The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery (34 page)

So I told Fatima she could go and offered Percy a chair. With a sweeping gesture
he
offered
me
a seat
—
on the divan. He was dressed with that extra smartness that is all wrong somehow
—
no single detail can be faulted, but all together they are a bit too much.

I remained standing. "I really am rather busy, Percy. What do you want?"

"A cozy little chat." He smirked at me, and then I realized he was drunk. Not drunk enough to stagger or slur his words, just enough to weaken his brain even more.

I dipped into my collection of cliches. "You are not in fit condition to be in the company of a lady."

"A little Dutch courage," Percy mumbled. "Don't be angry, Nefret. I've kept my part of the bargain, haven't I?"

"I don't recall striking a bargain. You had better go before Ramses comes back. I expect him any moment."

Another miscalculation on my part
—
but honestly, who would have supposed he'd be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice? He called Ramses several rude names, and lunged for me. He had me wrapped in a clumsy but temporarily effective
bear's hug before I could skip aside. I said irritably, "Let go of me."

"You don't mean that. All you high-spirited women are alike; what you really want is a man who can master you."

I managed to avoid his clumsy attempts to kiss me while I got one arm free and shifted my weight onto my left foot. I was trying to decide what part of Percy to hit first, when the sitting room door opened.

I'd lied to Percy; I had not expected Ramses back so soon. The sight of him paralyzed me, and Percy managed to land a kiss on my mouth. The next thing I knew there was a kind of soundless explosion. It lifted Percy clean off his feet and sent him flying, over a chair and against the wall; I stumbled back and would have lost my balance if Ramses hadn't grabbed me by the collar.

Then I got a good look at his face.

I threw myself against him and hung on with both hands. For a second or two I was afraid he was too furious to care about hurting
me.
Then the fingers that had gripped my ribs relaxed and he said, "Get up and get out. I don't know how much longer I can hang on here."

I didn't know how much longer
I
could hang on. That cool voice hadn't deceived me. I got a tighter grip on his shirt and leaned hard against him. I didn't dare raise even my head, which was pressed against his shoulder; I had the feeling that if I relaxed the slightest little bit he'd move me aside as impersonally and efficiently as if I were a piece of furniture, and then what he would do to Percy I didn't dare think. I could hear Percy wheezing and groaning, but he wasn't much hurt; when he finally moved it was at a trot. His footsteps faded into silence.

Ramses lifted me off my feet
—
and his
—
I was standing on them. Holding me in one arm, he walked to the door and slammed it.

"Unhand me," he said. "Don't bother pretending you're about to faint, you've ripped my shirt and I
think
those sharp points in my neck are your teeth."

"Put me down, then."

"Oh. Sorry." He lowered me to the floor.

"No, you aren't." I raised my head and examined his throat. "No blood."

"Would you care to try again?"

"Stop it!" I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to shake him. "Can't you admit for once in your life that you're a human being, with human emotions? You wanted to kill him. You
would
have killed him. I had to prevent you, the best way I could."

"Why?"

The question took my breath away. I fumbled with my feelings like a clumsy-handed servant rummaging in a bureau drawer. When I understood, or thought I understood, I stepped back and swung at him. My wrist smacked into his raised hand.

"I suppose that can be taken as a reply." His eyes moved from my face to my throat. My shirt was open almost to the waist. I hadn't noticed. "Did Percy do that?" he asked.

"You did, I think. When you pulled us apart." It might have been true.

"Sorry."

"Please don't."

"Apologize?" He raised his eyebrows and curled the corners of his mouth. "Whatever you say. You appear a trifle agitated still. Sit down and I'll get you a glass of brandy."

"Not yet. I mean ..." I couldn't stand to look at him. That travesty of a smile turned me cold. I pulled the edges of my shirt together. "I'm going to change. Will you stay here? Don't go away?"

"I'll be here." He crossed to the window and stood with his back to me.

You know how your eyes can deceive you at times
—
how a group of shapes and shadows can take on a certain form and then shift into another? It wasn't really like that; there was no physical change in him, he was exactly the same as he'd always been. I knew every line of his long body and every curl on his disheveled black head. I'd just never
seen
him before. You know what I'm trying to say, don't you? The change is in the heart.

I must have made some sound
—
a gasp, a wordless breath. He spun round, and there it was again. The features I knew better than I do my own were the same, but now I saw the tenderness those stubbornly set lips tried to hide, and the refined modeling of temples and cheekbones, and his eyes
—
wide open and unguarded for once, all his defenses down.

He stood quite still for a few seconds, watching me. Then he held out his hand. "Come here," he said.

I couldn't move. I felt as if I were standing on my head instead of my feet. The world had turned inside out and upside down.

"It's too late, you know," he said, in the same muted voice. "Too late for me, whatever you decide. Can you at least meet me halfway?"

I don't remember any interval between that rather heartbreaking question and the moment when his arms pressed me close and his lips settled onto mine.

Why hadn't I known? How could I have been so
stupid?
Why didn't someone
tell
me? He laughed at me when I said that. I love to see him laugh, Lia. His whole face changes, his eyes light up and his mouth softens and... I told you I was head over heels.

Not until Fatima scratched at the door and asked when we wanted dinner did I realize how much time had passed. We were sitting in the dark. He kissed me again and put me gently away.

"I'll tell her ten minutes. Will that be time enough?"

"Yes. No. Tell her... Tell her we don't want dinner. Tell her to go away."

I stopped writing because I heard Narmer bark and hoped... But it wasn't he. I can't stay here any longer; I'm going out to wait for him at the door. A few steps closer, a few seconds sooner ... I'll pop this in an envelope and leave it on the table with the rest of the mail.

I hope you don't think I broke off at that interesting moment for literary effect, or because I was ashamed to admit what happened. I'm not ashamed. I didn't know it was possible to be so happy! Unless you are already on board ship, you will miss the wedding; I won't wait an extra day, even for you, my dearest friend. Not that
I
care about the conventions
—
but the Professor would be scandalized and Aunt Amelia would lecture
—
they don't understand, theirs was a different world
—
and my poor darling is so in awe of them he might lock himself in his room and refuse to open the door. Then I'd have to climb in the window! I would, too, to be with him. Thank goodness I had Ibrahim hinge the screens!

He couldn't help himself last night, it was all my doing. .. mostly my doing... When I remember, I feel as if my bones are melting. That's not the only reason I love him so much, Lia. He pretends to despise the gentleman's code of his class, but he is everything they claim to be and seldom are
—
gentle and strong and brave and honorable.

From Manuscript H

Ramses didn't need to ask Ali who the visitor was. The horse was sweating and showing the whites of its eyes. Percy's horses always looked as if they had been ridden hard and handled clumsily. He delayed only long enough to tell the stableman to water it and rub it down. There was no one in the courtyard. He was almost running when he turned down the corridor toward their rooms. Even as a child there had been something about Percy that made his skin crawl with an emotion stronger than dislike and stranger than detestation. What he had learned about his cousin a few weeks ago made the very idea of his being alone with Nefret unendurable.

He didn't doubt she could take care of herself, but when he saw her in Percy's clumsy grasp, pure murderous rage drove every other thought and sensation out of his mind.

It felt wonderful.

The pressure of her body against his and the fingernails digging into his skin brought him back to his senses. Her face was ashen. Slowly and carefully he removed his hands from her waist. He hoped he hadn't hurt her. He hadn't meant to.

Percy had hit the wall with enough force to knock several photographs from a nearby shelf and was now on his knees clutching his midsection. A few carefully chosen words got him to his feet and out the door. He had better sense than to speak, but the look he gave Ramses was fairly eloquent. Well, they made quite a pretty picture, Ramses thought—the fainting girl clinging to her rescuer, her golden head against his breast, his manly arm supporting her. Percy was probably in no condition to notice that the arm round her waist was not embracing but lifting her. She was standing on his feet.

She had accomplished what she meant to do, anyhow. He hadn't broken Percy's neck. That was probably a good thing. She knew he was inclined to get himself worked up about killing people, and murdering a member of the family would have been unpleasant for everyone concerned.

It had been kind of her. Now if she would only go away and stop talking, and stop touching him, and give him a chance to get himself under control. .. She said she didn't want any brandy. She asked him to wait while she changed. Her hair was coming down and her lips were trembling and her dress was torn. Another wave of murderous fury darkened his vision and he went to the window, unable to look at her.

Then he heard an odd little sound, half squeak, half sob, and turned. When he saw her face his breath stopped. There was no mistaking that look, he had waited long enough to see it. He knew that if he went to her then, she would come unresisting into his arms, but he forced himself to hold back. One more step, the last, must be hers. Her choice, her desire as great as his.

When finally she moved, it was in a stumbling rush. They met halfway.

In the still darkness before sunrise, as she lay in his arms, he felt a drop of moisture on his shoulder and asked why she was crying.

"I feel like Sinuhe."

He laughed a little and drew her closer. "Not to me, you don't."

A breath of answering laughter warmed his skin. "You know what I mean."

"I think I do. But I'd like to hear you say it."

"Like an exile who has finally come home."

She slept then, but he lay awake, holding her, until the dawn light strengthened and she stirred and smiled.