Hearts In The Highlands. Ruth Axtell Morren

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СКАЧАТЬ with a smile of approval at the wedge of lemon she had set beside the cup on its saucer.

      The sudden smile relieved the harshness of his features. Maddie felt a warmth steal over her. Dismayed by her own reaction, she stepped away from him. “Would you care for a slice of cake?”

      “That would be fine.” Again he gave her a smile, which affected her more than it should for such a brief, superficial exchange. A part of her yearned to prolong the conversation. Instead, she bowed her head and hurried back to the tea table.

      She scolded herself for the pleasure it gave her to fill his request. Knowing how good her employer’s appetite was, Maddie cut Lady Haversham a large slice.

      “I’ve brought back some pieces collected last year at a dig in Hawara,” Mr. Gallagher said to his aunt. “The British Museum was quite pleased with them. I’ll be doing a series of lectures while I’m here.”

      “Your Uncle George had quite a collection of artifacts himself from all his travels in the Orient.”

      He smiled, looking more relaxed than he had since he’d entered the overstuffed room. “Yes, I recall. He used to show me things every time I visited.”

      “He had countless items. I’ve kept everything carefully stored in boxes over the years.” She sighed. “If anything should happen to me, what is to become of all of it?”

      He cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable with the drift of the conversation.

      “There was a pyramid at the site of our dig.”

      She brightened. “How fascinating.”

      When Maddie had poured her own cup, she set it down to cool and took up her needlepoint. Under the guise of rethreading her needle, she observed Mr. Gallagher, unconcerned that he would notice. His focus was on his great-aunt, as he described the project. Thankfully, Lilah had settled at Maddie’s feet for another nap.

      Although he wore a well-tailored sack coat, vest and trousers, the light khaki material of the trousers and the lightweight tweed of his jacket gave Mr. Gallagher a much less formal look than the average man about London. The few gentlemen to visit Lady Haversham—her solicitor, physician and old Reverend Steele—all wore long dark frock coats with matching vests and trousers, their somber colors seeming to underscore their lofty positions.

      This man’s lighter-colored garments, like the desert sand, brought a foreign element into the parlor, making the room with its heavy dark furniture and surfaces covered with bric-a-brac suddenly appear more confined and overcrowded than usual.

      Maddie drank in Mr. Gallagher’s words as he described the relatively new study of how long-ago civilizations had lived their daily lives. Maddie could picture it all so clearly because she’d spent a good portion of her girlhood in the Holy Land with her missionary parents. Egypt was very close to Palestine, and Mr. Gallagher’s narrative brought back memories of desert sands, swarthy people riding their camels or donkeys and bleached huts at the foothills of scrubby mountains.

      As he described the harsh conditions of the dig, Maddie pictured him in wrinkled khakis and tall scuffed boots, a battered hat shading his piercing blue eyes from the sun. She’d noticed their color as soon as she’d been introduced to him, the moment he’d taken her hand in his in a strong, though brief, handshake. She judged him to be in his late thirties or early forties.

      Mr. Gallagher would probably be startled at how much she already knew about him. When Lady Haversham wasn’t discussing her various ailments, she boasted of her great-nephew, who had followed in his great-uncle’s footsteps to become an Egyptologist and surveyor to the Crown in the lands between Africa and India.

      Maddie’s attention quickened when she heard Mr. Gallagher tell his great-aunt, “The Royal Egypt Fund is sponsoring the lectures. It’s in their interest to promote Egyptology with the general public.”

      “Yes, your uncle was on the forefront of getting the government interested in the artifacts over there. You must tell me when you’re to lecture, although I hardly get out anymore, you know. It was a dreadful winter. I didn’t think I’d survive that attack of pleurisy. Then with my usual neuralgia, I don’t know how I manage.”

      “My first lecture is at the end of the week.”

      “Oh, goodness. Well, this April weather is still much too changeable for me to venture forth.”

      “Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to take any risks with your health.”

      Maddie hoped he’d say more about when and where the lecture would be.

      There was a lull in the conversation, then Mr. Gallagher said, “I’ve brought back a mummified head.”

      “You haven’t!” His aunt’s eyes widened. “How ever did you find one?”

      His fingers stroked his chin as he mused, “Sometimes it’s when you stop searching for something that you find it.” His glance crossed Maddie’s at that moment, and she realized she’d been staring at him.

      To cover her embarrassment, she blurted out, “Would you like some more tea?”

      “Oh, my yes, how remiss of us,” his aunt said immediately.

      He looked down at his cup as if he’d forgotten he’d been holding it. “Yes, that would be just the thing.”

      Before Maddie could rise, Mr. Gallagher stood and ambled over to the tea cart. Lilah stirred, but she only twitched her nose at the toes of his boots and didn’t bark.

      Maddie felt dwarfed by the man’s above-average height as he paused in front of the cart. He continued his line of conversation as he held out his cup and saucer to Maddie with a smile.

      “We discovered several mummy portraits dating to the Roman period. The site around the pyramid appears to be a royal burial ground.”

      “Your Uncle George always wanted to find some proof of this procedure, but alas, was unsuccessful.”

      Maddie poured the tea, hoping her hand didn’t shake. Then she lifted one lump of sugar with the silver tongs and set it into the cup with a small plop, fearful the tea would splatter. All the while, she was aware of his hand holding the saucer. Strong looking, tanned, like his face, to a deep hue. Then she noticed the gold wedding band on his ring finger. Lady Haversham had told her he was a widower of many years. Maddie’s heart went out to him in sympathy, thinking how he must continue to mourn his late wife, if he still wore the ring.

      She discarded the used lemon slice and took a fresh one with another pair of tongs, then placed it on the edge of the saucer. There it slipped off, and as her hand flinched, trying to retrieve the lemon, he covered it for an instant with his free one.

      “Steady there.” A trace of humor laced his husky voice.

      She met his blue gaze and whispered a thank-you. “Anytime,” he murmured, before moving away from her.

      She sat for the rest of his visit remembering the feel of his warm palm against her skin. Warm like the Egyptian sun.

      Her mother used to say, “Your hands are always like ice.” Her father would immediately reply, “Cold hands, warm heart.”

      Was it true? СКАЧАТЬ