Chapter Eleven #2
Max stayed close, silently guarding her.
He knew the city’s dangers as well as its delights and kept an eye on those who watched Eden a bit too closely.
Her fine linen traveling gown, though plain by her standards, marked her as a foreigner of means.
He could see how she drew attention, a flame attracting moths in the form of pickpockets and petty thieves.
He was going to have to insist that she dress differently from now on, though he wasn’t certain what to do about that flame-red hair.
It made her stand out no matter where she went, but especially here, where redheads were few and far between.
“Careful,” he murmured, leaning in as they passed through a particularly narrow street. “The scent of your wealth’s in the air, and the jackals are circling.”
She dismissed his concern with a wave. “Nonsense. Everyone’s been perfectly courteous.”
But Max’s instincts were seldom wrong. As they paused to admire a set of delicate carvings, he saw the figure lurking at the edge of his vision—a boy, quick and wiry, his eyes fixed on the flash of gold around Eden’s neck.
Before Max could react, the thief made his move, darting forward and reaching for the clasp.
Eden’s gasp cut through the din. “Thief!” she cried, her voice heavy with shock, as he tore off with her necklace in his grubby little hand.
Max sprang into action, his soldier’s reflexes swift and unerring. He intercepted the boy in two strides, grasping him firmly by the arm. The youth struggled, eyes wide with panic. With a final, futile wriggle, the boy surrendered the necklace. Max released him, and he fled into the crowd.
Breathing hard, Eden stood frozen, her eyes locked on Max. He returned the necklace, letting his hand linger for the briefest moment on hers before she took it.
“Still think everyone’s courteous?” he quipped, the hint of a challenge in his voice.
“I stand corrected,” she replied, her cheeks flushed with obvious embarrassment for her earlier bravado. “But you saved the day. I am so glad to have you with me, Max.”
He was unaccustomed to such praise, and her admiration felt like an unexpected balm. There had been a time when he had wanted nothing more than to be her hero. They exchanged a look, weighted with shared memories and unspoken words, until Eden broke the tension with a laugh.
“What a tale I’ll have to tell of my first night in Cairo!” she exclaimed, slipping the necklace into her reticule, which he approved of, although who knew how many people had seen her do it.
They moved on, Max more vigilant than ever, while Eden seemed buoyed by the excitement. Their camaraderie felt as easy as it had in those distant days, before life scattered them on separate paths.
As evening approached, the city took on a golden hue, the relentless sun finally easing its grip. He led her to a small outdoor café tucked beneath a faded canvas awning, away from the worst of the crowds, where the aroma of spices and roasting meat mingled with the sweet scent of hookah smoke.
Eden’s laughter was still tinged with exhilaration as she recounted their adventure. “I can scarcely believe we’re really here, in this magnificent place. Today was... unforgettable.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Max replied. He wanted nothing more than to focus on the lovely woman across the table, but his senses were still attuned to all the possible dangers lurking in the darkness.
He’d made certain she took the chair farthest from the street, with her back against the side of the building, but that left him with his own back to the danger, a position that he’d have preferred to avoid.
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze locking earnestly with his. “Not just for today, but for all of it. There’s no one I’d rather share this with.”
“You’re welcome,” he said roughly. He wanted to tell her that he felt the same, but he couldn’t risk the pain of another withdrawal.
“Are you quite certain this is... hygienic, Max?” Eden asked, her tone light, but her eyes, wide and curious, darted around the bustling cafe. She looked like a bird of paradise dropped into a marketplace, her crisp linen suit a beacon of European order amidst the kaleidoscope of local life.
He chuckled. “More hygienic than some of the army provisions I’ve endured, I assure you. And far more flavorful.”
A young boy, no older than ten, approached their table, carrying a tray laden with small, round disks of bread and a shallow bowl of what looked like stewed brown beans. Eden’s eyebrows rose.
“This, my lady, is ful medames,” Max explained, gesturing to the bowl. “Stewed fava beans, seasoned with cumin, lemon, and olive oil. Usually served with plenty of fresh bread.” He tore off a piece of the warm, pillowy bread and dipped it into the rich, aromatic beans.
Eden eyed it with a mixture of apprehension and fascination. “How utterly exotic.” She tentatively broke off a piece of bread, mimicking his movement. She scooped a small amount of the ful onto it and brought it to her lips.
Max watched her, a quiet amusement building in his chest. She was probably going to hate it.
Instead, her eyes widened. A slow smile spread across her face. “Max,” she breathed, “this is... astonishing. The spices, the creaminess. It’s absolutely delightful!” She took another, more confident bite. “I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”
He felt a genuine smile break through his own carefully constructed composure. “I told you. There’s more to Egypt than just dust and ancient kings.”
She dabbed her lips delicately with a napkin. “Indeed. My world, it seems, has been far too small.” Her gaze, soft and contemplative, met his. The noisy street faded into a blur. “To think of all the flavors I’ve missed.”
“Well, all is not lost. You have a lifetime of discovery ahead,” he said, his voice a little gruffer than he intended.
She nodded, her eyes still on his. “A lifetime of discovery,” she repeated, her gaze lingering for a moment longer before she turned back to the bowl, scooping up another spoonful of the humble, exotic dish.
For a moment, the labyrinth and all the complexities of their mission faded, leaving only the vibrant city and the shared pleasure of a simple, unexpected meal.
As they ate, the conversation shifted to all the things that remained to be done before they headed out to the desert. Yet the past lingered, a persistent shadow that he couldn’t ignore.
Finally, Eden looked at him with a frankness that caught him off guard. “It’s been a long time since we’ve shared a meal like this. Too long.”
He met her gaze, a mix of emotions passing across his features. “I’ve missed it,” he confessed, the simple words carrying years of unspoken regret.
“Have you?” Her voice softened, a genuine warmth replacing her usual polish.
“Of course,” he murmured, cursing himself even as he said it. So much for his vow of keeping things professional. What was it about this woman that made him break every rule he had?
Eden reached across the table, her hand resting near his. “Max, when this trip is done, where will you go?”
He looked at her hand, his throat tight. He knew what she was really asking: Will you stay? He saw the vulnerability and the hope in her eyes, but all he could remember was the cold finality of her rejection on the ship. The last thing he could afford was for her to turn away from him again.
He squeezed her hand, then pulled his own back, anchoring himself against the tide of feeling. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly, the words coming out harder than he intended. “I’ll probably look for another job.”
Her face fell a bit, and she pulled her hand back.
A heavy silence fell between them. Max traced the rim of his empty tea glass, feeling like an arse for ruining the evening.
He needed to anchor them both back in the noise, the spice, and the tangible present as the waiter brought them more food. No sense lingering on the past.
“This,” he said, a soft smile touching his lips as he pushed his spoon into the thick, emerald contents of his bowl and raised it slightly.
“Eden, this improbable, luminous sludge—it’s called Molokhia—is wonderful.
” He let the stew's savory, slightly slick texture coat his tongue, savoring its richness. “It’s sweet and earthy, like liquid velvet, and then the shocking, vital hit of the garlic and coriander arrives. You’ve got to try it. ”
Obviously glad for the change of subject, she smiled and reached across the table, taking a bit of it on her spoon.
She frowned. “It looks like something that demands a great deal of trust,” she said with a laugh.
She put it in her mouth, her eyes lighting up.
“It’s strange, but I love it. Oh, Max! I love trying new things. ”
Max laughed. “I like watching you as you do.” He nodded to the skewer of the charred, spiced lamb on her plate. “You’ll never want to go back to eating English food once you’ve tried all that Egypt has to offer, though I must admit we won’t be eating like this once we venture out into the desert.”
She shrugged and took another bite. “Well, we’ll just have to enjoy it while we can, then.”
And as he went back to his own meal, he promised himself he’d do that not only with the delicious food but with the time he was able to spend with her. Worrying about the future was pointless. For once, he needed to try to live in the here and now.