Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George is a fictional novel and was used for fictional historical references. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.
Author's Note: Plenty of research, love, blood, tears, and orgasms went into this. Hope you likey! A huge smooch and thank you goes to my beta, Lilith617. I am forever thankful for the amount of work and fairy dust you sprinkle to the slop I submit to you. You are remarkable. While she was beta'ing this little monster, she text me saying she loved Edward's pov…hope you do, too. Enjoy!
*~EPOV~*
"Where is she?" Tyler Crowley asked, staring at the door impatiently. I stopped momentarily, from glaring at the door we had both been watching, to glare the fuck out of his head. Though, my thoughts echoed his words.
It was all right for me to be impatient for Bella to make an entrance, but for no logical reason at all, I found that it was distinctly not all right for Crowley to. So, who the fuck was Crowley to talk about her? To even think about her, want to see her? Crowley had barely made her acquaintance for fuck's sake.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Crowley asked, turning to me. "Miss Swan, that is."
Stunned, I only showed my teeth, trying to smile.
Fucking moron.
I peered through the crowd toward a group of young women gathered in the center of the room. Rosalie Swan was certainly the prettiest among this group and stood out the most, though to me she seemed a pale, over civilized version of a vibrant older sister.
"Too young for me," I said, looking back to Crowley. "She giggles."I was trying to divert his attention from the real Swan in question, but to no avail.
Crowley chuckled. "You know very well which Swan girl I mean."
He nudged me in the ribs, perhaps accidently as we stepped closer together to allow some ladies to pass by. The chancellor's residence was overflowed with visitors and University faculty, and local notables bumping elbow to elbow. I preferred wide-open spaces; I was used to vistas under hot blue skies. The room was hot, alright, but from being too full of people. And it was too noisy, full of bright chatter and intense academic debate.
"I like the fire in Miss Swan's eyes," Crowley went on quietly, leaning closer to me. His eyes alight with an unwavering desire.
"She is a hellcat," I whispered back. It was an impulse, why did I go on with conversing with this dangly fellow?
Crowley's faint smile turned into a lascivious grin. "There's the graceful way she moves?"
"That there is. Years of dancing practice," I muttered, my impatience thickening. He didn't know the half of it, and he certainly wasn't going to hear it from me.
Now, if I could just shut the fuck up, but why can't I voice my thoughts?
"And the way she appeared yesterday – like Venus rising out of the foam…"
"She was fully dressed, as I recall." I nearly spat, trying in earnest to hold back the rage that was building within me. Though she had looked enticingly unassailable dressed in bustles and corsets, and high collars, and heavy skirts, and all the other armor a proper lady would dress herself in.
Different.
"Beautiful as Venus, I meant," Crowley rushed to explain.
Beautiful? Yes, Bella was always that. "I didn't notice." I answered, adding loftily, "I appreciate Miss Swan for her mind."
And, her quick wit, her stubborn attitude, her pouty lower lip that she bites into when she concentrates, and, my God, the way her body sways when she dances-
Crowley laughed. "Appreciate a woman for her mind and you'll never get anywhere with her. Compliment her on her hair, and her pretty shoes, but never her mind."
In that instant I wanted to take Crowley outside and pound him into the ground. "You don't know Miss Swan," I snarled, defensively.
"I think I know her better than you." He raised his eyebrows condescendingly.
I clicked my tongue, "I seriously doubt that."
"I know how to win her." Crowley's superior, amused expression turned quite serious and assessing as he looked over me.
"Because, my friend, if you've known her for years and haven't won her. Then you are a blind fool."
A fool? Me? How did we end up in this conversation? Belligerent asshole.
"The woman hates me!"
"Is that so? Good." Crowley gave a low laugh and shook his head. "She certainly has strong feelings for you. And you hate her, of course. All the better for me." He clapped me on the arm. "That's all right I like women with strong feelings. No milk-and-water misses for me. She and I will deal quite nicely. And her father will approve of me."
With that, he turned and made his way through the crowd. Getting closer to the door, I suppose. Crowley wanted to be the first to greet Bella when she finally made her entrance. Leaving me outside, out of my fucking mind.
The only reasonable explanation was that this asshole had gotten brazen with drink to come up to me and speak about Bella to me like that. Where was the redoubtable Miss Swan, anyway?
And why did Crowley have to remind me of–
Ten years ago – several delicious hours later while Bella slept…
"Marry her? What do you mean marry her?"
"Just that," I told Charlie Swan, confidently. "I'm asking you for your daughter's hand in marriage."
The older man laughed. He stood there in the lantern light in the hot confines of the tent and blatantly laughed in my face. The sound burned through my soul like acid.
"Do you honestly think you're good enough for my daughter, Edward? You, an American nobody disowned by his own father?"
"My father – "
"Isabella is the great-granddaughter of the Earl of Bothen. Who the devil was your great-grandfather, huh?"
"A soldier in the Revolutionary War," I answered, hating the arrogant superiority of the man. "We won, you know."
"You'll not win with me. Nor will you win Isabella. Get out. I want you gone tonight. Don't talk to my daughter again. Don't even so much as try to communicate with her. She's only sixteen, and I will not have you exploiting a girlish attraction for your own purposes."
The world stopped. I had to catch hold of the tent pole to keep myself from falling. All I could do was croak one unbelieving word.
"Sixteen?"
"Well...technically she just turned seventeen a few weeks ago."
The girl I'd made love to and wanted to marry had just turned seventeen?
I had been so stunned that I'd given in to Charlie's demand to leave without further argument. I knew it was wretched. A cowardly action by sunrise. But it was too late then, of course. Bella went back to Scotland with Alice, years passed. It was too late then. Now it was ten years too late.
But damn it all to hell. Crowley still has no fucking business sniffing around her. I possessed her once. I had to again. It's become a fucking obsession now.
I need her, and refuse to live without her.
*~BPOV~*
I paused outside the garden gate of the Chancellor's house, stopping to consult my pocket watch, hoping I wasn't too late. I find the rules of proper society more difficult to interpret than Egyptian hieroglyphs and far less interesting. But I have to do it. Duty calls. Charlie needs this.
You'd think the aristocratic blood in my veins would make it all come naturally.
I sighed. Well, it doesn't, and I am far too tired from hours of hard work at the museum to make it. Maybe I am only fashionably late, rather than unconscionably, rudely late. Well, there was only one way to find out.
Except that Edward was in there.
I'd almost not come at all, and could have used my work as an excuse. But I'd promised Rose.
And I'll be damned to every circle of hell at once if I show any weakness to Dr. Edward Masen.
Of course, it is more likely that he wouldn't even notice my absence. That thought alone scratched at my old wounds that I didn't want to examine at the moment, though I knew I shouldn't care.
I looked at the house, taking in its tall front windows. Each one aglow with warm gold lamplight. I could faintly hear the buzz of conversation, even from the edge of the front walk. Someone was playing a piano inside, badly, and there was a swarm of women's voices all joined in a song I didn't recognize. I suspected that most of the singers didn't either, but they were making an effort. The place did appear cheerful and inviting.
I put on my most pleasant demeanor, and resolutely marched up the walk before clapping the brand new brass doorknocker. I thanked the maid who let me in as she took my shawl before walking with head held high into the Chancellor's overcrowded drawing room. Immediately, I could see Edward's tall, broad-shouldered form. A swath of bronzed, unruly hair falling across his brow. His eyes darkened, boring into me as he noticed my entrance, his glare flashing lightning while his frown rumbled thunder. I could feel his wrath but couldn't understand it.
As always, I was tempted to stride forward to confront this wrath that had consumed him. Tempted to be near him, bate him. Make him argue with me so that I could feel the electricity run up my spine when he smirked at me. Feel his body heat rise when he's angry. Feel alive, and unbound, and…
I am such a hopeless fool. Had been. Never again. Remember? Oh, right.
Steady, girl, steady. Come on Bella, duty calls.
I had work to do here tonight, people to speak to, situations to handle. Edward Masen was not on the agenda. Nor was the man who stepped in front of me.
"Good evening, Miss Swan."
I had no idea what Professor Crowley was so cheerful about, and I almost stepped impatiently around him. But it occurred to me that the man might be genuinely glad to see me, and I managed to wrench my mind away from my tasks and give him a warm smile.
"Hello," I said as I held out my hand. "I tend to get distracted. I need to speak to my sister and Lady Angela as well as Sir Michael. Is Sir Michael here?"
"He is coming, I believe." Professor Crowley replied, holding my hand instead of giving a brief social handclasp I expect, leading me further into the crush of people.
Oh, I hate crowds.
"You look fetching this evening, Miss Swan."
I had been fetching and carrying, and unpacking, and arranging. I had aching muscles from it all. And I still had to return to the museum when I was done here to continue the work for the next night's party.
"Thank you, Professor. Oh, there's Lady Angela on the sofa. I must speak to her."
Crowley stuck to my side as though attached, as I started across the room. I knew that Edward was still staring; I could practically feel his gaze burning into my back.
I honestly had no idea what was the matter with the man, but I was not going to be provoked tonight.
That is it! He is trying to embarrass me, trying to get me to repeat my performance from yesterday where everyone could witness me having a fit of a temper. That would be fine for him, he is leaving at the end of the week, but I have to live here for months, possibly years.
My whole family could easily be ostracized if I made a fool of myself. I cannot afford social gaffes, and he well knows that.
I was not prepared to see him yesterday. My armor will not slip again.
"Your dress is lovely," Professor Crowley smiled, interrupting my internal tirade.
"Thank you, Professor."I replied, my cheeks slightly heated by his comment.
His smile widened. In fact, he shot a triumphant glance towards someone over his shoulder. I had no idea what he was so pleased about; I was surprised he had even what I was wearing. My attire consisted of the same midnight-blue skirt I'd worn the day before, with a different, more formal, matching bodice. I didn't have an endless wardrobe, after all.
"Doesn't Miss Swan look lovely?" Crowley addressed Lady Angela as we reached the sofa.
The Laird's widow looked me over with a tolerant smile. I took the opportunity to say, "Fashion is exactly what I need to talk to you about, Lady Angela."
"Indeed," Lady Angela, a vision in lavender satin and cream lace answered. "I have heard all about The Dress."
A group of women gathered around us, like handmaidens in attendance to a Queen. Lady Angela gave a glance around, waving her hand. "We all have."
"Shocking," said Lady Cope. "Your aunt and sister have every right to be devastated by this terrible news."
Good Lord, I fail to comprehend these aristocrats.
Lady Cope's words and mournful tone were echoed by many others. Aunt Lauren, with her eyes still faintly red from earlier tears, was standing behind the sofa. She sniffled, and her lower lip quivered threateningly. Rose stood between Professor Carter and Emmett Cullen, looking pale and mortified.
Holy crow.
I couldn't conceal the gasp that left my lips as I took in the sight before me. The London dressmaker had made a mistake, sending the wrong gown halfway across the country, and there was no hope of retrieving the lost one in time for Rose to wear to the ball.
It was not as if someone had died, or tomb robbers had reached a Pharaoh's burial chamber before the scientists. Though I did manage not to point out that the matter was hardly worth all this drama, though of course to any proper woman it was.
If it didn't matter so much to Rose and Aunt Lauren, I would not be standing here in front of the arbiter of local taste to ask for a boon.
"I hate the notion of my sister not being able to attend the Highland Ball. It would be tragic for a girl to not go to her very first dance. I've been puzzling over the solution all day," I said carefully, looking around at the attentive group of women before turning a pleading look on to Lady Angela. I hesitated. Everyone leaning forward expectantly.
"Go on, my dear," Lady Angela urged.
*~EPOV~*
What the devil is the woman doing?
Bella is playing the crowd like a fisherman plays a trout, but I seem to be the only one who sees that she is up to something. It's that sparkle in her doe eyes. I can sense it. And Crowley is standing too fucking close to her for my taste.
I hate the proprietary way Crowley gazes at Bella, as though she is a precious, yet rare gold statue of a goddess he'd just discovered. I nearly snarled at him earlier, but his attention was centered on Bella Swan. Along with everyone else in the fucking room. The woman should have been an actress instead of a dancer.
Wait, NO...I loved the fact that she can move her hips like that.
"Rose and I are much the same size," Bella explained.
I glanced between the sister, both short and slender. Rose's eyes were brown, while Bella's were a rich, warm, lively, snapping golden brown. Rose's complexion was a perfect pink with porcelain tint, while Bella's still bore the kiss of the Mediterranean sun on two exquisite, rose-pink cheeks.
And, oh yes, Bella's breasts were a bit larger than Rose's. Beautifully, high, firm breasts. I remember their enticing swell in her dancing costume. The perfect fit of them in my large hands, their satin smoothness on my lips and tongue.
Fuck, I was hardening by the thought.
I couldn't help but smile at those memories; a feral, possessive smile that I aimed straight at that smug bastard Crowley.
"If you don't think it would be improper or forward of me, Lady Angela," Bella went on, "the dress sent for Rose could be altered a bit, and I could wear it. While the Highland Ball is also my first formal dance, I am hardly a girl of seventeen."
She looked around at the crowd of local biddies again, charming them the way a street magician charmed a cobra.
I don't know why some of the women looked shocked, or why others looked approving or thoughtful. I exchanged puzzled glances with Emmet. He shrugged his massive shoulders and Jasper lifted his eyebrows. I was relieved that they had no more understanding than I did. It seemed we were witnessing a women's mystery of some sort. The folklorists in the group should be taking notes.
There was a pregnant pause while Lady Angela considered this, apparently, grave matter-whatever it was. It seemed to me that the world held its breath, the faint strains of very bad singing and piano playing in a distant room was the only noise to be heard in the universe.
What the fuck was going on?
Finally, Lady Angela nodded gravely, "That is very generous of you, my dear. I see no harm in it."
"Thank you," Bella said in a girlishly grateful tone that set my teeth on edge.
Everyone sighed and began to breathe again. Rose squealed in delight and clapped her hands, rushing forward to hug her sister. Their aunt Lauren beamed proudly, as though she'd arranged the solution to this thorny problem herself, and much feminine babble started up.
The men turned back to their own far more serious conversations. Except for fucking Crowley, which to my annoyance; was now stood at Bella's side looking worshipfully at her, ready to nominate the woman for sainthood.
Or possibly the position of Mrs. Crowley. Which he no doubt thought was an infinitely more suitable position for Bell to attain.
Asshole.
A snarling wave of fury stabbed through me at the thought when the interloper leaned closer to her to speak. I moved swiftly forward to put a stop to this impertinence, but the crowd shifted around me, blocking my way for a few moments. There was a flurry of excitement by the door, and greetings were called out as Sir Michael came bustling in.
By the time I spotted Bella again she was across the room, gliding with graceful purpose toward Sir Michael. Crowley followed like a pilot fish in the wake of a sleek, magnificent shark. His presence clearly forgotten with the sighting of this more important prey. I knew I should be ashamed of the unkind analogy. Yes? Maybe not.
My blood fucking boiled.
Even a hint of her with another man drove out anything but the need to grab on to what was mine.
Yes, I definitely had something to prove to Bella Swan. I have done so much harm to her. She undoubtedly told Charlie what transpired between us. And if I knew Charlie he used that as a weapon.
She was a virgin, and I was stupidly surprised that she was. I was so achingly sorry to have hurt Bella, yet my natural instinct said otherwise. That feeling of…remorse had faded as quickly as it came. In a way, I was glad, and perversely pleased that it was I that had claimed her. My body that hovered above her innocence as I took what should still be mine. Pleased was an understatement when I knew that that image would forever be ingrained in that beautiful mind of hers.
Fucking idiot, I thought. Scolding myself for wanting Bella all for my own. But I do want her, now, again, and again…always.
I had a brief, brave vision of sweeping her out of the fucking room, out of this god forsaken town; with its fancy etiquette and aristocrat chatter. I wanted to throw her over the saddle of a magnificent Arabian stallion, and ride into the night under the bright full moon.
But my gelding was no doubt peacefully asleep in its stable in Cairo, the moon was a little past full, and it was a cloudy night. And who was I to sweep her away from, normalcy?
I was in Scotland to save Bella, alright. But not from safe, bland mediocrity; or even from the attentions of eager suitors. She didn't want me, and she was certainly better off without me.
If she wanted to approach Sir Michael Muir wearing that determined expression I knew so well, than it was none of my affair. Which hadn't stopped me though from drawing closer to find out what it was exactly that she wanted from, Sir Michael.
It wasn't the determination I minded so much as the flattering smile she turned on her father's patron when she reached his side.
Why didn't she ever smile at me like that?
Sir Michael fucking basked in the look she gave him. Crowley saw it and sighed. I understood both men's reactions very well. Bella hadn't a clue as to how beautiful she was. No awareness that her smile could stun a man at a thousand paces, that the tilt of her head or her hand on her hip could enflame unquenchable lust.
She could dance like Delilah and not know she practiced seduction itself. She could move like the sultriest of temptresses and speak in a low, purring voice that drove a man to his knees when she did nothing more than ask him to have a look at a potsherd. And her smile, my God, her smile!
She was made for sex.
Sex with me…
I caught the thought, and forced down the yearning that would never die within me.
"I'm so happy to see you, Sir Michael."
Bella's voice, bright, brittle, and cheerful: made my body quake. She sounded uncertain and rather false. She did not sound like Bella. This piqued my curiosity, and helped calm my frayed self control.
"And I am delighted to see you, Miss Swan," Sir Michael replied. There was nothing at all false in his enthusiasm.
"Bella, please," she said, laughing in a feminine, breathless way I had never heard from her before. "Certainly we know each other well enough by now for you to call me that. Or Isabella, if you prefer."
"Isabella." Sir Michael nodded. "What a lovely name. Your father mentioned your middle name is Cleopatra. Isabella Cleopatra. I imagine you take some pride in being named for the most famous lady of the ancient Egyptian race."
There was an awkward moment of silence, yet all Bella did was to continue to smile upon her father's patron. This was definitely not the Bella I know, and I didn't like it one fucking bit.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I sighed and spoke calmly, confidently just how I knew would irate and challenge her.
"Cleopatra is a Macedonian name. The Cleopatra who ruled Egypt was a Macedonian Greek, a descendant of Alexander's general, Ptolemy. After Alexander conquered Egypt it was ruled by Macedonians for several hundred years after his death." I leered as Bella gave me the familiar annoyed look I sought.
Hah! There you are!
I basked in it, and went on. "Our Isabella Cleopatra here was actually named for another Cleopatra, Alexander's sister. Alexander had his father assassinated at the earlier Cleopatra's, his sister's, wedding," I added with a sharp smile.
Bella rounded on me, as I knew she would. Her eyes shining, her cheeks blazing, red lips snarling. Fuck she was magnificent when she was angry.
"Alexander did no such thing! Alexander would never have had a part in the assassination of his own father. The murderer acted alone."
"Oh, yes," Sir Michael said before we properly got going. Bella turned her attention back to Sir Michael who was nodding wisely. "Dr. Swan has explained all about Alexander the Great to me. How his small mountain kingdom in northern Greece was not unlike Scotland. How he led the Macedonian army across the known world, conquered Persia and Egypt, and marched on – to India, wasn't it? Amazing man. Died young, I believe." He waved a hand. "I built this museum to bring the glory of the past to my homeland, but if it's not Scots history, I'm afraid I can't keep it straight."
"That's all right," Bella said, fluttering her eyelashes in a most flattering way. "Remember history is what you have Father for."
All I could think of for a moment was that Bella never fluttered her eyelashes at me. Of course, I might have laughed at her if she did. Or kissed her. I wanted very much at this moment to kiss her. Come to think of it, I always wanted to kiss her; I was simply closer to the edge of loosing control at the moment.
If she were to turn to me right now, chances were good I'd draw her into my arms and kiss her in front of Aunt Lauren, Professor Crowley, Sir Michael, everybody. To hell with propriety!
But she didn't turn to me. She concentrated on Sir Michael. No doubt that was her assigned task this evening.
Damn you Charlie Swan.
I understood the need to court wealthy patrons, and Charlie was a shameless huckster. It was the one thing Charlie was any good at; I granted him that. Bella, however, had never been involved with the fundraising part of the hunt for Alexander's tomb. She'd been too busy doing the actual research that her father built his reputation on. He did not need Bella's field expertise right now, so she'd been relegated to go begging hat in hand in Charlie Swan's place.
This whole fucking situation infuriated the fuck out of me, but before I could do anything to put a stop to it, Jasper appeared at my side. The sharp young man clamped around my arm like a vise, and he drew me away from the group around Sir Michael.
"Your lady's defense of Lord Alexander is eloquent and fervent," the leader of the Hoplite Order murmured quietly. "It would be a shame to lose such passion."
I heard the icy threat beneath Jasper's words and met his gaze.
"She is mine," I answered with quiet intensity.
Mine to protect, I corrected the furious, green-eyed monster that was trying to take over my thoughts and actions.
We stopped by the entrance to the music room. The singing had resumed, and covered Jasper's whisper, "Her fate is in your hands."
"Bella would not agree."
"But you and I know the truth." Jasper gave a worried look around. He paused long enough to give a gracious nod to Lady Angela who brightly smiled at him in return. Then Jasper looked back to me.
"Your time grows shorter, my friend. I am a moderate man, and I can keep Spiros in check. But several less moderate members of our order have arrived in Muirford, and they are not so patient. They question my leadership. They will not stand by and allow Charlie Swan to exhibit what Lord Alexander took with him to the grave."
I heard Bella's throaty laughter over the sound of music, because I always listened for her voice, no matter how hard I tried not to. The very sound pressed hot against my skin. The air sparkled with her presence.
I must be going mad! I could go for months without thinking of her, couldn't I? Weeks, at least. Why was it that while we roamed the exotic land of the Middle East I could control my attraction to her, but here in plain, prosaic Scotland being near her drove me mad with lust? I needed to keep my head clear. I would not look at Bella, but awareness of her was everywhere around me. I was drunk with it.
"Whoa." I gave a low, bitter laugh, and fought my way back to face the delicate, dangerous matter with the Hoplites. The truth was I'd never been able to keep my head clear around her, not when we spent more than a few minutes together. I was just able to put more distance between us in other places. So better to keep away from her in this room.
I returned my focus on Jasper. "Those grave goods were plundered hundreds of years ago. You told me so yourself."
"Our ancestors dealt harshly with those grave robbers. Their blood soaked the sacred ground of Lord Alexander's resting place in sacrifice, but we never found the stolen treasure."
"Then the Swans aren't exactly grave robbers then, are they? They found the treasure fair and square."
Jasper smirked. "In your opinion, Dr. Masen. We see the situation differently. Our duty is to guard the tomb and all it once held. We will have the treasure returned, and the Swans will halt the hunt for that which shall remain hidden."
"Or they die." I interrupted before Jasper had finished. I've heard his lunatic order's fanaticism chant before.
"I've heard it before: you won't stand by and allow what your people have spent hundreds of generations protecting to be stolen away to enrich, and entertain imperialist foreigners. You're right. I agree with you. I just do not know why you had Spiros spy on Alice in Greece. How long have you been spying on the family without letting me know?"
"We have been looking for Charlie Swan and his campsite the moment he submitted his theories to Athens for publication. We were searching for over a year and they happened to land in my lap in Athens. But by then they had found the treasure. Your Bella Swan runs a very tight-lip camp and household for that matter. We never found the dig site. We couldn't infiltrate her staff. I needed confirmation so I placed Spiros to do so, but he only succeeded a handful of encounters with Alice. I was running out of time without information so I made a visit to an old friend, that's where you came in, and you know the rest."
"Stay away from Alice. She is innocent."
"No physical harm will come to her. Ever. I will tell you one more time. It is not her you need to worry about, and I suggest you do something about it, Edward." Jasper glanced over my shoulder toward Bella. "Before it is too late."
I gave the man a tight nod. "Time for me to leave the party, then."
I heard Bella laugh again and my body instinctively moved in her direction.
"I wasn't having much fun any way."
Author's Note: But the night is still young…