of the Nile—swift and unstoppable. ‘Let’s return.’
‘Not yet. Are you crying?’
‘Not yet, but I shall if you keep prodding. I’m tired, my legs ache and I’m terrified of returning to England and it is all too much. You may be made of stone, Mr God of the Earth, but I’m not. If you wish to stay here, I shall find my own way back.’
‘Perhaps it would do you good to cry out here where no one can hear you. I need to make amends for interrupting you on the Howling Cliffs.’
She didn’t know whether to laugh or kick him for his dispassionate practicality.
The truth was she didn’t want to return yet. She wanted to stay cocooned in the night, wrapped in the strange thoughts bubbling inside her, but somehow separated from them by his presence. In the dark she made out the shape of a large flat boulder and sat with a sigh.
‘I never really understood you, Edge.’
‘There isn’t much to understand about a lump of rock.’
His voice was flat, but suddenly she could hear the currents beneath, as if not seeing his face she could hear things his expression would never give away. There was bitterness and resentment and darker things.
She held out her hand without thinking.
‘Come sit with me.’
‘I had better not.’
‘Don’t play the prude, Edge. Just sit.’
He sat and she closed her eyes, soaking up the warmth of his body so close to hers. Above the silvery scents of the desert night air and the ochre of the earth there was his scent—it was out of character—warm and encompassing, like the sensations sparked by the deepest, darkest of wines. She wanted to lean into it and then sink.
She touched her palm to her chest. The pain inside her was gone. Strange—it had been so harsh and enormous just moments ago and it was gone. All she felt now was...heat, as if the desert still held the warmth of the noon sun and was sending it upwards through her, through him...
‘You are the least lump-like person I know,’ she said and he laughed, bending forward to lean his arms on his thighs as he picked something up from the desert floor. But he didn’t speak so she continued, working her way through her thoughts.
‘You are like watching the sea from a ship’s deck on a moonless night—you never know quite what is beneath the surface, but you are quite certain a great deal is going on there and that one is safer on solid ground.’
Where on earth had that come from?
‘I am not certain if being the dark abode of sea monsters is any better than a rock.’
‘No,’ she agreed, a little scared of the image she’d conjured. ‘Perhaps not. I meant it as a compliment, though. Clearly I am not very adept at them.’
‘You were always more honest than was comfortable, Sam.’
‘In other words I always spoke before I thought. Madcap Sam.’
‘Don’t make it into an insult. Your honesty was never cruel or cavalier. Sometimes you put too much thought into it, in fact. What will you do when you return to England?’
Sam wanted to stay on the topic of her honesty. Or rather on his strangely complimentary interpretation of her. But she accepted his change of subject.
‘I do not know. Now my brothers are married I shall have to find a solution.’
‘They don’t want you living with them?’
‘It is not that. They do, but soon they shall have children and—’ She broke off, realisation hitting her, her hand closing over his. ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Edge.’
He placed his free hand over hers, hard.
‘Don’t tiptoe around me, Sam. I can’t abide it. Especially not from you. The worst is no one will talk about Jacob or they do what you just did—apologise and run away. Jacob was the best thing that happened in my life. I would not have traded a moment of my time with him for anything else.’
Her hand was buzzing under his and it was a struggle to stay still.
‘I’m glad you had him.’
The image of Maria flashed in her mind, starker than usual in the darkness. The three-year-old’s dark curls woven into the sky, her smile shimmering with stars. She’d had only a year with Ricki’s natural daughter, but she’d loved her and when she’d drowned it had cracked Sam’s heart all over again. It could not compare to Edge’s loss, but she understood what he meant. She wanted so much to share the story with Edge, but guilt held her silent. Ricki bore the brunt of responsibility for Maria’s death, but none of it would have happened if Sam hadn’t been fool enough to think she could escape her pain and loneliness by marrying the charming and gregarious Lord Carruthers.
The silence stretched until he spoke again.
‘I heard Janet telling Poppy she plans to introduce you to some of the younger antiquarians when they reach London.’
‘It is rude to eavesdrop.’
He tossed the stone he held and picked up another.
‘They thought I was asleep.’
‘Still rude.’ She could feel him watching her, her whole left side felt branded and fuzzy. ‘Janet is probably right and it would be best. I am tired of not having a corner of my own.’
It sounded so weak, so utterly out of proportion with her fears and half-formed hopes. Watching her brothers find such contentment had brought back this thirst inside her—to create a home of her own. A family. But after the mistakes she had made with Ricki she was too afraid to trust her judgement about men. The thought of finding herself in that hell...again. By choice...again. She didn’t think she could do that.
‘You miss your husband.’ Edge’s words cut through her fog and they were so far from the truth her throat closed with shame and guilt. A memory returned, vivid and bitter—Ricki rising from the last time he shared her bed, his body slick with sweat as he loomed over her, flinging insults and threats, but all she could hear was the scream inside her head and the prayer that he would hold true to his threat never to touch her again until she begged him to. A shiver of remembered disgust at both of them rippled through her and Edge stood abruptly.
‘It is late. We should return.’
She rose as well, feeling utterly defeated and not even sure why.
‘You have changed,’ he said after walking a while. ‘In the past you never would have agreed to return without at least a token argument. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, Sam.’
‘Make up your mind, Edge. You spent years lecturing me for being wild and now you’re bemoaning how tame I’ve become. Be damned to you,’ she snarled and marched off.
‘Sam...’ He caught up with her, but she walked faster.
‘I
