sand after a desert storm. Tension clawed at his gut. Gods, he never felt nervous going into battle, yet trying to say goodbye to Nofret tore him to pieces.
She answered for him. “You are going away again.” When he said nothing, she eased back and lifted her gaze to search his. “How long will you be away this time?”
“Who can say?” He almost choked on the words.
“Where are you going?”
How did he answer? His fingers brushed through her soft black hair. “A long way from here.”
“As far as your last mission?” She searched his face.
“Not quite that far.” But he didn’t elaborate.
“I think you owe Father and me an explanation.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Can you not tell me, Khafra?”
The situation was becoming impossible. He kissed the tip of her nose and tried to evade her questions. “Sweet sister, I think you should go to bed. It’s late. See, the moon has started her climb.”
Her deep sigh wrenched at his heart. “You will be gone by morning.”
Osiris, give me strength. He nodded. “Tiw.” He held her at arm’s length and smiled. “I want you to be very brave and strong for our father.”
No doubt she would. At fifteen, she had more courage than some men he knew, including himself. He pressed her to him and looked up. The moon had climbed even higher. The gods had spoken. He must not fail or his ka would perish.
Be forever dead.
CHAPTER TWO
“We meet again, Miss Kelly.” The deep, male voice from behind startled her.
She turned from the reception desk, instantly recognizing the reporter from the airport. What the heck is he doing here? “Oh, hello, Mr. uh—”
“King. Ethan King. Have you been sightseeing?”
Why did the press presume they had the right to ask questions that were none of their business? She had news for Mr. Ethan King. If he thought that because they were both American he could worm his way into her confidence, he could think again.
“Any reason why I shouldn’t? I’m on my own time.”
His lazy brown eyes scanned the lobby behind her. “Did you go alone?”
She sighed—obviously. “Hoping for a scoop? Looking for a secret hot date? Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s just li’l ol’ me.” His inquisitive tone was getting under her skin. “Why shouldn’t I go sightseeing?”
“It can be dangerous for a woman alone.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself.” She dusted sand off her jeans and gave him a sarcastic smile. “As a matter of fact I’ve been to the Temple of Thoth.” Was it her imagination or had his face shown sudden interest?
“I’d have gone with you, if I’d known.”
“Not the best of pick-up lines, Mr. King. If I were you, I’d wait for an invitation.”
“What? Oh, no. I’m not trying to pick you up. I also dabble in Egyptology, as you may know.”
She didn’t know. Or care. “Really?” She collected her key from the concierge. “Now I have a question.”
His hands slipped into his pockets. “Sure.”
“Did my brother send you to keep tabs on me?”
Genuine surprise crossed his features. “Heck no. Why do you ask?”
“You said you knew my grandfather, which of course guaranteed you’d get my attention. But it’s just the kind of stunt Brian would pull.” She shot him a wry look. “He’s almost as invasive as you are.”
“Ouch!”
That fixed you, snoop. “I’m going to my room now. That okay with you?”
“Sure thing,” he called after her. “I’m in room 101 if you want some company tomorrow.”
Didn’t he know when to take no for an answer? As she headed for the elevator, she felt his gaze. Once she could handle, twice in one day was a little creepy.
* * * *
In her room, Alex checked her voicemail. Two messages—one from John, the director, wanting some last-minute script changes. He’d call sometime tomorrow.
The other from Brian. “Alex, I know you’re there, or should be. Will you please answer the damned phone? I’m calling from Cairo. I’ll be in Luxor tonight. About seven.”
“Jeez! He’s three days early. What is he playing at?”
She didn’t want Brian dogging her every step and if she didn’t stand up to old bossy-boots, as Grandfather had called him, he’d stifle her. A deliciously wicked thought floated into her mind. What if she weren’t here when Brian arrived? What if she went nightclubbing, or whatever people did in Luxor at night? She hadn’t had a date in months. Surely it couldn’t be too difficult to find a man—any man would do just to go dancing for one evening.
“What about that journo, Ethan King?” Dammit, she was desperate to avoid Brian.
If he kept scaring men off, how in blazes would she ever find Mr. Right? Why couldn’t he get it through his thick skull she didn’t want celebrity status forever? She wanted what every other woman had. A husband. Kids. Privacy. A normal life with a normal man who loved her completely. She’d be the center of his universe as he’d be the center of hers.
Fat chance! Okay, so men like that were few and far between. But somewhere on this planet there had to be a man who wouldn’t see her as a meal ticket or a brainless bimbo.
Brian would hate her asking the reporter on a date. She grinned and dialed Room 101. No answer. She’d try later.
As she turned, Alex noticed the map on the floor. It must have fallen out of the bag when she threw it on the bed. She picked it up.
Come! Come! The voice in her head called, so irresistibly clear she dropped the papyrus like a hot stone. The map wanted her to go there, again? Now? “But I just got in. It’s getting late.” As her logic resisted its call, the voice came, louder than before. More urgent. Come! Come!
Nightclubbing was out. She was being summoned back to the temple. But going tonight was totally off the wall. It was getting dark for pity’s sake.
Now the voice was almost screaming, urging her to return. Tonight. In full costume.
No one will be there. You’ll have the temple all to yourself.
The voice could reason? Either that or she was going nuts.
Come! Come!
“Okay, I hear you.” She checked the bedside clock. Six-thirty. Enough time to put on Egyptian-looking eye makeup and skedaddle before Brian arrived. In record time, she applied black liner and green shadow, resembling an Egyptian queen, the way she had for the movie.
When she went to get the dress, her blood turned to ice. Someone had been in her room. The dress was on the closet floor, a portion of the skirt caught in the sliding door, not quite pulled closed.
“What the . . .”
Had she disturbed someone and they were still hiding in the suite? Alex crept to the refrigerator, grabbed a wine bottle by the neck—ready to hit any intruder—and carefully checked the other rooms. Reassured she was alone, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Then she noticed her open suitcase on the bed. Not quite how she’d left it. And the bedclothes had been disturbed.
Prickles skittered down her spine. No doubt the intruder had been a thief, or thieves, intent on taking the collar and only one person knew about it—the waiter who’d delivered her sandwich. Maybe the necklace was real—or at least a good enough imitation to fool that little creep.
Returning to the temple now would be stupid. But then, staying here probably wasn’t such a great idea either. Whoever the would-be thieves were, and she had a good idea who one of them might be, they realized she’d taken the collar with her this afternoon. What if they’d been loitering in the lobby, watching to see when she reentered the hotel? If that idiot reporter hadn’t kept her talking, she might have slipped upstairs unnoticed.
They knew she’d have to get back some time and that she’d be alone. They could burst through the door at any moment. She had to get out, mingle with the other guests in the lobby and wait for Brian.
Come now. Come now.
She couldn’t think straight.
Room 101. Ethan King. She reached for the phone, then stopped.
Wait a minute! What if he’s one of them? He’d been watching her, hadn’t he? Did he know about the collar? He wouldn’t be the first so-called Egyptologist to be little more than a jewel thief.
The temple voice grew louder, pounding in her head. She couldn’t resist its pull. Since no one would know, she’d be as safe there as anywhere. Maybe safer.
Quickly she donned the dress, wrapped a shawl around her head, and placed her wig in the basket with the collar. After checking the corridor and seeing no sign of anyone, Alex slipped out of her room and hurried to the rear stairs leading to the car park.
* * * *
Khafra swallowed. It was time. Heavy-hearted he made his way to the stable. Was this the last time he’d see his team of prized black horses? As though they sensed something amiss, the team moved skittishly while he harnessed them to the chariot.
“Scepter, Scimitar, you are restless tonight.” He patted each on the neck. “Like me.”
As he led them outside, his gut churned. Not wanting to take them, he needed his swiftest and strongest horses if he was to make good time. His most trusted second-in-command of the squadron of charioteers, who’d sworn an oath of silence, would collect the horses tomorrow and bring them back to Hapu.
Time now to say farewell to his family, to hold them in his arms, perhaps for the last time. Despite fears he might never return, he must reassure them, give them hope. They must not sense his pain.
At the sight of Rekhemire and Nofret standing in the doorway, he choked up. They held each other closely, but pulled apart when he entered. It would be so easy to change his mind.
Neither his father nor Nofret would understand what he must do, so he said nothing. He’d waited a long time for the gods to speak. If he should fail, and his name disappeared from eternity, at least he’d have died trying. A warrior’s death was preferable to never having his name recorded, and to forever roam the netherworld forgotten and alone.
He could not fail. He must not fail.
If he didn’t go, how would he stop the suffering? He had to succeed for their sakes.
He cursed his faint heart. What were these thoughts of failure? Of course he would succeed. He must succeed.
Khafra drew in a long, deep breath and bid his family farewell.
* * * *
Alex frowned. What was she doing here?
Brian would go nuts when he found out where she was at this time of night in a foreign country. She should turn the car around and go back to the hotel. But she was here and the voice had quieted. So now what?
She opened the window and listened. Deafening silence hurt her ears. Everything looked eerie in the fading light.
In ancient times this place would have been alive with people, jostling, laughing, going about their business, probably giving no thought to their culture not going on forever. There would have been priests, artisans, and stallholders selling their wares, calling to passersby—Come. Look. Buy.
She sighed. Sad to think such an elegant race had all gone, overrun by swarms of invaders wanting a piece of Egypt’s bounty. Now Egypt had been swallowed up by history.
Come inside, the temple shouted.
Alex swallowed and gritted her teeth. “Okay, two minutes, max!”
Taking a deep breath for courage, she grabbed her basket, got out of the car, and slipped inside the temple, past the statues she’d seen earlier, grotesque in the fading light and etched by shadows. Faint illumination allowed her to find the spot she’d visited earlier—a mere rectangle of bare rock with half scratched out symbols. She could read a few hieroglyphs, but could make out nothing except for an ibis, the symbol of Thoth, and walking legs, which had something to do with journeys. By itself, it meant nothing.
She slipped the collar around her neck and donned the wig. This was crazy, but the compulsion was stronger now.
Standing still, Alex rested her hand on a pillar, closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Egypt! The sounds of bustling humanity—their voices, their footsteps—seemed to seep right down to her soul.
In the silence, something stirred. Suddenly alert, she snapped her eyes open. Those were no ancient footsteps, neither was what made them a figment of her imagination. They were real and they were close.
“Who’s there?”
No one answered, but she felt a presence. Gut-wrenching panic speared her. As she started to make a dash for the car, a man loomed in her path.
“Dear God!” Adrenaline pumped hard and fast, her stomach churned violently, and the pulse at the base of her throat beat out of control. She tensed as the man, his face darkened by shadows, stepped closer. He was tall and burly, and wore a long, white robe.
He said something unintelligible. She shook her head and backed away. “What do you want?” The collar? Her? Or both.
Her heart beat a wild tattoo in her chest. How far was it to the car? Could she make a run for it? “I asked what you wanted.” A stupid question, but getting some form of communication going could make the difference between life and death. It was the first lesson she’d learned in self-defense, and the words of her instructor rang in her ears—“try to talk your way out of a situation before taking action.”
The fat man stepped closer. Mentally Alex went through a few defensive maneuvers.
His shoulders blocked what little light there was and in that billowing robe he looked ominously large.
When she saw the other man, her heart sank. As thin as the first was fat, she hadn’t noticed him before—the waiter. The little creep had been watching her room. She could be in serious trouble if more of them appeared.
“Give us the necklace,” the fat one barked in English as he moved closer.
This was no time for false heroics. She was alone with men who would slit her throat rather than leave her alive to identify them. Alex lifted her arms to unhook the collar but it jammed. Her ragged breathing echoed around the silent temple. Her heart thudded against her rib cage and she rubbed sweaty palms down the front of her dress.
“I’ll give it to you if you let me go.”
The robber ignored her and moved closer. Her head spinning, she backed up, but her retreat came to an end when she hit a flat rock.
The fat man lunged—and everything went black.
Alex waited, eyes closed. Nothing happened. She should at least try to defend her honor. Defend her life. Why didn’t he just grab the necklace and run? Slowly, she opened her eyes.
The man in the white robe stared in astonishment and shook his head. What was he looking at? Maybe she could make a run for it while he stared at the rock? She eased away and made to run. He was too quick. With lightning speed that belied his size, he cut off her escape.
Caught by the waist, he gripped her tightly as she wriggled and struggled against his body. The other strong hand clamped over her mouth. Was he going to rape her then take the necklace? Dear God, don’t let him hurt me, please.
He wouldn’t take her easily. She would defend herself to the bitter end. Her elbow flew out with as much force as she could muster, aiming for his ribs, but hit what felt like a wall of iron. His powerful grip tightened over her mouth and nose, almost cutting off her air supply. Lack of oxygen forced her to give up the struggle. She stilled and the man slowly released his hold on her face. Gasping for air, she dragged in deep breaths. Surprised he’d let her go so easily, her heart pounded with renewed hope of escape.
The man spoke. “Em sen-jay.”
She didn’t understand. If she gave him the collar, would he let her go? Sensing he’d give her time to comply, she lifted her arms, easily unhooking the collar this time and offered it to him. “Here, take it.”
He shook his head and stepped toward her. “Em sen-jay.”
So it was her they wanted. She tried to see past him. “Where’s your little friend? Doesn’t he want a piece of the action?” Calmer now, she tried to think, though her head was spinning a little. “Well, you’ll have a fight on your hands.” She held out the collar again. “Take it, and let me go.”
Looking about for a possible escape route, the temple seemed different. It looked newer. No, it was her imagination although the dizziness had started to ease.
How long had she been here? How much time had elapsed? A frightening thought occurred to her. “Did you drug me somehow? Did I pass out?”
Ever watchful, he merely shrugged and shook his head. And she knew. He didn’t understand a word of English. Maybe ‘give us the necklace’ were the only words he could speak.
In the robe he sure looked a burly brute. Yet, like the temple, he seemed different too. Maybe he was. What if she had passed out, this guy had shown up in the nick of time and chased the other two away. No, that kind of lucky break only happened in second-rate movies.
She couldn’t make out his features in this light, yet a change had definitely taken place. The other man had been fat. This man, although big, was anything but fat if the feel of his hard body was anything to go by. Nothing soft about him. He was all muscle and sinew with the well-honed body of an athlete.
Her heart rate eased back to normal. She’d begun to believe, to hope, he didn’t have rape on his mind. So, if he didn’t want her, and he didn’t want the necklace, what was he after?
“What do you want?” She heard the tremor in her voice as she ventured another vain attempt at communication.
Her rescuer shook his head and shrugged his wide shoulders, but his narrow-eyed gaze scrutinized her.
“You don’t understand a word I’m saying do you?” She headed for the temple entrance. “I have to find my car.”
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t understand—her words made her feel more in control.
She stumbled over a stone. He grabbed her around the waist, his fingers digging into her flesh. But this wasn’t an attack, more an attempt to break her fall. His strong arm held her as tightly as before, but his touch sent a shockwave through her body.
“Jeez!”
“Ten seneb?” From the tone it sounded like a question, which she interpreted to mean, ‘Are you all right?’
She drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, thanks.”
He offered her a leather flask. “Ibbi? Sweri mu?”
Loath to offend him at this delicate stage of negotiating her release, she accepted, holding it under her nose to sniff the contents. He seemed to take a dim view of that and grumbled something unintelligible in his deep voice.
Keep it light, Alex. She tried for a smile. “Hey, you can’t blame a girl for checking.” It smelled fine so she ventured a sip. It was water. “Thank you.” Gratefully, she drank again and handed it back with a polite smile.
Time to make a move. She started for the entrance, aware of him close on her heels. There was something about this guy—a magnetism, an intangible quality. And his body felt terrific.
No, Alex. Don’t even go there. Quickly, she shoved the wayward thought aside.
The moon was full when they walked out of the temple.
A full moon? Hadn’t a half moon been rising when she left the hotel? Maybe not.
She turned and headed in the direction of her car . . . and saw a chariot.
“What the . . .? Hey, where in blazes is my car? I left it right here.” She glanced up at him and all thoughts of the car and rising moons flew from her mind.
The face was a perfect match for the body. In the half light, she guessed he was in his late twenties. He had a fine, sharply defined nose and a firm, beautifully chiseled mouth. His looks were nothing short of drop-dead handsome, with a head of thick, slightly shaggy, dark hair that reached his collar. Even through his robe she could tell he worked out a lot. And he walked with a swagger. Heck. This guy had every right to swagger.
But there was something strange about all this, almost as though . . . “Wait a minute,” she slapped her hand to her forehead, “I get it.”
Everyone knew her passion for Egypt so the film crew had staged a welcoming committee of one, complete with his own chariot, to make her arrival seem real. This guy was a bit player and the whole thing an elaborate joke at her expense. She sighed as a wave of relief washed through her. “Well, whaddya know?”
It didn’t explain the two robbers, but she didn’t care. Maybe they were a part of it. No wonder this guy had grabbed her. He must have thought she’d scream the place down when he’d only come to welcome her.
“This is terrific. Feel like showing me around?” With a smirk, she ran a long finger over the flimsy looking chariot. “Hey, Muscles, can you drive this thing?”
He grinned back and awareness kicked in. Wow! Knock-out smile. Maybe she had a date tonight after all.
Reluctantly, she turned her attention to the chariot. It might not look very strong, but she supposed she’d better get used to it. Queen Nefertiti probably rode in these all the time and Alex was willing to bet the queen even drove one. Heck. She would probably have to learn to drive one too. If she played her cards right, maybe she could get Muscles as her instructor. Brian wouldn’t like it, but this was the most delicious man she’d met in a very long time.
The chariot was made of wood and had leather sides. Hmm. Authentic . . . Two six-spoked wheels were mounted at the rear of the chassis. A pair of black horses stood between the shafts looking proud, their saddlecloths richly decorated with blue and red beads. They pawed the ground as though anxious to get moving. “This could be a fun ride, eh, Muscles?”
At any moment she expected the crew to leap out from behind the columns and yell, “Surprise!”
She grinned up at him. “So, I guess you’ve been hired to take me to the reception?”
Muscular legs braced apart, arms folded over his big, broad chest, he sure looked the part, right down to his leather sandals.
“Sorry, I forgot you don’t speak the lingo. Oh well, here goes.”
She gripped the rim and climbed on board. The chariot felt sturdier than it looked so she moved to the front. Her reception committee climbed in beside her.
“Well, Muscles, let’s not keep everyone waiting.” She gestured ahead with a queenly wave. “Advance.”
* * * *
Khafra’s lips twitched with amusement. Didn’t she know he understood the games she played with him? Didn’t she realize he’d outwitted her? He offered her a small bow. Relieved the gods had momentarily forced him to abandon his mission, for what reason they hadn’t told him, he had no option but to oblige her. But he must stay alert and wary.
Although her face had been half obscured by the darkness of the temple, he could tell her clothing was that of a noblewoman. Or a priestess.
More likely a sorceress.
His gut tightened. But he wouldn’t let her see he feared her. The magic of the priests of Amun was powerful. Their spies everywhere. Certain they suspected him of having secrets they wanted, he guessed they’d sent her to cast a spell over him.
Disappointment ate into his heart, but he wouldn’t let her see how badly his confidence had been shaken.
Had the gods played him false?
By the moon’s dim light he could see she was beautiful. Despite his fear, he couldn’t help admiring the way her mouth curved upward, and the length of her graceful neck. She reminded him of the beautiful woman he’d seen a long time ago.
Which was how he knew he’d almost been tricked. The priests had read his mind. Conjured her up. No noblewoman would come to the temple alone, at night.
Tiw. She was a sorceress, one who’d transformed herself, even to the collar she wore. He knew it of course. Another reason for vigilance. The priests of Amun would use a woman of beauty and elegance to ensnare a man, to trap him into giving up secrets. But he knew their games and he’d defend his knowledge to the death.
The sorceress wanted him to take her somewhere. So be it. He would drive to the marketplace and let her off. Maybe follow her. He’d wager she’d lead him straight to her masters. The priests of Amun had learned nothing tonight. The woman of magic had failed. Content in that knowledge, Khafra smiled.
His father was right. It would be good to enjoy the delights of a woman’s body before embarking on his perilous journey. Now that he had time, he would go to the House of Pleasure.
He drew in a breath. Ay, but the magician’s body was soft. Pressed against his, it reminded him how much he’d missed a woman’s softness. His loins stirred and he suppressed a groan. He would go to the House of Pleasure later, and since he had a full month before he needed to think about his quest, he would not come out for days.
He slapped the reins on the horses’ rumps and the chariot moved faster. The sorceress hadn’t spoken again, but he guessed what she was doing—thinking up her next trick to rob him of his secrets.
* * * *
No suspension. Hmm. This could take some getting used to.
Alex stood at the front of the chariot holding on to the rim, pondering how she’d handle a team like this. She braced her legs to steady herself, but instead fell against her driver’s side. “Oops, sorry.”
He caught and studied her, but it took a while before he let her go. She shot a glance in his direction. Great profile. Strong. Masterful. Probably the kind of guy who’d enjoy taking complete control—of everything. He sure played his part well.
She bet he knew what the crew had in store, hence his silence. When they arrived at the reception, she’d wow them all with her performance. She lifted her chin and settled into the character of an Egyptian queen.
The horses moved at a steady pace through a marketplace. People were setting up stalls and calling to one another in a strange tongue that sounded nothing like anything she’d heard before. Definitely not Arabic.
She tapped Muscles on the arm. “Hey, those guys are in costume.”
He looked at her, pulled a face of non-comprehension, and shrugged.
She looked around, puzzled. “I don’t understand. The market scenes aren’t scheduled for a couple of weeks.” A strange awareness filtered through to her consciousness. When she went to the temple, it had been early evening. Faint light now tinged the sky.
Uneasiness invaded her stomach. Where was this reception? If she didn’t know better, she’d have . . .
She spun. If this were a film set, where were the lights? The cameras? And why would she be on her way to a reception when no one knew about her visit to the Temple of Thoth?
Not the crew. Not the director. Not Brian.
She didn’t want to admit her thoughts. Was she dreaming? Had she fallen asleep in the car? Or fainted in the temple and this was all a figment of her imagination? She’d wake up soon.
But she knew that wasn’t true because she could remember everything from the moment she arrived at the temple, to when she climbed aboard this chariot.
The farther away they drove from the temple, the more her heart raced with uncontrollable dread at what could have happened to her. Somehow, some way, she’d fallen through a hole in time, and been transported back to ancient Egypt. Her mind didn’t want to believe what her senses screamed. She probably had been drugged.