Sands of Time (6 page)

‘So, you still serve Isis? For all your wanderings in India and in the Americas, your heart is still in Egypt?’

He was watching her intently, his eyes probing. ‘As is yours, I suspect, or have you at last forgotten your native paramour?’

Clenching her fists, she took a deep breath. ‘I shall never forget Hassan, my lord. Nor the fact that you killed him.’

He laughed, the sound quietly chilling. ‘He was killed by a snake, Louisa. Even my worst enemy would find it very hard to believe I could have arranged such a deed, and you surely are not my worst enemy.’

‘No?’ She looked at him through half-closed eyes. He wasn’t real. This man, solid as he appeared, was some kind of phantasmagoria conjured by his mind and perhaps hers in a strange drug-induced union. His body was far away in the Americas, or perhaps in Egypt or India. Wherever it was, his soul had learned to step outside it and travel around the earth. And his soul was nothing but a shadow; a ghost; a dream.

She smiled, reassured by the thought.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Something amuses you, Mrs Shelley?’

‘It does indeed. I was reminding myself of your insubstantial nature.’ She drew herself up to her full height.

‘Insubstantial, but nevertheless satisfying,’ he said. There was a mocking gleam in his eye and she felt herself blush violently.

‘A dream, my lord. Nothing more.’

‘But what a dream!’ He took a pace forward and reflexively she stepped back away from him. ‘A dream of ecstasy and abandon,’ he went on, ‘one would find very hard to resist.’

‘Don’t take another step!’ She put up her hand to ward him off and her fingers met hard smooth skin.

He looked down into her eyes. ‘An excellently real dream, Mrs Shelley, you must acknowledge.’ He was so close now she could feel the touch of his breath on her cheek and smell the bittersweet smokiness of that distant ceremony. ‘You enjoyed our encounter last time, did you not?’ His hand came up to stroke her hair and suddenly she found herself unable to move. Desperately she tried to step away from him, but she couldn’t. She wanted nothing so much as for him to touch her, to hold her and pull her close once more. Slowly she felt her ability to fight him die. She raised her face to his and closed her eyes as he bent to kiss her. Her whole body responded to the touch of his lips with a thrill of excitement; her knees grew weak; she longed to give herself to him, to throw herself down and pull him with her, to abandon herself totally to the ecstasy of his love-making.

His quiet chuckle as he sensed how close he was to victory brought her to her senses. With a small exclamation of alarm she ducked away from him and ran to the bedside table. Scooping up the ring she turned with a cry of triumph. ‘No, my lord. Winning me over is not that easy. Do you see this? One of your treasures, my lord. Egyptian gold. Something no doubt you value highly.’ Behind him the moonlight had moved from behind the great cedar on the grass outside her window. It streamed in across the floor throwing his shadow before it, a shadow that was as substantial as hers.

‘So?’ He looked amused. ‘My treasures are at your disposal, my dear.’

‘Indeed.’ She was taken aback. ‘Yet you were prepared to kill for my little bottle.’

His eyes held hers for a moment. ‘That was not quite the same, Louisa. The tears of the goddess, prepared by her temple priests, were irreplaceable. You destroyed not only a piece of history but a powerful link to the goddess herself. Something of inestimable value; something of power so great that it would have given its owner the keys to the world! It was an unforgivable act.’

‘But you seem to have forgiven me now?’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘No, I haven’t forgiven you.’ His voice hardened. ‘You amuse me. It is always a pleasure to take a beautiful woman; the more so if it makes her despise herself.’

She closed her eyes for a moment, blanking out the sudden hatred she saw in his face; shocked at how much the knowledge that he had merely been playing with her hurt. ‘What if I told you the tears of Isis still exist?’

He froze, staring at her. ‘What do you mean? I saw you throw the bottle in the Nile.’

So. He was not all-seeing. The confirmation of the fact comforted her. ‘The bottle was wrapped in a piece of cloth which floated. My servant saved it and returned it to me.’

She saw how every muscle in his body tensed. ‘And where is it now?’

It was her turn to smile. Her weakness of a moment before had turned to something like triumph. ‘Nowhere you could find it, my lord. That is my secret.’

His cry of fury was cut off short as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her violently against him. ‘If that little bottle still exists, I will have it. This time, Mrs Shelley, I will have it.’

She found she could look up at him almost unafraid as she spat her defiance at him. ‘No, and that is my revenge, my lord. For Hassan’s death. You say you were not responsible for killing him, but we both know you sent the snake to that cave. It will give me enormous pleasure to know you realise the bottle still exists, but that you will never, never see it again. If I choose to destroy it, I shall. If I choose to keep it, I shall. But you will never set eyes on it.’

She gave a small cry of fright as he pushed her violently backwards onto the bed, and climbing onto it after her, straddled her body with his knees. ‘I think I know how to persuade you.’

‘I don’t think so.’ She was still clutching the ring. ‘I’m not afraid of you any more, my lord.’ To her surprise she realised suddenly that it was true. ‘And I have discovered your weakness. You say your treasures are at my disposal, my lord, but I doubt if you would be happy to see them lost or destroyed. In fact I think that would make you very angry. And very sad. And I suspect, if you are really in America, they are beyond your reach. You see this?’ She thrust her clenched fist up into his face. ‘Your ring. I am going to throw it into the loch. See how easy it was to steal? And you can’t stop me, because as you have said you are not really here. And tomorrow I shall go back to your museum and I shall simper at your Mr Dunglass and flutter my eyelashes at your son and ask to paint more of your collection and they will let me in. And one by one I shall destroy your treasures. Your gold and silver. Your feathered head-dresses, your fragile mummy, and above all, that dry hollow skin which was once a snake! And you will be able to do nothing. Nothing! Because you are four thousand miles away!’

He was staring down at her, his face impassive. Only his eyes seemed alight in the shadowed sockets. He smiled coldly. ‘So, don’t you believe I can communicate with my sons or my factor to warn them? Believe me, I can. Not easily, I grant you with Dunglass – the man is an idiot – but my sons have promise. They are receptive. They will listen to me.’ He was still, looking down at her almost thoughtfully. ‘But on the whole I prefer to deal with you. You are so open, so –’ He paused. ‘Eager.’ Releasing her wrist he put his hand to the ribbon at the neck of her nightgown and gently pulled it open. ‘You are still beautiful, for an ageing woman.’ He said it almost absent-mindedly then his expression changed to a cold sneer. ‘But your charms have suddenly diminished. You have revealed yourself to be a spiteful witch. And witches have to be dealt with.’ His hand dropped away and he sat staring down at her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I wonder how. There are so many possibilities. So many ways to contain that spite.’ His weight held her immobile. She could feel the muscles of his thighs gripping her legs. He touched her cheek lightly. ‘Did you dream of revenge, Louisa, as Hassan died in the dust? Did you watch the poison from the snake bite spread through his veins and think of me? How gratifying.’

Unable to bear his gloating expression for another instant she tried to wrench herself free, throwing herself sideways, but she couldn’t move. Smiling he reached down and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him again. ‘I have an idea. You like my museum. I think we will visit it together. Would you like to travel with me through the secret byways of the medicine man, the dark tunnels of the shaman, the hidden paths of the witch doctor? I know them all.’ He laughed quietly. ‘I know how to enter them and I know how to leave them and I know how to entrap someone’s soul forever in the mists and shadows of their darkness. All I have to do is to suck your soul into mine with the time-honoured seal of possession, the traitor’s kiss.’

Desperately she tried to wriggle away from him, pushing frantically at his chest, but he grabbed her wrists in one hand and with the other again forced her to look at him. Slowly, smiling all the time, he leaned forward and pressed his lips once more against hers.

She held her breath, fighting him, trying frantically to squirm away from him, kicking, wrenching, but it was no good. Her strength was failing; the world was starting to spin and at last, unable to stop herself, she drew in a long gasping breath of the smoky essence of the man above her and immediately she was whirling away into the dark.

When she opened her eyes all was black. Her head was throbbing and she was very cold. She tried to speak but no sound came and all around her the silence was profound. Cautiously she tried to move her limbs. Her body felt stiff and bruised and she was very afraid.

‘So, you came with me.’ The voice in her ear was very close.

‘Where is this? What’s happened?’ She managed to speak at last.

‘I have brought you to see my museum.’ She heard a movement beside her. ‘Wait. I’ll light the lamp.’

She sensed him move away, heard the rattle of matches, saw a flame. Seconds later a gentle light filled the room as he settled the glass chimney over the wick.

‘How did we get here?’ She found she was standing in the middle of the floor near the case of Egyptian artefacts. A glance down told her she was still dressed in her nightgown. The ring was still on her finger.

‘We flew.’ The sardonic look in his eyes did not escape her.

‘I see.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I’m dreaming. I know I’m dreaming. Did you drug me?’

He put his head on one side. ‘All it would have taken was a few drops of laudanum in your milk.’

She groaned. ‘And you’ve been here all along? Skulking somewhere in this great castle playing games? No! I don’t think so!’ She was suddenly furious at her own fear. ‘So, what are you going to do with me now? You’ve made it clear you see me as ancient and ugly so no doubt my virtue is not in danger.’

‘I seem to remember that your virtue is already lost.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘But I would be more inclined, Louisa, to wonder if there is a threat to your life.’ He folded his arms. ‘No one knows where you are. And I am in America.’ He gave a laconic smile. ‘Should you disappear no one would ever find you. No one would even know where to look.’

She stared at him. His eyes were like clear glass, the pupils pin pricks in the lamplight, the sensuous mouth set in a thin hard line. ‘Are you saying you want to kill me?’ Her brow creased with puzzlement but her fear strangely had eased a little. She felt distanced from him; unreal.

‘Your life or death is a matter of indifference to me, Louisa. As it should be to anyone who understands the nature of the soul and its journeyings. The thought of death merely serves as a lever to lesser mortals who value this transitory life.’ He gave a cold smile. ‘I am prepared to bargain. The tears of Isis for a human life.’ He was watching her carefully. ‘The gods of the underworld may not take my bargain so lightly when they weigh your soul in the balance and find it was you who stole the sacred ampulla.’

‘I have stolen nothing.’ She managed to straighten her shoulders. ‘The tears of Isis as you call them are safe. As is your ring. So far. You on the other hand appear to be planning robbery with violence. Something which I would have thought would weigh heavy when your turn comes.’ She turned away from him and walking towards the case of Egyptian treasures she lifted the lid and stared down at them. ‘And your threat means little to me, my lord. You forget that if you kill me, you send me to join Hassan. I can think of no greater joy.’ She glanced up at him and it was her turn to smile. ‘You care so little for human life. That makes you fundamentally evil, in my book.’ She turned away again. ‘Take care, my lord, for your soul. I can see demons hovering round you ready to drag you screaming down to hell.’

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Well done, Mrs Shelley. You are learning fast.’ He stepped towards her and stood for a moment looking down at the artefacts inside the case. Gently he ran his finger over a small statue, a smile on his lips. Then he moved back and carefully closed the lid. ‘Alas, I can’t spend much longer debating this point with you. Where is the ampulla?’

‘In London.’ She returned his smile. ‘In safe keeping.’

‘We’ll go there. Now.’

‘Now?’ She stared at him. ‘I don’t think so. How do you propose to transport us there?’

‘The same way we came here.’ His voice was grim. He reached for her wrist, but she jumped back. ‘No. No more. I’m going nowhere with you.’ She grabbed at the lamp base and lifted it high. ‘Stand away from me, or I will throw this in amongst your precious collection. I mean it. Stand right away.’

His face went white. ‘Be careful! Some of these things are priceless. Please put that down.’

‘I don’t think so.’ The lamp was heavy. She wasn’t going to be able to hold it much longer.

As he lunged towards her with a cry of fury, she half dropped half flung it into the glass topped cabinet. The glass shattered and a stream of burning oil ran between the priceless artefacts in the case. In seconds the more fragile had caught alight and a sheet of flame shot up. She heard Carstairs shout, saw him leap towards the flames, then she turned and ran towards the door.