“And a good thing Mr. Price is here, sir.” Though she spoketo the sergeant, she grinned up at Edmund. “You’ll need him for verification of the stolen goods.”
Edmund tilted his head. “What stolen goods?”
Ami swept her hands toward the crates strewn about, some overturned and spilling out their contents. “Your Egyptian artifacts.”
31
It was mesmerizing, this clickety-clack. The gentle swaying of the train. The enchanting land between sleep and awareness. Slowly, Ami fluttered open her eyelids, scorning the loss of the delicious nap she’d been enjoying on the velvet sofa in Edmund’s private car. Truly, she ought not have given in to such a decadent rest, but after a full two days of police interviews and helping to haul Edmund’s antiquities to a workroom at the British Museum, she’d been exhausted.
Without moving a muscle, she narrowed her gaze on Edmund. He sat across from her at a table with pen in hand, afternoon sunlight a halo on his bowed head. My, but he was handsome ... and yet so much more. What a warrior he’d been on her behalf, both inside Wormwell’s warehouse and in the aftermath. So attentive to her needs. So protective of her safety. She couldn’t help but admire the scratches on his hand, the bruise near his wrist—all a tangible reminder he’d risked his very life to rescue her. How fiercely she loved this man!
As if feeling her perusal, he swiveled his head toward her. Affection glimmered silver in his blue eyes, twinkling all the more as a disarming smile lit his face. “Good timing. I was just about to rouse you. We’re nearly home.”
Home. What a slap in the face. What did she have to go home to but the empty rooms of a small cottage? A lonely life of ... what? She didn’t have a job anymore. And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would be the same after living the past month at Edmund’s side. Just the thought of leaving behind his daily companionship felt like death.
She pushed up to sit. Continuing that morbid line of thinking would only burst the dam of hot tears gathering in her eyes.
Edmund padded over to her, the cushion sinking next to her as he sat. “What’s this?” His knuckle crooked beneath her chin, and ever so gently, he tipped her face to his. Concern marred his brow. “Are you not glad to forget everything that happened in London and return to Oxford?”
She forced a smile, though in truth it probably looked like a pathetic sort of grimace. “I am glad.”
“But?”
She squared her shoulders, eager to end such a close scrutiny of emotions that not even she wanted to deal with right now. “You don’t believe me?”
“Not at all.” He traced his finger along the side of her eye. “Your left brow droops ever so slightly right here when you’re sad.”
Bosh. He knew her far too well. Not even Polly had ever recognized such a telling gesture.
She angled her head, retreating from his touch. “I should think you’d be the gloomy one. You’ve lost your chance at Parliament. And after such rough handling of your artifacts, even with my father staying behind to salvage what he can, I daresay Mr. Harrison will renegotiate for a much lower price. It may not be the sum your friend Sanjay needs.”
“Those are my worries, not yours.” He bopped her on the nose, a playful move, one that only increased her melancholy.
“Come now,” he murmured. “What is it that troubles you?”
A great question. One she wasn’t sure how to answer. After the exhilarating—albeit deadly—adventure they’d shared, she was loath to go back to normal life ... but how did a ladygracefully say such a thing? She inhaled deeply, scorning such an aberrant notion. She was tired, that’s all. Weary. Which was to be expected after such a harrowing experience.
Steeling herself to live in the moment instead of borrowing sorrow from the future or past, she faced him. “Right now, I haven’t a care in the world.”
Brakes screeched, and the train juddered to a halt.
Edmund steadied her with a touch to her arm. “And yet time moves on. I would know what it is that worries you so I can vanquish it.”
She grinned, genuinely this time. “You cannot fix everything, Mr. Problem Solver.”
“If it concerns you, I will die in the trying.”
The scratches on the back of his hand backed up his words, doing all sorts of strange things to her heart. “I believe you would.”
“Then tell me.”
She sighed. The man was a hound with a mutton bone. A perfect trait for a successful businessman, but she wasn’t so sure she liked such an attribute when turned on her.
And that set of his jaw would not be denied.
“It’s just that...” She huffed against the sofa cushion. “Well, now that we’re back to our former lives, you’ll go your way and I’ll go mine. As it should be, naturally.” She flung her hand into the air, thoroughly frustrated. “You’d think after all these years of parting with my father when he goes on a dig, I’d have mastered saying good-bye. Apparently, I haven’t, so there you are.”
“Then don’t say good-bye.” He grabbed her hand, entwining his big fingers with hers.
