Playing with Fire (7 page)

Time seemed to stand still for a long moment. The
canja
did not move, and Tansy feared it was caught fast among the reeds, but then, gradually, the bow inched away from the bank. The reeds rustled as the vessel nosed through them toward the open water in the middle of the channel. Everything remained quiet behind them, although at any second Tansy expected to hear shouts. But none came. Tusun appeared at her side, looking very odd in his stolen French uniform. “God is merciful, is he not, lady?” he whispered.

“It would seem so, Tusun,” she replied softly.

He glanced at the bronze cat in her hand. “You have no fear of such things, lady?”

“Fear? No. I love cats, whatever and wherever they are.” She put the bronze cat to her lips and kissed it, for if this particular cat had not tripped Amanda, they would have taken refuge in the residence itself, and by now would be prisoners of the French.

Tusun’s eyes glittered as much as his diamonds in the moonlight. “Lady, in a moment I will see that your companions go into the cabins, where they will be safely out of the way. But for you I have a task.”

“Task?”

He smiled. “The lieutenant needs your assistance, I think.”

“In what way?”

“He cannot look ahead and behind at the same time, and I have other things to do if this vessel is to reach the sea intact. So, lady, use the opportunity. Without your cousin’s false smiles to blind him, maybe he will judge for himself which pretty face is more worthy.”

Tansy felt embarrassment rush into her cheeks. Had she been
that
obvious?

“I am very observant, lady, and consider myself a just man. It would not be right for the lieutenant to fall prey to such as your cousin. So take the help I offer you. Go to him. Make him see the worthiness in your eyes.”

Before she could say anything more, he stepped lightly away toward Hermione and Amanda, who were standing nervously together forward of the cabins. After glancing back toward the still-silent riverbank, he ushered them inside. Tansy hesitated about going to help Martin, but then thought again. It would be craven indeed to draw back and not only do nothing to help her own cause, but at the same time allow heartless Amanda to toy with him for the sheer spite of it. Even Church Mouse could fight. So she made her way to the stern.

Martin smiled as she approached. “This is almost too smooth a getaway, is it not?” he breathed, following Tusun’s example by glancing warily over his shoulder at the shore, where all remained miraculously calm.

“May it stay that way,” she whispered back. “Lieutenant, I’m here because Tusun said you needed help. Two sets of eyes being better than one, or some such thing?”

“He’s right. You keep a watch astern.”

She did as he instructed. The temple mound rose darkly against the predawn sky, but the statue of Bastet now caught the first rays of the rising sun. As the
canja
slid slowly downstream she saw some of the campfires for the first time, but just as the escape seemed to have succeeded without detection, someone raised the alarm. Suddenly there was pandemonium as French soldiers poured toward the riverbank, firing at random so that shots whined all around. Martin shoved Tansy down on the deck so roughly that for a moment she lost her grip on the figurine. As she grabbed it, she became aware of the frightened tabby pressing against her.

Further along the deck Tusun took aim with his rifle and began to return the fire. Martin bent low at the tiller, trying to present as small a target as possible as he guided the
canja.
The current seemed so slow that he could almost have sworn the Nile had ceased to flow, but gradually, oh, so gradually, the vessel glided on. The French ran along the bank, still firing. Frightened birds rose from the reeds and palms, their cries vying with the gunfire, and throughout it all Tansy pressed so flat against the deck that she almost became part of it. Only once did she dare to raise her head, to see that the
canja
was moving toward an area of wild marshland, with reeds and dense bushes. On the far shore, away from the French, there were a number of small channels that offered hiding for even a large vessel.

Martin swung the tiller toward a narrow neck of water that disappeared beyond clumps of date palms and sycamore figs. The furious French fired indiscriminately after the
canja,
and some of the shots struck the timbers, sending splinters flying. There was a rustle of foliage as the vessel nosed into the channel. Tansy stared behind, watching the rifle flashes through the dawn gloom; then reeds and branches closed like curtains, and the stolen vessel vanished into the oblivion of the marsh.

As the
canja
slid further from the French, Tansy got to her feet again. She shook out her robes and tried to compose herself, only too aware of having just been shot at. The tabby was aware too, and it ran back to its hiding place among the crates.

Martin straightened and reached out impulsively to pull Tansy close. “It’s all right now; we’re safe.” It was a natural action on his part, a desire to console her after a harsh experience, and she knew no more than that could be read into it. But she wanted to rest her head against his shoulders and close her eyes, wanted to slip her arms around him and take far more than consolation from his closeness. She pulled away self-consciously, afraid she might give in to the temptation. He immediately became self-conscious as well. “Please don’t misinterpret, for I meant nothing….”

“I know you didn’t, and I haven’t misinterpreted,” she replied quickly. “It’s just that I felt a rather childish urge to cling to you for comfort, and that would indeed have been open to misinterpretation.” She managed to give him a quick smile, but she felt dreadful. Childish was the very last thing her stifled urge had been!

The smile was reciprocated. “I’m sure I would have taken the impulse for what it was, because I am equally sure that you would never behave forwardly or improperly in any way.”

No, but I would like to,
she thought ruefully. When he walked into the hidden room at Tel el-Osorkon, her senses had awakened from a lifetime of slumber. One arresting glance of his dark eyes had sealed her fate, sending abandoned emotions leaping through her veins that still coursed through them now. Oh, such wonderful, spellbinding emotions. As if she had been waiting for him. Just for him….

The
canja
glided on into the depths of the marsh, finding a way through rich foliage that sometimes brushed audibly along the deck. Tel el-Osorkon slipped further and further behind, and with it the sense of danger. Tusun went quietly about his tasks, tightening a rope here, loosing one there, making sure everything was secure. To the east the sun rose steadily, sending blinding flashes of light through the leaves and branches. A flight of waterfowl flew high against the early morning sky, and Tansy gazed around, thinking how romantic it was. But Martin’s next words were a douse of cold water on thoughts of romance.

“Lord Sanderby is very fortunate to be marrying a bride as beautiful as your cousin. Has she known him long?”

“She does not know him at all. It is an arranged match.”

Martin watched her. “Am I to understand your cousin doesn’t want the match?”

Tansy realized she had misled him. “Oh, no! Please don’t think she is being forced into something against her will. Amanda is very pleased indeed to have secured so advantageous a contract.”

“Arranged marriages can be successful, I know, but I would not care for one myself. I hope I will one day make a love match.”

Tansy found a smile. “A sentiment I share, Lieutenant, but then I will never aspire to an aristocratic husband. Who knows how I might feel if faced with the chance of becoming a countess?”

“You say that as if it were so far into the realms of fantasy as to be utterly impossible.”

“So it is,” she replied emphatically.

“You do both yourself and the aristocracy a grave injustice.”

“You, sir, know too well how to flatter,” But although he complimented her, his words showed how little chance she stood with him. Amanda was the one to have caught his interest.

He laughed. “Flattery is part of naval training.”

“So I perceive.”

They smiled at each other, and she fell even further under his spell, if that were possible. But once again he brought her down to earth with a bump. “When is your cousin’s wedding to take place?”

“This summer. Amanda’s father—my Uncle Franklyn—was, until recently, on diplomatic duty in Constantinople, and we were with him. He has now been posted on to Australia, but arranged Amanda’s match before he left. She and I are on our way back to England, under Hermione’s…. I mean Mrs. Entwhistle’s wing. We are to live with our remaining uncle, Sir Julian Richardson, at his estate of Chelworth in Dorset.”

“Chelworth? I know it. Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say I have used it as a landmark. It stands on the slope above a bay, about halfway between Portland Bill and St. Aldhelm’s Head. The house looks more like something from this part of the world than rural Dorset, and there is a pyramid folly on the hilltop behind it.”

“Uncle Julian is quite devoted to the study of Ancient Egypt. Actually, he and the late Lord Sanderby—” She broke off, thinking that perhaps it would be indiscreet to mention the great quarrel.

“Do go on,” Martin prompted, ducking as an overhanging branch swept along the cabin roof toward him.

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about the terrible professional jealousy that Lord Sanderby’s father displayed toward Uncle Julian.”

“You cannot tantalize me with such a statement, and then decline to elaborate. It would be too cruel.”

“Very well, I will bore you with all the details.” She told him all she knew about those long-ago events.

Martin’s brows drew together as he listened, and when she finished he pulled a puzzled face. “You know, it all sounds strangely familiar. I’m sure I’ve heard the story before, and yet I cannot think where. Although….” He thought for a moment. “Actually, I think I overheard my mother telling my father. I was a child at the time.”

“I believe it was quite a cause celebre for a while. Poor Uncle Julian is still very upset about it all even now, which may be….” She didn’t finish.

“Which may be why he doesn’t approve of your cousin’s match?”

Tansy nodded a little awkwardly, feeling she had elaborated a little too much. She shouldn’t have told him all she had.

Martin smiled. “Please do not look so worried, for I assure you that I know when to keep a confidence. Nothing you have said will ever pass my lips.”

Tusun came to join them, having accomplished his tasks for the time being. “The other ladies wish to stay in the cabins, Effendi,” he said. “Well, the young lady wishes to stay there, and the older one feels she must remain with her. There are many tears, you see.”

Amanda making a fuss again, Tansy thought, far from displeased that her cousin was going to stay out of the way.

Tusun leaned back against the cabin superstructure and gave them a smile of some satisfaction. “We have done it, eh, Effendi? We have rescued the ladies, stolen this fine
canja,
and escaped the French. All we need now is that God remains with us.”

Martin grinned. “He will, Tusun.”

“For that we must pray.” Tusun glanced at Tansy. “So, Effendi,” he went on to Martin, “you have another helper.”

“And she’s far prettier than you, my friend,” Martin replied.

“This I do not dispute.” The Mameluke gave Tansy a broad wink, then looked astern, where all that could be seen was an undisturbed forest of every lush green in creation. The dense cloak of delta vegetation hid even the great statue of Bastet, so tall on the summit of the temple mound. “The French will not give us trouble now; so we must plan what to do next, Effendi.”

“I’m not so sure that we’ve seen the last of them. That officer was not the sort to give up his booty without a fight.” Martin grew pensive. “It’s my guess that he’ll anticipate us rejoining the main Rosetta channel. I have a feeling he’ll set an ambush somewhere close to Rosetta itself. At least, that’s my instinct.”

“Then we must not use the Rosetta channel,” Tusun replied logically. “If we keep to watercourses that take us east, to one of the other main channels….”

“The Rosetta is closer, and will take us more directly to the
Lucina.
Besides, the current is taking us without any need to hoist the sails, and I would rather follow the flow and lie low like this, than risk hoisting the sails to cross the delta against the water.”

“So what can we do about the French, Effendi? If we must rejoin the main channel, then we must join it, and risk any ambush that may be set.” The Mameluke spread his hands.

Martin nodded. “Yes, but we do not need to enter the Rosetta channel in daylight, do we? We can find a hiding place somewhere in all this damned vegetation, wait until night falls again, then make a run for the sea, and the
Lucina.”

Tusun regarded the marsh. “Are you are sure you can find your way out of here again, Effendi?” he inquired a little impishly.

“Are you questioning my navigating talents, you rogue? I’ll have you know that every officer in His Majesty’s navy can find his way out of any backwater, even one such as this.”

The tabby cat meowed as it came to rub around Tansy’s skirts again. She picked it up to cuddle, and Tusun scowled. “Cats are bad luck on a boat,” he declared, almost predictably.

Martin shook his head. “On the contrary, every vessel should have a cat; they keep the rats at bay.”

Tansy cuddled the animal close. “I shall have to give you a name,” she whispered to it.

Tusun shrugged. “My mother was foolish enough to like cats. She had one she called Miw. It is the name the pharaohs gave to all cats.”

But Tansy had already decided. “I shall call her Cleopatra,” she said. “Cleo for short.” The tabby immediately looked up at her and began to purr.