The Promise Of A Kiss (Regency Novella Series Book 1) Read online

  That done, Tremayne led her into one of the many crowded antiquities shops that clustered the maze of streets. After a fair amount of haggling, he purchased a beautiful, empty wooden sarcophagus.

  “What happened to finding your own mummy?” Hester said. “I thought you wanted an authentic body to sell?”

  “This is just something showy to get us on board that ship. I can buy mummies for the surgeons later.” He pointed to another seemingly intact mummy resting within a decorated case.

  “You are not taking that back to England to be unwrapped,” Hester scolded. “Why on earth do the doctors want to dissect someone who’s over two thousand years old? How will that help their knowledge of anatomy? That was someone’s grandmother. Have you no respect for the dead?”

  He ignored her griping and directed two scruffy-looking youths who were hanging around in the street to pick up the sarcophagus and carry it behind them while he led Makeen back to the docks. Hester trailed behind them, feeling hot and dispirited.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  He rummaged around in his pockets and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “I have a letter of introduction from your friend Henry Salt. I’m posing as an unscrupulous antiquities dealer who’s transporting mummies back to London on his behalf.”

  Hester snorted. “That shouldn’t be too taxing to believe. You are an unscrupulous antiquities dealer.”

  He ignored her jibe and waved the paper. “This gives me diplomatic privilege to demand passage on any ship in port.”

  She raised her brows, reluctantly impressed. “Oh.”

  “Drovetti will probably have gone to find something to eat. I’ll distract the captain with my sarcophagus while you go and look for the necklace.”

  “He won’t have left it unattended,” Hester said crossly. “He’ll keep it on his person.”

  “That’s probably true, but we need to be certain. If it’s not there, we’ll just wait for him to return and overpower him. I’ll hold him down while you search him. But let’s make sure it’s not in his cabin first, all right?”

  Since Hester couldn’t think of a better plan, she gave a resigned shrug, but as they reached the docks, they stopped and stared. Drovetti’s ship was no longer moored at the water’s edge. It was heading toward the horizon.

  “Bugger,” Harry breathed.

  Chapter 14

  Tremayne squinted toward the disappearing ship. “We’ll just have to follow him over to France, then, I suppose.”

  Hester gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Of course I’m serious. We can’t let him get the necklace to Bonaparte. What if there’s some truth to that curse? The future of Europe could be at stake.” His face creased into a boyish grin of anticipation. “We need to keep Drovetti’s vessel in our sights. Come along.” He strode off.

  “If I didn’t know better, Tremayne,” Hester scowled, hurrying after him, “I’d think this was some elaborate ruse to get me closer to England so you can claim that five thousand pounds.”

  He sent her a look over his shoulder. “You wound me. Retrieving that necklace is our patriotic duty.”

  “You don’t think the necklace will grant Napoleon any powers at all. You just love the idea of a treasure hunt!”

  He didn’t deny it. His eyes sparkled with merriment.

  “How long will it take to get to France, anyway?” Hester grumbled. “My clothes are—”

  He waved an impatient hand. “Four or five days, I should imagine, with a good wind. And we haven’t got time to get you any more clothes. We have to leave this minute.”

  Hester sighed. She could hardly refuse to go with him. She didn’t want to be stranded alone in Alexandria, penniless, without even Suleiman to protect her. And she wanted to retrieve the necklace as much as he did.

  Unlike Harry, she wasn’t ready to dismiss the possibly of it having extraordinary properties. She’d felt the strange, heady power of it when she’d put it around her neck, and the thought that she might have been cursed by it, even now, was impossible to forget.

  Hadn’t disaster followed in its wake as the old man had predicted? She’d been robbed by Drovetti, almost drowned, and then stung by that scorpion. Mere coincidence? Or something more?

  If there was something more sinister about the necklace, then allowing Napoleon to get his hands on it could indeed have disastrous consequences. The man had already shown himself determined to conquer as much of the world as he could. His hubris and ambition were limitless. With the power of an angry Egyptian goddess behind him, he could well prove unstoppable.

  Still, five days of forced proximity on a ship with Harry was enough to make Hester’s heart pound. She would just have to do her best to ignore the alarming effect he had on her, that was all.

  With Harry’s letter of commendation, it didn’t take long to find a captain willing to make the crossing to France, and within a surprisingly short time, they had been ushered aboard a tidy brig and shown to separate, adjacent cabins. Not wanting to leave his purchases behind, Harry directed the two boys carrying the sarcophagus up the steep gangplank and onto the deck. Hester watched in amusement as the hapless young men tried to angle it through the hatch that led below. The sarcophagus was over eight feet long and the ladder was both steep and narrow. It took a great deal of gesticulating and remonstrating before the thing was stowed away.

  That done, Harry insisted on bringing Makeen, the Arabian, aboard too.

  “I’m not leaving such a magnificent creature behind. Just think of the stir he’ll make back in England! I can make a fortune putting him out to stud.”

  Hester rolled her eyes as he persuaded the skittish animal to embark, even as she marveled at the confident way he dealt with the animal.

  With the beast finally tethered safely, they set sail. Hester stood at the rail and watched as the haphazard outline of Alexandria’s skyline disappeared in a wavering heat haze like a mirage. Would she ever return to Egypt? And what disasters awaited them in France?

  Harry stepped up to stand at her shoulder. He leaned easily on the wooden rail and stared out over the water. “No pushing me overboard like you did in Venice,” he warned softly.

  Hester snorted. “Then don’t do anything to annoy me.”

  She was accustomed to travel by sea. She’d sailed from England with Uncle Jasper. The ship they’d commandeered was a brig, a trading ship with two square-rigged masts. The captain, Jacopo Cavalli, proved to be a portly Italian merchant with a gold tooth and a faintly piratical air. Hester quickly deduced that he was a loveable rogue; he entertained them with tales of his bossy, bustling wife in Livorno and his seven noisy children. He joked that he put to sea to escape their incessant squabbling but then admitted that he missed them as soon as he left port and couldn’t wait to return from trading glassware and Egyptian linens for Italian wine and silk.

  Signor Cavalli’s tales of a loving, boisterous brood made Hester a little envious. She’d always wanted a family of her own. The way the Italian’s wrinkled face softened as he recounted some anecdote, the gleam of paternal pride in his eyes as he told of some child’s misdemeanor, was evidence of his boundless love.

  In an attempt to spend as little time in Harry’s company as possible—and thus avoid temptation—Hester made herself busy by putting the finishing touches to her maps of Egypt. Then she re-labeled Uncle Jasper’s medicine chest so there would be no repeat of the Blue Nile Lily mishap.

  Harry spent lots of time on deck grooming Makeen, scratching the animal’s mane, and crooning soft nothings into its flicking ears. Hester refused to feel jealous of a horse. It was only as she lay in her narrow cot at night that she allowed herself to think of Harry in the cabin next to hers, just on the other side of the thin wooden wall. She strained to hear a sound—the creak of the bed or a muffled sigh—but she never heard anything. All noise was drowned out by the rhythmic slap of the waves.

  The weather, mercifully, held for the duration of the crossing, a
nd Drovetti’s ship remained within sight the entire time. On the morning of the fifth day, Hester let out a little squeal of excitement as the coast of France finally appeared on the horizon.

  “Looks like we’re going to dock somewhere near Cannes,” Harry said, sneaking up behind her so quietly that she almost jumped out of her skin.

  She stole a glance at his handsome profile then resolutely turned to study the neat little houses clustering the cliffs around the curved sliver crescent of beach. She’d forgotten just how green Europe was. It almost hurt her eyes.

  Harry pointed at several large vessels that crowded the bay, and Hester squinted to read the painted nameplates on the side: Inconstant, Saint Espri’t, Étoile.

  “I bet Napoleon sailed from Elba in one of those. And look, there’s Drovetti’s ship. He can only have a day’s lead on us at best.”

  Hester eyed the townspeople on the bustling wharf in amazement. “Look! They’re wearing tricolor cockades on their hats again, just as they did during the Revolution! I wonder if they’re newly made or if they just hid them the whole time King Louis was on the throne.”

  Harry’s expression darkened. “I hoped I’d never see such a thing again.” He took a deep breath and made an obvious effort to brush off his anger. “Still, it shouldn’t be too difficult to follow Napoleon’s trail. The locals won’t be talking of anything else. Come on, let’s get ashore.”

  In less than an hour they’d unloaded Makeen and their pitifully few belongings. Harry offered Captain Cavalli the painted sarcophagus if he would agree to remain in port for the next few days.

  “In case we need to make a speedy escape,” he grinned. “Always good to leave options open.”

  Hester prayed that would not be necessary.

  She pretended not to be impressed by Harry’s ability to speak French as he conversed easily with the locals, but she’d had no idea he was so proficient at the language. He must have learned it during the war. Her regard for him went up another notch. There was so much more to him than she’d ever suspected. What other hidden talents did he possess?

  When she overheard him casually refer to her as ‘ma femme,’ however, she elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “What did you just call me? Doesn’t ‘ma femme’ mean ‘my wife’?”

  His smile was thoroughly wicked. “It can mean either ‘my wife’ or ‘my woman’. Which would you prefer? I told them we were on our honeymoon.”

  His gaze roved her face, settling for a moment on her lips, as if he were considering kissing her to support his fabrication, and Hester’s heart gave a thump. His eyed darkened, but she managed to toss her head and break the sudden tension that crackled between them.

  “Neither, thank you very much.”

  He gave her a look that was far too knowing and laughed.

  Their efforts to hire a carriage failed. Napoleon had arrived with over six hundred veteran soldiers, many of whom had required mounts, and the locals had gleefully sold even their carriage horses to the ‘liberating army.’ In the end, Harry was forced to pay an exorbitant sum for a dusty, cantankerous donkey. Despite its comical appearance, however, the animal seemed content to trot along beside the handsome Makeen.

  Napoleon, they discovered, had come ashore three days ago and headed northwest, over the Alps towards Grenoble. It was generally assumed that his destination was Paris, where he would wrest back the reins of power from the Bourbon King Louis.

  “Look at this.” Harry handed her a small printed poster one of the locals had given him. “He’s back to calling himself the emperor again.”

  Hester read the hastily-printed paper, which turned out to be a proclamation from Napoleon himself.

  “Soldiers!” she read aloud. “In my exile I heard your voice. I have arrived through all obstacles and all perils. Your general, called to the throne by the choice of the people, is restored to you. Come and join him! Tear down those colors which the nation has proscribed and which, for twenty-five years, served as a rallying signal to all the enemies of France. Mount the cockade tri-color; you bore it in the days of our greatness. I am sprung from the Revolution. I am come to save the people from the slavery into which priests and nobles would plunge them.”

  She frowned. “Good Heavens!”

  “That is a far more polite way of saying it than I would have chosen,” Harry said grimly. “But, yes. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 15

  The next few days were an exhausting blur of hard riding and brief snatches of sleep in tiny roadside inns. The Alpine scenery was stunning, but Hester scarcely had time to admire it, and at every stop Harry’s prediction proved true; the only news on anyone’s lips was of Napoleon’s triumphant return.

  They reached Grenoble, only to discover that the city had surrendered without even putting up a fight. The innkeeper reported that Napoleon now had seven thousand troops at his disposal. At every stage his former supporters were coming out of the woodwork and pledging their allegiance.

  “Do you think Drovetti’s given Bonaparte the necklace?” Hester ventured as they trotted along a rutted, tree-lined track in the direction of Lyons. Every single muscle in her body ached with fatigue, but she refused to complain.

  “Probably,” Harry said gloomily. “Napoleon certainly seems to be having an extraordinary run of luck.” He pressed his booted heels to Makeen’s sides and shook his head. “The whole time he was on Elba, he kept promising to stay put, but it was all lies. The man’s power-mad.”

  The possibility that the necklace could be amplifying that desire for power, driving an already-righteous fervor over the edge into a reckless confidence, lay unsaid between them.

  “He won’t be content to drive King Louis from Paris,” Harry continued. “He must conquer. His nature demands it. And the Allied powers will never allow him free rein. We’re heading for war, you mark my words.” He glanced over at her, and his furious expression softened. “You’re exhausted.”

  He pulled Makeen to a stop, and Hester reined in her donkey.

  Harry reached out his arms and indicated his foot in the stirrup. “Come on. Give that poor beast a rest. Makeen’s strong enough to carry two for a while, and you look like you’re about to fall asleep in the saddle.”

  Hester was too tired to argue. When she slipped from the donkey’s back, her knees nearly buckled, but she managed to tie the animal’s reins to Makeen’s saddle. Harry hauled her up in front of him and settled her sideways across his lap. Makeen pranced in protest, but Harry controlled him with a squeeze of his thighs, and Hester sighed as she settled against his chest.

  She should have felt embarrassed, being held in his arms like this, with her head tucked beneath his chin and her ear pressed to the steady pounding of his heart. But it felt so right, so natural, that she didn’t put up a squeak of protest. She simply melted into his body, savoring the spicy scent of him and the hard strength of him beneath her. She closed her eyes with a sigh of contentment. Harry would keep her safe. Harry wouldn’t let her fall.

  When they arrived at a small hostelry that evening, Harry purloined a newspaper from the taproom and read that the French Marshal Ney, who had promised King Louis that he would convince Napoleon to turn himself in or ‘bring the usurper back in an iron cage’, had instead turned traitor and returned to Napoleon’s side.

  Hester couldn’t shake the conviction that the evil power of the necklace was coming into effect. The medicine man back at Kharga had foreseen great destruction, and she had a terrible feeling that things were rushing pell-mell toward some dreadful, bloody outcome.

  Luck finally favored them when they rode into the small town of Villefranche. They had finally caught up with Napoleon.

  The town was bursting with people who’d come to show their support. According to the local blacksmith, the emperor was staying in one of the larger hotels in town. A great number of wounded officers were being presented to him that afternoon, to receive his thanks and to pledge allegiance to their old commander.

  Harry’s
eyes lit up, and he smiled for the first time in what seemed like days. “That will be the perfect distraction. While Napoleon’s busy talking to his soldiers, we’ll disguise ourselves as servants, sneak into his rooms, and look for the necklace.”

  “I doubt it will be that easy. Surely if he has it, after all this time, he won’t let it out of his sight.”

  “It won’t hurt to look,” Harry countered reasonably.

  So an hour later Hester found herself carrying a tray of dirty dishes near the back door of the hotel, dressed as a lowly serving wench. Harry had taken gleeful pleasure in stealing her an outfit from a flapping washing line. She’d been about to lecture him on the ethics of thievery—yet again—when she’d seen him slip a gold coin into the peg bag left hanging there. He was an oddly honest thief.

  “Aren’t you coming in with me?” she grumbled.

  Harry sent her tightly-laced bosom an appreciative leer, and her cheeks heated. She was sure he’d deliberately chosen the most revealing dress he could find, just to make her squirm. Did he like what he saw?

  “You make a far more convincing chambermaid than I would,” he chuckled, “and I don’t want to leave Makeen. Someone might steal him. Besides, one of us needs to keep an eye on Napoleon. I’ll watch him through the front windows and make sure he stays downstairs.”

  “And what will you do if he looks like he’s about to leave?”

  “Create a distraction.”

  Hester lifted an eyebrow. “A distraction.”

  “I’ll pretend to be drunk and start a brawl in the front courtyard. That’ll draw everyone’s attention.”

  Hester shook her head.

  “I know that’s all you think I’m good for,” Harry teased. “Don’t pay any heed to the fact that I’ll be outnumbered ten to one and probably beaten to a pulp. Never mind that some burly French grenadier might snap me like a twig.”