said, “All our clues point
to a clever, powerful, and dangerous person. Surely someone
inCairowould know who the most likely suspects are. Lord Noxley…”
She shook her head. “No, we need to talk to someone who’s
made his home here, someone who knows everybody and everything.”
She looked up at
him, then past him at the row of inscrutable wooden figures on the
shelf. “Good grief. The merchant.”
Rupert looked that
way, too.
“ We bought
most of those figures from the same man who sold Miles the papyrus,”
she said. “That’s where we should have started, with
Vanni Anaz. Who told him the story of the lost pharaoh’s tomb?
How many people did he tell? How many showed an interest in the
papyrus?”
“ Excellent
point.” Rupert swallowed the last of his coffee and rose.
“Begin at the beginning. And we’d better do it sooner
rather than later—before our villain guesses our next move.”
“ Now?”
she said. Her hand went to her head, and she looked down at herself
in dismay.
He picked up the
turban she’d flung down. “I’ll help you,” he
said.
Chapter 6
DAPHNE’S MIND
WASN’T AT ITS SHARPEST. SHE’D lain awake last night
straining to hear what was happening elsewhere in the guardhouse and
berating herself for losing her temper with the police. If they beat
or tortured Mr. Carsington, it would be her fault.
Her beastly,
unwomanly temper. Five years of Virgil’s gentle reproofs had
not helped subdue it. On the contrary, the reproofs only made her
angrier.
Mr. Carsington did
not mind her temper at all. Exciting , he called it—though she might have got them both killed.
She looked up at
him as he wrestled with her hair and the turban.
He was… very
much alive.
She was acutely
aware of the rise and fall of his chest, of his breath on her face,
and of his dark gaze focused on her head. And of his hands, those
capable hands… so reassuring during the long, dark journey
through the pyramid. And so dangerous, making her want more, making
her impatient… to be touched.
Her heart began to
race.
She swatted his
hands away. “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll
wear a shawl.”
She hurried out of
the room and walked straight into Leena. Daphne glared at her and
continued on. When they were out of earshot she said, “Have you
been eavesdropping—listening at the door?”
“ Yes,”
Leena said, not in the least abashed. “But his voice is so low,
all I hear is a growl. Is he making love to you?”
Daphne hurried on.
“Certainly not.”
Leena followed.
“But your hair is down.”
“ I had a
temper fit and threw off my turban,” Daphne said. “I need
to change. I’m going to the suq .”
“ Now?”
Leena said, baffled.
They entered
Daphne’s bedroom. She pulled a pair of women’s Turkish
trousers out of the cupboard and found a shirt. She tore off the
clothes she’d been wearing since yesterday and threw them on
the floor. “Burn them,” she told the maid.
“ I do not
understand you,” Leena said. “Why do you not send me to
shop while you stay and let him take off your clothes? What is the
good of being a great lady if you do the work of servants and take no
pleasure?”
Daphne went to the
washbasin. While hastily washing, she reminded Leena that this was no
time for pleasure. Not to mention that she was the daughter of an
English clergyman! And the widow of another!
“ Yes, but
they are dead, and you are alive,” Leena said. She gave her
mistress a towel. “And this man— y’Allahl You
saw how he lifted big Wadid straight off the floor.” She
pressed her plump hands to her plumper bosom. “So strong. So
handsome. I saw how you looked at him. You—”
“ My brother
is missing ,” Daphne cut in tightly. “People have
been murdered .”
“ Yes, but you
have not.” Leena helped her into the loose shirt. “I
would like to be in a dark place with such a man. I would not hurry
out.”
Leena’s moral
principles
to a clever, powerful, and dangerous person. Surely someone
inCairowould know who the most likely suspects are. Lord Noxley…”
She shook her head. “No, we need to talk to someone who’s
made his home here, someone who knows everybody and everything.”
She looked up at
him, then past him at the row of inscrutable wooden figures on the
shelf. “Good grief. The merchant.”
Rupert looked that
way, too.
“ We bought
most of those figures from the same man who sold Miles the papyrus,”
she said. “That’s where we should have started, with
Vanni Anaz. Who told him the story of the lost pharaoh’s tomb?
How many people did he tell? How many showed an interest in the
papyrus?”
“ Excellent
point.” Rupert swallowed the last of his coffee and rose.
“Begin at the beginning. And we’d better do it sooner
rather than later—before our villain guesses our next move.”
“ Now?”
she said. Her hand went to her head, and she looked down at herself
in dismay.
He picked up the
turban she’d flung down. “I’ll help you,” he
said.
Chapter 6
DAPHNE’S MIND
WASN’T AT ITS SHARPEST. SHE’D lain awake last night
straining to hear what was happening elsewhere in the guardhouse and
berating herself for losing her temper with the police. If they beat
or tortured Mr. Carsington, it would be her fault.
Her beastly,
unwomanly temper. Five years of Virgil’s gentle reproofs had
not helped subdue it. On the contrary, the reproofs only made her
angrier.
Mr. Carsington did
not mind her temper at all. Exciting , he called it—though she might have got them both killed.
She looked up at
him as he wrestled with her hair and the turban.
He was… very
much alive.
She was acutely
aware of the rise and fall of his chest, of his breath on her face,
and of his dark gaze focused on her head. And of his hands, those
capable hands… so reassuring during the long, dark journey
through the pyramid. And so dangerous, making her want more, making
her impatient… to be touched.
Her heart began to
race.
She swatted his
hands away. “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll
wear a shawl.”
She hurried out of
the room and walked straight into Leena. Daphne glared at her and
continued on. When they were out of earshot she said, “Have you
been eavesdropping—listening at the door?”
“ Yes,”
Leena said, not in the least abashed. “But his voice is so low,
all I hear is a growl. Is he making love to you?”
Daphne hurried on.
“Certainly not.”
Leena followed.
“But your hair is down.”
“ I had a
temper fit and threw off my turban,” Daphne said. “I need
to change. I’m going to the suq .”
“ Now?”
Leena said, baffled.
They entered
Daphne’s bedroom. She pulled a pair of women’s Turkish
trousers out of the cupboard and found a shirt. She tore off the
clothes she’d been wearing since yesterday and threw them on
the floor. “Burn them,” she told the maid.
“ I do not
understand you,” Leena said. “Why do you not send me to
shop while you stay and let him take off your clothes? What is the
good of being a great lady if you do the work of servants and take no
pleasure?”
Daphne went to the
washbasin. While hastily washing, she reminded Leena that this was no
time for pleasure. Not to mention that she was the daughter of an
English clergyman! And the widow of another!
“ Yes, but
they are dead, and you are alive,” Leena said. She gave her
mistress a towel. “And this man— y’Allahl You
saw how he lifted big Wadid straight off the floor.” She
pressed her plump hands to her plumper bosom. “So strong. So
handsome. I saw how you looked at him. You—”
“ My brother
is missing ,” Daphne cut in tightly. “People have
been murdered .”
“ Yes, but you
have not.” Leena helped her into the loose shirt. “I
would like to be in a dark place with such a man. I would not hurry
out.”
Leena’s moral
principles
Similar Books
