Chapter Two: Jonathan

It isn't that I don't approve of O'Connell. Not exactly.

Although, at the moment, I am starting to wish that I hadn't started to pursue this particular avenue of conversation. Mainly - but not, I hasten to add, entirely - because O'Connell is somewhat on the tall side and at the moment is eyeing me up as though he were about to squash me flat at any second. Considering he appears to have been built by the same chaps that did Stonehenge, he's fully capable of it.

I manage a smile that, I fear, is rather weaker than I intended.

And it isn't that I don't approve of him. He's quite a decent chap and I'm not just saying that because I have acquired him as a roommate. An arrangement, I may add, that I had very little choice about. After we returned from Hamunaptra, I allowed O'Connell to recover - for one night only - from his assorted injuries, in my room. And the blighter's been there ever since. I have complained loudly and frequently, but to no avail. It is, I suppose, preferable to his sleeping in Evelyn's room, but only marginally.

As I was saying, O'Connell is more intelligent than he likes to admit to and while his manners are atrocious, he has a sense of honour that he keeps to. Which is actually more than I can say for myself. My own manners can be impeccable when warranted, but when it comes to honour... Well, I usually leave that to Evy.

And, speaking of my sister, we come to the crux of the current problem.

I can understand Evy developing a crush on O'Connell - he has that strong, silent quality that girls admire. Especially if said girls have a penchant for those romantic novels that get churned out by women authors. Evy thinks I don't know about her little stash of slushy prose, but then she also doesn't know that I have had, on occasion, reason to look if she's had any ready money lying about. Naturally, I have always replaced it.

But I digress.

As I say, I can understand Evy - it's O'Connell who has surprised me. It isn't that Evelyn isn't a pretty girl. She is - dashed pretty, when she can be bothered to do something with herself. But on the occasions when she has, I have always had the sudden urge to lock her in her room until she's about 40 and thoroughly spinster-fied.

But not someone who would really be O'Connell's type, I would have thought. I've bumped into the odd Legionnaire and soldier in my forays into local watering holes and - to a man - they have preferred the companionship of women of (to use that terrible cliché) easy virtue. Not that I'm casting aspersions, that's the type of girl I frequently like myself.

Evelyn is definitely not like that. She's stubborn, impossible and uses her own brand of logic that even I have trouble following. She is also, as I said earlier, a woman of honour.

And a librarian.

He's practically a mercenary.

Grown men with degrees coming out of their ears have quaked in the face of Evy's formidable intellect. Whereupon she has dismissed them with something bordering on contempt. O'Connell may stand his ground when arguing with her, mostly because he's as stubborn as she is, but he is not her academic equal.

It just shouldn't, couldn't work between them.

And yet my sister is now sporting an engagement ring, which must have cost half the gross national product of Egypt.

I look at the six-foot-odd of muscle in front of me and clear my throat.

'Look, O'Connell ... Evelyn is the only thing in my life I have actually taken any kind of responsibility for. Not that I've even done that particularly well, but...'

The man mountain is still staring at me, but at least he looks less likely to permanently remove my head from my neck.

'She's important to me. And I can't part with her to anyone who doesn't really... It isn't anything against you; I just need to be sure. For my own peace of mind.'

Silence.

'Jeez, Jonathan, you really pick your moments, y'know that?'

He shakes his head, looking at our surroundings. Admittedly, I had chosen this particular moment to embark on this just in case he took it all the wrong way and decided to thump me. I was hoping that being in the confines of an Embassy reception would suppress his more violent reactions. On reflection, it probably wouldn't make the slightest difference, but that particular danger appears to have passed.

'Look, Jonathan. Evy... Well, I...'

Intelligent he may be. Articulation, however, is something that frequently eludes him.

'I'll admit I never thought about settling down before-'

I can't stop myself snorting. 'You really think that marriage to my sister will be, in any way, settling?'

He grins at me now. I wonder if all Americans have so many teeth.

'Yeah, I'm kinda counting on that. I've ... I've never met anyone like her before.' There's a note of wonder in his voice and he's actually glancing around as though afraid of being overheard. 'She ... she means the world to me, Jonathan. I'll take good care of her. Well, if she lets me.' There's a bit of throat clearing and foot-shuffling going on and I can't help but remember when he gave her the toolkit. It's the same combination of self-consciousness and sincerity.

'I really do, y'know, love her.'

I remember once, at a zoo, seeing a male wolf that had recently lost its mate. The poor chap had been wandering around his cage as though still looking for her, slowly giving up the will to live over her loss. The look in O'Connell's eyes when Evy was taken by Imhotep reminded me of that wolf and it's a memory that comes back to me now. That, really, should have told me all I needed to know concerning those two.

It's my turn to clear my throat.

'Steady on, O'Connell, no need to gush.'

'But you...' He stares at me and then laughs. Shakes his head. 'C'mon, let's get these drinks and rescue Evy from the spider woman.'

'Who?'

He flashes more of those American teeth at me and claps a hand on my shoulder that nearly drives me through the floor.

'Y'know, Jon, I may need to learn a lot about nice girls, but you need to learn a lot about women.'

I resent that.