Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [110]
“Could it have been—” She broke off and directed an inimical glance at their unfortunate steward. Completely undone by a sign of disfavor from his goddess, Nasir burst into tears and fled.
“Christ!” Ramses slammed his knife down. “My fond uncle, you mean. Nursemaid or guardian angel? You think we need one, don’t you? Obviously I can’t take care of myself—or you—”
“You’re impossible! I’m going to write the parents and tell them what happened.”
Her hair always came loose when she was angry. The lamplight ran golden fingers along the curling locks. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with tears of fury.
“Do as you like,” Ramses said shortly. “I’m going to bed. It’s been rather a long day.”
He was tired and he’d acquired several new bruises during his precipitate descent of the cliff, but he was still awake, open-eyed in the dark, when Nefret slipped in and closed the door. She stood still for a few moments, waiting for him to speak; when he remained mute and motionless, she moved quietly to the other side of the room and began to undress. She took her time about it, hanging her clothes neatly over a chair before she slipped into a nightgown. His night vision had always been excellent and he had a hard time keeping his breath even. She tiptoed toward the bed. He was about to reach out for her when she threw herself down beside him. The bedsprings squealed.
“I know you aren’t asleep! How dare you behave this way?”
He caught her in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“And don’t apologize!”
“Aren’t you being a little inconsistent?”
“I was afraid.” She hid her face against his shoulder. “That’s why I was so horrid.”
“I wasn’t at my best either.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It was a jolly good argument!”
He couldn’t joke about it. “I didn’t lie to you, Nefret. I’d never take on another job without telling you.”
“Consulting me.”
“That’s what I meant to say. I can’t make sense of what happened today, but I’m certain it had nothing to do with—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her lips moved from his throat to his chin. “You shaved!”
“Well—uh—I thought . . .”
“Oh, darling, you really are adorable!” She was laughing as his mouth found hers.
Sometime later, he said drowsily, “I’m beginning to understand why Mother and Father argue so often. Making up afterward is awfully pleasant.”
“Mmmm.” It was hardly more than a breath against his shoulder. He thought she was asleep until a very quiet, very firm voice said, “Now tell me about Enid Fraser.”
From Letter Collection T
Dearest Mother and Father,
You’ll have received Ramses’s telegram by now. I won’t apologize; I told you I couldn’t keep things from him. In order to set a good example, I will now tell you several things you need to know—with, I should add, the agreement of my husband. First, Miss Minton is here—Margaret, I should say—she asked me to use her first name. I don’t trust her one inch, but I can’t make out what she’s after, unless . . . But that would be insane, wouldn’t it? She seemed very interested in tomb robberies and antiquities theft. We met her at luncheon today, and Alain Kuentz joined us—he’s back at Deir el Medina—and she pounced on him with all her claws extended when he casually mentioned that it was he who blew up the German House—because, he claimed, it was a center for the illicit antiquities trade—and other things! See what you can find out about that. Howard Carter is back in Cairo, I understand; Alain denied that Howard was involved, but in a way that implied the reverse!
The other point of interest is that someone dropped a rock on us today. We were near Deir el Bahri, looking for a tomb Alain said had been robbed, and Ramses was halfway up the cliff when it happened. The rock missed him, but not by much, and shortly thereafter a body followed the rock. It landed practically on top of poor young Mr. Barton, who was with us. The man’s face had been smashed, possibly before he fell.
I’m giving you the bare facts. I don’t know what they mean—at least I hope I don’t—but I beg you will not come rushing to our rescue. Ramses