Journey to the Lost Tomb (Rowan and Ella Book 2) (17 page)

           
By
the time Ella scrambled up the path to Julia’s tent, the bottoms of her feet
ripped and bleeding, Spenser had wrapped Julia in a sheet and was ushering her
out of the tent. As soon as he saw Ella, he gently propelled Julia into her
arms. Julia fell against Ella and began convulsingly weeping on her shoulder.
Ella glared up at Spenser.

           
“Will
he be allowed to roam free
now
?”

           
Spenser
rubbed his knuckles and glanced in the direction of Carter’s tent, clearly
preferring to pass the baton on this one. He looked back at Ella. “Go on,” he
said. “Take her with you.”

           
“I
know, I know,” Ella said, tugging Julia down the gravel road. “We’ll deal with
it in the morning. But I want a guard on my tent!”

           
She
heard him turn away, cursing under his breath.

           
Minutes
later, the sound of bare feet in front of her tent could be heard. A moment
later, another sentry was posted at the rear.

           
Ella
held her trembling friend. Julia’s weeping had stopped but she couldn’t bear to
separate from Ella. They curled up on Ella’s bed, the light from the lantern
blazing, illuminating the tent interior.
 

 
          
“Oh,
Ella,” Julia said, her voice a hoarse croak.

           
“I
know, sweetie,” Ella said, patting her shoulder. “I know.
Now
we kill him.”

           
The
next morning, Ella slipped out of bed and was instantly reminded of her own injuries
from the night before when her sore feet touched the floor. She crept gingerly
to the tray of tea the servant had just delivered, and carried it to the wooden
crate that served as her bedside table. She dribbled milk into one teacup and poured
tea from the little teapot.

           
“I’m
awake,” Julia said from the bed.

           
Ella
stirred the cup and handed it to her. “How do you feel?”

           
Julia
took the tea and sipped it before answering. Her eyes met Ella’s. “He’s a
monster,” she said.

           
Ella
nodded and poured her own tea. The two drank in silence for several moments.

           
“Were
you serious last night about killing him?” Julia asked.

           
Ella
allowed a wry smile. “Well, I probably was last night,” she said. “But it doesn’t
sound like my best idea in the light of day.”

           
“I
suppose not.”

           
“Do
you want to talk about it? About last night?”

           
Julia
squeezed her eyes shut tight. “No,” she said, shuddering. “Please, no.” She
looked suddenly horror-stricken. “Mr. Spenser saw me,” she said, “…
naked
.”

           
Ella
saw that she was about to start trembling again. “It was just for a flash. I’m
sure he will recall nothing. He was too busy punching your husband in the nose
to take much notice. Trust me.”

           
“What
do I do now, Ella?” Julia said. “If you’re sure we can’t kill him.”

           
“I
don’t know,” Ella said. “But I’m working on it.”

           
Julia
refused to leave Ella’s tent that day. She said she didn’t feel safe even with
the guards and insisted that Ella stay with her. Except to make a quick run to Julia’s
tent to gather clothes, Ella stayed with her.

           
Digby
ate a hearty breakfast. He had opted to skip the dig site this
morning—just in case that bastard Spenser had poisoned the well with him against
Carter. In his experience, a few days for everyone to cool off usually did the
trick. He threw a piece of bacon to one of the camp dogs, wiped his fingers on
his linen napkin and returned to his tent. It was too hot for a ride before
lunch but he had a book he could enjoy. He glanced down the rock path toward
the American woman’s tent, now housing his difficult bride.
That had been pleasant
, he smiled. Then
he thought of Spenser attacking him.

           
I
should have a word with Carter,
he thought.
Tell my side of things. Tell
him to call off his dog. She is my wife after all.

           
As
Digby approached his tent, he saw Abdullah standing in front of it with one arm
blocking entrance and staring down at none other than the little American
bitch. She stood in her
trousers
, the
revealing lines of the snug pants showing the luscious cleft of her bottom,
each cheek outlined perfectly like a ripe peach and ending in those long legs.
Hello. Perhaps the morning would be
interesting yet.

           
“What
is the meaning of this?” Digby called out in his most imperious voice.

           
She
turned, literally shoving her large breasts up at him, accentuated as they were
by her hands resting on her hips.

           
I’ll show you a little bit about mastery, my
girl,
he thought forcing his face not to mirror his thoughts.

           
“I’m
here to get Julia’s clothes,” she said to him.
Brazen and unafraid
. Digby could feel his member stiffen at her
haughty tone. “Tell your thug to get out of my way.”

           
Digby
made a dismissive gesture to Abdullah and the man vanished behind the tent.
Nearby, if needed, but invisible.

           
“After
you,” Digby said, bowing gallantly and indicating the opening in the tent with
his eye.

           
She
quickly pushed past the flap and entered the tent. Digby took one step behind
her into the tent when she whirled around, grabbed him by the elbows and
brought her knee up hard and solidly into his crotch. She pushed him backward
out of the tent and as he fell, excruciating pain emanating from every pore on
his body, he heard a pathetic croak come from his lips—too soft to alert Abdullah.
After that, all his effort was on the body-wracking agony that left him immobilized
and stricken. She vanished into the tent, and returned with his slop pail which
she dumped onto his head pail and all. Then she grabbed a stack of Julia’s
clothes and headed down the path to her tent.

The Nile River, 1922

           
“Guess
you’re pretty excited about reaching Luxor tomorrow?”

           
Rowan
turned from his position at the starboard rail on the prow of the boat. Marvel
was an outdoors woman, something Rowan liked in a woman. She didn’t mind the
sun and seemed impervious to the weather. She had dressed this morning in a
split-skirt with a loose silk blouse tucked into the waist. He could not help
but notice that she was not wearing any foundation undergarment.

           
Coming out with both barrels blazing,
Marvel?

           
She
had been very good company on the trip down to Luxor. While she rarely left him
to his own devices, preferring to stay with him nearly every minute of the
trip, she knew when to talk and when to let him brood. He thought only Ella
knew how to do that.

           
He
was surprised to realize that in the five days he had known her, Marvel Newton
had completely transformed her body. The extra ten pounds which had prompted him
to initially label her as plump were gone. He hoped he wasn’t the reason she
had found the willpower to shed the weight. He had to admit, she looked
extremely tasty. In less than a week—while he hadn’t been
looking—she had gone from looking almost matronly to sexy-as-hell. What
with her vamping the new braless look this morning, he kind of figured she knew
it too.

           
“Yep,”
he said, titling the brim of the safari hat he’d picked up in Cairo back on his
head. “I’m ready for dry land again, I have to say.”

           
“Oh,
you don’t need to be coy with me, Rowan,” Marvel said, looping her arm in his.
“I know your excitement has less to do with being a landlubber again and more
to do with locating your runaway wife.”

           
Now why do you supposed she kept referring
to Ella that way?
Rowan shook his head ruefully and moved her so that they
were both facing the western bank of the Nile.

           
“You
already know me so well, Marvel,” he said. “Captain Aapep said this time
tomorrow we’ll dock. There will be horses to rent when we land.”

           
“Do
you ride?”
 

           
He
shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

           
“Well,
cowboy, they won’t be Western saddles if that’s what you’re thinking and
English saddles actually require a modicum of skill in order not to fall off.”

           
Rowan
grinned at her. “You’ll be coming with me, I presume?”

           
“I
wouldn’t miss it.”

           
“Then
you can give me all the necessary tips as we go.”

           
She
squeezed his arm and stared out over the river. “Count on it, sugar,” she said.

           
As
Rowan redirected his gaze to the constantly changing banks that hugged the
river, he thought he could understand why Ella hadn’t raced back to Alabama. If
she had seen what he was seeing right now, he had to admit, he probably
couldn’t blame her at all.

Howard Carter’s Camp,
Valley of the Kings 1922

           
Ella
sat in a camp chair by the central fire. She had finally coaxed Julia to join
her. The fact that Spenser and two of his men squatted or sat with them didn’t
seem to make Julia feel better. She clearly viewed Spenser—and the eyeful
she’d given him—as not much better than Digby on her list of
Those Men I Would Like to See Vanish from
the Face of the Earth
. Dinner had been another nonevent as the two women
had eaten in Ella’s tent. Ella had only been able to convince Julia to
temporarily rejoin the living by informing her that Digby was doing cigars and
brandy in Carter’s tent and expected to be gone for the evening.

           
She
wasn’t completely sure why she had bothered. Julia sat bundled up against the
chill in a fur coat and two blankets and kept looking over her shoulder as if she
expected Gunga Din to invade the circle at any moment. Spenser, never a talker at
the best of times, was morosely silent, staring into the fire. At this time of
evening, Ella found herself thinking of Rowan the most.
 

           
Ella
missed him so much. She was even starting to miss Dothan. Scratch that. She
just missed Rowan so much she would put up with Dothan. She realized that there
appeared to be a piece of her that was
missing
when she didn’t have Rowan by her side. As wonderful and exciting as this place
had felt—this adventure extravaganza out in the middle of the Egyptian
desert—the thrill of it had taken a serious hit somewhere between
William’s murder and the steadily growing, nearly physical longing for Rowan.

           
The
fact was, Ella was ready to go home.

           
She
and Julia had argued earlier that day when Ella suggested they return to Cairo.
Julia, amazingly, said she wasn’t ready.

           
“What
possible reason could you have for staying, Julia?”

           
“This
is
my
expedition, Ella. I paid for
it.”

           
“It
feels like it’s your
husband’s
expedition.
He’s
the one in control.
You’re
hiding in a tent.”

           
“It
was
my
idea.”
 

           
“And
now it’s all gone bad. You see that, right? Whatever you thought it would be is
not how it
is
.”

           
“If
I leave, I’ll be letting him chase me away.”

           
“Sometimes
there are good reasons to run.”

           
“Except
I’m still married to him.”

           
Ella
held out her hands in frustration. “Well?” she said. “Annul it? Please?”

           
Julia
looked away.

           
“Look,
Julia, you’re afraid of him. You won’t even leave the tent. Why in God’s name
would you insist on staying?”