Temptation & Twilight (13 page)

“Very well, Lizzy. Then you must call me by name.

Julian.”

It suited him, she thought as she carefully raised the delicate cup to her lips. It was a strong name. A very masculine name, with a hint of sensuality to it.

Be careful, Lizzy,
she warned herself,
you’re falling too
fast.
And she needn’t remind herself what happened the last time she’d fallen headlong into something like this.

“It’s a lovely day today. I wonder how many more can be in store for us with winter approaching?” her visitor murmured.

“Yes, I can feel the sun shining on my face. Such a treat for November.”

“November in Egypt is always sunny and hot. Sand-BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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storms are prevalent, as well. The golden sands whirl up in circles and cover every surface imaginable.”

“Is that just in the desert, or does it reach the cities, too?”

“Lizzy, I may safely assure you that sand has a way of reaching every nook and cranny—and I do mean
every.
” She laughed. “My governess used to have a fit of va-pours when I would come home from the sea. I had an affinity for castles, you see, and thought nothing of plop-ping myself down in the sand to play. Of course, only damp sand will do, and damp sand makes a hash out of ladies’ stockings.”

The chink of china told her he had rested his cup in the saucer. “I can see you, you know. Sitting in the sand, black hair plaited beneath a straw bonnet, and scoops of brown, wet sand marring your gown.”

“I wanted to wear britches, but my governess swooned at the thought.”

“Harridan, weren’t you?”

“Indeed,” she said with a smile. “Not a perfect young lady as I ought to have been.” Her father had berated her for that, and her mother had pleaded with her to act as she should. But Lizzy had always been of an independent mind. Despite her father’s numerous violent outbursts, she had refused to cower—or cow to his demands.

“How long have you been in England, Julian?”

“Only three months.”

“Do you miss the East?”

She sensed him shrug, heard the way his toe seemed to tap against the carpet. “I was a small boy when my parents left England. I barely remember it. The East has been my home—it’s what I know best. But I am growing to enjoy England, and London, especially,” he said, BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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his voice dropping, “since strolling with a lovely young woman last night.”

Her smile, she knew, would appear modest and shy.

She was flattered and embarrassed, having no experience with compliments. Her one and only dalliance had not been this way. It had been wild and frenzied, full of pent-up longing and animal needs. It had not been polite and flirtatious. The man had been the furthest thing from a civilized gentleman.

“You said your parents took you there when you were young. What was the lure for them?”

“My father was a diplomat. Second son, you know, so he needed a career. He loved travel, as did my mother, and different cultures had always been an obsession of his. So he packed us up and moved us to Cairo, where he was the highest ranking diplomat at the British Embassy. It was,” Sheldon said with a fondness in his voice,

“a childhood that every young boy should experience.”

“You sound like someone I know,” she said, unable to hide her frown. “All full of adventure and intrigue—

but only for boys.”

Julian laughed. “My apologies, Lizzy. I should have said ‘a childhood any child—male or female—should experience.’”

“Only if you believe it.”

There was a pause for a brief, tense second. Elizabeth could not regret what she had said. As a female, she had been left out of too many things in life, things that her younger brother had been entitled to, things he did with Black and Alynwick simply because he was the eldest male of the family. While Adrian had been encouraged to experience the world, she had been expected to stay home and learn how to play the piano and embroider cushions and plan elegant dinners. She hadn’t wanted any of that.

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She’d wanted to don a pair of britches and boots and a billowing white shirt and ride the deserts of the East on a black, glistening Arabian, just as Black and Alynwick and her brother had.

It was grossly unfair, the limitations that English society put upon the female sex.

“I have uncovered a truth about you, Elizabeth,” Julian announced. He didn’t sound at all perturbed by it.

“You’re a feminist.”

“Not a feminist,” she clarified, “but one who simply believes in equality. There are many females equally capable as any man—at least in heart, drive and intelligence.”

“I do believe in equality, Elizabeth. For instance, I think it would be perfectly wonderful to have you accompany me to the East, riding beside me in the desert, meeting the tribes, tactfully negotiating peace and trade.”

“You flatter me, my lord.”

“No,” he said, and she heard his cup being set on the table. “Not flattery. I’m not one for insincerity. It’s true.

A man could enjoy so many more facets of the world if he could bring along a partner who suited him in every way. There’s only so much enjoyment to be had with your mates, after all.”

Flushing, she picked up her biscuit and nibbled on it.

Lizzy knew what he was referring to, and she knew she was blushing. Yet she could not deny she found his forward way of speaking pleasing. A woman would know where she stood with him. And she respected that. An open honesty.

“I have not had a conversation like this in… Well, I don’t think I ever have,” Sheldon commented. “At least not with a lady. It’s rather refreshing.” Indeed it was. Their talk seemed so natural, flowing BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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from one topic to another, as if they had been friends for ages, not just new acquaintances. She had quite forgotten to be nervous.

“Now, then, I know you believe in the equality of the sexes, but what else, Elizabeth? Tell me something about yourself, something no one else knows.” She couldn’t. That would shock him, and most likely turn him away. Elizabeth York was considered an angel among women. She couldn’t very well admit that Lizzy York was a harlot who had risked all for a torrid love affair that had left her ruined and shattered—and disgraced. “I’m a bit of a bookie, I’m afraid. When I possessed sight, I had my nose in a book all the time. Since then, I have my companion, Maggie, read everything to me.”

“I enjoy reading, as well. Although my skills at reading aloud are a tad rusty. I shall have to practice if I am to impress you at all while reading to you.” She glanced away, despite the fact she could not see him. He was saying all the right things, making her thoughts fly high and her body warm.

“When I was younger, I enjoyed anything about the Knights Templar,” she blurted out. Oh, why had she said that? She was quite losing her head!

He paused, moved his chair closer. “Did you? I have a fondness for them, too. In Jerusalem, I studied them, and came across some evidence that they might possess the Holy Grail.”

Why had she opened up this discussion? Lizzy asked herself. She must steer him away from it, and any mention of a chalice—or a possible connection to the house of York. The last thing they needed was for Julian to discover that her ancestor had been a Templar, and had BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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been charged with the duty of shielding a chalice from the world.

“I found some rather interesting information on a golden chalice, and a group of Templars who reportedly were given sacred relics to protect,” Sheldon was saying.

“In fact, there were three of them, although there are stories that there were actually four. There is a considerable amount of evidence—and speculation—that they had a hand in building the Templar church.”

“Really?” Her voice sounded strangled, and the biscuit she was nibbling on was turning to dust in her mouth.

“I’ve discovered a very strong connection to the three Templars and the Temple Church at the Inns of Court.”

“How interesting.” She had not heard that, about the church. Strange. She wondered if Sussex knew of the connection.

“In fact,” Julian said, his voice filling with excitement,

“I have a grant from the British Archaeological Society to investigate the crypts below the church. There’s an array of underground tunnels and networks—so typical of the Templars. I mean to discover the secrets of that church, and the Knights who built it.”

She hoped the horror did not show in her eyes. “You’re an archaeologist, then?”

“I am. As the son of a second son, I never expected to come into a title. I needed a vocation, and living in Egypt, well, I was fascinated with archaeological digs, and their finds. I knew that delving into the earth and raising long-buried and forgotten relics was my future.

My father died five years ago, and when my uncle died this past spring, the title came to me. I never expected it. And when I learned I was to be an earl, I never expected to be able to indulge in my love of archaeology.

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But that’s changed now. I’ll begin working in the Templar church next week.”

Her mind was reeling. Not only with the implications for the Brethren Guardians, if Julian were to stumble on something about them, but herself, as well. Perhaps the earl could help her with the discovery of the identity of the Veiled Lady. He could be her eyes. They could work together…. She knew there was nothing in the journal to implicate the Guardians. There was absolutely no mention of them or the relics in the book, which was a diary recounting Sinjin York’s illicit affair with a woman who was his soul, or so he claimed.

“Elizabeth, would you like to come with me one day?

I realize that most women would find it tedious and dirty, but something tells me you might be very keen to experience a dig. It’s not the Egyptian desert, but it might be exciting all the same.”

Biting her lip, Elizabeth had to stop herself from jumping up from the settee and flinging herself into Julian’s arms. Oh, how dearly she wanted to join him. To learn of his discovery right alongside him. To be asked to help, and not told to stand back and stay safe. She had been sheltered and protected too long.

“I would love to, Julian.”

“Fantastic! I shall make the arrangements, then. Do I need to ask Sussex for his permission?”

“No indeed. I am nearly thirty, and he’s almost three years younger. I daresay I do not need his permission.” She sounded rather indignant.

“All right, then. I shall send around a missive, outlining the details. Your companion will read it to you, will she?”

“That will be delightful. And of course Maggie will read your missive and pen my reply.” BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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“Lizzy.” He coughed, cleared his throat. “The dig is not until next week. I was hoping…that is to say, might I call on you before that?”

“I was hoping you would,” she said, while her face flamed red. “I find your conversation vastly enjoyable.”

“Just my conversation?”

There was an awkward pause, while Lizzy struggled to respond. She was out of her element here. She’d never entertained a gentleman, a potential suitor before. It had not been like this with her lover. They had known each other forever. It had been Alynwick, of course, who had swept her off her feet and claimed her body and soul. Alynwick whom she had spent a summer making passionate love with. Alynwick who had betrayed and hurt her.

After that summer she’d stayed alone and apart.

The silence, she realized, was much too long. She needed to answer, but did not know how. Alynwick had taken the lead in their affair, and she had blindly followed. He had been the teacher and her the eager, apt pupil. She had never learned how to answer such a question as the one Sheldon was asking. And God above, she did not want to get it wrong. She wanted to do what was right, reply just as a lady of their social sphere would. Not as a woman who had spent a summer in shame.

“Elizabeth, you said that your friends frequently describe things to you.”

“It’s the only way I am able to see. I had the gift of sight for the first eighteen years of my life, so I am able to recall many things, and picture them if they’re described to me.”

“I see.”

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the fidgeting of a finger against his teacup, the tap of a toe….

“Forgive my impertinence, Elizabeth, but last night you informed me that you were the sort of woman who says what is on her mind.”

“And so I did.” She was nervous. Something was wrong. Perhaps she should have just admitted to him that it was more than their conversation she found enticing.

“I, too, prefer to speak plainly. I am open and honest, and feel that I must be that way with you.” And here it was. It was coming, and much sooner than she had anticipated, given how easily their conversation seemed to start and keep flowing.

“Did Lady Lucy describe my features to you?”

“What?” Caught by surprise, Elizabeth gave a little cough as her teacup wobbled precariously in the saucer.