Her Kind of Trouble (39 page)
Jane cleared her throat. "Children present," she warned us laughingly, as we drew apart.
"My apologies," Lex told her, then asked me, "Are you ready to go?"
We'd already agreed that I'd stay overnight in his hotel before my British cousin, Lilith, came to fetch me. Our nominal excuse was that I could "rest up" from the long flight from
Cairo
, although how much rest I would actually get…
I felt mildly flushed, from the expectation. If the paparazzi got any pictures of us on the way out of Jane and Kara's press room, I can't imagine anyone would miss the fact that he and I were crazy about each other.
The limousine that pulled up to the curb as we left the terminal shouldn't have surprised me. "If we're getting married," I warned, "you can't keep doing this."
He pretended innocence as the chauffeur opened the back door for us and Lex handed me in. "Doing what?"
"Spending huge amounts of money on everyday things like rides from the airport."
He climbed in on the other side and, as the door shut behind him, frowned. "And why do you say,
if
?"
I kissed his cheek. "Don't be paranoid."
He watched me, looking paranoid. And okay, so I'd broken our engagement twice before—and simply refused his proposals two other times. At least I didn't have to worry that he only wanted to marry me because of the baby.
Then again, he didn't have that certainty about me, did he?
"I think," I said slowly, "my suspicion that you were hiding something is only one reason I hesitated to marry you, before."
"Uh-oh," he said.
"I've also been worried about losing myself," I continued. "We don't live in an age where husbands have legal control over their wives' freedom anymore, thank heavens, and I've never suspected you of being the kind of man who'd take advantage of it if we did. But… "
He waited, listening as if his life depended on it. Beyond him, outside the window, the suburbs of
London
rolled by.
"It's easier to stay independent when you're not part of a couple," I decided—that wasn't quite it, but it was as close as I could come. "Part of a family. Once we marry, I'll owe you explanations of where I'm going. I'll have to accept that my decisions affect your life, that you have a vote in what I choose to do, as much as I have a vote in your life."
"What… ?" He seemed to be searching for the right words himself. "What can I do to help with that?"
"You've already done it," I assured him, brushing his cheek with my fingertips. "You've given me all the time and space I've asked for. Well...
almost
all of it."
Many goddesses
do
marry, without losing any of their sovereignty. For a Grailkeeper, it was the ultimate argument. But that parallel, I still wasn't wholly comfortable with.
Isis
does save Osiris, and they do have a son. But Osiris becomes King of the Underworld.
What had Lex's coup made him the leader of?
Luckily, Lex distracted me from those particular concerns by drawing a small ring box out of his breast pocket He opened it, revealing a beautiful diamond, just small enough to avoid being gaudy, set in a platinum band.
It wasn't the ring he'd given me last time.
At first, the design on the band resembled Celtic knotwork. But looking closer, I realized it was a series of overlapping circles—
vesica pisces
. Symbol of the Grailkeepers.
"You had this specially designed?" I breathed, taking it from his expectant hand for a closer look.
"It gave me something to look forward to."
I kissed him, for once refusing to protest the expense or demand assurance that this wasn't a blood diamond. Surely he knew me well enough by now. "It's beautiful, Lex. And you're wonderful. More wonderful than I ever dared to hope."
"I'm not sure anybody could be that wonderful," he warned. "Are you willing to make it official, then? To trade rings with me?"
I almost hated to take off the wedding band—which had to be a good sign. But I did, and let him slide the diamond on in its place. This ring represented one promise I would be glad to keep.
Handing back the original band, I finally remembered to ask. "What does the motto mean?"
Lex blinked at me. "The motto?"
"Your family motto, on the ring.
Virescit vulnere virtus
."
"Oh. You saw that."
"Yes. And it translates to… ?"
"It means courage, or virtue, grows strong at the wound. That only those who have gone through injury can really know what they're made of."
I studied his quietly handsome face, the sweep of his jaw, his nose, his cheekbones. He'd survived leukemia and a knife attack and now a poisoning—not to mention betrayal by one or more close relatives—and he wasn't hesitating to face the future. "Like you," I said softly.
He held my gaze. "Like us, Goddess."
And that, also, was true.
In the dark of the morning, I came awake and stretched, glad for every inch of my well-loved body. I was also glad for every inch of Lex's where he lay, deeply asleep and beautifully naked, beside me in the canopied bed. He had gotten a suite at the Kensington, complete with a marble fireplace and a view of
Somehow, it seemed fitting that Lex would take a room so close to a royal residence. If the Stuarts hadn't lost the throne of
England
, he might be in residence there himself!
Thank the goddess for small favors.
Since I was suddenly wide-awake, I slid from the high-platformed bed, pulling Lex's discarded linen shirt on against a chill that felt all the stranger after more than a week in the heat of
Egypt
. I went to my luggage. Then I padded to the salon where, beside the tray of canapé's the butler had delivered, sat an open bottle of sparkling cider. Lex had wanted expensive champagne to celebrate our engagement, but it was just as well we'd gone with the fruit juice. We'd drunk very little be-fore our thirst for each other overrode any other appetites.
I stretched again, blissfully sated.
Opening the shoe box Kara had given me, I withdrew the Isis Grail—
my
Isis Grail—and set it on the walnut table. Tomorrow I would bring it to my cousin Lilith, who would hide it with the Melusine Grail. But for now…
I poured half an inch of cider, not enough to hide the drawing of
Isis
in the bowl of the chalice, only enough to give her a golden, glittering glow. Then I went out onto the balcony—chill or not—and looked up at the moon.
You can worship any goddess, and all of them, via the moon.
"Thank you," I whispered, catching its reflection in the sweet juice. Apples are a goddess thing, too. "Thank you for letting me see this man as he truly is. Thank you for this baby. Thank you for the injuries that have strengthened me, tempered me, brought me to this place."
For just a moment, I felt I was there again—underwater in Cleopatra's Palace, amid submerged artifacts and relics.
"And thank you for allowing me the honor of championing you."
Then I drank.
And it tasted sweet.
EVELYN VAUGHN
has written stories since she learned to make letters. But during the two years that she lived on a Navajo reservation in
Since then, Evelyn has canoed in the east Texas swamps, rafted a white-water river in the Austrian Alps, rappelled barefoot down a three-story building, talked her way onto a ship to Greece without her passport, sailed in the Mediterranean and spent several weeks in Europe with little more than a backpack and a train pass. All at least once. While she enjoys channeling the more powerful "travel Vaughn" on a regular basis, she also loves the fact that she can write about adventures with far less physical discomfort. Since she now lives in
Her Kind
of Trouble
is Evelyn's eighth full-length book for Silhouette. Feel free to contact her through her Web site, www.evelynvaughn.com, or by writing to: NO..
Euless
Author's Note
The problem of international custody disputes is a very real one, by no means limited either to the
Middle East
or to fathers doing the kidnapping. Although I read extensively about the issue, I tried not to base the situation with Hani Rachid and Jane Fletcher on any one real-life case. Similarly, the issue of children like Samira arrested on the charge of being "vulnerable to delinquency" is a concern that several human rights organizations are currently investigating… but it is important to remember that human rights and children's rights issues exist all over the world. They are not specific to any one country or religion.
Many of the settings in this book are real places, and I tried to be accurate whenever possible, but there were times when I had to take creative license. This happened, in particular, with the pyramids of AbuSir. The likelihood of there being a private entrance into a pyramid's substructure is low… but then again, if anybody knew about it and could get access, wouldn't the Comitatus?
As for the information and scenes concerning Cleopatra's Palace, I owe a great debt of gratitude to the incredible work that real archeologists such as Jean-Yves Empereur and Franck Goddio have been doing in the area. Their discoveries were the inspiration for this book.
And yes, Cleopatra VII (the seduced-by-Julius-Caesar, men-Mark-
Antony
, heavy-on-the-eye-shadow, death-by-asp Cleopatra) really was an Isis Worshipper! Why not a Grailkeeper, as well?
If you have any questions or comments about this story, or the Grailkeepers in general, I love to hear from readers! Please feel free to check out my Web site at www.evelynvaughn.com, to e-mail me at Yvaughn aol.com, or to write to me at
Euless
,
Thank you!
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Silhouette Bombshell
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Her Kind of Trouble #
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#8
*Burning Times
#
*Beneath the Surface
#
*
Forest
of the Night
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*The Circle
Family Secrets
The Player