Chapter Six
"You look like a child who's been given their first toy," Rick teased when he witnessed Evie bounce animatedly in the camel's saddle for the umpteenth time. Several days of travel through the torrid desert would not lessen her excitement one iota. Instead, it grew with each step closer to Dendera and the Temple of Hathor.
She lifted a hand and pushed her long brown curls away from her face as she turned eager eyes onto her husband. "It's exciting! Can't you feel it?" she asked exuberantly. "We're close...and it's calling to me."
"Yeah, I can hear it.... 'you're a sap, sap, sap'..." he mocked teasingly.
"Oh...do go on, Rick darling," she answered humorlessly. "There's nothing you can do or say to diminish the importance of..."
"A necklace," he groused and shifted in the uncomfortable saddle. "What women won't do for jewelry..."
Evie wrinkled her nose at his lack of enthusiasm. "You'll see. If legend is true..." She truly did not understand his worry. There were no curses attached to this remarkable piece of jewelry, only its archeological significance was of importance.
"We'll be in deep shi..."
"Language, Mister O'Connell," she scolded, her eyes dancing with mirth.
Rick sighed and swatted at an annoying fly. "Yes, Missus O'Connell. Mark my words...one day you'll discover some things are better left alone."
~*~
Meanwhile, in Cairo...
"Aiwa, yâ sîdi," the young boy acknowledged the gruff question of Ackmed Zaghloul. Gamil lightly fingered the end of his ghutrah. For a moment, the thought danced in his mind to place it over his mouth and nose to protect him from the vile breath of the man he had been ordered to report the whereabouts of the O'Connell's.
Even at twelve years of age, his bravery was not in question; however, the fat little man that stood only a head and shoulders above him, was paying a handsome sum for this information. He could not risk losing money his family needed, nor the jobs awaiting his father and uncles when taking the man to where the O'Connells headed.
"Jari respectfully sent me to report the whereabouts of the Americans. They will reach Dendera and the Temple of Hathor within two days."
"Very well," he answered, running a hand over his graying beard. His thoughts were now distracting him from the boy. Questions as to why the O'Connells would search Hathor's temple for the necklace tickled his dark mind even as he began making plans for his own travels to overtake them and claim the prized necklace. He lacked only one item to complete what was needed to make use of it. An item so important, without it, it would cost the O'Connells their very lives.
"Tell your father to begin preparations for travel to Giza...then, we will search out the O'Connells."
Bowing in feigned respect, Gamil gratefully left the presence of the portly hotel owner and hurried to deliver the news to his father.
~*~
Najya stretched languidly on the comfortable pallet. In the darkness of the tent, her groan sounded nearly like a cat's contented purr when Ardeth's strong arms encircled her, molding her snugly to his heated flesh.
"Did you sleep well, yâ mara?" His whispered question drifted into her ear; his seductive voice made even more so laced by sleep.
"When you allowed it of me," she teased and squirmed slightly with renewed desire when he nuzzled the tender flesh of her neck. His warm breath sent torrents of heat through her entire body.
"I do not recall any complaints," he teased back. He found the sensitive area near her rib cage and tickled her playfully. His deep laughter filled the tent when she squealed and jumped from the pallet.
He had forgotten how good it felt to laugh. The months at Hamunaptra, watching over the excavation as well as the separation from Najya, had taken its toll on his weary soul. The Elders challenging his choice of bride had only zapped him further and he fought to retain hold of his sense of self. Najya's unexpected presence in his tent had been a much needed reminder of what he fought for.
With her, there was no need to maintain the controlled façade warranted by the leader of the Medjai nation. No. With her, he was merely Ardeth Bay – man, friend, lover. She knew his position in life as he knew hers. Both were powerful in their own right and each as individual as a cloud in the sky. When together, their love was immeasurable and soothed any hurt, righted any wrong...they were whole.
There had been a moment after they realized their fortune in surviving their brush with death when they had discussed the direction of their relationship. Both had wondered if their physical relationship should end after just that one encounter on the riverboat until their future could be settled and Najya was his wife. They discussed the subject at great length. To deny themselves the love, comfort, and sustenance their souls derived from each other was too difficult for even someone with their inner strength. Their need was beyond physical...it was eternal.
He would soon have to discuss where things stood with the Elders, but now was not the time. The last thing he wanted was to see the laughing smile disappear from her beautiful face.
Najya returned to him quickly, stretching her naked body alongside his when he lifted the sheet to welcome her. She mischievously slapped his sinewy chest. "You are what the English call...a brute," she accused with loving adoration.
He grunted in amusement. "I have heard my friend O'Connell called this many times by his wife."
Lifting up on one elbow, Najya now looked down into his handsome face and laid a gentle hand to his cheek. "When can I meet them?"
He had spoken of them often, and she looked forward to meeting them, perhaps more so than she had been looking forward to joining and getting to know his people.
For some reason, she always felt that the O'Connells in some way were like her parents. One curious and troublesome, the other steadfast and although would always fall into the same trouble as his or her partner, would manage to find a way out of any situation. Perhaps she saw a little of Ardeth and herself in that respect. After all, their history together was proof enough.
"They have been gone from
She nodded absently as she sat up and the soft light that filtered through the cracks of fabric at the tent's entrance drew her attention away. The new day had begun and with it she would now face his people and their reaction to her presence.
"Something troubles you, yâ Najya?" he asked upon seeing the shadow of discontent pass over her lovely features.
"I should not be here," she whispered.
He sat up when she left the pallet, straightened her hair with her fingers, and then began dressing. She would not meet his gaze and he knew without asking that her often voiced worry of how the Medjai people would accept her had crept into her thoughts. Once outside the protective shield of this tent there would be no guarding her from their curious looks, or the feelings they would unwittingly transmit to her telepathically.
Najya's special abilities, whether telepathic or telekinetic, were ones she rarely displayed. She kept rein on any impulse to explore other's thoughts or minds, although feelings would occasionally seep through the wall she put up. Only under great duress or life threatening situations had she used her telekinetic abilities. He knew it took great strength to use such restraint, and it was something he admired in her.
"You belong with me," he stated emphatically.
Leaving the pallet, he stood before her, urging her into his arms. He cupped her chin with one hand and lifted her face to meet his gaze. "Or, perhaps, you no longer believe that?"
She gave a slight shake to her head, as much as his hold on her would allow. "I do not believe that," she protested, imploring him with her eyes to believe her. "But you have yet to speak of the Elders' decision. If you had good news, you would have shared it by now. That leads me to believe they do not accept me in your life and I do not wish to be the cause of unrest within the Medjai nation."
"You must not worry about such things," he insisted. He pressed a warm kiss to her forehead and loosened his hold on her so that she could finish dressing.
"How can I not?" she asked incredulously while pulling on her blouse and fastening the buttons. "What will happen if you go against Council wishes?"
Ardeth stepped into his breeches before meeting her worried gaze. "It is within my rights to do so."
"I know this, but your people will not be happy..." she trailed off while pulling her slacks up over her hips.
"Perhaps not; however, they respect me and I feel they will honor my wishes even if the Council does not."
The look in his eye told her he would brook no further argument on the subject as he went to the small dressing table and brushed his hair. She continued to remain silent while he pulled his tunic over his head. She turned her gaze away from him and quickly finished dressing and was shoving her feet into her boots when she looked up to catch him gazing intently at her. Without asking or even the faintest hint of his thoughts, she knew what he was rolling around in his mind.
Stomping her boot in place, she stood to face him. "Do not even think it," she chastised, surprised by the hint of anger behind it. Did he think so little of her loyalty to him and faith in him? "Whatever you decide, I will support you. I will never leave you." She sighed, pushing the heavy fall of her hair from her shoulders. Unaware she was doing it, she revealed her weariness of the situation as well as her inability to rectify it. "You know how I feel. I do not want to be the cause of any ill feelings between you and your people. One day...you will resent me for it, and I cannot live with that."
"Never will I resent you," he insisted, shoving his arms into his robes. He had hurt her; he realized this when she snapped at him. Although he had seen her in far harsher moments, it still amazed him at how fiercely he wanted to protect her, even from himself.
His robes momentarily forgotten, he swept her into his arms, taking from her the cloak she held in her hands and tossing it aside. He lowered his head, his mouth capturing hers in a demanding kiss, his hands roaming her back at a possessively slow pace. He felt her fingers curl around the edges of his robe's opening, holding tightly, giving back to him all that he bestowed on her within the kiss. It was beyond desire -- love, devotion, understanding...a promise that all would be made right as long as they had faith in each other.
Breathless, she broke away and gazed into the dark depths of his deep brown eyes. "Then never will I speak of it again," she assured. "I place my trust with you, my desert warrior. What is meant to be shall come to pass."
"Aiwa," he agreed. His genuine, heartfelt smile lit his face while he watched her as she tightened his sash and handed him his belt. After safely sheathing his scimitar, he accepted his bandoliers from her and placed them crisscrossed over his chest and back. Always his people had to be prepared to defend or attack at a moment's notice. He would not be a worthy Chieftain if he, too, was not prepared. "Shukran."
"You are most welcome." Returning his smile, she slid her arms into her cloak which he now held for her. "Thank you," she returned.
"Now, let us face those that cause such upset between us," he insisted.
She nodded and followed him from the tent, the harsh glare from the morning sun causing her to squint. Her thoughts turned inward and she threw a prayer to the winds in hopes Isis was listening. Give me strength, my Lady. Strength to face whatever lies in wait.
--
yâ sîdi -- Sir
yâ mara -- my woman.
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Lariat of Power – Chapter 7