Mr Impossible (49 page)

“
Obviously
it’s the same one,” Carsington said. “What a wicked
deceiver she is. I thought she was fond of me. Yet I’ve never
seen her sit still for so long. She usually grows bored with my
shaving in a minute or two. I now realize she was only using me to
while away the interval until she saw you again. You’re the one
she truly loves.”

Miles stroked the
creature. “You seem to have collected several strays on the way
upriver,” he said.

“
Marigold
collected us,” he said. “The rest is Daph— Mrs.
Pembroke’s doing.”

At that moment,
Miles silently bore what he hoped was the last of the shocks. Daphne
had not simply formed an attachment. She had formed an
intimate
attachment.

With Rupert
Carsington, Lord Hargate’s famously wild and famously untamable
scapegrace son.

Still, Miles
reminded himself, there were worse men in the world. Noxley, for
instance. Pembroke.

Meanwhile this man
had beyond doubt won the affection and loyalty of the crew and
servants. They had nothing but praise for him. They’d fought
for him. The mongoose liked him, too.

Even the cats had
wandered in once this afternoon and deigned to sit at the foot of the
divan and stare at him while he slept.

When the toilette
was done, Miles helped him into a fresh Arab-style shirt, of the
style that came nearly to the ankles. It was not elegant, but it was
cool. The long front opening allowed easy access to his wound.

When he was
dressed, and Miles had helped prop him up with another pillow,
Carsington made him feel a little better by saying, “That was
wonderfully quick thinking on your part last night: the torch and the
papyrus.”

“
That curst
papyrus,” Miles said. “I should be glad to be rid of it,
if not for Daphne. She had done so much work, and it was a fine
manuscript, superior even to the immensely long one illustrated in
the
Description de l’Egypte
. Now the French will have
this one as well, plague take them.”

“
She still
has the copy,” Carsington said. “It isn’t so
beautiful, of course, and lacks the illustrations. But she’ll
persevere. She’s dauntless. I’ve never known a woman like
her, not remotely like her. Did you see her last night, when those
fellows were coming at us, that great lot of ruffians? She turned and
cocked her pistol and fired, just as sure as you please. Got the
fellow in the leg, too. Not that I was surprised, when I’ve
seen her courage again and again. From the very start.”

He launched into
the story: how Daphne had gone down into a dungeon of the Citadel to
get him when no one else would help her… the murders in the
second pyramid and the pluck she’d displayed then… the
tour of the Pyramid of Steps at Saqqara, which had involved miles of
narrow passages and during which she’d uttered no complaint—
quite the opposite.

“
I vow, she
might have been at the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly or making a tour
of Stourhead,” Carsington said. “If she was
uncomfortable, she took no notice—and you ought to know it was
ninety degrees at least inside that pyramid, and the air thick with
smoke and dust.”

“
Daphne?”
Miles said. “But she has a deep fear of small, closed spaces.
Her voice goes up to a squeak, and she jabbers endlessly. It is very
irritating.”

“
She did not
squeak with me,” Carsington said. “I saw she had a morbid
aversion to such places, but she will not let the fear hold her back.
I wish you had seen her when we were stuck in that caved-in robber’s
tunnel in the tomb in Asyut.”

He went on to tell
that tale while Miles listened, wondering if he’d got drank
again without realizing, because it could not be his sister Daphne of
whom Carsington spoke with so much enthusiasm. And admiration. As
though… as though—

“
You’re
in love with her,” Miles said. Then, “Er,” he said.
Because he hadn’t meant to say it
aloud
. He stared hard
at the mongoose. She licked his hand.

“
In love?”
Carsington repeated. “In
love
?”

“
Er, no.
Sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking. The heat. The shock.
Couldn’t believe it was my sister you were talking about. Brave
and dashing and and all that.”

Carsington’s
countenance darkened.

“
Not but what
I expect she’d rise to the occasion,” Miles added
hastily. He was not afraid of Carsington, exactly. Yet he had to
admit the glare was a trifle daunting. In any event, it wasn’t
good for the man to become overwrought. Daphne had said so. “My
sister is a plucky creature, of course—continuing her work in
spite of all the discouragement, and so forth.”

“
You’ve
got it backwards,” Carsington said. “It wasn’t her
rising to the occasion. It’s the occasion rising to
her
.
Egypt and this business with you and the papyrus have finally given
her the chance to show what she truly is.

She’s—she’s
a goddess. But human. A real goddess, not make-believe. She’s
beautiful and brave and wise. And fascinating. And dangerous. As
goddesses are, as you know, in all the best stories.“

“
I’ll
be hanged,” Miles said. “You really
are
in love
with her.”

The black eyes
regarded him steadily. Then they regarded the cabin ceiling. Then the
window. Then they came back to him.

“
Do you
know,” Carsington said mildly, “I’ve been wondering
what it was.”

DAPHNE CAME AT
sunset, accompanied by Nafisah. The
Isis
was still traveling upriver and would not moor until darkness made it
too dangerous to proceed. The Nile was very low. Even in broad day,
navigation wanted every iota of the helmsman’s attention.

Archdale had
thought they might make it to Isna before night fell.

Rupert didn’t
care where they were or where they would moor. He saw that Nafisah’s
tray held utensils for two. Daphne intended to dine with him. Alone.

Perfect.

Nafisah set the
tray on the stool and left. Marigold ran in, stood up and sniffed at
the tray, and ran out again.

Ignoring both the
mongoose’s antics and Rupert’s not very convincing
protests, Daphne arranged cushions behind him. Only when she’d
settled him to her satisfaction did she settle herself.

Rupert didn’t
mind. She had donned a particularly fetching Arab-style ensemble
comprising full but wickedly thin Turkish trousers, a thin crepe
shirt, a silk sash draped provocatively over her hips, and a flowing
silk overgarment. The faint scent of incense wafted about him.

This was all highly
encouraging.

“
That is a
horrid temptation to put before a man who is forbidden to make
vigorous movements,” he said.

“
Is it
really?” she said. “No wonder Miles did not approve. He
looked daggers at me.”

“
Maybe his
face froze that way,” Rupert said. “He was looking
daggers at me a few hours ago. Do you think he suspects?”

“
I think
he
knows
,” she said.

“
I’m
glad I don’t have a sister,” he said. “I should
have to get over my aversion to killing people.”

She turned her
attention to the tray. “If I remember my physic correctly, you
need to strengthen the blood. You must take some lamb stew. Red wine,
of course. The rice is cooked in chicken broth with onions. Some
bread and cheese. Some fruit. A little—”

“
I can’t
eat just yet,” he said. “I am too—too—”
He frowned. “Too something. Feelings.”

Her green gaze met
his. “Feelings,” she repeated.

“
I meant to
wait,” he said. “Until I was better. Because I didn’t
want pity to influence you.”

“
Pity,”
she said.

“
On account
of my wound,” he said.

“
Don’t
be absurd,” she said. “I shouldn’t pity you on
account of a nick in the belly.”

“
In any
event, I can’t wait,” he said. “And I had better
warn you that I don’t mean to be in the least sporting. If I
have to go on my knees, and start bleeding again—”

“
I can think
of no reason for you to go on your knees,” she said severely.

“
Then you’re
not thinking clearly,” he said. “It’s the usual way
these things are done.”

“
These
things,” she said, a degree less severely.

“
I should
have done it that way the first time, but I hardly knew what I was
doing,” he said. “You said it was better to marry than to
burn, and I was in a state of eternal conflagration, it seemed—but
that wasn’t what it was at all.”

She shifted up onto
her knees. “Perhaps you ought to take some wine,” she
said.

“
My strength
is up to this,” he said. “I only hope my brain is, too. I
want to explain first. Because you aren’t to think it’s
completely on account of lust. Lust is a part, yes. A large part.”

She sank back onto
her heels and regarded her hands.

“
But I liked
you from the moment I first heard your voice,” he said, “when
I had no idea what you looked like. I thought it delicious, the way
you bargained for me, as though I were an old rug. Then I loved the
way you looked at me. Then I loved the way you ordered me about. I
loved your patient and impatient ways of explaining things to me. I
love the sound of your voice and the way you move. I love your
courage and your kindness and your generosity and your obstinacy and
your passion.” He paused. “You’re the genius. What
do you think that means?”

She threw him a
sidelong glance. “I think you’re insane,” she said.
“Perhaps you have developed an infection which has gone
directly to your head.”

“
I am not
insane,” he said. “A woman of your highly advanced
intellect ought to be able to perceive that I am in love. With you. I
wish you had told me. It was deuced embarrassing to find it out from
your
brother
.”

Her gaze swung
toward him, green eyes wide and flashing. “Miles?” she
said. “Did he get into a snit about my honor and insist—”

“
Don’t
be ridiculous,” he said. “He has not lived the life of a
recluse, as you have. You may be sure he knows all about me. I’ve
no doubt I’m the last man on earth he’d want near his
sister. Well, maybe I’m second to last. After Noxley. But never
mind them. This is between us, Daphne. I love you with all my heart.
Will you be so good as to marry me?”

“
Yes,”
she said. “Yes, of course. I should never have said no the
first time. I have bitterly regretted the error, believe me. I could
live without you, but that would only be breathing. It would not
be
living
.”

He opened his arms,
and she crawled toward him on her hands and knees and came into them.
“I missed you,” she said. “I missed you so much.”
She lay her head upon his shoulder. “Can we be married right
away? I hate sleeping in my own cabin.”

“
We can be
married now,” he said, nuzzling her soft hair. “Remember?”

“
Yes. But you
must have a dowry.” She reached down and untied the silken
sash. “This will have to do.”

He took it from
her. It was quite heavy, even for a large piece of silk. “What
have you got twisted up in this?” he said. “Rocks?”

“
Five
purses,” she said. “About thirty-five pounds.”

“
You came
prepared.”

“
Of course I
did,” she said. “When I want something, I will stop at
nothing. Look at what I’m wearing.”

“
I like what
you’re not wearing, too,” he said.

“
I am even so
shameless as to take advantage of you when you are weak and wounded.”

“
I’m
not that weak,” he said. He dropped the sash onto the divan and
put his hands to better use, roving over her shapely body. “We’d
better get married
right away
,” he said.

“
Yes,”
she said.

Her hands weren’t
idle, either. But her mouth, that soft mouth was even more dangerous,
gliding over his neck and collarbone.

He raised her head
and brought her mouth to his. She tasted cool and sweet, like Turkish
sherbet. She tasted hot and dark like brandy held over a flame. She
tasted mysterious, like a goddess, and her power over him would have
terrified a lesser man.