The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (38 page)

In that moment Graham stormed forward. Her father swung his pistol up. Jillian cried out a warning and grabbed his arm. Thunder exploded. Ancient crystals splintered as the bullet struck a stalactite.

Graham ducked and rolled, his motion propelling him forward toward the crevice. Jillian's screams echoed through the cavern as he scrambled to stop, failed, and in one fluid motion, disappeared over the edge.

One hand clasping the treasure, Graham wildly grappled for purchase as he slid down the rock wall. A narrow ledge stopped his fall. Forcing calm, he struggled to maintain footing on the shelf. Above him, the slit showed light from the cavern. Crystals in the dome ceiling sparkled. He had never seen anything more spectacular. A fine sight before he died.

And so it ends this way
, he thought with dull resignation.

Does it? a mocking voice asked. Isn't Jillian worth fighting for your life?

Graham sucked in a breath. His ribs hurt from scraping down the rough rock face.

Two heads appeared above, both red. Both with green eyes. One filled with wild panic, the other with grim satisfaction. Graham turned his gaze to the wall. He would not look up and see his enemy gloating.

"Graham, oh, Graham, hold on, I'll get a rope."

He glanced up to see Stranton restrain her. "Only if you toss up the treasure," the earl shouted.

"Never!" Graham cried. Sweat dampened his palm, loosening his grip on the box. His fingers desperately grasped it.

His future? His hope?

Shame filled him. He was a coward, and he could not bear the look of condemnation in Jillian's eyes if he looked up.

"Graham, please, look at me. Graham,'" she called out. "Don't give up. Hang on."

"Jillian, I forbid it," her father yelled.

"Quiet, Father," she snapped.

Graham heard the sounds of a scuffle, of her father pleading with her to listen to reason.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped the wall. His hand splayed against it. His heart thudded dully in his ears.

Minutes crept by, then suddenly a rope slapped down next to him.

"Let go of the box, Graham," Jillian pleaded. "You'll need both hands to climb."

He could not. "No, Jilly. I can't."

"Please, let it go. I love you. I know you think the box will make everything bad go away, but it's not your fault what happened to you. You don't need magic boxes. I can't erase your past, Graham, but together we can build a future."

"You're ashamed of me."

"I am ashamed of
him
, and of what he did to you. Please. Come back to me."

"You've no reason to be ashamed of me, Jillian. It's his fault," Stranton rasped.

Graham's fingers curled around the alabaster case. His treasure. His shield. He could not release it. But Jillian's voice again came to him.

"Look at me. Look at me, not the box!"

Somewhere inside he found a thin thread of courage. Graham looked at his wife. He looked into her green eyes, shimmering like emeralds. He shifted on the ledge—and nearly slipped.

If he didn't release the box, he could die. But why not die? He had been ready before. He just wanted to end the pain.

But then he looked up at her again and saw her eyes shining with tears. "Please, Graham. Please come back to me. You asked me before not to leave you. I promise I won't leave you. Don't leave me."

He held the treasure. The box would give him money—money that would have satisfied Stranton twenty years ago and prevented the vile deed the earl had done to him. Money meant power. It always meant power.

"I need this," he grated out, gripping the box.

"Graham, you don't. You want it to protect yourself from anything bad ever happening again, and I understand. But I don't care about money or your title. I'd love you even if you were a poor chimney sweep. Ramses told me the darkness inside a man can make him lose his soul. Don't keep the darkness inside any longer. Let it out and let me in."

He looked up and saw Jillian, and his heart went still.

Here was the real treasure. His wife openly stated her feelings. She loved him, despite all his many transgressions and what he was. She was living flame to his darkness. And for the first time, he felt the darkness pushed back, fleeing from the living light she shone inside him.

Yes, the real treasure was his wife.

But for so long he'd held onto his pain and his fury, intertwined like threads on a carpet. Could he finally release them? Graham looked at her and the pain in his chest eased. At last he had something worth living for instead of something he wanted to die from.

His fingers uncurled around the box. Peace settled over him as he felt its heavy weight fall into the darkness. It slid down, crashing onto a jutting shelf mere feet below. Jilhan's father screamed.

"No!" Stranton grabbed the rope and scrambled down. Landing on the shelf below Graham, he reached wildly for the box. But the ledge cracked and the earl lost his balance and fell. At the last moment, he caught himself.

Stranton grasped the ledge with his fingertips, dangling. Great gasps of panic shredded the air. Graham stared down at the man who had abused him, who had violated his trust, who was now in mortal peril. He looked up at Jillian.

Cautiously, he reached for the rope that she swung toward him. Catching it, he wound it about his waist, tied it, then reached down to the earl. "Let me help you," he said harshly.

Stranton looked up at his daughter. Something dark and haunting touched his face. "I never wanted to hurt you, Jillian. I tried so hard to keep you away, to keep you from being tainted. That's why I always disciplined you.

"You were the only good thing in my life, so pure and beautiful. I was proud of you, and kept thinking your goodness reflected me. But now... I can't hide behind you any longer. I can see it in your eyes. They're like a mirror..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I see what I really am."

Graham felt brief sympathy for Stranton, forced to confront the darkness inside and seeing only the ugliness of his soul staring back.

The earl's pleading gaze met his. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Forgive me."

Graham squeezed his eyes shut. He thought of the pain of his past. He thought of Jillian and the hope of his future. Opening his eyes, he managed to utter words he'd once thought impossible. "I... I forgive you."

Peace settled on the earl's face. "Take good care of my little girl." Then Stranton released his grip on the rock, falling into the darkness. Jillian screamed.

Graham knew he must get up to her. Dear God, she was all alone, and she needed him. His muscles clenched and strained, but he pulled himself up slowly to his wife. He pulled himself slowly back to life.

Through her tears, Jillian saw Graham emerge from the crevice. He pulled her into his warm, strong arms. Laying her head against his broad chest, she sought comfort in his sheltering embrace. For several minutes she sobbed and he simply held her. When she finally pulled back, he touched her damp cheek, brushing a lock of stray hair from her face.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said softly.

"I can't believe he's gone. I... I'm relieved he'll never hurt you or anyone else again, and yet, oh, God, he was my father. All those years wasted, thinking that I could never be good enough to meet his rigid standards. All I wanted was for him to love me, and he couldn't—not the way I wanted. In a way, he used me like a shield to hide behind."

A troubling thought struck. She looked at Graham beseechingly. "What did Father mean when he told you to stop using me to get to him?"

Blood drained from her husband's face. His throat muscles worked as he swallowed. "I don't quite know."

A sudden sick feeling hit her.
I don't want to know. But I must
. She worked up her courage and whispered, "I think you do."

Graham drew in a ragged breath. He looked her directly in the eye. "Yes, Jillian. No more hiding from the truth. He reasoned that I used you to become friendly with him, to devise a means to ruin him."

Her heart shattered. "Is that why you married me, Graham? To get at my father? Was I a pawn to you and nothing more?"
Please, tell me the truth. But I don't know if I can bear it if you used me as Father did, the lies and betrayals...

"I married you for many reasons, Jilly. But yes, to get at your father was a main purpose."

"Did you want to kill him for what he did to you as a boy, Graham?"

A muscle twitched in his cheek. "I wanted to kill him that night at the ball. I had planned as much. But... I saw you and I changed my mind."

Oh God, it was worse than she had imagined. Jillian's lips trembled. How could he have done this to her? "You changed your plans? You wanted to ruin him and I was your pawn? That's why you didn't want me coming here with you!"

Graham looked ashamed. "Yes. I arranged for him to be caught with a young boy. After he was arrested and fled, he left a note swearing revenge. I taunted your father into following me to Egypt. I knew he had the map and could find the cave. He would kill me or I would kill him. But I never meant to hurt you, Jilly. Never."

Two large tears slipped down her cheeks. "But you did. Bastard," she whispered.

He went toward her. Deeply anguished, she put out a trembling palm. "Don't, Graham. You lied to me. You used me—oh God, you used me just as Father did. He didn't really love me and you never did, either. You publicly ruined me by telling everyone I wasn't a virgin, all to trick me into marrying you. You did it for your own vile purpose! You didn't want me to produce an heir, and not even my"—her voice dropped and became a mocking imitation of his—"my intellectual abilities. You merely wanted revenge."

"That was why I married you, but I fell in love with you. I love you now, Jilly."

Jillian presented her back to him. "All I ever wanted was you to share yourself with me, Graham. Not your wealth or your title. I wanted the truth. Even now, you wanted to lie to me about what Father said."

"Forgive me. Please." His voice was broken.

"Forgiving you isn't the problem, Graham. How can our marriage work if I can't trust you? What kind of man are you?"

"Don't leave me, Jilly," he begged. The tremulous note in his voice lashed her as much as his betrayal.

She clenched her hands, and fresh tears flowed. "I promised I'd stay, but I can't ever believe anything you tell me again. You can say over and over that you love me and I'll never know if you really mean it. Never."

Silently she walked to her rucksack and fished for a clean cloth to wipe her face. Her father was dead. Her marriage was dead. She had lost everything.

But she had never really had either of them to lose, had she?

Chapter Twenty-four

Jillian did not talk as they made their way to the oasis village of Farafra. It stood on a small hill of white chalk, surrounded by barren desert and the jagged edges of three mountains. Dominating the terrain was an ancient walled fortress. The village itself appeared quaint and primitive, but Graham barely noticed. In the square, men sat spinning wool and gossiping. All heads turned curiously toward the newcomers. Graham greeted them courteously and asked directions to the home of the family Ramses knew.

The house of Abdul Al-din was stark, its owner courteous and friendly. Abdul's dark eyes lit when Graham mentioned Ramses. He beckoned to his wife to assist them. They were shown to a small room with a low bed and a small table, and given water for washing their hands and faces. Abdul's wife and daughters dragged a large copper hip bath into their room, offering to get hot water from the nearby spring. Graham politely refused and did the task himself. When the tub was filled, he looked at Jillian.

"I'll bathe when you finish," he said quietly.

They were served a delicious dinner of rice, bread and, in their honor, stewed goat. Graham dipped flatbread into a narrow bowl of tomato sauce and ate it. Abdul was eager to hear of his friend, Ramses. Graham made polite conversation, all the while painfully aware of Jillian sitting silently beside him.

The women had crushed flowers and rubbed them into Jillian's hair, scenting it. The fragrance tormented him. Fresh, clean—like her. He longed to bury his face in her hair. He knew he could not.