Siren's Secret (22 page)

Like his eyes.

“Ugh. I’m pathetic.”

“What now, Ollie?” the object of her wonderings intruded. She turned up to see his face illuminated by the morning sun, his lips curving subtly. It was their last day together. It seemed to put him in a good mood.

“I hate that name.”

“I know.”

She examined his face in detail. The bruises from the fight with the giant twins had faded.

“Are you mad at me? I thought you only called me Ollie when you were mad, but I’ve hardly seen you, and I haven’t done anything of late, so there’s really no reason—”

“What would you like me to call you?”

She stopped her tirade. “Olivia. You may call me Olivia. You have taken that liberty previously, when is suits you.”

“Mmm. Well, then. You may call me Samuel.”

She laughed.

“What?”

“I can’t call you
Samuel!”
She laughed again and shook her head, explaining. “It’s just not done.”

“I see.”

He clearly didn’t see. She shook her head again.

“I can save you from kidnappers, pirates, murderous thieves, and angry giants, but you can’t use my given name?”

“Exactly. It’s reserved for a different type of intimacy,” she said. “I already took liberties calling you Stafford,” she bragged.

“Calling me Stafford was you taking liberties?”

“Yes! And it’s no fun anymore, now that I’ve learned you don’t realize it.”

“Sorry.” He held up a hand. “But trust me, you need to get more liberal.”

She laughed. It felt good. She hadn’t truly laughed in such a long time. She stopped when he stared at her, dazed, grinning vaguely back at her. “What is it?”

“You have such a beautiful smile it stops me in my tracks.”

Olivia froze. So did he. Then he shrugged sheepishly as if he hadn’t meant to say that, but it was out now.

“So all this time, I could have just smiled at you to get my way.”

“Yes. That’s about it.” His own smile broadened, and long moments later Olivia caught herself in the act of gazing deeply and silently into his eyes. She shook it off. Embarrassed. Confused. They looked out on the bay.

“What’s that castle?” she asked.

“Fort Qaitbey. Built about four hundred years ago by Sultan Qaitbey.”

“You’ve been inside?”

“Yes, I’ve been invited. I’m told it was built with stones from the Pharos lighthouse, which would have stood on about the same spot.”

“I know it! I mean, I read about it! The fort must be fantastic,” she said. “It’s much bigger than I imagined, or even than my father described.”

Stafford told her more about the city and the history he knew. She shared some of her studies on the local mythologies. It took some time to navigate the sandbars around the city to where they could safely anchor in the deeper waters of the bay, so they had a rare hour of amiable conversation. Olivia found that she would miss the rough American. Actually, not so rough as she’d first imagined.

“Thank you for all your help getting us here, Stafford. I shall pay you for your troubles, though half may have to be recovered when I am back in England.”

He stiffened. “You want to pay me?”

“That was the deal. I told you I would.”

“Really? Because I thought I made the decision to bring you here.”

“Well, yes. After the incident at the hotel. But I certainly didn’t expect a complimentary Mediterranean cruise.”

“And will you also pay for the damage to my ship and the men lost?”

Olivia didn’t speak. She could not. And she certainly could not give reparation for being the cause of death. She swallowed, the golden glow of the moment suddenly over.

“Let me know what it would take. I would only ask that you deliver Elizabeth and me to the Royal Garden Hotel with our things. I don’t have the knowledge of the city yet to manage that.”

“I might be wrong, but I’m guessing Elizabeth will be staying wherever Nathan is, and she is no longer your responsibility.”

Olivia swallowed hard, her eyes burning. “Of course. But they will surely stay a short while. Elizabeth will want to see my father.” She would be alone. In a strange city. It was cruel of him to point that out. It would be fine. She was a smart woman and could figure it out. There was certain to be some kind of message from her father at the hotel. Or if he was being held hostage, from one from his kidnappers. She was now in a position to make a clean trade. Then she and her father could continue on. It would all be fine. Most fine, indeed.

“So, you were just planning on leaving, once we arrived?” Samuel asked.

“There’s no need for you to bother any further.”

“I see. Because you’re more than capable of dealing with whatever group or army of fanatics has your father.”

“I have the cone now. It will be an easy negotiation.”

“Ollie, even when the players are honest, there’s no such thing as an easy negotiation. Do you even own a weapon? Oh, wait. Your inking pen. Yes, that will make an excellent weapon.”

“I happen to own a very sturdy inking pen, Stafford.”

“And your wit, of course,” he continued. “You could stab them with your glorious vocabulary.”

“You needn’t be such a brute about it!” She fumed. “Or heartless, or dastardly. Though it certainly suits you well enough.” Her eyes burned at the attack, damaging her vision. “Of course I’m worried. I know I must be cautious.”

“You are planning to leave this ship entirely unprotected. I thought you were the one with all the plans.” His voice was hard. She would have preferred he shout, but he didn’t.

“I do have a plan.”

“Does it involve asking for help?”

She stared at him. Confused. “Who would help me?”

His mouth dropped. He shook his head at her.

“You?” she asked.

“For all your knowledge, you have to be the most obtuse woman I have ever met. And I have a crazy sister,” he said. “You top even her!”

“I thought you loved her.”

“I do!”

“Well then, I don’t understand what you are saying. And you are being overly emotional and getting me upset. I don’t like getting upset. I told you I don’t like fighting with my friends. Are we not at least friends after all we have been through?”

“Yes! And even if we were not, Olivia, do you think I am the kind of man who would abandon a woman alone in a foreign country? Worse, a woman in imminent danger from men who either want to kidnap her for what she knows or kill her to get some useless piece of rock? That’s what you think of me?”

“No—”

He put up a hand. “We drop anchor in less than two hours. Have your things ready.” He spun around and left.

Olivia choked back the tears that threatened. It had been so special. Before he got mad at her. How was she to know if he had time to help her? Or cared. They’d never discussed it. One should discuss these things. Yet he’d avoided her almost entirely the past week. Of course, his ribs were healing. Olivia scrubbed her cheeks from the uncommon moisture. A sailor nearby kindly pretended not to notice. She had never cried before she met Stafford. Leastwise, not in public. Certainly there had been times when her father left for his journeys, and after her mother died she’d felt lost, but she’d always found books to distract her. And parties to attend whenever she wanted. She was a favorite at dinner parties. Stafford wouldn’t know that. And she had Elizabeth, at least for a little longer. Perhaps she would visit her in America. Bring some culture and intellectualism to those heathen Bostonians. That made her smile.

And then maybe she would run into Mr. Stafford again. When things were less hectic. And she would have many adventures and triumphs to regale him with. That was something to look forward to.

She wiped her eyes, straightening.

She would not lose sight of her goals.

Olivia traveled to the Royal Garden Hotel in her “professor” gear. She thought she might maintain the disguise until she knew the situation with her father.

The lobby of the hotel welcomed guests with a bright, expansive sitting area. The furnishings were English mixed with local design. No heavy fabrics—mostly wood, stone, rattan, and other materials that suited the temperate climate. She liked it. An exotic mix of people lounged in large chairs, enjoying drinks, cigars, and conversation. It seemed safe, harmless, and had a holiday flavor.

They hadn’t been there two minutes when a woman shouted, “Samuel!”

“Allie!” Stafford called back, obviously delighted, and stepped forward to greet her.

“Samuel, indeed.” Olivia muttered over the woman taking the liberty of using his name. He seemed to grant that liberty quite liberally.

Olivia watched with disgust and a bit of jealously as a stunning redhead propelled herself into Stafford’s arms and he spun her around with what could only be a well-practiced routine. When she landed, she pressed her cheek to his chest and squeezed before bombarding him with questions.

The worst part was the look on Stafford’s face. Happiness. Olivia quickly ascertained this would not be one of the women easy for him to say good-bye to.

Olivia couldn’t contain herself any longer. She walked over with only half-hidden disgust. “Honestly, Stafford.” She noted the woman. “Every port?”

“This is different.”

“Really?” She sounded doubtful, she knew, and tried her best not to be rude as she studied the woman. Gads. She was beautiful. She glowed. It was disgusting. Who glowed in this weather? Of course her hair was a horribly bright red. Well … not too bright. And there were some gold streaks that saved it from being completely obscene. But definitely, not
the thing.
And she had freckles across her nose. You had to be close to observe them, but a flaw nonetheless. She should stay out of the sun. It was fine for Stafford to have his array of freckles. He was a sea captain. He could not avoid the sun.

Olivia couldn’t really fault the woman’s eyes, though Olivia hated her for it. Perfect green. Most annoying. Well, at least she could fault her common sense. The woman wore a blouse with long sleeves, cuffed at the wrist, and a high collar in the back. It was much too warm for that attire. That could only mean the woman was demented. She would warn Stafford later.

The object of her inspection tilted her head to Samuel, then back at her, then back to Samuel. Then she smiled. A dimple on one side. Excellent. A lopsided smile. Only someone who loved her could find that attractive. The smile got bigger as she continued to stare back at Olivia. Until Olivia had the distinct feeling the demented, freckled woman was laughing at her!

Olivia straightened to her full height. An inch above the other woman. The woman nodded to her politely, then turned back to Stafford.

“Samuel,” the redhead whispered so only he and Olivia could hear. “Why is she dressed like a man?”

Olivia gasped. Her costume was perfect today!

Stafford laughed out loud, adding to the insult. “I’ll explain later.” He took the woman’s arm.

“Allie, may I present Professor Oliver Hill.”

“What are you a professor of, uh, Mr. Hill?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Ancient Egypt.” Olivia was curt. Really, even though she was in disguise, Stafford should have presented the other woman to her. Just because they were in a foreign port did not mean they should forgo manners and rank.

Gads, she was in a bad mood.

“I see. That’s convenient, as we are in Egypt.” The woman’s face withdrew into a polite mask, as if sensing Olivia’s dislike. She turned to Stafford. “Was that a rude question?”

“No. Ollie’s been through a lot. You’ll need to excuse her.”

The woman nodded, accepting, and offered her hand. “Please call me Alex. All our friends do.”

“Alex?” Certain dread struck Olivia. She nearly choked. Then looked at Samuel for confirmation. He had the same hair, only a darkened version. And something in his determined jaw was echoed in the woman’s.

“Yes. Only Samuel and my father call me Allie.”

“Ollie, my sister. Her Grace, Alexandra Stafford Leigh, Duchess of Worthington”—Stafford waved a hand to her—“or something like that.”

“Close enough, brother.” His sister curtsied expertly, but it mocked the English style.

Olivia was certain her face had gone white. “Your Grace, my apologies.” She bowed. Then scowled at Stafford. “You could have told me.”

“I just did.”

She turned to Samuel’s sister. “I thought your were another one of his …” She waved an arm.

“Oh.” Alex frowned at Samuel, repeating Olivia’s earlier words. “Every port? How many ports did you stop in, Professor Hill?”

“Oh. Uh. Only two, Your Grace.”

“Well then. That’s all right. Sunni is engaged, you know. Margueritte I never liked much, but the men can’t help themselves around her. I thought Khalid would have claimed her by now.”

Olivia felt much better hearing that. At least his sister had a discerning mind.

Nathan and Elizabeth entered at the same moment the Duke of Worthington sauntered in to claim his wife. They were introduced, and Stafford’s sister had only warm embraces for Nathan and Elizabeth—now that Elizabeth was “family.” Their circle expanded. That meant only Olivia was not family. She found herself falling outside the circle. Uncomfortable. She also found that her assumptions about Stafford’s sister were not only a mistake, but unkind. The woman looked nothing like a sea captain, for one. A businesswoman, perhaps. There was a spark in her eyes that could not be mistaken for anything but intelligence, and a sharpness that one should not underestimate. But she was warm. And she clearly adored her older brother. Blindly, no doubt. Olivia supposed that was another thing sisters did that she had no experience with. She sighed, inching farther away until Samuel nudged her forward and presented her to the duke. His wife whispered something, but his expression never wavered. He welcomed her unreservedly.

Samuel suggested they freshen up and meet for an early dinner in a few hours. Olivia, for one, could not have been more pleased. She would soak for at least an hour. She felt as if she had accumulated weeks of grime, despite her frequent seawater baths.

Her room did not disappoint, and neither did the service, compliments of the Staffords. It did pay to have rich friends. She immediately threw herself on the large bed, stretching and sprawling on the comfortable mattress, emitting sighs of pleasure as she stared up at the yellow-painted walls and ceilings. After doing that for a few minutes, she went to the small balcony and stuck her face out into the afternoon breeze. She heard Stafford next door, thanking a hotel worker for handling their bags. Elizabeth and Riedell were on the other side chatting. It seemed they liked the bed as well.