Sands of Time (Out of Time #6) (21 page)

Christina ran her fingers over the leather bound edges of the book in her lap as she thought about what he said.

“It might not seem so now,” Simon continued. “But the hurt will fade.”

She nodded quickly and worried her lower lip.

“You’re a lovely, bright girl, Christina. I think, if anything, you’ll be spoilt for choice before long.”

She blushed and shook her head, but a small smile curved her lips.

“Christina,” Jack said suddenly appearing in front of them. “Just the girl I was looking for.” He jerked his head toward the impromptu dance floor. “Diana’s given up on me. How about a go?”

He held out his hand and Christina looked at it unsure. Simon gave her an encouraging nod and she took it.

“He’s got two left feet,” Simon called after them. “Don’t let him trample you.”

Quite satisfied with himself, Simon finished his scotch and set the empty glass on a table. He watched Jack and Christina for a moment before stepping outside to get some air.

He walked toward the bow to a quiet spot away from the music and the mayhem of the salon. The sound of the boat as it cut through the water was soothing and entrancing and Simon enjoyed the solitude for a few minutes, watching the distant shore slide past in the night.

He felt Elizabeth’s approach before he heard her footsteps on the wooden deck. It was strange and wonderful, this connection to someone—this subtle sense of her, a gentle hum in his soul.

“There you are,” she said.

Simon smiled to himself. He could see her in his mind’s eye, standing behind him, wearing that dress, the diaphanous fabric flowing in the slight evening breeze. Waves of auburn hair falling about her face and caressing her bare shoulders. The curious look on her face that he would kiss away.

He turned and watched her walk toward him. She stopped in front of him and tilted her head to the side. The flush in her cheeks ran down her neck into the décolletage of her dress and Simon’s eyes followed it.

She smiled then and leaned forward against the railing and took a deep breath of the cool night air. The breeze moulded her dress to her body and Simon stood for a moment content to appreciate the shape of her calves, the curve of her back, the supple skin of her shoulders.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.

The evening, he had to admit, was beautiful, too. The sky was clear and the moon shone brightly, reflecting in the glassy surface of the river. Palm trees stood in silhouette on the shores as they slipped silently by and into the night. But it all paled next to his wife.

Simon stepped behind Elizabeth and put his hands on the railing on either side of her. For once, a mission seemed to be going their way. The clues had fallen into place and he forgot what he was thinking about as Elizabeth leaned back into him.

He swept her hair from her shoulder and kissed the hollow of her neck. She sighed softly and leaned her head to the side to give him better access. He happily took it.

Simon kissed her again and again, slowly moving his way up her neck. Elizabeth put her hand on his and silently urged him to wrap his arm around her waist. He did and pulled her more tightly against him.

He groaned and she turned around in his arms. She tiptoed up and kissed him.

The next thing he knew they were on their way upstairs and could not get there soon enough. He was already unzipping her dress before they were even inside their stateroom. She slid his dinner jacket to the floor as she kissed him and he eased the straps of her dress over her shoulders and heard the fabric hit the floor at their feet.

He kissed his way up along her neck as her hands went to his belt.

“What about the beds?” she said, her voice slightly breathless.

Simon pulled back and saw the wicked grin on her face. He matched it with one of his own and then lifted her up until her legs wrapped around him.

“Who needs a bed?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Breakfast was a four course affair that left Elizabeth with barely enough strength to find a deckchair to lie down in. The entire trip was an indulgence and she was enjoying every luxurious minute of it. Although, she thought, she probably should have skipped the éclair.

She sat down on her rattan lounger and let herself relax. They were away from the unknowns of Cairo, and safe, relatively anyway, on board a beautiful boat, serenely floating up the Nile to Luxor. Where, if they were right, the watch was waiting for them.

Simon was off being academic with Arthur and so Elizabeth stretched out and watched the lush banks of the Nile drift past. The low lying farmland gave way to hills and steep cliffs before flattening out again into tracts of wheat, cotton and sugar cane. A small herd of water buffalo waded in for a drink and a bath.

The river was sometimes narrow and sometimes wide. They passed islands big and small. It was no wonder life in Egypt centered around the Nile. It literally gave sustenance to the desert and its people. It grew and contracted, flooded and receded and left the seeds of life in its place.

Thick growths of pampas grass lined the shore, a jungle of date palms standing behind them. Tawny rocks and nearly inhospitable desert beyond that. A man standing in a green and red rowboat, poled himself along near the shore toward a village.

She could just see Cleopatra arriving on her barge to seduce Mark Antony. Now,
that
was the original party barge. If she closed her eyes, she could…

“Elizabeth.”

She sat up with a start and found herself looking into the bemused face of her husband.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Simon said, but there was laughter in his eyes. “You fell asleep.”

“Just closed my eyes,” she said, stifling a yawn.

Simon pointed to the corner of his mouth. “You drooled a little.”

Elizabeth wiped her chin and blushed.

Simon’s rare, rich laugh eased her embarrassment and she took the hand he offered without question. “Come on,” he said as she let him pull her up. “We’re going on an excursion.”

Elizabeth glanced out at the still moving water. “Are we going swimming?”

Simon gently combed his fingers through her hair to tame it. “We’re about to dock and I thought…”

“I should walk off that éclair?”

He was too polite to agree, but he did smile and hold out his arm for her.

She slipped her arm through his. “Maybe we can bring a picnic.”

“Elizabeth.”

The boat docked at a small landing at the bottom of a big hill. The rock tombs of Beni Hassan were somewhere near the top. Luckily, they didn’t have to hoof it, not personally anyway. Donkeys were provided for five piastres. As they made their slow and swaying way up the long slope, Elizabeth decided that you could learn a lot about a person from the way they rode a donkey.

Christina was gentle with hers, occasionally patting its neck and offering encouragement. Jack and Diana carried on an animated, good-natured argument about something as they rode. Neither seemed the least bit aware of the beast beneath them.

Arthur swayed back and forth, his head up and back straight like the captain of a great ship making a crossing to the new world. He took in every inch of the hills and the rocks, ready to spot potential bits of pottery sticking out of the dry soil.

Trevor Everett seemed to have found a beast as unpleasant as he was. Despite the donkey boy’s putting his entire weight into pulling the rope attached to the donkey’s muzzle, it refused to budge. Everett cursed and hit it with his walking stick while his wife pouted and Henri nearly fell off his own from laughing.

And poor Simon. His legs were so long they’d scrape on the ground if he didn’t hold them up. He rode with as much dignity as anyone could on a donkey, and made the best of it. But, clearly, he would have rather walked.

The slope leveled off for a jog across to the next zigzagging path and Elizabeth spurred her little donkey on. It picked up the pace and she bounced atop the saddle. Finally, she caught up with Simon and began to overtake him. As she did, she leaned forward, gripping the reins to her chest as if she were on the last leg at Pimlico.

“On Bucephalus!” she cried, as she and her little mount bounced past Simon.

She could hear Simon’s bark of laughter as she passed him. Turning around, she saw him shake his head and smile fondly after her.

After a forty minute ride, they spent the next few hours exploring the rock tombs of Beni Hassan. Embedded into limestone cliffs above the east bank of the Nile, dozens of Middle Empire tombs lined the rock face. Modern iron gates protected some of the entrances.

The first tomb they entered had a simple facade, while wonderfully detailed paintings of domestic life in early Egypt covered the interiors. Some of them were faded and chipping, but others were still vivid, bright colored scenes on the stucco walls.

Tall lotus columns, the few that were left, still had their bright colorings.

“You’ll notice,” Henri said. “That the capital, the head of the column, is a lotus bud, but as you go deeper into the tomb, the buds open to become a flower.”

He looked at the room with undisguised admiration. “Every nuance, every image has meaning. The Egyptians, they combined purpose with art in ways we have long since forgotten.
C’est dommage
.”

He led them into another chamber and made sure to point out that mixed in with the scenes of everyday life were the deceased and his wife, hunting fowl, fishing, or watching as men built their funeral shrines. The drawings signified their life together after death.

Henri happily answered the most ridiculous questions and spoke passionately and knowledgeably about each tomb. He was a different man out here. Gone was all of the pretense, all of the posturing and a brilliant, earnest man took his place. He lingered at the fresco of the couple.

“
L’amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie
,” he said softly.

Elizabeth stayed back with Simon as Henri and the others moved on. Simon looked after Henri with an expression she hadn’t seen before. Sympathy.

Without her having to ask, Simon translated. “Love makes life’s sweetest pleasures and worst misfortunes.”

They quietly wandered through the cool, quiet interiors of the rock tombs until another group of visitors arrived. The braying donkeys and the blustering tourists stole the peace of the moment and they hurried through the final tombs before beginning the long journey back down to the landing.

Cocktails were waiting for them. The ship pulled away from the shore and continued its journey up river as they all slipped into a dry martini and left the ancient world behind again.

~ ~ ~

It was remarkable how quickly things changed. For years, decades, if he were honest, Simon had never slept well with another person in his bed. And now, he couldn’t sleep without one. One in particular.

Elizabeth lay sprawled out across most of her twin bed. They’d started the night sharing his, but Elizabeth was as active in sleep as was she was in waking and had unceremoniously fallen out of bed at about three o’clock in the morning.

She’d crawled into her own bed after that and had fallen back to sleep within minutes. Simon wasn’t so lucky. He’d lain awake for another hour and only found sleep in fits and starts without her by his side. Now morning had come.

The sun reflected brightly off the river and cut through the window sheers. Simon considered waking Elizabeth, but ultimately decided to let her sleep in. He dressed quietly, kissed her on the temple and slipped out of the room.

As he’d expected, he found Whiteside and his daughter having tea on the upper level.

“Good morning.” Whiteside gestured to an empty chair at their table. He glanced around the empty deck. “We seem to be the only early risers.”

“After the amount of champagne consumed last night, I doubt we’ll see anyone before noon,” Simon agreed.

He took his seat and gratefully accepted a cup of tea from the steward. He’d been delighted to find they had his preference on board, Chinese Gunpowder. His grandfather Sebastian would have approved.

“Christina,” Whiteside said, wiggling his fingers over her sketchpad. “Manners, my girl.”

Christina nodded and quickly began to gather the colored pencils she’d scattered about the table. She bumped one and it rolled toward the edge. Simon caught it before it fell.

“I don’t mind,” Simon said, as he handed Christina the pencil.

She smiled gratefully and put the errant pencil back in its box.

As she did, Simon noticed her sketches. “What are those?”

“Oh.” Christina looked to her father for permission who nodded. She turned the pad so Simon could see. “These are from last season. We visited Amarna. I thought it might be fun to revisit them before they open the chamber.”

“May I?” Simon asked as he pulled the sketchpad closer.

“These are sketches of what’s left of the palace and temple,” Christina explained. “And the others are from the royal tomb of Akhenaten, what’s left of it anyway.”

“These are quite good,” Simon said, and it wasn’t a hollow compliment. She had talent. A few of the drawings were incredibly detailed and wholly realistic.

“Yes, they are,” Whiteside said proudly. After enjoying Christina’s blush for a moment, he pointed to the sketches. “You see, when Akhenaten ascended the throne, he wanted to move the capital, to create a new city in his image. And so he built Tell el-Amarna. Of course, being a heretic, most of it was destroyed after his death, but bits and pieces survived.”

Simon flipped the page. He instantly recognized a sketch in the upper corner of the page—the beautiful queen Nefertiti. The few images of Akhenaten showed him as oddly misshapen with a long narrow skull and pot belly.

Simon continued through the sketches until he saw something that made his heart stop.

“This,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t betray his surprise. “What’s this?”

“That’s quite interesting, actually,” Whiteside said. “That’s an Aten disk. The icon was originally drawn with long, outstretched wings and represented the aspect of Ra. But when Akhenaten came to the throne…He changed his name, you know, from Amenhotep like his father to Akhen
aten…
the icon itself changed as well.”