The Perfect Wife (20 page)

Belinda crinkled her nose in a gesture startlingly similar to Sabrina’s own habit. “He’s disgusting. Why can’t I ride a horse, Mother? Why must I risk life and limb on this brute?”

“Do you see any horses?” Sabrina’s patience grew thin. Belinda shook her head. “Very well then. Get your blasted bottom on that animal, now.”

Belinda stamped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t see why I should. I have absolutely no desire to go traipsing about the desert, chasing after some stupid artifacts.”

“Artifacts?” Sabrina said, puzzled.

Belinda nodded. “That’s what Erick said this is all about.”

“Erick.” Sabrina turned to the young man, who appeared as if his fondest desire was to be anywhere except between mother and daughter. “What is this about artifacts?”

Erick shrugged. “That’s what Father told the pasha’s clerk when he got the permit for us to dig. He told them we were all here on holiday and the ladies had taken it into their heads that they wanted to search for antiquities. He said that in an effort to humor them, or rather you, he was more than willing to go to the trouble of procuring the permit.”

“It seemed like a good story at the moment.” Nicholas and Wynne joined the group gathered under the baleful gaze of the camel. “Given the vast numbers of Europeans in Egypt right now, it wasn’t even questioned.”

Belinda sighed. “Really, Mother, I don’t know what possessed you to leave home and travel—”

Sabrina grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her away from the others. “We’re not here for artifacts.”

“We’re not?”

“No.” Sabrina’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “We’re looking for gold. The French left it here twenty years ago.”

“Gold?” Belinda’s blue eyes widened in surprise. “Is it a great deal of gold?”

Sabrina fairly hissed the answer. “Yes.”

“Oh, my.” Belinda paused for a moment, then squared her shoulders and met her mother’s gaze. “Very well, then. Shouldn’t we be off?” She pivoted on her fashionably booted heel, gestured to an attendant and allowed herself to be boosted onto the odd arrangement of blankets and leather that comprised what passed for a saddle. The beast’s handler urged the animal to a standing position, and Belinda tottered far above them. She paled visibly but managed a weak smile. A surge of parental pride filled Sabrina. Perhaps the child had inherited something from her after all.

“Sabrina.” Nicholas steered her away from the forming caravan. “We do not have to go through with this. You have no need of this gold. You are my wife now, and I have all the wealth you shall ever require.”

She set her mouth in a stubborn line. “You said you’d come with me.”

“Bloody hell, Sabrina, of course I’ll come with you.” His dark eyes stormed. “But the closer we get to this fiasco, the more ridiculous it becomes.” She tossed him an accusing gaze, and he rolled his eyes toward the heavens. “Very well, I give up. I knew it was too much to hope that you had finally come to your senses.”

He grabbed her arms, yanked her to him and glared down at her. “Why do you want it, Sabrina? Why is this so important to you?”

She raised her chin defiantly. He would never be able to understand her need for financial independence, even from him. “It’s the quest—nothing more. I started this and I shall see it through to the end.” She returned his gaze without hesitation. In his eyes she read speculation and conjecture and knew instinctively that he did not fully believe her. “Now then, where are the horses?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask you the same thing you asked Belinda: Do you see any horses?”

“Well, no, not here. But I assumed—”

“I could not get any.” He released her and ran a weary hand through his hair.

“What do you mean, you could not get any? This is an enormous city. I’ve seen horses all over. You can’t tell me you couldn’t find a few pathetic horses.”

“Blast it, Sabrina, I have spent a long, interminable morning dealing with this God-forsaken country’s convoluted bureaucracy that makes even the worst ministry in the British government appear efficient. I then turned my attention to procuring what is needed for this venture of yours as quickly as humanly possible because of your insane need to proceed at once.” He clenched his teeth and his eyes flashed fire. “I have found camels. I have hired attendants and handlers. I have, in short, done everything you have requested and more. Right now I am hot, I am irritated and I am bloody tired.”

“But horses, Nicholas,” she said meekly. “I really do believe we need horses.”

“Why?”

“Why?” A dozen reasons, none even remotely plausible, flashed through her mind. “Well, someone—I suggest you and I—needs to be able to forge ahead of the rest. To survey the surroundings, so to speak.”

Nicholas glowered. “There will be no surveying and definitely no forging.”

“Very well, then ...” She paused, waiting for inspiration. Surely there was something to persuade him. She tossed him a sly smile. “Nicholas, you have seen the directions in the letter.”

“Yes?” His tone was wary.

“It indicates that the gold is buried near the Temple of Isis on a spit of land thrusting into the river. If the river is high, it could be cut off. To get there we shall surely have to ford the river.” She gazed up at him with all the sweetness she could muster. “For that we shall need horses. Will we not?”

Nicholas looked like a man at the end of his rope. A rope she suspected he would most probably wish to hang her with.

“Sabrina,” he said in a voice obviously barely under control, “your logic makes no sense whatsoever. I seriously doubt there is even the remotest possibility of problems with high water. However, we shall face that obstacle when, and if, we get to it. All I could find willing to take on this trek on short notice were camels.” He nodded at the motley-looking collection behind him. “They’re damnably expensive too.”

“Nicholas,” she clutched his arm, “I cannot ride a camel.”

Nicholas sighed. “Surely if Belinda—”

“Look at them.” Sabrina nodded toward the beasts. “I cannot get on one. It’s impossible.”

“Sabrina,” he said impatiently, “in the name of all that’s holy—”

She blurted out the words. “They’re just so tall. So bloody high.”

Surprise widened Nicholas’s eyes. “Are you trying to tell me you’re scared of heights? Is that what your reluctance is all about?”

“Yes.” She glared, annoyed that he had forced this admission of weakness. “I have a dreadful fear of high places. I simply cannot abide them.”

Nicholas visibly relaxed. He smiled and pulled her into his arms. “We could ride together. Share one of the beasts. I would have no problem keeping you securely upon the animal and in my arms.” His eyes gleamed suggestively, and she laughed in spite of herself.

“I have the horses.” Mart’s voice wedged between them, and reluctantly, Sabrina stepped out of Nicholas’s embrace.

Matt nodded toward the caravan. Four sleek Arabians stood near the camels, the contrast between the noble beasts and the beasts of burden almost comical.

“Matt, how wonderful.” Sabrina’s voice rang with delight.

Nicholas glared. “How did you accomplish this, Madison?”

Matt shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. You just have to know where to look and who to talk to. And, as you can see, I managed to find fairly good-looking horseflesh.”

Nicholas snorted. “Stolen, no doubt.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a thief, Wyldewood?”

A calculating smile touched Nicholas’s lips. “A thief, a rogue, a smuggler. Which suits best, Madison?”

The charge hung in the air like a venomous fog. Panic filled her, and her gaze leapt from one to the other. Surely, Nicholas would not reveal his suspicions now? Surely Matt would not rise to the bait and divulge her secret? After her talk with Matt she had decided to tell Nicholas everything. But not now. At some point in the future, perhaps, when they were old and gray and in their dotage. Possibly when she or he lay on their deathbed. Then she would tell him. Not now.

“Enough.” She pushed her way between the scowling duo. “I do not believe we have time for this nonsense. Nicholas,” she turned to her husband, “how long do we have before the annual flooding of the Nile?”

“Approximately a month, perhaps longer.” His dark, dangerous gaze still locked with Matt’s.

“And it shall take how long to reach the island?” she asked, urging him on.

Nicholas cast a last disgusted glance at Matt and turned to her. “Ten days, two weeks; it’s impossible to say for certain.”

“Then I suggest we get moving.” Matt grinned. “Watch out for the camels, Wyldewood—they spit.” He turned to leave and threw Sabrina a wink only she could see. She released a pent-up breath; he would not betray her.

Matt took two strides and Nicholas called after him. “Madison, I did not think you were planning to accompany us. To what do we owe the pleasure of your change of heart?”

Matt stopped and swiveled slowly to face them. A hand gripped Sabrina’s stomach at the impudent smile on his lips. “Well, Wyldewood, this trek has been described to me as a grand adventure. I hate to pass on a good adventure. Beyond that,” his gaze flicked to Sabrina and back again, “you never know what you’re going to find when you go digging about in deserts or ... other things. I’d wager gold isn’t the only secret buried out here.”

Sabrina slipped from her tent and cast a casual glance around the compound. Four days out of Cairo and the company had already fallen into a routine, a ritual that changed only in the site chosen and never in the arrangement of animals and people. With a startling efficiency and impressive speed, the attendants threw up the flowing tents that served as overnight shelter. Their competence served as a mild distraction against what proved to be a monotonous excursion.

The trek southward along the Nile moved with the slow, steady beat of a metronome. All concerned grew more and more irritated by the tedious pace, the unrelenting heat and the tiresome, unchanging landscape. Only Wynne among their company
appeared to actually enjoy the never-ending journey.

Sabrina did her best to keep Nicholas and Matt as far apart as possible, although it wasn’t easy, given their small numbers. But Matt seemed to cooperate with her attempts; at least he did not go out of his way to incite her husband. She marveled that Nicholas still did not appear to notice Wynne’s affection for the American. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look.

Sabrina glanced toward the fire, now burned low and scarcely more than a glow in the night, barely illuminating the tent closest to it. These colorful structures, while airy and passably comfortable, also triggered a fair amount of irritation. Once again the women were quartered together. Nicholas, Erick and Matt shared a tent, although on any given night one or more of them typically rolled up in a blanket and slept under the stars.

The camp had settled for the evening and Sabrina smiled to herself. Nicholas stood on the opposite side of the clearing, a black shadow in the moonlight, tall and dark and compelling. He held out his hand and without words she joined him. Silently, they walked a short distance to a meager outcropping of palms, small but enough to shield them from any prying eyes that had not yet succumbed to sleep. They gazed at each other for but a moment before Sabrina threw herself into his waiting arms.

Locked in his embrace, she lost herself in the still novel sensations fanned to life by his demanding lips. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, as if to make up in intensity what they lacked in time. She twined her fingers in the silken hair at the nape of his neck and greeted him as eagerly as he hungered for her.

His lips traveled the curve of her neck, and she shuddered with need and growing frustration. They could not give into their desire here... now. “Nicholas.” She gasped. “We must stop.”

He groaned and pulled away. “That seems to be the only thing you say to me of late. This marriage of convenience grows more and more inconvenient with every passing moment.”

“Tell me again why we do not have a tent of our own.”

He released a deep breath. “We do not have a tent of our own, my love, because you were in such a blasted hurry to begin this journey. Therefore, I had to take what I could get.”

“It is an excellent excuse, Nicholas.” She sighed and leaned against him. “But it does nothing to subdue this altogether awkward desire you have awakened within me.”

He laughed and gazed into her face. She effected a teasing pout and hoped he could see it in the moonlight. “It seems, my dear wife, that we suit after all. I suspected it when we first met, but you have dispelled any lingering doubts. I look forward to a long and happy marriage of convenience.”

Her heart stilled. “Do you?” she asked under her breath. The teasing tone left her voice, the moment between them abruptly serious, heavy with a significance she had not intended. Or perhaps she had.

What did he mean? He already had her willingly in his bed, during those rare moments when they had a bed. What more could he want from her? She didn’t dare hope his words indicated that he had at last succumbed to the lure of love. Another unrepentant, unreformed rake long ago had loved her. But surely such miracles did not happen twice in the same lifetime.

The swollen desert moon reflected in his eyes and outlined each chiseled feature of his face. He drew her hands to his lips and kissed them with a touch so light, yet so full of promise, that her knees ached from the effort to stand upright.

“Sabrina.” His voice was as gentle as his touch and just as weighted. “I feel we—”

A startled shout ripped the desert air.

“What the—” Sabrina whirled toward the camp.

“Bloody hell!” Nicholas grabbed her arm and ran toward the tents. “Come on!”

“What is it, Nicholas? What’s happened?” Sabrina struggled to keep up with his long strides. He pulled her behind him, half dragging her in his wake, and she fought to keep her footing.

The camp was in utter chaos. Everywhere, bodies and beasts gyrated in an odd, confusing dance. Firelight and moonlight reflected and shadowed and revealed and hid. It seemed it all moved too fast for her to comprehend, or perhaps she moved too slow.