The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (22 page)

"We could always dig for treasure," Kenneth joked. Worry shadowed his eyes.

Graham grasped fleering hope with both hands. "There is something I've kept on the quiet. Something I found when I was a boy in Egypt. If I find that, our losses will seem miniscule."

Interest flared in Kenneth's hopeful gaze. "What is it?"

"A fortune beyond our wildest dreams. Buried deep inside an Egyptian tomb."

His brother leaned forward. "Go on."

"Remember the tale Father told of Khufu's magic wishing casket?" When Kenneth nodded, he continued. "The al-Hajid forced me to dig for the Almha, the sacred gold disk of their enemies, the Khamsin. During one dig, I found an ancient papyrus map, torn in two. I remembered the hieroglyphics Father taught me, and discerned it told of Pharaoh Khufu's lost treasure."

Kenneth's blue eyes widened with unmistakable excitement. A small smile touched Graham's mouth. Their father had relayed the tale to the young boys, filling their minds with dreams of great treasure lying buried in Egypt's western desert.

"The first half of the map reveals where the key is that will unlock the tomb containing the casket. The key is hidden inside the Great Pyramid. I was... missing the second half of the papyrus showing the tomb's location in the western desert."

"And now, the missing half of the map..." Kenneth prodded.

"It was with al-Hamra. I asked Jillian to make a tracing."

Kenneth gave him a wary look. "So the earl could, if he wanted, find the treasure as well."

"He doesn't have the key and has no way of finding it."

Graham's brother leaned back, drumming his fingers against the polished tabletop. "It's a long shot. But maybe it's worth it. You could go to Egypt and take your new bride. Make it a honeymoon of sorts."

Graham stared.

"What?" Kenneth asked impatiently.

"We'll find another way," he said rigidly. "I'm not going to Egypt, and I'm certainly not taking my wife."

"Graham..."

"Taking my beautiful bride into the desert—my redheaded bride..."

A guilty look crossed Kenneth's face. "The nightmare," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Graham. I forgot. You're right, we'll find another way. Khufu's treasure is a myth, anyway."

"What's Khufu's treasure?"

Both men turned to view Jillian, who was standing in the doorway.

"Hello, love," Graham said cheerfully, giving Kenneth a warning glance. "Come, sit. The servants will have breakfast soon."

She had awoken in an empty bed, missing the warmth of her husband. She had the niggling feeling all was not quite well in this household, and she sensed secrets Graham hid, saw them cloaked in his dark eyes when they made love.

Sitting down next to Graham, she gave him an inquiring look. "Who was Khufu?"

The two brothers exchanged glances. Graham drew a line on the polished table with his finger. "He's the pharaoh concerning the map I asked you to trace."

Jillian's heart sank. "Graham, I meant to tell you. I couldn't get the tracing. I was watched too closely." Her husband's expression tightened, and she said, "I can try again, now that I'm married and have more freedom."

"Try hard," he said softly. "We need it, Jilly."

He looked a trifle desperate, as if it weren't a map he sought but something more meaningful, like his heart's desire.

"Tell me about the story you were discussing," she said.

The duke nodded. "Very well. Khufu is the pharaoh for whom the Great Pyramid was built. His sons liked to amuse their father with stories. One told of a powerful magician who desired revenge upon his wife's lover. He created a small wax crocodile, and had his servant toss it into the lake where the lover bathed. The crocodile came to life and swallowed the youth."

Graham went on, his rich, deep voice lending drama to the tale. She listened, enthralled.

"While supping with Pharaoh Nebka, the magician called forth the crocodile, and out of its mouth it spat the wife's lover, totally unharmed. The magician ordered the reptile to take the boy, and both man and beast vanished from sight."

"Legend says Pharaoh Khufu was so intrigued by the tale he rewarded his son with a magic wishing casket with powers to make dreams come true. Into this box he placed a small gold crocodile with an emerald the size of an egg in its yawning jaws, as tribute to Sobek, the crocodile god," Kenneth put in.

"However," Graham went on, "the clever pharaoh told his son he would receive the treasure only after his death, if he could find it. Khufu buried the treasure in the western desert, but created a map with clues to find it. But first, one needed to find a key to unlock the hiding place, and the key is hidden in Khufu's tomb."

Jillian focused on Graham. "And the map to find this priceless wishing casket... this is the papyrus you need?

A strange look entered his eyes. "Yes. And that wishing casket is everything. It's not merely a priceless treasure. Father said it had the ability to grant dreams, even those dreams that seem desperately out of reach." Then he gave an elegant shrug. "It is myth. It could be there. Or not."

"I'll do what I can to trace the map," she promised.

"Do it, Jilly. As soon as possible. We need that map. I need that casket."

For a moment, despair crossed his handsome face. Then the usual blank expression slid over him. She watched Graham help himself to eggs from the steaming trays the servants began to set out. Why was her husband so determined to seek this treasure? Did he truly believe in its magical powers?

And would finding it finally dispel the haunted look swirling in his dark eyes?

Chapter Thirteen

Over the next several weeks, Jillian settled into a pleasant routine. During the day she rode in the park, and sat for hours in her husband's vast library, devouring his large collection. Jillian marveled over his tastes, always taking care to leave before Graham arrived home and caught her reading. She'd learned that lesson from her father, who disdained her thirst for knowledge.

Sometimes she sat in the drawing room, doing needlepoint like a dutiful wife while Badra discussed books and nursed her son. At first, Jillian felt shocked embarrassment at her friendly sister-in-law's habit of feeding Michael in front of her. But after a while she realized the viscountess was much more discreet around others. And as she grew to know her better, Jillian realized Badra thought of her as a close sister who shared intimacies. She was deeply touched at the trust the woman accorded her.

Trust and emotional closeness, things the duke did not accord her. Graham frequently vanished for long periods during the day, and when she once timidly asked where he went, he replied curtly, "It's not your business." Hurt, she withdrew, not asking again.

It appeared the only intimacy he would share was in bed each night. There, he made love with great passion. Still, when she clung to him, searching his eyes, he seemed distant, as if he shared only his body and withheld the rest of himself.

Jillian found herself in the peculiar position of becoming closer to her in-laws than her husband. Reticent at first, even Kenneth became friendly. He joined her in the library, explaining he'd only learned to read English in the past year. He talked of growing up among the Khamsin, the Egyptian warrior tribe who raised him, and how he had fallen in love with Badra. Graham's family openly shared themselves. Graham did not.

Jillian tried during dinner to engage her husband in conversation. She dared to comment when Graham and Kenneth discussed investments. But when Graham's piercing gaze locked on her, she quieted and focused on eating her food instead. She did not want to see an echo of her father's condemnation in her husband's face.

Today, she'd actually found herself needed. Jasmine's governess was ill, and Jillian offered to give lessons. In the cheerful schoolroom, the pair skated through reading and sums, and then Jillian decided to stoke the young girl's sharp mind with her own love of economics. Jasmine sat at her small wooden school desk, listening with rapt attention.

"England has been suffering from an economic depression since 1873. Blame it partly on the Industrial Revolution. We are no longer an imperialistic country leading the way in international trade. For example, look at the production of steel. All the new sailing vessels are constructed with it. America produces it far cheaper. And what does it mean when you can produce a product cheaper?" Jillian asked her young pupil.

"You can sell it for less?"

"Exactly—and still make a profit. It's called supply and demand. Buyers want to cut costs; they'll purchase it from the cheapest source. And if there are only so many ships being built, and they all want their steel from America and not England, then it means—"

"Our ship is sunk," Graham interjected.

Cold dread crawled over her at the sound of that deep, smoky voice. Jillian cautiously turned. Her husband lounged in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest. He studied her intently. Feeling as guilty as a child caught snatching a cookie, she jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair.

The duke strode into the room, righted the chair. A furious blush ignited her cheeks. "I'm sorry. Er, Miss Hunter is ill today and I... I... thought Jasmine... I mean, economics is... and..."

She bit her tongue. Would the duke laugh, as Bernard had, or punish her as father had? Surely he would be disapproving of her interest.

"You think England no longer leads the world in industrial growth, Jillian?" he asked.

Wordlessly, she stared. Interest filled his gaze. Heart racing, Jillian waited for reproach, but he parked a hip against the desk Drawing in a hesitant breath, she explained.

"Mass production has lowered costs and expanded productivity, but demand in England simply isn't enough for what our factories produce. And our overseas export markets are shrinking, thanks to the competition from America."

"But America has suffered as well. Look at the depression of 1883," he countered.

More energized, she nodded. "True, but America is likely to rebound more easily than England due to its competitive pricing and natural resources. As an industrial nation, we are lagging behind. It's the law of supply and demand."

The duke's gaze flicked to his niece. "Jasmine, isn't it time for your afternoon ride? Charles is waiting for you."

The little girl looked to Jillian for affirmation. Jillian nodded and Jasmine scampered out. The duke unfolded his powerful frame and strode toward her.

Oh no, here it came, the lecture and the condemnation, the chiding.
She couldn't bear it. Jillian bit her lip.

So expecting was she of criticism, she started when his large, warm hand cupped her cheek. Jillian trembled as he stroked a line along her jaw.

"My wife, the brilliant little economist. I'm fascinated. Whom did you study?"

Jillian stared. He showed no signs of sneering.

"Marshall.
The Principles of Economics
is a book my father bought for his library. He rarely read it."

"Clearly you did," he murmured. "Why are you looking so frightened? I'm not a beast Didn't you realize when you brought up the topic at dinner I was interested?"

"I thought... a woman's opinion about such things matters not to men."

Surely it had never mattered to her father. Her father, who interrupted her mother when she dared to speak. Her father, who constantly criticized her mother until her mother became silent and offered her opinion no more.

He gave a derisive snort. "Some men, perhaps. Not me. I'm not well-educated on investments and economics. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me."

Her husband sat upon the desk and nodded for her to take a seat. Encouraged by the interest flaring in his eyes, Jillian hesitantly began talking. He asked pointed, intelligent questions. He coaxed answers from her, argued several points. She found herself enthralled, and was surprised to see the little gold watch pinned to her blouse indicate more than an hour had passed. She stood and hastily began organizing papers upon the oak desk.

Graham gave her a thoughtful look. "You're an excellent teacher. Have you ever considered furthering your education?"

Jillian bit her hp. She stared at his kind expression. Did she dare confide in him? She had nothing to lose now. Her hands shook as she smoothed over the papers.