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"You're a darling," she said. "And I don't want to hurt you. But I don't want to marry you, either."
"I know," he said. "I've known for a long time. But I'm going to continue to pretend it isn't so. Just as I've always done."
"Alex, don't--"
"No, darling, don't give advice. Let me do things my own way. After all, it's a woman's privilege to change her mind, isn't it? And you may change yours, and when you do, I'll be waiting. No, don't say anything more. You're free. You've always been free, really."
She drew in her breath. A deep pain radiated through her. She felt it in her chest; in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to cry, but this was not the place. She kissed him quickly on the cheek, and then she went down the deck, and into her cabin.
Thank God, Rita wasn't there. She lay down on the small bed and cried softly in the pillow. And then, exhausted, she drifted into a half sleep, her last thought being, May he never find out that I never loved him. May he always think it was another man, an adversary who swept me off my feet. That he can understand, not the other.
It was dark beyond the windows when she opened her eyes. Rita had lighted a small lamp from the deck. And she realized Ramses was standing in the room, looking down at her.
She felt no anger, and certainly no fear.
And then suddenly she realized that she was still dreaming. Only now did she fully wake and find the room lighted and empty. Oh, if only he had been there. Her body ached for him. She no longer cared about past or future. She cared only for him, and surely he knew this.
When she came into the dining room, he was in fast conversation with others. The table was littered with exotic dishes.
"Should we have awakened you, my dear, we weren't sure," Elliott said, rising at once to help her with her chair.
"Ah, Julie," Ramses said, "these native dishes are simply delicious." He was gaily helping himself to shish kebab and grape leaves and spiced dishes for which she didn't know the names, fingers moving as always with great delicacy and deliberation.
"Wait a minute," Alex said. "You mean, you've never had this food before?"
"Well, no, in that crazy pink hotel we ate meat and potatoes if memory serves me right," Ramses said. "And this is a very fine dish, this chicken and cinnamon."
"But wait a minute," Alex said. "Are you not a native Egyptian?"
"Alex, please, I think Mr. Ramsey likes to be mysterious about his origins," Julie said.
Ramses laughed. He drank down a tumbler full of wine. "That's true, I must confess. But if you must know, I am ... Egyptian, yes."
"And where in the world ...?"
"Alex, please," Julie said.
Alex shrugged. "What a puzzle you are, Ramsey!"
"Ah, but I don't offend you, do I, Alexander?"
"Call me that again and I'll call you out," Alex said.
"What does this mean?"
"Nothing," Elliott said. He patted his son's hand.
But Alex wasn't cross. And certainly he wasn't offended. He gazed at Julie across the table. He gave her a little sad secret smile, for which she knew she would be forever grateful.
It was burning hot at midday in Luxor. They waited until late afternoon before going ashore and taking the long stroll through the immense temple complex. Ramses had no need to be alone, she could see that. He walked among the pillars, now and then looking up, but for the most part deep in his own thoughts.
Ellio
tt had refused to miss this part of the journey, no matter how difficult it was for him. Alex hung back to give his father an arm to lean on. And Samir walked with the Earl as well. They appeared to be in deep discussion.
"The pain's leaving you, isn't it?" Julie said.
"When I look at you I don't feel it at all," Ramses answered. "Julie is as beautiful in Egypt as she was in London."
