Intensely annoying!
He certainly didn’t deserve to have been doing any of the things she’d been imagining.
Did he somehow know? Had she given herself away with some expression or some small sound—a moan or something equally mortifying?
God forbid she might have murmured his name!
How long, exactly, had he been beside her?
“It’s inappropriate, don’t you think, creeping up on a person. I ought to be able to take the air without being forced into unexpected conversation.”
“Easy there, tiger!” Mr. Balfour held up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright. I was taking a stroll and saw you standing. Thought I’d come and check on you; see if you were all right.” He took a step back.
“Don’t go. Please. You…caught me off guard.” She hated herself for being so bristly around him. She was never this rude to anyone and, of all people, Jack Balfour didn’t deserve to be treated this way. “I don’t usually wander around in my dressing gown. It’s just that there’s something special about the desert at night. Sometimes, I can’t stay in bed. I need to look at the sky and breathe it all in.” Abruptly she stopped, wishing she was better at thinking before rambling on.
She also rather wished she was wearing the other dressing gown—the one that had a lot more lace. She’d thrown it over the cobra, and Kareem had arranged to have it washed.
“I’m the same.” Mr. Balfour appeared to accept her half-formed apology. Resting his hands in his pockets, he perused the stars. When he spoke at last, he said, “You went to the temple this morning. What did you think?”
I hate it in there!
There’s something grotesque about that statue, and I want nothing to do with it.
She couldn’t say any of that, of course. He’d think her deranged.
“It’s impressive. Unique!” She tried to sound nonchalant.
“Something odd about it, I think.” He frowned. “That statue alone is enough to give one bad dreams.”
Bad dreams? If he knew!
Onora bit her lip. “Seton showed me thetext on the side of the High Priestess’ sarcophagus—about the goddess summoning worshippers to her, making them obey her and so on, all for some bestowing of vitality, or well-being.”
Mr. Balfour pulled a face. “Those hieroglyphs read more like a curse than a promise of reward.”
A curse! Exactly!
She’d never believed in curses, although it was hard to deny such a thing might have power if someone believed it true.
He carried on, “I was only permitted to enter the sanctuary a handful of times; supposed to be recording the hieroglyphs and replicating the friezes, but I made some disparaging remark about their lewdness. Seton didn’t mince his words. Made it clear I was no longer welcome down there.”
Lewd?
Those peculiar positions…wasthatwhat they were doing?
“Pardon my bluntness. There’s no reason for a young woman to know of such things,”Mr. Balfour added hurriedly.
“Apart from the fact that young women become young wives,” Onora replied curtly. “They deserve to know what’s expected of them.”
He rubbed his chin. “What might be observed in the average marriage bed has little to do with the cult of Qadesh, I can assure you. Its practices were cruel—live sacrifices and…uh…other things, sending initiates into a frenzied state. Small wonder they believed themselves possessed by the goddess.”
She appreciated that he was attempting to speak frankly with her, even if he was skirting around some of the facts.
Returning to the less controversial aspect of their conversation, she said, “Perhaps Seton will relent in letting you work on the site. You are his nephew, after all.”
Mr. Balfour blew out a long breath. “More like he’s waiting to get rid of me, but I’ll save him the bother. I’ve applied for work with Flinders, south of here. Rowed down yesterday with a letter offering my services. I’ll work for nothing, ifnecessary, for the chance to learn from him.”
She felt deflated, thinking of him leaving.
