Chapter Three
Lisbeth couldn’t believe she was going with Thomas on this trip. They wouldn’t be alone, as Benson, Abbas, and Thomas’s associate would be traveling with them. Still, she hadn’t envisioned doing more than delivering the map to Syria. Yet, now, she was on her way to assist in the search.
She glanced down at the clothing Thomas had sent her the previous day. The items belonged to Rose and were designed primarily for convenience. It was a blend of Bedouin culture in Syria and what one would imagine a man would wear for adventuring.
The shirt that covered her from her collarbone to her calves was a garment called a thawb, and it was paired with a pair of light men’s English breeches. The ensemble was finished with a belt and a hat. No ball gowns for her. She smiled, freer than she’d felt in a long time.
Lisbeth left her room and joined Benson and Abbas in the lobby. The hotel agreed to hold their luggage while they were gone. They would be taking a much smaller portion of their belongings on the trip. Abbas smiled at her. “You look very comfortable today. Much more than yesterday.”
She nodded. “Yes, I am.”
Benson, her guard, who’d been with her for years, looked at her amused. She lifted a brow, and he grinned. “I’m pretty sure if your daughter ever saw you like this, you’d never be able to tell her she can’t wear trousers again.”
Her daughter Alice idolized Rose Calvert, including her love of wearing pants when at home. Lisbeth laughed. “These are Rose’s clothes.”
Benson snickered. “Of course they are.”
Thomas entered the lobby, and his gaze roamed over her before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He briskly asked, “Are you ready?”
Lisbeth nodded, and she, Benson, and Abbas followed him out. A striking man stood by a group of horses. Their eyes connected, and he smiled. Whoever he was, if he ever visited London, the city would be in love with him.
“The pretty face over there is my friend Tarek Al-Rafiq. Rafe, for short,” Thomas bit out.
“What an unfriendly introduction, Easton,” Rafe said, and then he turned to Lisbeth. “It may not seem like it based on his gruffness, but I happen to be a close friend of this famous explorer.”
Next, he introduced himself to Benson and Abbas, then turned back to Thomas. He pulled a stack of letters from a bag and shoved them playfully at Lisbeth’s ex-lover. “You can carry your worship mail.”
Lisbeth studied the missives. Several of them were floral and smelled like perfume. She leaned forward, curious. “Are those love letters?”
Rafe smirked. “Easton has many admirers from London. He is famous there. I wouldn’t believe him if I weren’t always delivering love notes.”
A flush covered Thomas’s face, and he scowled at his friend before shoving the missives into a bag on the side of his horse. “They aren’t love letters.”
Rafe snorted. “He is very famous. All the ladies speak about him in a grandiose fashion.”
Benson nodded. “I’ve heard the stories in London.”
Abbas looked at them all as if he were missing some joke. Rafe tapped Thomas jokingly on his cheek. “You are a handsome fool. Not as attractive as me, but still, the ladies love you.”
The amusement continued to course through her, but deep in her heart, Lisbeth felt a flare of jealousy.
She pushed it away. Thomas was allowed to spend time with whomever he liked.
She imagined he had plenty of lovers because Rafe was right; he was an attractive, strapping man.
He wore ruggedness in a way that most men could never pull off.
He sighed and held out his hand to assist her onto a grey horse. She stepped towards him, and he lifted her up and made sure she was settled safely and comfortably on the animal’s back. Thomas handed her the reins. “This is Asta. She will be your horse for the trip.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Thomas.”
He grunted in response, and he and the rest of their group climbed onto their horses. “This is an all-day ride, but we will keep it nice and slow.”
Hours later, Rafe joined Lisbeth. He grinned. “I think I’ve upset Easton by flirting with you.”
Lisbeth suspected it didn’t matter if a lady was young or old; Rafe could easily charm them. She assumed he was well aware of the effect his handsome face had on others. Lisbeth wouldn’t encourage him. She lifted a brow. “Were you flirting? I hadn’t noticed.”
He laughed loudly, causing Thomas to glance their way before turning forward, his jaw clenched. Rafe smiled. “So you are Thomas’s lost love.”
She blushed. “No…I wouldn’t call it that…it is complicated.”
Another bark of laughter erupted from him, and the man smiled slyly at her. “It was just a guess, but now I suspect, based on your response and my friend’s fierce scowl, that there is a grand story there.”
She shook her head. “It was a long time ago. We were young, really just children.”
“Love happens at all ages.”
Lisbeth frowned at Rafe. “Why do I sense you are a troublemaker?”
He looked at her, his gaze turning serious. “I have the same question about you? I’ve seen Easton charm many ladies, but he’s never glowered at me over one. Don’t hurt him, Your Grace. He is a good man.”
Anger sparked in Lisbeth that he was lecturing her. “I’ve no intention of doing anything but obtaining the tablets.”
“Rafe, I need you up here,” Thomas barked.
The man sighed and galloped up to him. He laughed and insisted, “I wasn’t flirting.”
Annoyance coursed through Lisbeth. Who was he to warn her against hurting Thomas? She wasn’t the known rake. No, that was the famed explorer, and he had the letters to show it. She glanced to the left of her, and Benson asked, “Anything amiss, Your Grace?”
She shook her head. Lisbeth had no intentions of doing anything with or to Thomas.
All of that died between them a long time ago.
He glanced back, and their eyes met. A spark of something flared between them.
No, she told herself. Thomas Easton had a whole world of ladies to tup, and she wouldn’t be on his list of conquests.
*
Thomas rode beside Rafe, and his friend smirked at him. “Why don’t you go speak with her?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
“She is your Layla.”
He snorted at his friend’s quiet declaration. He was comparing him and Lisbeth to a forbidden Arabic love story. The Majnun loved Layla, but she married another, and he went mad, roaming the desert for years. “I’m not a madman.”
Rafe lifted a brow. “Madness comes in different forms. You take risks other men wouldn’t, bed numerous women but don’t take the time to know them and refuse to put down roots anywhere. I think that could be considered a form of insanity.”
Thomas rolled his eyes at his friend. “You are no better—a man who won’t claim his heritage, flirts but won’t touch any woman, and spends time with a madman. What does that make you?”
Rafe chuckled. “An imbecile.”
They both laughed, and it momentarily eased the tension in Thomas’s chest. Rafe jerked his head. “Go talk to her. She may be with us for weeks. Forgiveness is the best gift you can give or receive.”
The problem was that he wasn’t sure if he had forgiven Lisbeth.
A part of him carried a bit of hatred for her everywhere he went.
It propelled him into so many rash but successful decisions.
In truth, part of his success as an explorer came from not wanting to be Serious Thomas, the young man she’d decided she couldn’t wed.
With every one of his achievements, he’d become more boisterous and confident, not because it came naturally to him but because deep down he’d always believed the practical, quiet young man he once was hadn’t been enough for her.
“Go,” Rafe said.
“You better hope we never run into the woman you are behaving like a saint for.”
Sadness fluttered across his friend’s face. “Only fate can bring us together.”
Thomas lifted a brow. “It isn’t like you to be this dramatic.”
Rafe shrugged. “I’ve never known you to be angry when I flirt with a woman. She is special.”
Thomas glanced back at Lisbeth, who was talking with Abbas. “She is my past.”
“Then let her go so you can be free from the weight of your feelings.”
He sighed but slowed his horse until he was next to Lisbeth. Abbas said, “I think I will join Rafe.”
Thomas nodded, and Lisbeth gulped, seemingly nervous. Their horses moved at a leisurely pace. Finally, he said, “I’m still shocked you are going with us on this little exploration.”
“Honestly, so am I.”
“I feel in some ways I goaded you into it,” he confessed.
Her blue eyes flicked towards him, and her mouth tilted up. “You did, but I don’t blame you entirely. I’m not some young girl; I shouldn’t be so easily incited.”
Thomas chuckled. “You seem much calmer as a duchess.”
His mention of her title cast a heaviness between them.
Her lips trembled, and Thomas had the shocking urge to comfort her—to provide her forgiveness for the choices of the past. Perhaps Rafe was a wise man.
Being this close to her, the fury didn’t fester in him like he thought it would.
Thomas found himself wanting to forgive her so they both could move on from the past.
“I want you to know that I don’t hate you or hold any grudges for the decisions you made.”
Her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together.
He added, “We were so young.”
Lisbeth nodded, gratefulness reflecting in her eyes. “Thank you, Thomas. There are many things I wish I could have done differently. I’m sorry for any pain I caused you.”
While Thomas appreciated her apology, what he really wanted was to know why.
Yet, she didn’t provide any details on why she broke their betrothal and returned to England.
He didn’t push her. Maybe the past was best forgotten.
Attempting to lighten the conversation, he said, “I can’t be too upset.
I’m a famous explorer. Not once did I ever predict that. ”
Her mouth tilted up in a smirk. “Apparently, with several admirers. Do you read all the letters?”
He shrugged. “There is a good deal of downtime at the excavation sites. Sometimes, I will respond if they leave their address. A few of the letters are a bit unhinged. I’ve had more than a few proposals.”
She giggled. “You truly embody what every London lady envisions when they think of a dashing explorer.”
Her eyes flicked over him, and Thomas’s body became alert. They’d both changed so much. “I’m not the slender, bookish man you once knew.”
“No, you aren’t,” she said quietly, a blush tinging her cheeks.
“Thomas,” Rafe called from up front.
He grinned and said, “I’d best go see what he wants.”
“Thank you for your reassurance that you don’t hold any resentment towards me,” she replied. “I don’t think we need to rehash the past any further but know that there was nothing ever wrong with the bookish boy you once were. My choice wasn’t about you or us.”
Thomas could tell by the tone of her words that she wouldn’t share more, and he didn’t push it. What was the point? Peace and forgiveness between them would need to be enough. He nodded and joined his friend.