Mr Impossible (16 page)

“
We’ll
find him,” Mr. Carsington said.

“
Yes, yes, we
must.” Alive, she hoped.

“
Duval has
only a few days’ head start of us,” he said. “Do
bear in mind, your brother is valuable.”

“
Until his
captors find out the truth,” she said.

“
He’s
a
scholar
,” Mr. Carsington said. “Obviously he’ll
know how to keep them in the dark, to make them believe they must
take good care of him if they want to find then-treasure. If I were
them, in fact, I’d play it safe and take him all the way
toThebesto help search for the tomb. He can talk a lot of
incomprehensible scholarly jargon and lead them on for months,
looking for it. Or he could set them digging at random. These
excavations take many weeks. So you see, time is on our side.”

The words lifted
her mind from the depths into which it had so unexpectedly plummeted.
Though he wasn’t the scholar the world believed him to be,
Miles was by no means a fool.

“
Yes, I know
that,” she said. “Or ought to know it. It’s
simply…” She remembered the woman she’d been less
than a week ago, her life entirely a life of the mind, all her flawed
being safely engaged in solving an intellectual puzzle.

She looked up at
him, into the dark eyes that she, who could read so many languages,
found so hard to read and so easy to become lost in. “Unlike
you, I am unaccustomed to having an exciting life,” she said.
“My mind is used to going at an even, orderly pace. Perhaps, in
some ways, I

have been like
those women locked up in harems. They are ill-equipped for dealing
with the outside world. I feel as though I am stumbling blindly
about.“

“
Ah, is that
all?” His mouth eased lazily into a smile. Threads of heat slid
over her skin, as though his mouth were there… everywhere. “No
need to fret,” he said. “If you stumble, I’ll catch
you.”

RUPERT STOOD SO
near that she didn’t need to stumble. She’d only to tip
slightly in his direction and some part of her heavily camouflaged
anatomy would touch his.

He loved this boat.
It was a brilliant idea. Close quarters. Narrow, dim passage. And a
shifting deck where she might easily lose her footing and need
catching.

She edged away and
started toward the front of the boat.

“
This is my
cabin,” he said, indicating the door.

“
I deduced as
much,” she said, and hurried past it to the front cabin.

He ducked under the
frame and followed her inside. “This is the salon, as you see,”
he said. “Like the whatsit in the house. The room where you
receive visitors.”

“
It is called
the
qa
‘a
,” she said.

“
Say it
again,” he said.

While she did, he
gravely studied her mouth. The lower lip was a trifle fuller than the
upper, making a tempting hint of a pout.

“
It isn’t
complicated,” she said. “You can say it if you try.”

“
Kah,”
he said.

She pointed to her
throat. “More syllables. You make the sound here, in the back
of the throat.”

He looked at her
throat—the bit one could see, a tantalizing inch or two of
creamy skin above the prim collar of her black dress. It would be so
smooth against his tongue. And her skin would touch his face…
and he would drink in her scent. He leant in.

The boat lurched.
He fell against her, and she fell back, onto the divan.

For one glorious
moment she lay under him, her mag-nificent bosom crushed against his
chest. His heart leapt into a gallop and his privy councilor leapt to
attention. He lifted his head and looked down at her. She looked up
at him, eyes wide and dark as an evergreen forest. He felt her breath
on his skin, and heard it, too, soft and hurried. Her lips parted. He
lowered his head.

She shoved her fist
against his chest, and “Get off!” she snapped. “Get
off, you great lummox! Someone’s coming!”

That was when he
noticed the clamor of voices and footsteps outside. He scrambled to
his feet and pulled her up to a sitting position. He left the cabin,
closed the door behind him, and took a few calming breaths. Patience,
he counseled himself. This wanted a slow siege, not a sudden assault.
After giving his reproductive organs another moment to compose
themselves, he went outside.

He found a smiling
Sheik Salim awaiting him.

THE SHEIK HAD come
to inspect the boat and wish them a safe journey. He’d brought
two large cats—which Mr. Carsington promptly named Gog and
Magog—for rat control. He’d brought other gifts as well
as a feast. He was sorry to have to part from his learned (!!!)
English friend, he said. To cheer his heart, he had decided to make a
fete, which they would enjoy together until theIsisreached Old Cairo,
where he must take his leave of them.

Daphne was
surprised when the sheik invited her to the party, since women were
usually excluded. However, someone had informed him that “the
English custom is different,” he explained. He behaved most
graciously, including her in the conversation, and complimenting her
Arabic.

This was no small
gesture, Daphne well understood. Deeply touched, she decided upon a
more munificent than usual farewell gift.

She had Mr.
Carsington present Sheik Salim with a fine set of pistols.

He remained on deck
after the sheik had disembarked. Daphne returned to the front cabin.
Then she left it and went to her own cabin. Then she returned to the
front cabin. She sat down. She got up. She sat down again.

She could not
decide what to do.

Was it cowardly to
spend the rest of the day and night hiding in her cabin?

She could not hide
from him forever.

But she was hotly
aware that at the first opportunity, she’d very nearly run
amok.

You are a little
impetuous, Daphne, I am afraid.

I’m sorry.

It is your youth.
In time you will learn to govern your passions, I know.

She hadn’t
known until Virgil told her. No one before had told her they were
unnatural, and must be strictly governed. No one could have guessed
how ungovernable they’d prove to be, wicked things: the temper…
the restlessness… the mad longing, as urgent as hunger or
thirst.

For one terrible
instant, the longing was more than she could withstand.

It had felt so
good, that big, hard body on top of hers. It wasn’t good, she
knew. It was animal feeling, animal urges: every instinct poised to
attack… her hands a mere pulse beat from reaching up and
bringing his handsome face down to hers and—

The door flung
open.

“
You’ve
done it,” came the deep voice. “I’d thought I was
unshockable, but you’ve done it.”

Heat washed over
her. A wave of cold shame instantly followed. “I—”

“
Those were
John Manton’s work.” Mr. Carsington dropped onto the
divan beside her. “I nearly wept.”

“
You—Those—I
don’t—” She took a calming breath and ordered her
brain back to work. “Who is John Man-ton?” she managed to
get out.

His eyes opened
very wide. The dappled sunlight trickling through the shutters
softened his features. This and his incredulous expression combined
to make him look for a moment like the innocent boy he must have been
long ago. Very long ago.

“
Who is
Manton?” he repeated. “Who is
Manton
?”

“
Ought I to
know him?” she said.

He stared at her
for a time. “You said you lived a quiet life,” he said.
“Was it in a cave, by chance? A monastery?”

She folded her
hands in her lap. “I told you I was bookish,” she said.
“I do not go about much.”

“
Have you
ever been toLondon?”

“
Yes, of
course,” she said. “The Rosetta Stone is in
theBritishMuseum, is it not? And the head of Young Mem-non. Naturally
I went often toLondonto attend lectures as well. That is how I met
your cousin Miss Saunders.”

He shook his head.
“Your ignorance surpasseth all understanding. Even Cousin
Tryphena knows that the brothers Manton of Dover Street are the
finest gun makers in all ofEngland, perhaps in all the world. I hope
those weren’t your brother’s. He may disown you—and
I shan’t blame him a whit.”

“
Before we
leftEngland, we bought a great many gifts,” she said. “Mr.
Belzoni was quite clear on this point. One of his rivals, you know,
lost his chance to obtain forFrancethe head of Young Memnon because
he’d insulted the local chief with a paltry gift of bottled
anchovies.”

Mr. Carsington’s
expression became tragic. “It’s a good distance from a
bottle of anchovies to a pair of Manton’s best.”

“
I know
that
,” she said. “Miles did tell me the pistols were for
persons who performed services above the common. Sheik Salim spared
us a stay in a dungeon at the very least—and possibly a short
trip to the headsman. He found this boat and moved heaven and earth
to help you make it ready. Furthermore, it was most kind and gracious
of him to invite me to the fete and actually converse with me.”

He shrugged. “He
would have talked to you from the first, but he thought it improper.
Once he understood that English custom permitted him to talk to a
lady, he was more than happy to do so. He said he’d never
realized a woman’s brain could be so large. I’d never
realized it could have so many great, gaping holes in it.”

“
Really, such
a fuss you make about a set of firearms,” she said. “Could
you not see how pleased he was?”

“
Of course he
was pleased. Who wouldn’t be? Those are Manton’s finest.
I have coveted them this age.”

“
Then I
should think you’d already have a pair. Or do you want more?
How many pistols does a man need, exactly?”

He let out a sigh.
“My finances haven’t been flourishing lately.”

“
Oh,”
she said. She wanted to say a great deal more. Or ask, rather. She
realized she knew next to nothing about him. But one did not discuss
money, except with one’s man of business. She looked down at
her hands, hoping her vulgar curiosity didn’t show.

“
One of those
dreaded summons to my father’s study,” he said. “He
told me if I couldn’t live within my means, I was welcome to
live within a debtors’ prison. He meant it. All the world knows
Lord Hargate never utters idle threats. I thought debtors’
prison might prove rather confining.”

“
So you
learnt to economize,” she said. “I wish I had some
lessons. Miles, too. He is even worse than I. No notion of what’s
reasonable and what isn’t. If he had any notion, we mightn’t
be in this fix.”

Mr. Carsington was
studying her again. “I see,” he said, and she wondered
uneasily what, exactly, he saw. “That explains. Everyone knows
the local bigwigs prefer gifts of European firearms. It didn’t
occur to your brother that a merely serviceable weapon would do.”

“
Of course it
didn’t occur to him. If you knew Miles…” She
blinked hard and swallowed.

“
Tell me,”
Mr. Carsington said, “if it had been you that day, in Vanni
Anaz’s shop, would you have haggled?”

IT WAS A desperate
attempt. Rupert didn’t know whether it would provoke her or
not, but she was on the verge of waterworks, and he needed a
distraction. The question was the first to come to mind.

She blinked, wiping
out the almost-tears shining in her green eyes.

“
Would you?”
Rupert pressed. “Would you think, ”This would make a
lovely gift for Miles,‘ and say to Anaz, ’I’ll take
it,‘ and not stop to add up piastres and purses and such and
convert them into pounds, shillings, and pence?“

She considered, her
green eyes moving from side to side in that way she had, as though
she read her own thoughts.

“
Well…
possibly…” She blushed. “Yes, probably. Very
likely. It was splendid. Impossible to resist.”

“
It was
artistic, you told me,” he said. “Superior quality. The
papyrus version of Manton’s finest, in other words.”