Chapter Nine
When Max awoke the next morning, he was alone in his narrow bunk.
He turned his head toward the empty pillow beside him, sighing with disappointment.
He’d hoped Eden would stay with him all night, but of course, she’d had to go.
She’d probably wanted to check on Mrs. Carlisle, and even though she was a widow, it wouldn’t be wise to be seen leaving his cabin in the morning.
Still... It had been nice to have fallen asleep beside her.
He reached out and plucked a lone flame-red strand of hair from the pillowcase, smiling a bit as he wound it around his thumb.
The last thing he’d expected was for her to find her way to him last night.
And he wasn’t quite certain how to feel about the fact that she had.
He’d meant to keep her at arm’s length during this entire trip, but it had felt good to know that when she’d been afraid, he was the one she’d turned to.
With a sigh, he pushed out of bed and performed his ablutions, his thoughts still scattered. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, he left the room and hurried to the dining room, hoping he’d find her there.
Sunlight streamed through the portholes, the day remarkably calm and sunny after the chaos of the night.
As he approached the dining room, he heard the clatter of silverware and the low murmuring of the other passengers.
Everyone seemed in a boisterous mood, probably relieved to have made it through the storm.
His gaze was immediately drawn to Eden, who sat on the far side of the room from the door where he’d entered. She looked neat as a pin in a dark blue travel suit, serene as she sipped her tea and stared out the window. He swallowed drily and crossed over to her.
“May I sit with you?” he asked.
She smiled at him and gestured toward the empty chair. “Of course.”
He sat down across from her and when an attentive waiter immediately approached them, he ordered some tea and a hearty breakfast. Once they were alone again, he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. “How are you this morning?”
“Much better, now that the seas are calm.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye, but I wanted to check on Mrs. Carlisle.”
“I thought as much,” he replied. “How is she?”
“Absolutely miserable.” She shook her head. “The poor woman. I feel bad for leaving her alone all night. When I left my room, I didn’t intend to stay with you so long.”
He held her gaze, all his promises to himself flying out the window once again. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“So am I,” she admitted,
The pain deep inside him went dormant, if only for a few moments. This was how it could have been. This was how it should have been.
Before Max could respond, a shadow fell over their table. Sir Thaddeus Albright sidled up, his smile thin and unpleasant. Max had unfortunately run into him a few times in Cairo—a minor scholar who believed his own meager publications qualified him to judge the truly brilliant.
“A truly wild night, wouldn’t you say, Lady Eden?
” Albright’s voice was oily, and Max didn’t like the way he was looking at her.
“I must confess, I found myself thinking of all those lectures you attended in London. All that talk of the ancient world. A shame, really, that your little sightseeing trip might be over before it’s even begun. ”
Eden straightened, her back rigid. “The storm was an inconvenience, nothing more. We intend to proceed as planned.”
“Of course you do,” he said, the words dripping with condescension.
“But the desert is so dreadfully hot, isn’t it?
One might almost suspect that after all that chatter about dusty old books and vague theories, the reality of a real expedition will prove too much for a delicate constitution.
” He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“You know, the rumor in London is that your late husband’s social circle is taking bets on how soon you’ll return.
It’s not a question of if you tire of this whim, but when.
A foolish endeavor, orchestrated by a foolish woman, so the story goes. ”
A low growl of fury escaped Max. The storm last night had left Eden somewhat vulnerable, and Sir Thaddeus Albright was circling like a vulture.
Albright glanced at Max, a new, mocking glint in his eyes. “Oh, my apologies, Thorne. I forgot you were a part of this folly. The loyal soldier, standing by his... benefactor. One can only imagine what comforts the storm forced you to share when Lady Eden needed a man to steady her nerves.”
Max pushed his chair back, the scrape of wood on the floor silencing the entire room. The cool composure he’d cultivated since the war was gone, replaced by a raw, protective instinct to protect what was his.
Before he could speak, a cool hand settled on his arm. “Max. Sit down,” Eden’s voice was low, but a steely command lay beneath her quiet tone. “He’s not worth it.”
He hesitated, the urge to silence Albright warring with his need to please her. He met her gaze, and in her eyes, he saw not fear, but a weary resolve. She was right. Violence would only prove Albright’s point. Max slowly sat back down, his jaw tight.
A low, sneering laugh escaped Albright. “A pity, Thorne. I was hoping for a more... physical defense of your lady’s honor.” He gave a mocking bow. “Good day.” He turned and sauntered away, a trail of smug satisfaction in his wake.
The silence that followed felt heavy. Max’s anger simmered beneath the surface. Eden stared out the window, her knuckles white where she gripped the arms of her chair.
“He’s a fool,” Max finally said, the words feeling inadequate.
Eden let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “No, he’s not a fool.
He’s a product of his upbringing, just like all the others.
He believes what he’s been taught to believe: that a woman’s mind is a delicate thing, prone to flights of fancy.
That my passion for this work is merely a passing interest, a whim of a wealthy woman. ”
She finally looked at him, her eyes glistening. “Do you know how maddening it is? To have a man look at you and see a silly woman playing with dusty old books? To have them pat you on the head and praise your ‘diligence’ and then dismiss everything you say as charming nonsense?”
Max had to look away from the raw hurt in her eyes. “He doesn’t know how hard you’ve worked, how strong you are,” he said, thinking of the long, lonely years she’d spent poring over texts, the very years that they’d been apart.
“No, he doesn’t,” she said, her voice dropping.
“But he isn’t the only one who thinks that I’m a widow with too much time on her hands, dabbling in a man’s world.
They think that this expedition is my desperate, foolish attempt to carve out a purpose for myself.
And God, Max, I want to prove them wrong more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
I want to find that labyrinth. I want to hold that scarab in my hands and tell them all that they were wrong. Every single one of them.”
Max reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “We will,” he promised, his voice low and firm. “We will find it.” He felt the quiet tremor in her hand beneath his, and for the first time, he believed what he said.
Last night had changed things, and he no longer wanted to simply get her home safely. No, he wanted to help her prove her theories and stick it to everyone who’d ever doubted her, even himself.
Later that evening, the deck of the Constellation was lit only by the low-hanging moon and the faint glow of the ship’s lanterns.
Eden stood at the rail, the cold sea spray misting her face as she watched the inky water churn beneath her.
The humiliation of what had happened in the dining room this morning lingered, a bitter aftertaste she couldn’t wash away.
Albright’s words and the knowing glances of the other passengers had cut deeper than she cared to admit. She had been foolish to think she could escape London society’s judgment even here.
A familiar presence joined her at the rail. She didn’t have to look to know it was Max. He stood there, a solid, comforting figure beside her, his quiet strength a stark contrast to the roiling waves below.
“If you’re thinking about what happened with Albright, don’t. He’s just jealous because he’s never accomplished anything on his own,” Max said, breaking the silence. His voice was low and rough, but the steady kindness in it eased the tension in her shoulders.
“I know,” she murmured, smiling tiredly. “Thank you for that, though. For standing up for me.”
He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I’d do it a hundred times over.”
A quiet moment passed between them, filled with the rush of the ocean and the steady hum of the engines.
She thought of their stolen moments in her father’s library, of the easy laughter and intellectual sparring that had been the foundation of their affection.
The years since had been long and lonely.
Thank God she’d found the other widows to fill some of that void, but even though she loved them dearly, it wasn’t the same.
“I missed you,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “Talking to you last night made me remember how it used to be between us. I missed our friendship.”
He turned to face her fully, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek gently.
“I missed you, too, Eden. More than you know.” His eyes, normally guarded and distant, held a warmth that pulled her closer.
The air between them hummed with an unspoken yearning, the connection they had once shared flaring to life again.
He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.
But she didn’t. She met him halfway, her lips parting as his descended, and a rush of longing swept through her.
His mouth was warm, and his tongue tasted of brandy.
It was everything she remembered and everything she had dreamed of all these years.
But as he pulled her closer, a jolt of cold reality brought her back.
She was no longer just Eden. She was the widowed Lady Eden Pemberly, the benefactor of this expedition, and he was the man she had hired to lead it.
Their roles were professional, their mission was to be taken seriously, and a romance between them would jeopardize everything.
It would make them a laughingstock in the eyes of people like Albright.
He’d already insinuated as much earlier, and she simply could not prove him right.
With a soft gasp, she broke the kiss, pushing gently against his chest. “Max,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of desire and regret. “We can’t.”
He looked at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Eden, what—”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I’m so glad that you’re here with me. And there’s no one I’d trust more to lead me out into the desert.
But I can’t help but think that this...” She gestured between them.
“This attraction... It can’t end well. It will only distract us and give people like Albright more reason to think I’m nothing but a foolish woman. ”
His eyes flared with some emotion she couldn’t name before they shuttered once again, the protective wall slamming back into place. “Of course,” he said woodenly. “We must care about what Sir Thaddeus thinks, mustn’t we?”
He turned and strode away, his shoulders rigid and his footsteps swallowed by the engine’s hum.
She wanted to call him back and knew she’d handled that all so badly, but the shock of that kiss had been overwhelming.
The intimacy that had flared between them last night had been wonderful, but it had also terrified her.
She couldn’t afford to fall in love with him again; she couldn’t afford to let herself believe he might still love her.
Albright’s sneer had been a grim reminder of how easily the world could make a mockery out of her ambitions.
Lifting her chin, she glanced around, hoping no one had witnessed her moment of weakness. As much as Max’s kiss had rocked her soul, she couldn’t let it happen again.