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The netting wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t see her scowl. “Mr. Evelyn—”
“Very well. Where’s the exit?” he asked, eyeing the contraption with interest. The concept was an intriguing one for keeping the insects at bay, but the execution lacked finesse. Perhaps with an added bit of reinforcement there—
“Mr. Evelyn.”
Rhys pulled his attention back to Helen.
“The exit is meant to be on the side,” she explained, motioning toward her hip with an elbow, “but it’s… migrated to the back.”
“A vigorous sleeper, are you?” Rhys gave up trying to control his grin.
“Just untie me, please,” she bit out. “Eyes closed, remember.”
“Miss Corbyn, we’ve shared a kiss. Surely, there’s no harm if I just—”
“Mr. Evelyn, I’m only wearing my shift, so eyes closed, if you please.”
Rhys swallowed against the picture her words painted on the canvas of his mind. “Very well.” He obliged her and closed his eyes, biting his lip against another grin. “If you’ll just turn a bit…”
He ran his hands along her form, feeling the smooth contour of her hip and waist. The image his touch created was far more vivid than if she’d allowed him to keep his eyes open, but he’d not tell her that. Finally, he found what felt like a tie just above the small of her back. The pea-sized knot was fast, though, and his fingers turned to thumbs as he fumbled with the cord.
“Mr. Evelyn,” she said impatiently, “do you have it?”
“Don’t you think, given the circumstances, that you might call me Rhys?” His neck had grown uncomfortably warm in the small space. He opened one eye to gauge his progress on the knot and frowned to see it was an impossible feat, even without the added complication of Helen’s curves beneath his hand.
“Do you have it?” she repeated through clenched teeth.
Rhys pulled his knife from his boot and neatly sliced the cord imprisoning her. “I have it,” he said.
She breathed a relieved sigh, and Rhys backed out of the tent to seek the cooling water of the pool once more.
——
Helen’s face burnedhotter than a thousand suns by the time she joined Mr. Evelyn for a breakfast of tea and oatcakes, and only some of the heat could be blamed on her sunburn. The rest was pure and complete mortification. She would have frowned her displeasure with the morning’s events, but her forehead was tight, and her nose hurt when she wrinkled it, so she made an extra effort not to be annoyed. It was proving difficult.
When she’d finally extricated herself from the fiendish Levinge, she’d stuffed the thing into the darkest corner of the saddle bag. Sir John Gardner Wilkinson would have her strong opinion on his recommendation as soon as she had her letter writing things back. For now, though, she forced her forehead to smooth and resolved to think only positive, non-wrinkling thoughts.
And there were plenty of good thoughts to be had. For starters, Mr. Evelyn—or his sister, rather—had discovered part of the Pharaoh’s Trinity. She was nearly certain the piece she’d held the night before was the mythical scarab’s body. Just wait until she told the professor!
And that brought to mind another glorious thought: they were but a day’s ride from Cairo. Surely, she’d be reunited with the Tyndales soon. She barely enjoyed the relief that certainty brought before her mind spun on its heel to return to precisely where it had been all through the night… Mr. Evelyn’s kiss.
Despite the morning’s mortifying encounter, despite the man’s poorly concealed laughter at her expense, she found herself grinning. She pressed her lips into a firm line lest she appear feeble minded. As they finished their breakfast, he passed her a hat. It was a drab, broad-brimmed affair made of felt, and she turned it slowly in her hands. At her confused frown, he cleared his throat and said simply, “For the sun.”
“Oh! How thoughtful! Thank you.” First a kiss, and now kindness. His consideration was completely at odds with the man who’d threatened to leave her the day before. She took his offering and settled it over her scarf. She knew she must have been a sight, but fair-skinned ladies couldn’t afford to be particular.
“We should go soon,” he said as he flipped his watch closed.
The act reminded her of the Pharaoh’s Trinity tucked up in its secret compartment. “Mr. Evelyn,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about the amulet.”
He lowered his teacup to gaze at her over the rim. “And?”
“And as clever as your secret compartment is, I have to agree with you. I can’t think it’s safe to carry such a valuable piece about in your watch.”
Mr. Evelyn nodded as he kicked dirt onto their fire. “I’ve been trying to think of a better place for it. Do you suggest I hide it in my boot, perhaps alongside my dagger?”
Helen snorted at the reminder of his ridiculous tale of the Flowerpot villain. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. But maybe…” She tapped her chin, thinking. The notion was too simple, really, but it just might work. “Consider this,” she said.
He listened, arms crossed as she explained. She thought he might scoff at the least, or protest, but he lifted one hand to rub his jaw, brows lowered in thought. Finally, he said, “I’ll allow, it could work.”
