Chapter 19
Who did Jack Balfour think he was, telling her what to do and how to do it!
The audacity! As if all he had to do was fall upon one knee and she’d agree to marry him!
Then, when she’d pointed out the holes in his plan, he’d taken umbrage and rushed out—running away because she wasn’t doing as he wanted her to.
Heaven knew, Onora had her reservations about Seton, but at least he was offering something tangible.
As the setting of the sun approached, she joined the other women in the lantern-strung courtyard.
She and Madame Auvray were not the only ones wearing wigs and serpent diadems, for each of the women was identically costumed.
To her surprise, a sixth was among them whom Onora could not identify.
There was no opportunity to remark upon it, however, for they were soon setting off, crossing the gardens barefooted.
There more lights had been laid out and, down by the water, four musicians sat cross-legged, playing a haunting melody, adding very much to the atmosphere.
Near touching the horizon the sun was a swollen, fiery orb, descending rapidly, washing all in softly coppered hues, making the river shimmer golden and gilding the rugged cliffs.
The men waited, dressed in sarong-style skirts in the same deep blue as the flowing gowns worn by each of the women. Shockingly, their chests were bare but for a large collar encircling their shoulders, woven from reeds and bearing the adornment of a snake.
Seton stepped forward, claiming her hand, leading her away to the very edge of the water. Never had she seen him in any state of undress. His torso was finely muscled, covered by a scattering of hair, and his abdomen bore a trail of the same, down to where his lean stomach met the blue linen wrap.
The sight was not unattractive but it made her think of Jack, and how she’d caressed him there, and lower…
Do not think of it!
Remembering how bold she’d been, she felt remorse; yet it had seemed natural at the time.
“I’ve been thinking of you every hour since we parted. I am forgiven, I hope.” Seton’s gaze searched hers.
Looking into those steely, gray eyes, she wanted to believe he was sincere, that her happiness mattered to him.
“Toast with me: to our future as man and wife.” From a table close by, he raised two long-stemmed glasses, passing one to Onora.
She didn’t have the strength to fight him; not tonight. It was far more alluring to drink his champagne and enjoy the beauty of the desert twilight.
Most of all, she didn’t want to think about Jack Balfour.
The birds’ last calls fell, hushed with the darkening sky. Then, as if the day had never been, night rushed in, wrapping all in a seductive cloak of violet-black, and there was no light but the thin silver of the rising moon.
Sounds of merriment drifted upon the cooling air and Seton was beside her, but Onora had never felt more alone.
Everything was remote—Oxford and her aunts as distant as some far-flung star.
As if watching from some other place, no longer part of this world and unable to care about any of it, she was dimly aware of Seton’s arm slipping about her waist.
The hair on his torso brushed Onora’s bare skin, and her gaze fell once more to his chest. There was something beside his nipple. Some creature crawling, or was that…? Her mind was too hazed to pull the memory forward, but she’d seen something similar, not long ago.
The thought was dashed away by Seton pulling her close. A flash of desire took her so that she could barely breathe. Through the diaphanous silk, her breasts rubbed against his chest, and his hardness pressed to her mound.
As his mouth closed upon hers, she opened to him.
From some distance away, concealed at the very edge of the garden, Jack watched as Seton’s guests made merry, looking as if they were about to take part in some debauched Bacchanalia. The men were garbed in not much at all, and the women were hardly better.
Initially, with them sporting those wigs, he’d been uncertain which was Onora. Only when Seton had led her away had he been sure, and it pierced his heart to see how closely they stood to one another.
They made a handsome pair. He hoped, if Onora went ahead with the marriage, Seton would realize his good fortune and become the man she deserved.
Jack had believed that man would be him, for Onora had made him feel he’d met his soulmate.
He could hardly find the words to describe why that was so, other than he felt his strongest self when he was with her.
He wanted to be his best; for her, to make her feel safe and cherished, but it was more than that. With her, he saw the world more clearly, as if everything suddenly made sense.
What was that but love?
To feel complete peace in another’s company?
But he couldn’t force her to place her future in his hands, nor force her to have faith that he’d do all in his power to protect her. He couldn’t force her to love him.
Was it worth one more attempt, to walk up to her right now and beg her, again, to listen to what he had to say?
To do so in front of Seton would doubtless result in being dismissed immediately, with no choice but to leave the site come morning. Not that he cared about that; he’d long outstayed his welcome under Seton’s employ. But leaving this place would mean leaving Onora.
Do it! Tell her you love her. Before it’s too late!
A few steps across the lawn, he stopped in his tracks.
Seton did not merely have his arm about Onora. They were facing each other and…
The shock of it hit Jack full in the gut.
The two of them were kissing.
Onora showed no sign of struggle. Rather, she was standing entirely still, letting Seton embrace her.
She’d made her decision.
Onora swayed, giving herself over to the kiss, suspended in a place that was beyond her mind or body.
The voice was with her again.
Surrender to sensation. Revel in pleasure. Forbid not, where nothing is forbidden.
It took great effort to return to herself, hearing again the merrymaking and the rhythm of the music, feeling the desert breeze.
Feeling, too, the heat of Seton’s body. With her free hand she managed to push against him, creating some small space between them.
Her other still held her glass, though there was no champagne remaining.
Had she drunk it all? She couldn’t remember.
Staring into the bottom of the crystal, she noticed something strange—a residue, pink in color, and granular.
There had been something similar in the drink Madame Auvray had brought for her, back in her room.
She’d assumed it was the remains of a sugar cube, doused in cassis or some other liqueur; now, she wondered…
“More champagne?” Seton summoned one of his staff who carried a bottle wrapped in fine white linen.
“I’ve had enough, for the moment.” She held her hand over the rim. “I’m feeling…not myself.”
It was as if she were becoming a whole other person or, rather, as if there were two of her—one sensible and the other quite wild—each struggling for supremacy.
“I’ve a headache coming on. I must stop spending so much time in the sun.” Onora hoped the lie would be convincing. “You won’t mind me retiring?”
“Leave us? I think not.” Taking her glass, Seton made sure it was filled and replaced in her hand. “As for too much time in the sun, an elegant-necked bird has told me you spent a large portion of the day in a cave with that young nephew of mine.”
Onora froze.
What did Seton know? And who had told him?
“Don’t look so terrified, my dear.” Seton stroked her arm lightly. “Some would say I ought to punish you, but I understand your impulses. You’ve been using him to teach yourself about passion. Now you’re ready for the real thing.”
She made some murmur of denial, but it was unconvincing, even to herself.
“I should have liked to be the first, but I’m not so archaic as to believe a woman’s value lies entirely in her maidenhead.
Now, her ability to free herself, to embrace her sexual nature—that is to be admired!
” Seton had guided her with his touch, so that her back was to the others.
His caress brushed the outer curve of Onora’s breast. “The Ancient Egyptians had a better way of viewing these things. Recall the paradigm of Egyptian femininity, Isis, is said to have had intercourse with her brother Osiris in the womb.”
Onora could not read the look in Seton’s eye. He seemed utterly relaxed but there was an alertness in him that gave her pause, as if he might leap like some beast and pin her to the ground.
“What was it like, this encounter you enjoyed in that secret, shaded place? Did he thoroughly prepare you, or was it a swift coupling?”
Seton’s hand strayed further, to the front of her costume, and he palmed her through the nothingness of the silk. She was fixed where she stood, her eyes anchored by his.
“Did he touch you like this?” Seton’s finger and thumb closed harshly upon her nipple, pinching so hard that Onora whimpered.
Yet a pang speared her lower belly. “Whatever happened, it was as the goddess wished it,” he went on, his face impassive.
“You were destined to be here with your father, to enter the temple, to take the scarab—chosen by the goddess herself.”
Forming the words was difficult. “It wasn’t as you think. I really…didn’t…” Were her words slurring?
“I knew it was you, as soon as I returned from Cairo.” More gently now, he rubbed the swollen peak of her breast. “I found three pearl buttons on the floor of the sanctuary. It was obvious they’d come from a woman’s costume, and you were the lone female in the camp at the time.
Was it upon the night your father died that you took it? ”
She nodded, unable to deny the truth.
“Qadesh follows her own, mysterious path. I was content to let the goddess work upon you in whatever way she saw fit. I knew you would return to be with me again, to fulfil the purpose for which she chose you.”