It was when he saw the pony that Rowan knew she was near. It was like a telepathic beam had led him from Carter’s camp in a direct line to where she now sat huddled on the ground in the middle of the night in the middle of the desert. He was at her side in two strides and then she was in his arms.
“I knew you would come,” were the first words out of her mouth and he nearly wept to hear them because he very nearly hadn’t.
“Ella, my sweet girl,” he said cradling her beautiful face in his hands and hungrily devouring every inch of her with his eyes. His hands moved swiftly over her body to see if she were hurt but also to reassure himself, to feel her familiar form in his hands again, to feel the life they had created together. She stopped his hands on her belly and held him there. Her eyes held his.
“Tell me it’s really you,” she said in a whisper. He stroked her cheek, realizing that she thought she was dreaming.
“It’s me, babe,” he said, kissing her face, her neck, her cheek. “It’s really me.”
She clutched at his shirt and made a terrible hacking sobbing noise without tears and began to shake so hard he was suddenly afraid he had found her only to lose her in his arms. He turned to Ra who was still mounted.
“Throw me the water,” he barked.
He shifted her in his arms, feeling her weight and worried she should weight more. A lot more.
Ra jumped down and handed him the water pouch. Rowan saturated his handkerchief with the water and wiped Ella’s face. He held the pouch to her lips while she drank. When she finished she looked at him.
“My pony,” she said.
“Ra,” Rowan said, without looking at him. “Water her horse.”
Ella sat limply in his lap and he could feel her trembling. He pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Don’t let go of me, Rowan,” she said.
“I won’t, beautiful,” he said. “Never again.”
After he had given her a little food and more water and Ra had built a small campfire, she lay in his arms and he told her how he had found his way to Carter’s camp the day before and been told of a rumor of a pregnant white woman being held at an Austrian’s duke’s palace deep in the Sahara. Carter had given him two horses and provisions and he had left immediately.
“But how did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t, sweetheart,” he said. “I was on my way to the Austrian’s palace. I found you first.”
“Then I was going the right way,” Ella said in wonder. “I was finally headed in the right direction.”
“Right to me,” Rowan said, touching a long strand of her hair.
She closed her eyes and felt his arms tighten around her. “I wanted you to come so bad,” she murmured into his shirt. “I was so afraid and half the time I was lost.”
“I know, babe,” he said hoarsely into her ear. He turned her face to him and kissed her. “I’m here now. I’m here now for good and forever.”
“I am so sorry, Rowan,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry about.”
“There is. Your mother was right. I didn’t deserve you.”
“You’re wrong about that. So was she.”
“Maybe it doesn’t matter any more. Through the whole time we were apart, I always found you in my dreams.”
“I found you, too, babe.”
“I knew it. I knew you did.”
He touched her belly. “How far along are you?”
“I think a little over eight months. It’s a boy, Rowan.”
He laughed. “And how do you know that?”
“It’s a long story and trust me, you’ll hear every bit of it,” she said. “But I know.”
Ella slept after that and Rowan never moved his arms from around her. There was a change in her, she was right about that. It wasn’t just the baby. There was a maturity and a strength—beyond even what she had shown in Heidelberg. He gazed at her face and wondered what she had experienced, what she had done. What had been done to her. But he knew, somehow without knowing how, that her new strength had come from a source he never would have guessed. He kissed her sleeping face and she moaned lightly.
It had come from sacrifice.
The next day, they were up and mounted before daylight. Rowan was concerned about Ella riding this late in her pregnancy but there was no help for it. He had an extra pith helmet that he affixed a long veil to that would shield her from the worst of the sun. She didn’t want to wait another day to travel by night and he agreed. Ra rode ahead of them.
She looked rested and more herself this morning, Rowan noted. While she could hardly take her eyes off him, she smiled more. He noticed she rode with her hand resting lightly on her pregnant belly.
For awhile, they talked of nothing serious. But he could tell there was something bothering her. He also knew she would tell him when she was ready.
“You okay, El?” He frowned at her as they rode side by side. “Need water?”
She shook her head and then took a long breath. “Rowan, you know I never killed anyone in Heidelberg.”
“I guess that’s right.”
“I mean, I only ever used a Taser, you know?”
“Ella, you had to do it,” he said. “You know that, right? If you hadn’t killed Zimmerman and his goon, you and Tater both would’ve died.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.”
“And that’s the truth of it, darlin’.” Rowan leaned over from his horse and smoothed her hair out of her eyes. “Because I couldn’t be there, you had to do it. You saved our child and yourself.”
“But Rowan, I thought about it first. I pre-meditated it.”
“And thank God for it,” he said. “Those men were evil, Ella. I’m sorry you had to do it but the fact is…” He looked at her meaningfully. “…you had to do it. There was no way I was going to get to you in time.”
They rode in silence for a while before she spoke again. “This is the second time you’ve traveled through time to find me.”
“Yeah, about that.” He removed his hat and scratched his head. “I gotta say I’m getting a little tired of always needing to do that.”
“I’ll never leave you again, Rowan. Ever.”
Josh Spenser sat opposite Marvel at the breakfast table set in the shade of one of the few Egyptian balsam trees. He never stayed for breakfast. He always grabbed a roll and chugged down a cup of joe and was at the dig site long before now. He knew Carter didn’t care. The man was in his own private world. Barring every bit of scaffolding coming crashing down on his head, he didn’t take notice of much around him. Josh assumed that that kind of fanatical focus was probably required to get to where he had gotten in his profession. He, himself, was a big believer in not letting things distract him from the job at hand.
Which is why he was so surprised to find himself sitting at a breakfast table at eight in the morning drinking tea and chewing cold toast. He watched his dining companion whenever she shifted her gaze to the horizon or some other object of interest to her other than himself.
By God, she was gorgeous. How did she keep that skin looking like that out here in all this dry heat? She looked like a flower that just stepped out of a garden. He flushed at the thought. He sounded like an idiot even to himself.
“I wanted to thank you again, Mr. Spenser,” she said reaching for the milk pitcher to add to her teacup, “for allowing Mr. Pierce and myself to join your society. I very much hope we are not interrupting your work.”
There it was again. That whole “we” thing she had going with Pierce. What was the story with that? Wasn’t Pierce off looking for his wife?
He cleared his throat. “Not a problem,” he said. “Remind me again of your connection with Pierce? He a relative by marriage or something?”
He watched her squirm then and suddenly the pieces of their situation begin to shape up to create a picture.
“No, no,” she said, stirring her tea. “He works for me.” She paused and then blushed darkly which Spenser noted he did not like at all. “But we are friends.”
“And you met over here?”
“We did. He has been of service to me while I was living in Cairo.”
“In between him looking for his wife.”
“That’s right.”
He had to admit she was cool. If there was something going on between those two, she wasn’t about to admit it. Not yet anyway. Not with Pierce off making a fool of himself racing around the damn Sahara trying to find someone who had probably died and been eaten by jackals months ago.
“But I am an amateur student of archaeology,” she said, obviously trying to change the subject. “So when Mr. Pierce told me he had an entre into Mr. Carter’s operation here at KV62, well, I jumped at the opportunity.”
“Yeah, there’s been a lot of interest from the outside,” Spenser said, nodding in the direction of the perimeter of the camp where Carter had posted guards to keep the media and tourists away.
“Five months ago, that was me you were keeping off the dig site,” Marvel pointed out to him.
He vaguely remembered her from that first visit. At the time, he’d been in a lather about the two women who had just run off. If he’d taken the time to actually look at Marvel, he knew he would’ve reacted differently. Then she was just a pest to be gotten rid of. Now…
“Would you…I mean, do you have an interest in seeing the actual dig site?” The words were out of his mouth before he knew he was forming them. All he really knew was that he needed to get back to work.
And he didn’t want to leave her.
She dropped her teaspoon against her teacup in a musical clang and looked up at him, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise. “Really?” she said.
He saw her delight spread to her face and her ample bosom within her khaki blouse heaved with excitement. Knowing that he had caused that reaction in her …it was all he could do not to lean over and kiss her right then. Instead, he looked down at the table and found himself mumbling. “Sure. If you want. We could go now.”
She stood up and swept her pith helmet off the table and into her hands. “I am ready when you are, Mr. Spenser,” she said brightly.
Life was so funny, Marvel thought as she wound her long hair up into a chignon and secured it with pins. Just when she thought she and Rowan were finally breaking past his obsession with his wife—that night on the boat had been positively magical even if it had ended with just a few passionate kisses on the deck—he runs away on some hare-brained excuse. Obviously he felt more for Marvel than was comfortable for him—at least until he accepted the fact that his wife wasn’t coming back. So while it was mildly humiliating for him to rush off like that—and certainly discouraging after the kiss—she had to admit—and she put her hairbrush down on her table when the thought hit her: she didn’t care all that terribly much.
Now why would that be?
She patted her coif and picked out a pair of dangling earbobs to wear at dinner. She liked how they drew attention to her long neck, one of her best attributes, she knew. The great man, Howard Carter, hadn’t dined with them yet which, as it turned out, was just fine. Marvel found him distracted and unforthcoming. Perhaps that was due to the first evening when she had bombarded him with questions and flattery. But she couldn’t help it. He was Howard Carter! They were going to discover the tomb of one of the wealthiest pharaohs of all time! There was a reason the crowds lined up three people deep to get a glimpse of Mr. Carter and his dig.
And she, Marvel Newton, was right in the middle of it. Right in the middle of history being made. She squirted a puff of scent in the air and waited for the mist to settle on her shoulders and in her hair.
No, she didn’t care if Carter joined them or not tonight. All her questions now had to do with the wondrously curious things she had seen on her tour with Mr. Spenser that day. Josh. He had asked her to call him Josh.
“Joshua.”
She felt a tingle go up her spine as she said his name out loud, rolling the syllables around in her mouth.
As she stood up from her dressing table, she thought, for once in her life, she felt like letting whatever was going to happen to her—happen. And that thought was so unusual, so startlingly unlike her, that she found herself smiling.
Joshua.
With one last glance in her hand mirror, she left her tent for dinner.
As soon as she stepped outside, she could feel that something was happening. The energy of the close knit little camp had changed. Instead of heading toward the flickering pathway lanterns that lit the way to the dining table—itself festooned with small lanterns on its stark white linen top—she found herself needing to step off the path to make way for two Egyptians who ran past her.
She could see that horrid Edward Digby standing in the opening of his tent smoking and watching her. He had come into camp the morning after she and Rowan had arrived. She knew Rowan would never have left her if he had known Digby would be here. Then she saw Josh materialize on the path heading toward her tent. He was a big man, every bit as tall as Rowan, and he carried himself with an ease and grace not usually found in a man that size. When she saw him, she felt her heart beat a little faster and her throat went instantly dry.
Oh, my goodness, she thought. Joshua.
“Marvel? You okay? I saw you nearly got run over there.”
“I…yes, I’m fine. What is happening? Have the reporters breached the walls?”
When he reached her, she found she was a little breathless because of how closely he stood to her. If she’d had a fan, she would’ve started madly fanning herself.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said, one hand resting on his hip in a picture of insouciance. “Pierce is back.”
“Oh?” The words should have sent tremors of delight up and down her inner thighs but amazingly, she felt only interest. She was aware, however, of Josh leaning in close to her as if to relate the next message sotto voce.
Or perhaps to kiss her?
“With Mrs. Pierce.”
She stared at him and was aware her mouth had fallen open. She was also aware that he was watching her intently for her reaction. She forced herself to recover.
“Well,” she said, breathlessly, “I certainly did not expect that.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm and turning her away from the dining area.
Rowan had found his wife? Was that possible? Could Joshua be trying to tease her? But then why were the camp servants running around?
As she walked next to the big American, Marvel drew upon every reserve of strength and feminine wile she had to cover up how she felt. She honestly didn’t know what she did feel, but she was determined not to show anything but complete composure. They turned a corner in the camp and suddenly she saw them.
Rowan—looking every bit as handsome and rumpled as ever—was kneeling next to a woman sitting in a camp chair. Their horses, still saddled, stood just a few feet away. Marvel watched as the camp handlers led the animals away.
“Pierce!”
Marvel jumped when Spenser called to Rowan. She watched him turn away from the woman—dear Lord! She was fat! Marvel felt a hysterical giggle bubbling up in her and she dug her nails into her palms to staunch it.
Marvel watched Rowan turn back to his wife and speak to her. He was clearly filling her in on who they were because when they finally reached them, Ella was smiling in a greeting. It was then, as Marvel approached them both, that she saw that Rowan’s wife was not fat.
She was with child.
Marvel glanced at Rowan whose face was flushed with happiness. In fact, she had never seen him smile so broadly before.
“Marvel, Spenser,” Rowan said, “may I present my wife, Ella Pierce.”
Ella smiled tiredly and held out her hand to Spenser. “Well, Mr. Spenser and I know each other,” she said, “but I’m very glad to see you again.” She looked at Marvel and her smile never wavered. “And to meet you, Miss Newton,” she said. “I understand Rowan’s been working for you and I’m thankful he had a friend during this time.”
“Not at all,” Marvel said, amazed at the woman’s grace and self-possession. She looked like she had ridden two days and three nights in the desert. Her gown—native by what Marvel could see—was stained and ripped, she was barefooted and her hair looked like she had long ago given up on it. Her face, however, was clean and her eyes gleamed with happiness.
Especially when she looked at Rowan. Which she did. A lot.
“Oh, my, Rowan,” Marvel said. “You didn’t tell me you were…that she was…”
“I wasn’t absolutely sure, myself,” Rowan said, looking adoringly at his wife. He reached out and took her hand and the two gazed into each other’s eyes as if Marvel and Spenser were not standing there.
Digby approached the group, his hands in his pockets as if to affect that he was largely uninterested in the sudden reappearance of Rowan and his wife.
“I don’t suppose you know what happened to my wife?” he said in a sneer to Ella. Rowan instantly turned on him, but Ella put a hand out to stop him.
“It’s okay, Rowan.” She looked at Digby. “Julia is living with a band of Bedouins not far from here,” she said. “She’s alive and happy.”
“You lie.”
“As it happens, I don’t.”
“You killed her and buried her corpse in the desert.”
“Care to back that up with evidence, you bastard?” Rowan snarled at him.
Again, Ella patted his arm. “It doesn’t matter, Rowan,” she said, and then glared at Digby. “I am happy to make a statement to the authorities—which I will do as soon as we are back in Cairo—to the effect that Julia Digby is alive and well the last time I saw her. In fact, very well.”
Flushed with frustration, Digby wrenched his hands from his pocket. “We’ll see about that!” he said impotently and stormed off in the direction of his tent.
Marvel looked questioningly at Spenser who shrugged. “He’s all mouth,” he said. He turned back to Rowan. “If there’s anything you need, Pierce, let me know. I know the tent’s a little small for two—”
“It’s fine,” Ella said. She looked up at Rowan. “In fact, it’s perfect.”
Spenser turned to walk back toward the dining tent and spoke over his shoulder. “Your wife will want to rest, Pierce. I’ll have dinner sent to your tent.”
Marvel smiled woodenly at Rowan and his wife and then turned to catch up with Spenser. They walked silently to the dining table. When they seated themselves, Spenser flapped out his napkin across his lap and nodded at the attendant to pour the wine.
“I guess you’re pretty shocked that he found her,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
Marvel waited until the man had filled her wine goblet and then held it up to Josh.
“Well, I say, thank God for small miracles,” she said, a smile tugging at her full lips. She watched his face go from uncertainty to a slow beaming grin as he lifted his glass to hers.
“I’ll second that,” he said, pointedly, his face relaxed and pleased. “In spades.”
After a long overdue bath, Ella lay on the camp bed and counted her blessings. She was clean, she was full of a lovely dinner—roast lamb and fingerling potatoes in real butter!—the baby had stopped playing football with her bladder, and Rowan, her gorgeous, darling man, was lying beside her, his hand resting on her hip.
“If I really died in that desert,” she murmured, “then I definitely ended up in heaven.”
“Well, you took me with you, in that case,” Rowan said sleepily.
“And you’re sure we can’t get frisky under the covers?” she whispered to him, turning with effort to face him. “I’m desperate to have you inside me, Rowan.”
He groaned. “No more than I am, babe,” he said. “Especially after you say shit like that, but I think the inn is pretty full at the moment.” He patted her tummy. “Wouldn’t want to do anything to kick off the big event before we can get you to a modern hospital in Cairo.”
“You don’t think we can make it back to the states? To 2013?”
He smoothed a long hair from her forehead. “Well, we’ll get back to Cairo okay,” he said. “And maybe even back to our own time, but they’re not going to let you get on a plane at eight and a half months pregnant.”
“So the baby will be born in Egypt?”
“He’ll still be an American citizen.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter as long as we’re in a modern hospital,” she said. “Do you know anything about Egypt’s health facilities post-revolution?”
“They haven’t deteriorated.”
“What were they like before the revolution?”
“Ella, angel, it’s all going to be fine. 2013 Cairo has the same topnotch labor and delivery capabilities that any third world country has after a major revolution.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I’m sorry, love,” he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “I’m horny as a son of a bitch and as much as I love holding you, it’s killing me.”
“I promise not to move too much,” she whispered, reaching for the front of his pants.
He groaned loudly but didn’t move her hand.
A piercing scream rent the air outside their tent making both of them jump. Rowan was on his feet before Ella was even able to fully shift onto her back.
“Rowan, what is it?” she gasped, struggling to a sitting position on the bed.
He didn’t answer her but she heard him exchange words with someone outside the tent and then he returned and pulled on a shirt.
“It’s Marvel,” he said, tersely. “Spenser’s heading there. If he needs help, he’ll yell.”
Another scream, every bit as loud as the first, punched the air. Ella saw Rowan’s face harden. When the scream was followed almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot, he picked up a pistol she hadn’t noticed before and handed it to her.
“Shoot anyone who comes through that opening who isn’t me,” he said.
“Pretty much my standard policy,” Ella muttered as she hefted the gun in her hand and watched him leave.