Sands of Time (Out of Time #6) (27 page)

Elizabeth glared at her and Vale smiled.

“No,” she said, smiling again as if she’d been given a gift. “But you’re worried, aren’t you?”

Elizabeth hated that Vale could see through her so clearly, but the more she struggled to conceal her feelings the more transparent she became.

Vale glanced back at Christina as Whiteside appeared and bullied Ahmed away. “You never stop worrying, I suppose,” Vale said and then turned back, appraising Elizabeth with keen eyes. “Some have more reason than others, of course.”

Elizabeth started to take a step forward, but Simon’s hold stopped her. “Stay away from her.”

“Away from Christina?” Vale said, sounding insulted and surprised. “Why ever would I harm her?”

“You can save your performance for someone else,” Simon said. “We know what you are.”

Vale feigned shock. “Do you?” She took a step closer, graceful and powerfully confident. “I don’t think you have any idea who I am.”

Simon stepped between Elizabeth and Vale and steered Elizabeth away.

“I’m sorry you don’t have children yet,” Vale said behind them. “I’d love to meet them.”

The chill Elizabeth felt at the words lingered all through dinner and all through the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Gymkhana!” Elizabeth shouted happily and without reason.

Simon smiled and shook his head.

All she could do was shrug. Some words just begged to be shouted. Gymkhana, like Tequila, was one of them. And besides, she loved races and this one promised water buffalo.

After their run-in with Vale last night, Elizabeth needed something, anything to get rid of the fidgets. Sitting around all day, waiting for something bad to happen just made her as nervous as a fly in a gluepot. Thankfully, Whiteside seemed to be of the same mind and invited them to the weekly gymkhana. Being here was the perfect diversion.

Elizabeth sighed happily and resumed slapping herself with her fly whisk. The only thing there were more of than race day spectators were flies. The fly whisk Whiteside had given her had an ivory handle and long horsehair for swatting. Some were wooden with split palm leaves, but whatever they were made of they were indispensable. The crowd looked a little like a bunch of horse’s backends, the tails swinging and swatting bothersome flies. Elizabeth had felt a little silly at first, slapping herself on the head with it, but soon she fell into the same ten-second rhythm as everyone else and forgot about it and the flies.

“Poor chap!” Whiteside said as one of the donkey racers bounced right off his mount and landed unceremoniously on his rear. Of course, he had no reins to hold onto. The racers had to face backwards, steering by twisting the poor little donkeys’ tails. The result was a zigzagging, haphazard race with more donkeys ending up in the crowd than on the course.

Whiteside handed Christina his opera glasses. She pursed her lips, obviously still unhappy with him for his interference in her relationship with Ahmed. But he persisted and she took the glasses, even managing a small smile as the crowd cheered and roared with laughter as the riderless donkey carried merrily on and won.

Even Simon smiled at that. He’d been tense. Heck, they’d both been tense after their run-in with Vale and the platter of heebie-jeebies she brought to every party. They desperately needed a break from it, and nothing could have better served their need. It was more than just a series of races. It was a test of skills, usually with thrilling, sometimes hilarious results.

Elizabeth was sorry Jack had missed this. He and Diana had “other plans.” She honestly wasn’t sure if that meant hanky-panky or jumping from roof to roof in a race for their lives. Either way, she missed him, but was glad he’d found a partner in crime. She glanced over at hers—Simon. While he was more of an Ascot sort than a fly-swatting gymkhana sort, he still seemed to be enjoying himself, even if only for a few hours.

The races, such as they were, were held on a wide straight course on a small bluff above the river. A few wooden risers had been set-up near the finish line for the wealthy spectators, but most simply lined the two-hundred yard course. First, there had been water bearers with enormous jugs of water on their heads. Then boys and their donkeys, followed by camel races. The camels’ legs looked so ungainly and wild, it was a miracle they didn’t tangle on the way.

“Oh, Fuzzy-Wuzzies!” Whiteside cried in delight.

“What’s that?” Elizabeth said, craning her neck to see.

Whiteside handed her his opera glasses and Elizabeth focused them on the far end of the field and saw tall, handsome North African tribesmen. “Fuzzy-Wuzzies?”

“It’s from a Kipling poem,” Simon said. “Has to do with their hair. They’re actually Hadendoa warriors.” He frowned as the racers grew closer. “In a three-legged race.”

Elizabeth had her umbrage unpacked and ready to wave around, when she realized that the races were an equal opportunity way to embarrass oneself. The next affinity race was European women riding, but mostly falling off donkeys as they tried to put on hats.

The water buffalo race was unruly and frightening. Shrieks of terror erupted from the crowd as one veered off course and headed straight for them until some brave soul jumped out and rerouted the beast. The young woman won a round of applause for her efforts.

Finally, at the end of the day were the horse races. Beautiful Arabians with their proud, arched necks sped down the track, their bareback riders seeming to float just above them the whole way. They were magnificent.

“Over here now,” Whiteside said as the crowd began to funnel toward the river. “Careful, my dear,” he said as he held out his hand to help his daughter make her way down the wooden risers.

Elizabeth and Simon followed Whiteside as he led them to the top of a narrow dike where men, women, donkeys, carriages, camels and the rest all rushed headlong and at full-speed in one final race into the river. Donkeys brayed, camels grunted, and people squealed and screeched in delight as the entire throng splashed about in the river. It was absolute chaos, joyous, exhausting chaos.

After the excitement of the gymkhana and the increasing heat of the mid-afternoon, all Elizabeth wanted was a cool bath and a little lie in before afternoon tea and their inevitable dose of Katherine Vale.

The group piled into waiting carriages and enjoyed the refreshing breeze and flyless air as they rode back to the Winter Palace. After agreeing to meet again in a few hours, Simon and Elizabeth split off and headed for their suite.

Simon put their room key down on the side table. “I think I have half the race course on me. I’ll start the bath,” he said as he went into the bathroom.

Elizabeth took off her sun hat and was just about to toss it onto the table when she noticed a large white box tied up with a silver bow.

She put her hat down. “Simon? Did you do this?”

When there was no answer but the sound of running water, Elizabeth reached for the bow. This was so Simon, always surprising her with little gifts. Although, she thought as she untied the ribbon, this was hardly little. The box was about three feet by two feet and just large enough for a dress.

“You really shouldn’t have,” she called out as she looked toward the bath and lifted the lid off. But she was glad he had. She loved presents.

Excited now, she set the lid aside and reached to peel back the tissue paper when it moved. It was so subtle she wasn’t sure if she’d seen it or imagined it. She reached out again and froze as the pieces of tissue paper parted, and the large brown head of a cobra rose from between them.

The black beady eyes locked onto her as the head rose up, its broad hood fanned out on either side. Elizabeth could barely breathe. She didn’t dare move. She was leaning in toward it, her hand hovering in mid-air just inches away from the snake.

“Simon,” she said softly, not daring to take her eyes off the cobra.

“Simon,” she said again a little louder.

She and the snake stared at each other. His body rising a foot and a half up out of the box now as he held her fixed in place.

She could see the rest of his length curled inside it. Could it smell her fear? Did snakes smell at all? They had noses, so they probably smelled, but maybe they weren’t good smellers. Could it hear her heart racing? Could it feel the vibrations the way she did? A series of ridiculous questions and answers tumbled through her mind as she stood rooted in place, afraid to move an inch and sure if she did it would be her last.

“Aren’t you co—” Simon started. “Dear God.”

Elizabeth’s eyes darted toward Simon. He stood in the doorway of the bath, afraid to move. His face was as pale as she knew hers was.

Slowly, he began to move toward her. “Just stay still.”

“I’m trying,” Elizabeth said, her mouth dry.

As Simon came into the snake’s field of view, its dark brown head swayed to the side, but it didn’t turn away. It focused on her. It was only thinking of her.

“Careful,” Elizabeth whispered in a hoarse rasp.

The minute it took for Simon to get near to her felt like an hour. The snake’s black eyes bore into her, frighteningly hypnotic. The markings on his dark gray body and tan underbelly drew her eyes to his. She couldn’t have looked away if she’d tried.

She felt Simon approach and with each step the snake swayed just a little. She could hear the length of its body shifting, rustling against the dress it was coiled within. Each sway felt like the moment before the strike. Before she would die. She’d read about Egyptian cobras before they’d come; it wasn’t good nighttime reading. Their venom was some of the deadliest in the world, attacking the nervous system and capable of causing death in less than fifteen minutes. Or you could linger with convulsions, blistering, necrosis and paralysis.

“I love you,” she said, hoping it wouldn’t be the last thing she said.

“It’s going to be all right,” Simon whispered from behind her. He sounded so calm. How could he sound calm? Ever so slowly, he slipped an arm around her waist.

She was just about to ask him what he was doing when he yanked her back and away from the snake. It lunged forward as Simon pulled her back. But as quickly as he’d moved, the snake had moved that much faster.

She felt it strike her arm, and she screamed.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth’s scream cut straight to Simon’s heart. He’d pulled her away from the snake as quickly as he could, but he’d been too slow, too damned slow. What had he been thinking, trying to move faster than a cobra? It was foolhardy at best and at worst…he couldn’t think about that now.

His arm still about her waist, Simon spun her away. He turned back to see the snake lying half on and half off the table. He didn’t hesitate, and gathered Elizabeth into his arms and strode for the door.

“Simon,” she said, breathless.

His heart pounded so quickly in his chest he couldn’t speak. He fumbled with the door handle briefly and carried her out into the hall.

“I need help!” he cried.

A few people were already in the hallway, alerted by her scream, and raced toward them.

“I’m all right,” she said, but it barely registered with Simon.

“Get a doctor!” he bellowed at a short, stout man. “Now! And someone close that door! There’s a snake in there,” he ordered another guest.

Both complied with his orders without hesitation.

“It’s all right,” Elizabeth said again. “I’m okay.”

She held out her arm, and where Simon had expected to see two puncture wounds, there was nothing.

“It didn’t bite me,” she said.

It took a moment for the news to reach Simon’s brain. “What?”

“You can put me down,” she said with an embarrassed smile.

Slowly, Simon lowered her to the floor of the hall where quite a crowd had gathered, including Jack and Diana.

“What happened?” Jack said, shouldering his way past the other guests. “You okay?”

Elizabeth nodded and then looked up at Simon. “I’m sorry I screamed…”

Simon let out a shuddering breath and cupped her cheeks. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” He scanned her quickly. Miraculously, she seemed unharmed.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she said. “I felt the snake hit my arm.”

Jack held up her arm to see for himself. “Snake?”

Simon tilted Elizabeth’s head forward and rested his forehead against hers. “Oh, Elizabeth,” he whispered. He thought he’d lost her. He thought he’d lost everything.

“I’m okay,” she said.

Simon let out another breath, one that barely held back his emotions, before kissing her forehead and pulling her into his arms.

“What happened?”

“Did someone say snake?”

The growing crowd buzzed with questions, but Simon ignored them. His only focus was on the woman in his arms.

“All right, all right,” Jack said. “Show’s over, everybody.”

“Come on,” Diana said, joining in his crowd control efforts. “Back to your rooms.”

Slowly, the guests began to disperse, grumbling and gossiping as they went.

Simon eased Elizabeth back from his embrace. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She nodded and held out her arms, her hands trembling. “Biteless and happy to be.”

“What’s going on here?” a man’s voice came from down the hall. A group of men, including a doctor with his small black bag hurried toward them.

“My wife was nearly bitten by a cobra,” Simon said. “In our room.”

The hotel manager blanched and waved to two of the other men who had long poles with wire loops on the end. They opened the suite door and disappeared inside.

The doctor stepped toward Elizabeth. “You were not bitten?” he asked as he ran his hands up and down her arms. “You’re sure?”

Elizabeth nodded, but it was clear she was still shaken.

“Is there somewhere we can take her to rest?” the doctor asked.

“My room’s right here,” Jack suggested.

They all moved to Jack’s room where Elizabeth was examined by the doctor and declared “very lucky.” Simon was hardly going to disagree.

He sat down next to her on the sofa and despite her protests that she was fine, he could see she was still unsettled as she tucked her legs up beneath her. Simon held her hand and tried not to reach for his watch to get them both the hell out of there.