AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The professor rubbed a hand over his side whiskers, warming to their task. “Do you have the amulet with you?” he asked, looking about to ensure they weren’t overheard.
It was clear his concerns over engaging with the Collector were forgotten, and Helen recognized academic zeal in his gaze. It was the same euphoria she’d felt on seeing the scarab for the first time, but there was no time for scholarly rumination.
“You don’t need the amulet to craft a story for Mr. Evelyn,” she told the professor.
“Nevertheless, I’d like to see the thing. It may inspire a more plausible tale.” He glanced about the room, which had begun filling with guests gathering for the hotel’s afternoon tea. “Perhaps we should secure one of Shepheard’s private parlors.”
Helen frowned. “I thought you were on your way to the Egyptian Museum,” she reminded him, but the professor had already started for the hotel’s desk to make his request. Turning back to Rhys, shesaid, “Your sister is fortunate to have you for her champion. I only hope”—she swallowed—“Ionly hope you’re not injured in this endeavor.”
“Why, Miss Corbyn,” he said as his eyes caught hers and held. “Your lack of faith wounds me. I did defeat the Flowerpot villain, after all.”
Helen frowned. How could he jest at a time like this?
He leaned closer to add, “Or could it be your hope for another kiss that drives your fear for my safety?”
“Oh!” Helen said as she swiftly removed her hand from his arm. He chuckled softly and she said, “Can you not be serious?”
He sobered and said softly, “I assure you, Helen, I am very serious.” He lifted her hand then and kissed her knuckles. The feel of his lips through the silk of her glove left her wanting more, and his words left her wondering exactly what he was serious about: the matter with his sister or the prospect of another kiss. She tugged her hand from his once more as the professor returned.
“Shepheard’s set aside the east parlor for our use,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Shall we see what sort of tale we can craft?”
——
In the end,Rhys, with the aid of Helen and Tyndale, had a somewhat plausible report to offer Akeem. It included enough details for believability but not so many that Rhys would fail to remember it all. And with any sort of luck, the locations he gave Akeem would take the Collector far enough from Cairo that Rhys and Fiona could make a swift return to England without further incident.
The thought caused his chest to tighten. England. After so many weeks longing for nothing more than to return home with Fiona, he now found himself strangely reluctant to leave. He glanced toward Helen, whose head angled toward the amulet as she studied it.
Her sunburn had eased, leaving a pleasing flush to grace her cheekbones. She’d abandoned thejalabiyato return to her own clothing, and her fitted gown of spring green was well suited to her coloring. He inhaled, pulling in her warm jasmine scent as he watched her mind work.
He’d never been particularly drawn to bluestocking females, but now he wondered what he’d been missing. Or perhaps it was simply Helen’s unique brand of bluestocking-ness that drew him, for like a moth to the proverbial candle, he was helpless to avoid her pull.
He shoved his thoughts aside. They were doing nothing to see Fiona to safety.
“It’s a shame such a valuable artifact will be lost to one man’s greed,” Helen said softly as Tyndale watched the scarab turn in her fingers. The pair of them were as morose as if a favored pet had died, and Rhys felt regret for having dangled such an enticing treat as his sister’s amulet before them, only to snatch it from their grasp.
He checked the clock on Shepheard’s sideboard. It was time to go. He rose, and Tyndale stood with him. “I’ll join you to meet with this fellow,” he said and Helen’s brows climbed.
“While I appreciate the support,” Rhys said, “it’s not necessary.”
“Nonsense. If there are any difficult questions about the matter of the Trinity, I’m more than qualified to answer them.”
Rhys couldn’t disagree, but he also didn’t think Akeem was astute enough to ask difficult questions. And if Tyndale joined him and something went awry, where would that leave Helen and the rest of her party? No, there was too much risk to the both of them going, and he said as much.
A frown gathered on the older man’s face, but he finally agreed with a begrudging nod before collecting his hat.
Helen turned to Rhys after Tyndale had left them. “Please be safe,” she said softly. Her anxiety on his behalf both distressed and warmed him. He didn’t wish her to worry, but he was pleased to see she cared enough to fret a little.
He nodded, his eyes falling to her lips. Would it be wrong, he wondered, to take another kiss when it was only a matter of time before he left for England? Probably, but—
Helen’s lips found his before he could finish the thought. His hands reached for her waist, steadying her in their embrace. This kiss was longer than their first had been, shifting from fierce and urgent to sweet and warm, and he reveled in it. Her lips fit his perfectly, as if she’d been molded especially for him,or he for her. Or the pair of them, he thought dazedly, formed together from one, singular cast.
His hands smoothed the graceful curves of her hip and waist and along the sinuous line of her spine. Her fingers were cool on his cheeks, smooth against his rough whiskers as she explored him. When their lips reluctantly parted, he nuzzled the tender curve of her neck and held her, eyes closed. “Helen,” he murmured. How, he wondered, would he ever find the strength to leave?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CAIRO, TWO MONTHS EARLIER
Akeem and his companion followed the Collector’s man up dark, narrow stairs and down a long hall to the richly upholstered library. Velvet window curtains hung opposite a pair of matching couches. The fabrics matched the blood drying on Akeem’s hands and filling his nostrils. He curled his hands into fists and tucked them behind him.
