Kathlyn Trent, Marcus Burton 01 - Valley of the Shadow (5 page)

They didn’t say anything for a long, long while. A gentle breeze blew across the hills, chasing sand and bits of rock across the ground. Kathlyn hiccupped intermittently, sniffling away the remnants of the tears. Marcus had no idea how much time had passed when he felt Kathlyn go limp in his arms, so much so that he had to support her. When she snored softly, he laughed. She sure knew how to end an evening with a bang.

“Okay, Dr. Trent, that's enough for tonight,” he whispered, sweeping her up into his big arms.  She awoke briefly, making an attempt to slap him across the face before promptly falling back asleep against his shoulder. Her tenacity made him laugh again

She’d won Round Two.

***

Kathlyn woke up in a strange bed. It wasn't unusual for her not to recognize her surrounding for a moment or two, considering how much traveling she did, but after a couple of seconds, she still had no idea where she was. It was a single bed with rumpled white sheets that looked as if they hadn't been washed in a while. A sense of dread filled her as she lifted her head a little, looking around the tent that was sun-lit through the canvas. It was fairly bright so she figured it was well into the morning.

There was an old card table in the room with a laptop computer on it and not much else. But it was beginning to look familiar. Suddenly, a wave of realization swept her and like a light switch going on, she knew exactly where she was. It was Burton's tent, no doubt about it. In a rush she remembered their argument, her weeping, and his attempts to comfort her. She remembered ending up his arms, but nothing much after that.  Maybe the guy slipped her a date rape drug and took advantage of her. She could explain no other way of ending up here.

In a fluster, she sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side. She kicked the warm body on the floor at her feet and Burton let out a grunt.

"Christ," he groaned. "Good morning to you, too."

He was spread out at the base of the bed and there was nowhere for her to step. Putting a foot on his ribs, she used him to springboard from the mattress to the uncluttered floor beyond. Marcus grunted again, sitting up on the old rug he had slept on.

"Where are my shoes?" Kathlyn's hair hung in her face and her mascara was underneath her eyes. She shoved Marcus to one side when she saw he was sitting on one of her shoes. "Where's the other?"

He looked around, yawning. Kathlyn stepped all over and around him in search of her other shoe, but it was more than that. There was panic in her movements, as if she was ashamed about having slept in his tent. She was banging about, half-awake. When she finally tripped over him in her haste, he grabbed her by the hands and yanked her down onto his lap.

Kathlyn ended up straddled over his thighs. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her fast.

"Let go of me, Burton."

"In a minute. We need to talk."

"We did talk, last night. Let me go!"

"Shush and be still, will you?" She continued to squirm and he squeezed her hands, not tight enough to hurt, but just so she got the message. "Stop."

She obeyed, having little choice. They just sat and stared at each other. He studied her face for several long moments before letting go of one of her hands and pushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. It was a fatherly gesture, as if there was no true emotion involved, but the heat from his cobalt blue eyes was intense.

"I'm sorry if you're embarrassed to be here, but you fell asleep last night and this was the nearest tent. You seemed so exhausted and I didn't want you to be disturbed. No one in their right mind would disturb the sanctity of my tent, so I figured this was the best place."

Some of the tension left her. Kathlyn studied his features, his long nose and granite-square jaw. Along with those mesmerizing dark blue eyes, his face was better suited to a male model or movie star. There wasn’t one thing about it that wasn’t perfect, masculine and symmetrical. They’d been fighting so much that she’d never let herself notice just how flawless the man was. Maybe because she knew just how much it would unsettle her. Gently but firmly, she pulled her hands from his grasp and slithered off his thighs, sitting beside him on the old dusty rug.

"I'm not embarrassed," she scratched her mussed hair. "Just a little disoriented, I guess. I'm not really awake yet. What the hell happened?"

"You don't remember me bringing you here? You were pretty wiped out."

"I don't remember a blessed thing. We didn't...?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Thank God. No offense, but thank God."

He fought off a grin at her relief, though he probably should have been insulted by it. Reaching under his bottom, he pulled out her other shoe. "Looking for that?"

She took it from him with a lop-sided smile. "Yes, thank you."

He watched her slip it on a foot with red painted toenails. "So are you going to leave or are you over hating me yet?"

Her smile faded and she ran her hands through her hair, trying to gain control of the beast. "I'm not sure yet."

"What do I have to do to get you to stay?"

She thought a moment. "I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable staying on any more."

He crossed his big legs and leaned back against the bed. "Look, I understand that we've got a rough history so far. It's my fault and I've admitted and apologized for it. I'm not sure what more I can do."

She was quiet, trying not to look at him, trying not to think of his powerful arms around her as they had been last night. She'd stay only for that opportunity again, but she'd never let him know it. "If I do stay, then you and I have got to come to an understanding."

"Whatever you say."

He was too acquiescent and she eyed him warily. "No more Mr. Nasty."

"Fine."

"You let me and my crew go where we must in order to help you."

He hesitated. "For safety's sake, I really have to know where you guys are going. There are a lot of crazies out here."

She nodded. "I can appreciate that and I will comply to the very best of my abilities. But if we get the urge to go running into the valley, I don't want you all over my case like we're a bunch of idiots. We're seasoned professionals, and we've handled a lot worse than the Egyptian locals."

"I'm not talking about the locals. There are terrorists around here in case you didn't know that. They'll shoot a blond American quicker than you can bat an eye. Or instead of shooting you, they might make you wish they had killed you if you get my drift."

"I get it. But we've dealt with that kind before and I've never had any real problems."

"It only takes one time for you to have a very serious problem."

She let out a heavy sigh, twitching her foot in contemplation. "So… do you want to be my bodyguard? You can't protect me from everything on your dig, Burton, as much as I know it would be your neck if anything happened to me."

He gazed at her. Then he yawned again.  "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

She scowled. "So are you. That's not the way to convince me to stay if that's what you're trying to accomplish."

He rubbed the stubble on his chin and cheeks as if rethinking his strategy. After a moment, he burst out laughing. It was the first time Kathlyn had seen him smile, much less heard him laugh. He had the most beautiful smile she had ever seen with big, white teeth and perfectly shaped lips; the gesture changed his whole face dramatically. It was enough to set her heart racing. Finally, he held out his hand to her.

"Truce?" he asked.

She eyed him and his outstretched hand before very slowly taking it.  They shook, holding on to each other a little longer than necessary.

"All right, truce. But one slip up...."

"And you're on the next plane."

"Exactly."

Kathlyn withdrew her hand and rose to her feet. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror hanging on a post and she sighed. "Lord, I look terrible," she wiped at the black circles under her eyes. "How can you take me seriously when I look like this?"

He stood up, his jeans rumpled, his polo shirt smeared with black and pink stains and underarm sweat.  "Christ, how can you take me seriously when I smell like this?"

"I can only smell me."

"Gardenia."

She turned away from the mirror and peered at him. She wasn't sure what to say because it seemed that he had crossed over into a personal compliment, or at least it had the potential to be. Turning back to the mirror, she licked her fingers and tried to quickly remove some of the black smears before crossing the compound to her own tent.

"Don't worry about it, you're still beautiful."

She froze in mid-swipe. "What?"

He was moving for the tent flap. "You heard me." He swept back the loose canvas covering and was immediately confronted with the camera crew from the SCA.  Lynn was standing with them. The entire group turned and looked at Marcus, standing in his doorway, looking as if he’d had a wild night. Lynn took one look at him and cleared his throat.

"They're looking for Dr. Trent," he said, having a pretty good guess where she was.

Marcus' face was like stone. He glared at the camera crew.  "She'll be out when she's ready," he snapped at them in Arabic. "You're in a restricted area. Go back and wait for her in the storage area."

The five man camera crew immediately vacated. Lynn fought off a grin as they walked away, moving over to Marcus to shake his hand in a victorious gesture. Marcus knew what he was doing and ignored him, but Lynn grabbed hold of his hand anyway and shook it in a high-sign sort of way.

"Sweet, Burton, sweet," he muttered softly. "You convinced her to stay as only my man would."

Marcus gave him a weak shove. "Nothing happened."

Lynn laughed at him, rubbing it in. "Now, don't be like that. I saw you two behind the crates last night."

"You don't know what you saw. It wasn't what you think."

Lynn just looked at him. "Okay, you want to be like that, that's your deal. But let me just say this; she's mighty sweet, Burton. Mighty sweet."

Marcus rolled his eyes. Lynn continued to snicker and snort, feigning seriousness when anyone would look his way, but then resuming his antics so only Marcus could hear him. There wasn't ever much to prod the man about, so this was a rare opportunity to crack his facade. When Kathlyn finally emerged from the tent, she rushed past the two of them without even looking up. They watched her go, the rounded shape of her bottom beneath her dirty white jeans catching their male attention. The woman was sexy as hell.

"No more lying, Marcus," Lynn said. "Remember who you're talking to. Was she too sweet for words or what?"

Marcus' gaze lingered on her rear end a moment longer before he walked away, silently. Lynn followed on his heels like a kid who didn't know when to quit.

CHAPTER FOUR

"Are you going to stop him?" Juliana asked. "They've been digging there all morning."

It was high noon. The heat of the day pierced her very bones as Kathlyn stood at a distance, watching Burton's dig at the entrance to the West Valley. They were working like a well-oiled machine and clouds of dust blossomed into the heated air. The work had been going on before dawn, with Lynn or Dennis standing silent vigil over the scraping and sifting. Marcus had joined them at some point after she left him. She hadn’t seen him since.

Kathlyn had removed the white clothing she had slept in last night, showered, and changed into heavy khaki denim shorts, a white tank top, and her trademark battered duster. Those big heavy boots were on her feet, like military boots, but it was the only thing she was comfortable with traipsing around in a desert filled with scorpions and snakes.  Her hair was pulled into a braid that draped down over one shoulder.

"They've been digging there for three seasons," she said, pushing her Lennon-like sunglasses back up on the bridge of her sweaty nose. "I've got to be very careful how I approach this so Burton doesn't look like a fool."

Juliana wriggled her eyebrows at Mark, but spoke to Kathlyn. "I guess last night really changed you mind about him, huh?"

Kathlyn shot her a dirty look. "I told you what happened."

Juliana held up the palm of her hand for Mark, who high-fived her. "Guess the girl took my advice about sleeping with him. Does wonders to soothe the savage beast."

"Oh, shut up," Kathlyn muttered. "I didn't have sex with him."

"Sure you didn't." Juliana put her index finger in a hole created with the index finger and thumb of her other hand, mimicking sexual intercourse. Mark giggled like a girl.

"Enough, you two," Kathlyn snapped. She turned away from the sight of the distant project, her eyes drawn the scores of tourists arriving by the busload to tour the Valley of the Kings. "I've been trying to figure out all morning how to tell him he's digging in the wrong place. Where the hell are Otis and Ed? They were meeting with McGrath this morning trying to get permission to gain depth and soil samples of the slope."

"Why didn't you meet with McGrath?" Juliana asked.

"I want Otis and Ed to convince him from a purely scientific point of view that it's necessary. Besides, last time I saw McGrath, I was waking him from a dead sleep and screaming at him. I wasn't exactly the most rational creature."

"Embarrassed to face him?"

"Something like that."

As if on cue, two figures crossed the pebble-strewn road toward them. Andy and Larry, the doctoral students, were swathed like characters out of Lawrence of Arabia. They were both so fair that the sun was wreaking havoc on their skin, even through their clothing. Andy held up a sunburned hand in greeting while Larry sat down and mopped his forehead.

"All hail, mighty archaeologists," Andy said. "I bring news from the world of science."

"What?" Kathlyn demanded.

Andy pulled off his turban, revealing his bushy auburn hair. "Dison and Cutro convinced McGrath that they needed to take core samples of that slope. McGrath is on to us, I'm afraid. He's going to tell Dr. Burton what you're up to."

Kathlyn shrugged. "There's not much I can do about that. Are we going to get the equipment we requested?"

"Yep,” Andy nodded triumphantly. “Oil equipment; you know, those big core samplers they use to determine the feasibility of oil in soil samples.” Andy jabbed a thumb towards the east. "Hell, Saudi Arabia is just over the hill. McGrath is having it shipped out today from an American company in Riyadh. He was on the phone with them when I left but it'll take three days to get here."

"Three days!" Kathlyn exclaimed softly. "We can't wait three days."

"No choice, great leader. If you want to find out what's under that slope before that time, then you'll need to start digging yourself."

"We can't do it by ourselves," Kathlyn watched the diggers in the distance, the great cloud of dust rising above the hilltops. "We need Burton and his crew. By the way, did Debra Jo get through to the SCA and the Department of Monuments and Ministries?”

“She did.”

“And?”

“I’m told that your petition to dig in the east Valley of the Kings is being considered and should be granted by tomorrow, considering who you are. The SCA wants to film everything, of course.  They even told Debra Jo that the guy who manages the Giza plateau might come down here to supervise.”

“Whatever. But we need that permission before we can start sampling.”

They all knew that, Kathlyn most of all. She began pacing around, lost in a world that was flowing and digging and full of dead pharaohs. There was much happening in a relatively short period of time, on all fronts.

"What are you thinking?" Juliana asked her.

She analyzed that question; what was she thinking? "I'm not sure yet," she said slowly. "But I'll let you know as soon as I do."

She wandered away, down to the road, and headed towards the parking lot filled with tourist buses. Juliana, Mark, Andy and Larry watched her go. Sometimes it was best to leave her alone, which is exactly what they did. They headed back to camp to seek shelter from the heat and the legions of flies that festered in the overflow of sewage surrounding the valley.

Kathlyn entered the east valley with a group of tourists. The guards had become familiar with her, from other workers and also from the commotion her arrival had caused, and let her go through. In the daylight, the place looked very different. The golden brown hills were a stark contrast against the crystal blue sky and the entrances were not just wide gaping mouths, but neatly stoned niches.

There were two tour groups just beginning and she politely moved past them, her eyes running along the slope between KV2 and KV7. It just didn't look like anything other than a rocky hillside today and she imagined that if there was, in fact, a tomb to be found there, then robbers or other explorers would have done it centuries ago. What made this one so special and so elusive?

She stood in the spot where she had felt the flow the night before. She didn't want to give into the feelings now, not with hundreds of people around her. But the longer she stood there, the more she couldn't ignore the feeling that she was standing in a wash of energy, like a breeze that didn't stir her hair, or a stream that didn't wet her. Feelings normally didn't come this easily for her, but this flow was constant and strong. Her palms were sweating and her heart pounding, and not because of the heat. It was an exciting, moving experience.

"You really like this hill, don't you?"

Marcus stood beside her. Somehow she wasn't surprised to see him; the guy was always popping up unannounced, prowling around like a panther. She realized she was glad to see him.

“Who's minding the store?" she asked.

"My lackeys, of course."

"Left your whips with them, did you?"

She actually thought she saw a hint of his fantastic smile. "Never ask a man about his whips," he said. "You might not like the answer."

She laughed, and Marcus followed suit. Once he had let his guard down with someone, it was easier the second time around. "McGrath said you wanted to talk to me," he said.

Leave it to McGrath to give her the opportunity to tell him first. She might as well do it now, before she lost her nerve. There was no simple way to do it. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him. "Well, I suppose I do.”

“What about?”

“Your tomb."

“What about it?”

“It’s here.”

"Where?"

She pointed up the hill. "Here."

His pleasant expression faded. "What are you talking about?"

Her smile faded, too. "Burton, I'm trying to tell you that you're digging in the wrong place. Your tomb isn't in that valley; it's right here."

He stared at her a moment before looking up at the desolate slope. It was obvious that he was trying to keep his promise by not losing his cool. "How do you know that?"

“I just do.”

“That’s not good enough. How do you know?”

She wasn't quite sure what to tell him. She couldn't lie to him, but she didn't want him to think she was a wacko, either. For the first time in her life, she was feeling ashamed of her intuition. Burton was so logical that he was sure to think she was nuts.              “You won’t believe me if I tell you,”

“Try me.”

She bent over and picked up a rock, tossing it up onto the slope. “I looked at all of your data. My people have analyzed it. We’re sure your tomb isn’t where you say it is in spite of your legitimate argument. We feel that it is here, at the mouth of the valley, in this nest of Ramesside tombs.” She turned and looked at him. “McGrath has granted our request to do a depth and soil sample of this slope. I contacted the SCA and the Egyptian Department of Monuments and Ministries this morning and filed a petition to dig on this site.  I’m told permission should be granted by tomorrow morning.”

His expression was hard, just like it always was. “Seems like you’ve done an awful lot of work without letting me in on what was going on.”

She tried to explain. “I wasn’t going behind your back, if that’s what you think. I’m not just going to start throwing theories at you without having some sort of substantiating proof. I prefer to wait until I have some hard evidence to show you, which is why I wish McGrath hadn’t forced me into telling you about my theory so soon.  I wanted to see what the samples had to say.”

His veins were beginning to throb. “And you didn’t think I’d see you, out here on this exposed slope, taking samples with a core drill?”

“You’d see us,” she said, looking sheepish. “I just didn’t want to jump the gun by divulging my thoughts to you too soon. There’s a lot riding on this and I’d hoped to be more solid when I presented it to you.”

“You didn’t seem to have any problem presenting it to McGrath.”

“I didn’t present anything to him. He just sort of put the pieces of the puzzle together.”

“And you’ve kept me in the dark.” His jaw was ticking now in addition to the throbbing veins. “In spite of my one and only request that you keep me, as the director of this dig, in the loop, you’ve done the exact opposite and worked with your secret agenda.  What’s in it for you, Dr. Trent? A big-time cable contract with The World of Exploration Channel? An exclusive with World Geography Magazine? What corporation is really bankrolling you and precisely how dishonest have you been with me about all of this?”

He had broken his promise to behave himself. In truth, Kathlyn didn’t blame him, but his words cut her. “I haven’t been dishonest with you at all,” she said quietly. “I’ve not gone behind your back, nor do I have any hidden agenda. Your university is paying me a lot of money, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to go around crying wolf. I’m sorry if you can’t understand that. As you said, we just do things differently.”

He stared at her a moment longer before turning on his heel and marching away.  Kathlyn watched him go, pained that she had offended him so deeply. That hadn’t been her intention, but maybe he was right. Maybe she had gone behind his back and had tried to justify it by convincing everyone that she was only trying to protect hers and Burton’s reputation. Maybe she really had been dishonest with him.

She grew furious with herself.  She’d only been here two days and already it had become the most emotional, combative, thrilling episode yet. Turning to the slope behind her, she fell to her knees and began digging with her bare hands.

***

“Marcus, I don’t care what you say. The woman has never lied to you. Everything she told you was the truth, but you’ve never given her the benefit of the doubt.”

Burton stood in McGrath’s tent, which was becoming a place for emotional showdowns as of late. McGrath was frankly weary of them; between Burton’s viciousness and Trent’s understandable reactions, he felt like a court mediator. After what Dr. Davis had told him about the scene behind the crates, McGrath was hoping all was well between them. His optimism, apparently, had been premature. They had been arguing about her all afternoon.

“Don’t defend her, Jobe. She’s gone behind my back at every turn and now she has you involved.”

“I’m not involved in anything.”

“What about the earth sampling equipment?”

“A simple request, not a subversive plan to undermine you. You don’t seem to understand that she’s working with you, not against you.”

Marcus was pale with fury. He was mad at himself, mostly; mad because he was beginning to let his guard down for her and she had stomped on him, or so he thought. McGrath sensed this; he leaned forward on the portable table he called a desk, watching Marcus struggle with his thoughts.

“I heard about what happened last night,” he said, more gently. “I’d truly hoped you two had settled your differences.”

Marcus cast him a long look. “I know what Lynn told you, but we did not sleep together. We talked, that was all.”

“You find Dr. Trent attractive.”

Marcus frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”