AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Behind them lay a small but tidy cluster of mud homes. No light shone from the structures. Regardless, they were too far for her to find any help there, not without leaving the man and his camel for an extended length of time.
The camel! With a start, she realized Fiona had come loose from her tether to wander along the water’s edge. The animal stood silhouetted against the low moon as she tugged lazily at a clump of grasses. With a quick glance to ensure Mr. Evelyn had not slid from the tree, Helen crossed to the camel on hurried feet.
With a frown, she tried to recall everything she’d read about the beasts to prepare for her travels. Sadly, it seemed Mr. Evelyn’s thoughts on preparation won out in this case as none of her volumes had provided a single bit of instruction on retrieving a wandering ruminant. That, she thought, might have been a useful bit of information to have.
As if sensing her pursuit, the camel shuffled farther away. “Fiona,” Helen said softly, using the same low pitch Mr. Evelyn had used with the animal. Coming from him, the sound was soft and persuasive. Velvety, like the voice a lover might use (or so she assumed). But while it sent ripples along her spine when Mr. Evelyn spoke, Helen felt ridiculous whispering to a camel.
She released a heavy sigh then approached the animal slowly from the side, careful to hold herself well out of kicking range. The reins were just there. Two more feet and she’d have—
“Mnaaaaaarrrrrhhhh!”
The camel released one of her low bellows and Helen jumped. A moment passed, then another, and she slowly coaxed her eyes open.
Fiona tossed her head, chewing with exaggerated indifference, wholly unconcerned with the distress she was causing. Then the animal turned and sniffed Helen’s scarf, her wide camel lips closing about the edge of the blue linen. As she nibbled, Helen reached for the reins.
“Fiona,” she said persuasively as the camel continued tugging at her scarf. “Mr. Evelyn has decided to have a nap, so it’s just the two of us ladies. And while I’m sure the grasses along this part of the canal are delightful, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d come this way.”
To her surprise, the camel began walking with her. She stifled a shout of triumph and led the way, but when they reached the hitching bar, the camel continued walking, pulling Helen with her across the tow path.
“Fiona—” Helen whispered urgently, but the animal simply sniffed Mr. Evelyn’s hair before folding herself next to him. Helen groaned to see he’d toppled from his perch atop the saddle to lay awkwardly upon the ground. Thankfully, he hadn’t landed on his injured hand, although he’d have a horrid pain in his neck when he awoke.
Helen secured Fiona’s lead around the palm then considered the man. Another nudge to his foot yielded no results so, with a shoulder-rounding sigh, she arranged the blanket over him then settled herself against the tree.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rhys cracked one eye open and winced at the sharp pain in his neck. He’d slept, the first dreamless sleep he’d enjoyed in the weeks since Fiona had been taken. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wondering at the cotton in his mouth and the cushion beneath his head. He licked his dry lips and looked up.
A brilliant moon lit the landscape, silvering the contours of Miss Corbyn’s face as she slept above him. She sat propped against a palm, her scarf unwound to serve as a blanket while his camel snored behind them. It was Miss Corbyn’s lap that cushioned his head, her thigh that cushioned his hand. A curious warmth filled him as he tried to recall how they’d come to such an arrangement.
His bruised hand. TheTamarisk. The men who’d tried to kill him. Ah, that brought it all back with crashing vigor. He removed his hand from Miss Corbyn’s leg, perhaps a bit more slowly than he should have.
He rose, careful not to disturb her, and inspected her precise wrapping. The pale linen was bright in the moonlight and while he didn’t like the immobility of it, he had to admit the pain was considerably lessened. He’d rarely taken opium powder, and it had never occurred to him that Miss Corbyn’s “tiny bit” would put him out like a tap to the head.
Gauging by the moon’s position, he’d not slept more than an hour, two at the most. But their chances of overtaking theTamarisk, which had been slim from the outset, faded to nothing as the minutes passed. He wondered if Miss Corbyn realized the futility of their task.
He crossed to the canal and removed the scarf to splash his neck one-handed. The night was cool, the water cold, and it cleared the remaining cobwebs left by the lady’s powder. He stood and leaned against the hitching bar. As he did so, the moonlight caught the lettering on the wood.Kafr Abu Homs.
He released a sigh of equal parts frustration and irony and, running his good hand through his hair, considered their situation. They could continue on as they were in futile pursuit of theTamarisk, or they could abandon the canal—and the Tyndales—to cut across the delta. It would shorten his route to Cairo by hours, but Miss Corbyn would have to resign herself to abandoning their plan and reuniting with the Tyndales at a much later point in the journey.
Or they could turn back. Undoubtedly, Miss Corbyn would fare better to return the way they’d come. She’d find a nice hotel to await the professor’s return. She could seek assistance from the foreign office and preserve her reputation, if there was any left after their hours alone together. That would certainly be a better course for her than spending the next days alone with Rhys, but it would mean another delay in his search for his sister.
He pulled a worn card from his pocket and smoothed the bent corner. Fiona stared back at him from the paper, her eyes a mirror to his own. She’d been enthusiastic about the novelty of sitting for a photograph until she learned she’d have to remain still for the duration. Rhys smiled at the memory. Telling his sister not to move was like telling her not to breathe, and he wasn’t surprised the image was slightly blurred.
He swallowed thickly. His desperation, his fear for Fiona, rose until it threatened to choke him. He shoved it aside and forced a slow breath in and out.
There was no way around it: he had to get to Cairo. It was where Fiona had been taken from him and where Rhys had first heard of this mysterious Collector. It was where he’d find his sister. He’d not allow anything or anyone, even the charming Miss Corbyn, to deter him from his purpose. Whether or not she wished it, they were going to Cairo.
——
Helen’s chest grewcuriously tight when she saw what Mr. Evelyn held in his unwrapped hand. It was a photograph of a woman, and even from a distance, Helen could see she was beautiful. Mr. Evelyn’s shoulders were rounded in misery, and she wondered at the lady’s identity. Back in Valletta, Lydia had said he had no wife, but could this lady be hisbetrothed? Her face flamed as she thought of the times she’d teased him about his harem. She swallowed and tucked the ends of her scarf more securely.
“How much farther is it to Kafr Abu Homs?” she asked, dismayed by the threadiness of her voice.
He hastily tucked the photograph away then turned. She waited, but he remained silent, staring at her for a long beat before finally spreading his arms. “This is it,” he said.
Helen heard his words, but she didn’t immediately grasp their meaning. Then, eyes wide, she gazed at the emptiness about them. “This… this is it? That can’t be right.”
He nodded toward the mud huts in the distance then motioned to the hitching bar. “See for yourself.”
