Raven sprawled in his chair and watched the unlikely duo at the desk. Scovell, blustery and gray-haired, Heloise, petite and perfect. Both equally brilliant.
They were clearly having a wonderful time debating the pros and cons of something called multiple substitution. They kept muttering words like “polyalphabetic cypher” and “anagramming” and he had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. He wasn’t usually the stupidest person in the room, and the feeling of being excluded stung. He drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair.
Heloise’s face was animated as she explained her workings and the old man was leaning toward her, enraptured. He had no interest in her except as a fascinating colleague, but Raven still wanted to throw him out the window.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t liked the way that young soldier, Canning, had looked at her, either. The randy little sod probably hadn’t seen a decent woman in months. Raven frowned at the rush of possessiveness that filled his chest. Heloise needed to be protected. She was under his aegis, his responsibility.
He remembered with awful clarity the way she’d looked when he’d pulled her from the river; her face pinched and pale, her eyes dazed and far away, still lost in remembered horrors. Something raw and painful had stirred in his chest then, too, as he’d held her. He’d been seized by a sudden urgent tenderness, a need to comfort and protect. To give it all, his strength, his warmth, his life, whatever she needed to make her better. He shook his head. What was she doing to him?
He watched as she bit her lower lip in concentration. Naturally that made him think about kissing her. She’d taste of rosewater, like that pink lokum. He tapped his thigh, impatient with himself. He needed some air.
He stood and strode to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Neither of them looked up. He suppressed a growl, even though he knew he was being churlish. He’d brought her here to read the codes, as much as to keep her safe. He couldn’t complain when she actually did it.
He headed out into the city and spent a couple of hours reacquainting himself with old haunts, making contact with a couple of informants. He was on his way back to the palacio when he saw the bookstore. Buying her a gift was ridiculously impractical. But he’d seen it in the window and known instantly that she’d want it. And that had been reason enough.
In the courtyard he met Scovell, who told him Heloise was still ensconced in the library. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t hear him push open the door. He leaned on the doorframe and watched her in silence. Dust particles danced in the rays of light that slanted in through the windows. The pink-gold tinge gilded her hair and caressed the curve of her cheek, as if even the sun felt compelled to touch her.
Heloise, of course, was oblivious to the picture she made, head down, studying. He could hear the faint scratch of pen on paper as she made her copious notes. She made a small huff of frustration and crossed something out with a vicious swipe of the pen, then balled the paper in her fist and groaned.
“Time to take a break.”
She jumped, then glanced at the windows with a slow blink of wonder.
“Oh. I hadn’t realized it was so late. Major Scovell went to talk to his men.”
She rubbed the back of her neck and rolled her shoulders. The movement squeezed her breasts up and together above her bodice.
“I found something for you. While I was out. I thought you’d enjoy it,” Raven said.
He placed the large book in front of her on the desk with a thump.
She read the embossed gilt letters and glanced up at him in amazement. “Description de l’Égypte. For me? Truly?”
“Think of it as a reward for crossing that river.”
He hid a smile at her evident delight. She looked like a child on Christmas morning, wide-eyed with disbelief as she stroked the linen cover. “Goodness! Thank you.”
He felt her smile like a punch to the gut. She opened the book and he leaned over her shoulder, shamelessly exploiting the opportunity for proximity. Her tantalizing midnight-and-roses scent wrapped around him and sank into his bones.
His elevated position afforded him a lovely view of the smooth curves of her breasts and the shadowed valley in between. With a superhuman effort, he forced his eyes back to the book. The illustration was of a tomb interior. “What’s happening here?”
Heloise pointed to a set of giant scales. “Anubis is accompanying the dead to the Hall of Ma’at to have judgment. Their soul is weighed on the scales, see.”
Raven murmured something appropriate. At least, he hoped he did. Her nearness was playing havoc with his brain.
“You’ve heard the phrase ‘my heart’s as light as a feather’ and the word ‘heavyhearted’? They come from the Egyptian.” She moved her finger. “The soul is weighed against the feather of Ma’at. If the good deeds outweigh the bad, they’re escorted to the afterlife. If not, they’re given up to the fearsome Ammit, ‘the devourer.’ ” She pointed to a hideous goddess with a crocodile head, a lion’s body, and the rear end of a hippo. “She eats the souls of the unworthy.”
“No wonder she’s so fat.”
Heloise turned the page and pointed to an illustration of a stately cat. “Bastet is the goddess of protection. She’s also known as Pasht, which is the root of our word ‘passion.’ ”
A pink flush warmed her cheeks.
“I thought we agreed no more etymology?”
She gave a martyred sigh. “In Book of the Dead she’s mentioned as destroying the bodies of the deceased with the royal flame if they failed the judgment.”
Raven raised his brows. “So she’s Anubis’s partner in crime? Fancy that, a cat and a dog in harmony.”
She ignored his teasing and pointed to the figures in another illustration. “Look here. The women are the same size as men, indicating they had equal status. I sometimes think we’ve gone backward in terms of female emancipation. It’s worse now than it was thousands of years ago. A woman today is basically a chattel, but in Ancient Egypt women inherited land and property, made detailed prenuptial agreements, and received fair treatment in cases of divorce.”
“No wonder the civilization died out,” Raven teased, and watched in fascination as a furious blush made its way up her neck and across her cheeks. He never got tired of baiting her.
“Women’s minds are as strong and as cunning as men’s!” she fumed.
He injected just the right amount of skeptical scorn into his tone to infuriate her. “You think you’re a man’s equal?”
“Of course I do! The only reason everyone thinks we’re less intelligent is because we’re continually denied the right to an equivalent education. If that were remedied I’m convinced there would be equal numbers of females in every single profession.”
He leaned in closer. “Mentally, perhaps, you might have a point. But you can’t claim to be physical equals.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Women have no need to develop muscles. We have you men to do all the mundane jobs, like lifting heavy objects.”
“You don’t need to keep proving yourself as capable as your brothers, you know.”
She jerked away from him. “I know that.”
“It wasn’t a criticism,” he said. “Don’t ever think that what you do is any less important than fighting. Your mind is a weapon that can save lives, not take them.”
She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with his praise. He glanced down at her notes. “So how many codes have you translated so far?”
“Six. But none of them contain anything useful about your friend Kit, I’m afraid.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t really expect them to. Come on. You’ve been cooped up here all day. It’s time for some brawn instead of brains.”