But they had plenty of journey ahead of them, plenty of time for her to watch and see.

She was still at the stage of mentally ticking items off the list of characteristics her “one” should possess. Her ideal was fairly clear in her mind, but matching the reality to her list was proving more challenging than she’d expected. There were all sorts of issues one had to take into account.

But at this moment, she was content. She fully intended to work on him, on encouraging him to allow his attitude to her to grow less stilted. A moment’s consideration had her stating, “I believe I’ll take an amble about the deck.”

That brought an instant frown-as she’d expected.

“It would be safer to go back inside the main cabin.” He stepped back from the railing, frowning down at her.

She smiled sunnily back. “If you’re on watch, perhaps you should walk with me-you can view the rest of the barge as we go.” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse, but turned and started to stroll down the walkway between the cabins and the barge’s rail.

Then she turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. “Come on.”

Gareth couldn’t resist. Feeling inwardly grim, he found himself following in her wake-responding all too definitely to that alluring smile.

To his inner self she was far too attractive, and with every passing day, with each new fact he learned about her, grew only more so. She was distraction, and fixation, and potential obsession, and he knew he should back away, but…unlike the men under his command, she was elusive and difficult to manage, and-as she was demonstrating-their journey was going to make keeping his distance close to impossible.

He joined her as, holding back her waving hair, she excitedly pointed to a cormorant diving in the waves. And he wondered why, instead of feeling weighed down, his heart felt light-lighter than it had in a long, long time.

Three

5th October, 1822

Before dinner

My cabin on our barge heading for the Red Sea

Dear Diary,

Matters are progressing as I’d hoped. It’s said that one learns the truth about people by observing them under stressful conditions. Our journey looks set to provide such conditions, and I have great hopes of learning all I need to know of Gareth-enough to be absolutely certain that he is the one and only gentleman for me.

My hopes are high.

E.

Late that evening, while strolling the deck, eyes scanning the waves-increasingly choppy as they passed through the straits, the Bab el Mandeh, as the crew called them, that led into the Red Sea-Gareth found Bister in the stern, seated on a coil of rope polishing his knives.

His batman looked up, nodded, and continued to buff. “No sign of any of those idiot fiends.”

Gareth lounged on the railing nearby. “Why idiot? They nearly did for Miss Ensworth in Aden.”

“Which proves my point. They should have laid low and taken us out first, then Miss Ensworth would have been a sitting duck. Only Mullins has a clue how to fight, and they separated him from her easily enough.” Bister held up a knife, examined its edge.

“Not everyone has had the experiences we’ve had, but it would be unwise to treat the cultists too lightly.”

Bister nodded sagely. “Never underestimate the enemy.”

“Indeed.” Gareth looked away to hide his twitching lips. Bister was barely five and twenty. He’d joined Gareth when he’d been all of seventeen-just as gullible and inexperienced as Jimmy.

“Meant to mention.”

Gareth turned back, brows rising.

Bister kept his gaze locked on his blade, kept rubbing. “Miss Ensworth. Jimmy said as she was supposed to go home via the usual route-booked on a ship of the line to Southampton via the Cape. But a day or so before, she up and changed her mind, and decided she should go via Aden.”

Gareth let a few seconds go by. “Did she give any reason for the change in route?”

“Nope-just that she’d taken it into her head to go this way, rather than the other.”

“When, exactly, did she change her mind? Did Jimmy know?”

Bister nodded, still absorbed with his blade. “His uncle heard first, as you might imagine. Jimmy said it was a bare two days before they set out-they left on the seventeenth.”

Gareth and his household had departed on the fifteenth-the day Emily Ensworth had decided to change her plans.

The facts lined up, but…

Coincidence. It had to be. Aside from all else, she couldn’t have known about his leaving…could she?

Even if she had known, why would she bother changing her plans to follow him? It made no sense.

A niggle of a suggestion tapped his mental shoulder, but that was self-important arrogance if ever he’d heard it.

“Let me know if you learn anything more.” Pushing away from the railing, he continued on his rounds.

7th October, 1822

Morning

Still in my cabin aboard the barge

Dear Diary,

I have missed several entries for the simple reason that I have nothing to report. I suppose, in lieu of anything more interesting, I should remark on what I have seen.

Water. And interminable sandy shores. Barren sandy shores. With the occasional rocky headland. This is not a picturesque part of the world. The sun glints off the water constantly, which is pretty the first time one sees it, but my eyes now ache from squinting so much.

As intimated, I have endeavored to learn more about Gareth, but he is proving annoying adept at eluding me, even in such a restricted space. When I do manage to run him to earth, he remains stiff, literally, and tries to keep even a conversational distance. It is really most irritating. I have concluded, given he is so determinedly the strong and silent type, that I will need to look to his actions for further revelations of his character.

Thus my next question: what actions do I need to provoke?

E.

Their barge drew into the Mocha docks in the early afternoon.

With Watson’s help, Gareth had their party formed up and ready to disembark the instant the ropes were cinched tight. Within minutes they were moving swiftly along the wharf and into the town, Emily, Dorcas and Arnia walking quickly before the luggage, with the men positioned around them, all on high alert.

As Gareth passed Emily, she reached out and clutched his sleeve. Tugged him close.

Looked up and met his eyes. Hers were narrowed. “What haven’t you told me?”

He considered, but it couldn’t hurt for her to know. “The cultists might have come on by the inland route. We have to assume they’re here, and we don’t want to meet them unnecessarily.”

She held his gaze for an instant, searching his eyes, then nodded and released his sleeve.

He watched her for several moments, but far from exhibiting any degree of fear, she merely scanned the crowds, watchful and now alert. He hadn’t made any conscious decision not to spell out the situation for her as he had for the men. The men had to be on guard. Her…he simply hadn’t thought of it.

“Where are we heading?” She asked the question without looking at him.

He, too, kept his gaze on the noisy crowds. “Somewhere you and the others will be safe while I find a schooner to take us to Suez.”

Bister, scouting ahead as usual, returned at that moment with directions to a small family-run tavern down a narrow side street only a few blocks from the docks.

When they reached it, Gareth approved. The front was mostly wall, with only one door and a small glassless window covered by a leather flap, presently lowered against the day’s heat.

They went in. Given the hour, the front room was empty.

Gareth directed Emily and Dorcas to the front corner furthest from the door. Arnia followed. To his relief, although Arnia was usually exceedingly reserved, she seemed to have made some pact with Dorcas, and the pair had reached a working accord-which would certainly make his life easier.

Mooktu, with Mullins, had gone to chat with the proprietor, a middle-aged Arab who smiled and nodded. They returned bearing a tray with a pitcher and mugs. Without words, they pulled together tables, arranged benches, and sat down to refresh themselves.

And plan.

Gareth looked at Watson. “You, Mooktu, and I need to go back to the docks and look for a schooner to hire, preferably one that will take us and only us, no other cargo, and so sail to Suez in the shortest possible time.”

Watson grimaced. “That’ll cost a pretty penny.”

“Money we have,” Gareth returned. “Our safety is my primary concern.”

Watson nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“We need supplies.” Emily waited until Gareth looked her way. Raising her hand, she ticked off on her fingers, “We need flour, lentils, rice, tea, sugar, and all the other things we didn’t have on the barge.”

They’d learned that although their households could happily share the same foods, Indian or English, a steady diet of fish and only fish suited none of them.

Beside Emily, both Arnia and Dorcas were nodding, as were Bister and Jimmy.

Gareth opened his mouth, then shut it as realization dawned.

Emily gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Indeed-if you find a barge to take us straight on, as we all hope, then given the hour we’ll need to go to the souk now. We can’t afford to wait until you get back.”

He stared at her. She could all but see his instinctive refusal to let her go outside forming on his tongue. She pointed to Bister. “If Bister will come with me, and Mullins, too, we can leave Jimmy with Arnia and Dorcas to guard the luggage.”

It was a reasonable division of labor and guards. Her gaze steady on his face, she waited to see if he would accept. If he had it in him to be reasonable.

His lips thinned, but slowly he nodded-forced himself to nod. “All right.” He looked at Bister and Mullins. “But take all care. So far we’ve managed to avoid the cultists. If at all possible, we don’t want to be seen.”


The souk was a bustling hive of humanity, located within a quarter of narrow winding streets. Both traders and customers hailed from many different nations, and all were talking loudly in many different tongues. Luckily, with the expansion of French and British influence, most traders spoke a smattering of pidgin English at least, and some spoke passable French, enough for Emily to get by.

She was firmly determined not to feel cowed by having to deal with such foreign foreigners. And, indeed, she discovered that if she approached with confidence, the traders treated her with deference and politeness, and after her months in Bombay, bargaining was second nature.

They got through their list of required purchases with commendable speed. She was completing the last transaction-for chickpeas-when Gareth and Mooktu joined them.

She smiled and handed Gareth the peas. “Here-you may as well make yourself useful…” Looking into his face, she saw his expression, saw the way his eyes scanned the crowd. “What?”

Without glancing down at her, he quietly said, “As we suspected, there are cultists in town. We saw them, but thus far I don’t think they’ve seen us. If at all possible, I’d like to keep it that way.”

Emily glanced swiftly around. She made no protest when Gareth’s hard fingers closed about her elbow, and with a terse nod to the stall owner, he turned her away, back toward the tavern.

They had to backtrack across the souk to reach the tavern. As they walked, keeping their pace no different to those around them, she murmued, “Did you find a schooner?”

“Yes. We were lucky-we’ll be able to leave this evening.” Eyes constantly surveying the crowd, ready to take evasive action if he spotted any cultist, Gareth registered her nod, but again didn’t glance her way.

He was feeling exceedingly exposed, and not a little vulnerable. Mooktu, in his tribal robes, merged easily into the crowd, but there were few Europeans about, and he, Emily, Bister, and Mullins stood out.

Without warning, Emily halted.

Already frowning, his grip on her elbow tightening, he turned to urge her on. And saw she was staring down an alley of stalls.

She looked up at him, eyes bright. “Disguises.”

He looked again, and saw that the stalls were selling robes and other items of local clothing.

“We can’t merge with the crowds as we are, but if we buy some Arab robes, we’ll be able to waltz right past the cultists.”

“We don’t need to get that close, but…” He looked down and met her eyes, brimming with enthusiasm. Nodded. “Let’s take a look.”