Читать книгу Familiar Mirage - Caroline Burnes - Страница 12

Beth sat at the breakfast table, a fresh crusty roll and a cup of coffee in front of her, when she saw Omar walk into the room.

His gaze sought hers instantly and he came toward her.

“Shall I accompany you on this part of your exploration?” he asked.

Beth hadn’t anticipated that the desert guide would be interested in diving.

“You’re welcome to come if you want,” she said, studying him for any reaction. “It isn’t necessary, you know.”

His dark eyes held hers. “The sunken cities are relatively unexplored. I’ve read about them, and I’d like to see them.”

“Do you dive?” Beth was surprised and couldn’t hide it.

Omar’s smile was cool and amused. “Is it so hard to believe that a man of the desert might be accomplished in scuba diving?”

“Well, yes,” Beth said. “There isn’t a whole lot of opportunity to dive in the desert. I didn’t mean it as a slight. I wouldn’t expect someone who grew up in New York City to know how to water-ski, either.”

“Point taken,” he said, the hardness of his face relaxing a little.

The waiter came and set a cup of coffee in front of Omar.

“Do you mind?” Omar asked.

“Please, join me,” Beth said. She hadn’t expected to see Omar so early, and she certainly hadn’t expected to have breakfast with him. “How are the plans for the overland trip going? Did you secure more camels?”

“Everything is in order,” he assured her. “Please, don’t worry. I’ve led many Americans into the desert and brought all of them back safely.”

“Have you ever been on an archaeological exploration before?” Beth asked.

Omar hesitated, his dark eyes steady as he stared at her. “Yes.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“No.” He sipped his coffee, finally breaking eye contact.

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “Perhaps you can’t understand this, but I’ll tell you, anyway. When foreigners come into my land to examine and explore, it’s like locusts coming to rob my people of their heritage. Foreign scientists discover valuable artifacts, and they steal them for foreign museums or worse, private collections. Egypt is robbed of her past.”

“I’m not interested in taking anything out of Egypt,” Beth said quickly. “Everything will remain here.”

“Perhaps you mean that when you say it, but you have no control over the people who will follow you. You cannot guarantee there won’t be political deals made by the leaders of my country and others. Many men believe that trading the past for the future is acceptable. I don’t happen to share that belief.”

Beth’s hand clenched around her butter knife. “Omar, if we can find the City of Con, it would bring a lot of worldwide attention to Egypt. Con, I believe, was a flesh-and-blood woman and a seer who ruled with as much power as any of the pharaohs. It would change history.”

His dark eyes were bright with emotion. “Perhaps Egypt doesn’t want the world’s attention. Perhaps we wish to keep our history to ourselves. I’m not so certain that it’s our responsibility to change the world’s view.”

Beth started to argue, but she bit back her words. Omar wasn’t going to be convinced by anything she said, and in some ways she understood him. “I can only tell you that I intend to explore the city with the greatest respect. I’ll work in full cooperation with your government and do everything I can to make sure all sites are protected for your people.”

For a brief moment his eyes softened. “I’m sure you will try, Beth Bradshaw.”

“Your government has given me permission—”

“It isn’t the government that you should be worried about,” Omar interrupted. He finished his coffee and abruptly stood up. “I’ll meet you on the boat.”

“It’s the—”

“Memphis,” he finished for her. “I know.”

“How did you…” She didn’t finish the question. She knew how he knew. John Gilmore had told him. “Omar,” she called to him as he started through the restaurant.

He stopped and turned around, but didn’t approach the table.

She stood up and went to him. “What were you and John talking about last night in the lobby?”

She saw surprise flicker across his face.

“Your co-worker felt it necessary to explain to me that I should have been at the airport, that I was remiss in my duties and insubordinate to my employer. He also made an allegation against me. One that I refuted.”

Beth felt little sparks of heat run up her neck and into her cheeks. “It isn’t John’s place to do that.”

“I listened to him.”

“John has nothing to do with any of the arrangements. He’s a paid hand on this expedition. What did he accuse you of?”

“I’ll keep in mind that you are the leader of this trip,” Omar said. “The other is insignificant.” He left the restaurant with a long, purposeful stride, brushing past Mauve as she came in.

Mauve arched her eyebrows at Beth and hurried to the table where the empty coffee cup told the story of breakfast. “My, oh, my, you do work fast,” Mauve said wickedly. “Was it breakfast after aerobics or just a little preliminary feast before doing some mattress maneuvers?”

Beth couldn’t help but laugh, even though Mauve’s teasing accusations made her slightly uncomfortable. It was hard to be around Omar for any length of time without feeling desire. He was a very sexy man. But desire had no place on this expedition.

“Omar’s going on the dive with us,” Beth said. “He knows how to dive and he’s interested in the sunken cities.”

“Terrific,” Mauve said. “I’m very interested in seeing what he’s hiding under those flowing robes.”

Beth laughed despite herself. “You are a wicked girl,” she said to her friend.

“Wicked but honest. You’re curious, too, aren’t you? Unless you’ve already had a little preview,” Mauve teased.

“Get your mind out of the bedroom and onto your work,” Beth said, finishing her roll and rising from the table. “I’ll meet everyone at the boat. I want to make sure all the equipment is loaded.”

WELL, I’VE LEARNED two valuable lessons today. The hard rolls served for breakfast may satisfy the humanoids, but not me. I want sausage or bacon or an omelet with shrimp and Parmesan cheese. Hard roll—yuck. Not even butter can make it palatable.

Probably of more importance is the second thing I’ve learned by hiding under Miss Explorer’s table. Omar Dukhan hedged the truth. He and John Gilmore were not talking about the airport incident. John was actually accusing our fearless guide of tampering with the air tanks. Now that’s interesting. Why would Gilmore jump to the conclusion that Omar had gone into his room and done that?

Diving tank. Boat. Water. I’d rather face lions and tigers and bears. I’d rather face the Wicked Witch of the West and all her flying monkeys. I’d even rather face the Munchkins, though I don’t want to hear them sing, than get on another boat. But I’ll be on the Memphis or my name isn’t Familiar.

I don’t trust Omar the desert guide, and I don’t like John Gilmore. I think Miss Explorer has put herself behind the eight ball in this entire adventure. It’s up to me to see that nothing bad happens to her.

OMAR HEFTED his diving tanks onto the deck of the Memphis and then began to go over the other gear that was already loaded. The expedition was professional and expensive. He could only wonder again where Beth Bradshaw had gotten the funding.

He had to hand it to her; she was not only smart, she was prepared.

She was right on target, going to Herakleion, one of the sunken cities, to look for specific directions to the City of Con. It was in the coastal city that Con had performed many of her most impressive feats. She had predicted the coming of the Romans and the romance between Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Con had warned of the dangers of the liaison, but her warnings had gone unheeded. Queen Cleopatra, the last of the Ptolemies, had died by her own hand, a snake clutched to her bosom. Alexandria, jewel of the Mediterranean, and Egypt, the center of culture for the past century, were forever changed.

And Con and her followers had taken to the desert, hunted like dogs.

But Con and her followers had not been destroyed. They had built a village where the world leaders often sent emissaries to have dreams foretold and to buy a glimpse of the future.

Taking her gift of seeing the future, Con had gone into exile, but she was still very much a presence. So much so that legends began to spring up about her. Her name was whispered in all the halls of power. Assassins were sent to destroy her.

None succeeded.

Omar knew all this. He knew it was not just legend, but truth. He knew because he was descended from the lineage of Con. And he was the protector of her palace.

“Dukhan!”

Omar was pulled out of his reverie by the shout from the dock. He stood up and saw Beth Bradshaw and her party as they approached the boat. The man who’d hailed him was in the lead, John Gilmore.

“What are you doing here?” John asked him angrily.

Omar didn’t bother to answer. He knew his lack of courtesy would infuriate the scientist, and he was right.

“Are you deaf, as well as stubborn?” John asked.

“John!” Beth’s voice was sharp. “What do you think you’re doing? Mr. Dukhan is my guest on this trip.”

“Guest? He’s hired help. And he went into my room last night and—”

“Choose your words carefully,” Omar said in a deadly voice. “In my country, a man’s honor is worth dying for.”

John stared at Omar with open dislike.

“What’s this about?” Beth demanded.

“Nothing,” John said, looking away.

“John, Omar is a hired hand, but so are you,” Beth said pointedly. “Now put aside whatever it is that’s eating you or go back to the hotel. I don’t have time for temper fits and rudeness.”

She glanced once at Omar, and he saw the embarrassment in her eyes. She was ashamed of her countryman, and Omar felt a twinge of guilt for deliberately provoking the scientist. John Gilmore was such an easy mark, though.

John brushed past him, and Omar assisted the other members of Beth’s party aboard. The site of the sunken city was fifteen miles off the coast, still in the Bay of Aboukir. Omar knew the craft Beth had rented would get them there in good time, and he looked out at the water, a beautiful aqua that promised adventure and a cool break from the heat that was already building.

As the boat left the dock, Omar kept his distance, aware of the surreptitious glances that the members of the crew cast his way. One of the women, a vibrant redhead, winked at him, and he flashed her a smile. But his gaze kept drifting back to Beth.

She wore a blue, one-piece swimsuit, which though conservative, showed off her figure. Her waist was tiny, and her hips swelled beneath it. Though she was short, her legs were tapered and beautifully proportioned. She was a lovely woman, with her dark hair sparkling in the sun.

He was watching her when he noticed the black cat sit down at her feet. There were thousands of black cats in Alexandria, but this one was…unique. He felt the cat’s golden gaze on him, and he examined the feline. To his amusement the cat stood up and walked right to him. It jumped up on the seat beside him and with a deliberate action, hooked both front claws into the flesh of his thigh.

“Hey!” He was more startled than injured.

Everyone around stopped what they were doing and stared at him as he gently tried to disengage the cat. Unfortunately the animal only hooked his claws in farther and gave a low, warning growl.

Beth saw what was happening and hurried over. She carefully picked up the cat, unhooking the claws. The black devil began to purr in her arms and licked her chin.

“My goodness,” Beth said, cradling the cat. “Are you okay?” she asked Omar.

“Fine,” he said, rubbing his leg. He eyed the cat. “Is he yours?”

“He’s been following me.” Beth laughed when she realized how sinister that sounded. “Really, he has.”

Omar found that he was smiling in amusement at her. There were many things about Beth Bradshaw that surprised and delighted him. She was supposed to be a cool, calm scientist, and here she was claiming that a stray cat was following her. “Since when?” he asked.

“Since the airport, and you can drop the condescension. It’s the same cat, and he’s been stuck to me like glue ever since I got into this country.”

Omar studied the animal more closely. There had been a black cat in the airport, one that had given him the once-over. And there had been a black cat in the lobby of the hotel the evening before, hiding under some furniture. As he thought about it, the cat had seemed incredibly interested in the conversation he was having with John Gilmore.

“In my country,” he said, “cats are worshiped. They roam wherever they like, but they hardly ever stalk tourists.” He couldn’t suppress the smile that teased the corners of his mouth.

“In my country, some people believe that black cats are the familiars—” She didn’t get a chance to finish.

“Me-ow!” The cat leaped from her arms and landed on the seat beside Omar, who instinctively put his hands on his thighs to protect them from the cat’s sharp claws.

“Me-ow!”

“Familiar?” Omar said carefully, though he could hardly believe the cat was trying to tell his name.

“Me-ow!” The cat nuzzled his leg, rubbing his head against the white robe with great relish.

Omar looked up at Beth. “I think that’s his name.”

“But that would be an American—”

“Me-ow!” Familiar lifted a paw and held it up. Tentatively Beth met his paw with her own hand. “Me-ow!” the cat proclaimed, swatting her palm with his claws sheathed.

“Incredible. He just gave me a high-five,” Beth said.

“Incredible indeed,” Omar said. He watched the cat intently. There was something odd about this one. He’d known and loved cats all his life, but he’d never seen a cat who could so clearly communicate with humans.

John Gilmore sauntered up to Beth and Omar. “So the two of you are adopting a stray cat,” he said with one corner of his mouth twisted. “How cute. I’m just wondering if we’re here for an archaeological expedition or as emissaries of the Humane Society.”

Omar’s fist clenched, though he made sure that no other part of his body registered his anger. Beside him, Beth, too, tensed.

“If you’re so overly worried about our expedition, why aren’t you suited up for the dive?” Beth asked with a measure of calm that Omar could only admire. She was a woman who’d learned to govern her emotions and to sharpen her tongue for use as a weapon. What she lacked in physical size, she made up for in spirit and intelligence.

“I could ask you the same,” John countered. “Him, too.”

“You could, but you aren’t in charge of this expedition. I am,” Beth said evenly. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about any of the decisions that need to be made. That’s my job.” Her tone suddenly hardened. “Now suit up and prepare to dive.”

Omar watched as John’s face suffused with blood. Beth had angered him deliberately. He felt a tiny smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Sometimes words were far more effective than fists.

John abruptly wheeled around and went to put on his diving gear. Mauve sauntered up to Beth. “That wasn’t particularly smart. You’re going down in the sea with him.”

“John is annoying, but once we get to work, he’s a professional,” Beth said.

“I hope you’re right,” Mauve said. “I’d feel better if I were going down there with you.”

Beth shook her head. “I need you on top here. You can run the equipment better than anyone.”

“I’ll be there with you,” Omar said, and both women turned to him. “As your guide, I’ll be at your back at all times.”

He saw the slight tremor pass through Beth, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the reaction was to the hint of a threat his words induced, or the image of him standing behind her, protecting her from anyone who dared threaten. He wasn’t sure exactly which he preferred.