“So have you,” he replied. “You’re here, after all.”
She nodded, acknowledging the enormity of that simple fact. Here she was, embarked on an impossible journey, yet it was the proximity of this man and the echoes of their past that left her strangely disoriented. She had no idea how to bridge the chasm between what once was and what might still be. She wasn’t certain he wanted her to.
Max leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of uncharacteristic openness. “So,” he began, his voice hesitant, as though steeling himself for an attack. “It seems we have years to catch up on. Where shall we start?”
The fact that he was willing to have such a conversation surprised her, but she wasn’t going to deny that she’d been wanting this since she’d first seen him at The Smuggler’s Lantern. “Perhaps with the most recent battles? You must tell me how you went from the army to become an expedition guide.”
He shrugged, a motion she found almost painfully familiar, and she found herself wishing he hadn’t put his shirt back on. She’d love to watch the flex of his muscles as he moved.... “After the war, I’d had enough of soldiering, so I sold my commission and found my way to Athens. I’d always had an interest in seeing all those places I learned about in school. A group of scholars was looking for a man to oversee the safety of their dig site, and I was the least useless they could find. Eventually, I found myself in Egypt for the same reasons.”
“I see you’ve not lost your humility,” she teased gently. “And does it satisfy you, this work?”
He paused, as though contemplating how much truth to share. “More than I expected. It isn’t soldiering, but there is a thrill in the unknown, in discovery. It is never dull.” A shadow flickered across his face. “Then again, dull would have been a blessing at times. And I hate the way they rape and pillagehistory, only interested in what they can make off it and not what it could teach them.”
“You never wanted to return to England?” she asked softly.
“I’ve visited occasionally, when the homesickness became too much to bear, but over the years, I’ve found that there’s nothing there for me anymore.” He offered her a crooked smile, but it did not reach his eyes. “And you, Eden? All these years, I’ve pictured you living a charmed life. Happy in a grand house, building a comfortable nest.”
She held his gaze, feeling the vulnerability that edged his sardonic wit. “Quite the opposite, I fear,” she confessed, surprised at how easily the admission came. “My marriage was not a good one. We were hardly ever in the same house. I spent most of my time in the country. I buried myself in books, in my studies. Ancient civilizations were my salvation, you might say.”
“And now Egypt.”
“And now Egypt,” she echoed. “It is the culmination of everything I’ve dreamed of, everything I was denied when my father forced me to marry Richard.” The fervor in her voice startled even her, a reminder of how long she’d kept it subdued. But she wanted him to know that she hadn’t married Richard willingly.
“Was he cruel to you?” Max asked softly. “Your husband?”
“He didn’t beat me, if that’s what you mean.” She bit her lip. “But there are other types of cruelty. I didn’t realize that he had no interest in a real marriage.” Heat crept up her face, but she pressed on. She needed him to know... all of it. She didn’t want him to think she’d moved on from him, that she’d ever shared herself with anyone in the ways she had with him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“He... had no interest in women,” she said in a rush. “I didn’t know at first, had never even conceived of such a possibility.I didn’t understand why he didn’t want to consummate our marriage... When I finally gathered the courage to discuss it with him, he told me that he didn’t find me pleasing.”
Tears stung her eyes at the admission. She didn’t think she could ever adequately convey how much that had hurt her and shattered her confidence. For years, she’d thought she was to blame. That her gangly limbs and bright red hair had made her too hideous to touch. And he’d let her believe that. She feared he’d even taken pleasure in it.
He leaned forward and brushed a tear off her cheek, his fingertips lingering, a strange look on his face. “Are you telling me that... he never once touched you?”
She nodded, and suddenly he was on the bunk beside her, pressing her head against his broad chest, his arms wrapped around her. “I was furious when I heard you’d wed, and to another younger son, nonetheless. I wanted to kill him. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being with another man.”
He pressed his lips to her temple and pulled back enough to meet her shocked gaze. “I hate that he made you feel like you weren’t good enough. Don’t you know that you’re perfect? Memories of making love to you have haunted me all these years.”
Her throat locked up, refusing to allow a single word to escape. All she could do was snuggle back against him and bury her face against his chest once more. His scent, sandalwood, cloves, and sea air, overwhelmed her.
She’d missed him so much.
He seemed to sense that she was completely undone, and he didn’t say anything else. He just leaned back against the bulkhead, a pillow tucked behind his head, and held her against his chest, his hand lightly stroking her hair.
The storm persisted, relentless in its fury. Yet within the cramped confines of the cabin, Eden felt a shifting, a loosening of the emotional walls she had so carefully erected.
Max was here; he obviously still cared.He thinks that I’m perfect.
All those long years of doubting herself, doubting her worth as a woman, faded away.
In this moment at least, she had her best friend back.
As the night wore on, he told her of the terror and loneliness of his years in the army, of all the terrible things he’d seen and done. He’d been badly injured in the Zulu campaign, slashed by a spear, which explained the scar she’d seen when his shirt had been off. It had gotten infected, and he’d spent a miserable month in an army hospital.
In return, she finally found the words to tell him what her marriage had been like. How Richard and his father had refused to allow her to pursue her interests, how they’d undermined her at every turn.
“I wanted a family so badly,” she admitted. “It killed me when I realized that I’d never have that. My father must have known I’d spend the rest of my life alone and barren, but he didn’t care.”
