Author's Note: OK, almost no readers (not unexpected given the age of the movies), but I'm good with that! I'm writing this as much for me (escapism) as anything else. I hope that the folks who are reading are enjoying it.
Note – this is the rest of the set up, far longer than I intended. The end will start to bring in familiar faces. There will also be time jumps (but I will revisit some of what happened in later chapters via flashback or dialogue). And I am not about the slow burn. This is about weaving happiness for my favorite canon character into the movies.
Disclaimer per usual – I do not own The Mummy, just a fan with an idea. No profit here, just fun for me.
One Week Later
"You must stop dropping your shoulder. I see you coming each time." Ardeth holds a hand out to Layla, pulling her to her feet with almost no effort.
She literally sticks her tongue out at him and goes over to the table to fetch them both a glass of water. It's early in the day, but despite it being late September, it'll still be extremely hot by the afternoon. They've taken to practicing like this in the morning, taking a break for lunch and then her showing him Aikido moves or working with his sword in the shade of the stables later in the day. She's already shown him that she does just fine with a handgun, a lesson their first afternoon.
He chuckles, following her, used to her occasional immature streak by now. "Little one, whether it is irksome to you or not, it is still true."
She hands him a glass, sighing, though internally warming up at the version of Aziza's nickname for her that he has started using. It had annoyed her momentarily, but it was said with such warmth – and he has easily nine, nearly ten, inches and at least fifty pounds on her – that she didn't protest. "I know, and I'm trying to stop. Sensei also would chastise me about this."
He nods, taking a drink. He knows what she is talking about now. After dinner the first night, Aziza had retired early while Layla and Ardeth had returned to the courtyard with more tea. She'd told him about Japan and her Sensei there, about learning martial arts. She'd been amazed by how genuinely interested he'd been in her stories from Japan and all of the other places she and her father had traveled while Layla was growing up.
In turn, he'd told her about his youth. She'd been amazed to hear that he'd been at Oxford as well, close to at the same time she'd been at Cornell. His time there abruptly ended by the deaths of his family members and, as he'd quietly told her, the woman he'd been intended to marry.
She'd told him about her parents and even about how difficult her transient growing up had been after Aziza went back to the Medjai. She'd also confessed to him, only after he swore that he'd never tell the woman, that she'd cried for Aziza almost every night for over a year. She'd blushed then, embarrassed at what she thought of as her shallow sadness. In her mind, her losses pale in comparison to his.
Almost as though he could read her mind, he'd moved her hair back and brushed his thumb over her burning cheek. He'd then said, "Little one, grief is never a competition. I at least had my family for most of my life. You had no time with your mother, precious little with Aziza, and also not long enough with your father."
She'd shaken her head. "But you lost your intended, the woman you loved."
He'd sighed, surprising her by leaning back and looking up at the stars. "She was more of a friend than a love. We'd grown up together in my tribe. It was a good match, and we would have had an enjoyable life, but it wasn't romantic love, Layla. The loss I suffered was the loss of my friend, and it was terrible. I wasn't with them because I was away at school in England. I cut my time there short to come back and step into my father's place as Chieftain."
She'd surprised both him and herself by taking his hand. He is, as she'd guessed, only about a year older than she is, and that thought had made her realize how young he was when he took on the mantle of leadership of the group she's been sworn to keep secret. She'd taken a deep breath and pushed her fear away a bit, saying, "Aren't we quite the pair of abject misery and loneliness?"
He'd looked at her and smiled slightly when he clearly noticed the teasing glint in her eyes. He'd laughed softly, but then he'd turned his hand over in hers, holding it tight in his. "We are indeed." His eyes had flitted down to their joined hands and then back up to hers. "No one but Aziza is brave enough to tease me anymore. It is nice, something I've missed."
They'd gone to bed then, but he hadn't released her hand until they'd separated at the top of the stairs. It made her wonder if he'd known that she'd overheard him and Aziza talking earlier. Every night since, they've sat outside and had tea after dinner while watching the sky. Any awkwardness between them has faded completely, despite their different upbringings and lives.
She can tell that he still feels bad every time he leaves her bruised or scraped as they spar, but he has learned that she neither wants nor needs his regrets. She's also been impressed by his willingness, even eagerness, to let her teach him some of the techniques she learned in Japan. She's never had a man listen to her with so much intensity and interest. Even at Cornell, when she was showing more knowledge and understanding of their field than her male peers, no one paid her much attention.
She's more comfortable with him than she has ever been with a man before, save her father. He makes her feel safe and self-confident, and the only way he is demanding or exacting is when it comes to ensuring her ability to protect herself. At the same time, though, over the course of this week, a strange, unfamiliar tension seems to grow between them more and more with each practice session.
"What are you thinking about, little one?" His voice is soft, but it still startles her.
She blinks. "You." Her eyes widen. "I said that out loud, didn't I?" She goes to the low bench behind where they stand in the courtyard, sitting on it with one leg curled beneath her and gripping her glass of water while her cheeks flame.
Ardeth observes her for a moment, his mind warring with his heart. He already believes that he has become too distracted by the half-American, half-Egyptian woman in front of him. She has little idea of how completely she has captivated him, with her mind, her strength, her courage, her heart, and he will readily admit, with her beauty, green eyes that now are regular fixtures in his dreams. In her, he knows he's likely met his match, but he has responsibilities that he isn't sure he can manage along with having a wife who would occupy his thoughts so often.
His first responsibility is to the Medjai and protecting the world from unimaginable horrors. But he has also now read her work from her graduate papers, how she rails against the methods of many less scrupulous archeologists or treasure hunters, against their greed (whether for wealth or fame) and against their lack of true caring for Egypt and its people. Given her role at the museum, she could be more than just a wife – she could be an ally as well, just as Dr. Bey is, helping his fellow Medjai protect the lost artifacts of Egypt from the inside.
More than anything, though, he wonders if she can manage the life she might have with him. Their children would be destined to lead the Medjai, and they likely wouldn't be able to be together all of the time. Maybe their coming separation will help him see how well she can manage the possible lifestyle of the wife of a Medjai Chieftain and how he manages it as well.
He then shakes his head. He knows that he is getting far ahead of himself, as he is unsure of her feelings on the matter. He swallows hard, putting his glass on the table, determined to find out.
As the silence stretches out between them, Layla stares at the glass in her hand, wanting to sink into the ground, certain that she's ruined things between them with her girlish mooning over him. She's looking down at her hands, so she hears him move rather than seeing him. She actually flinches when she hears his glass hit the table, certain that the next thing she hears will be him walking away from her just like everyone else in her life has.
She's surprised, then, when she sees his boots and black pants in her line of sight, right in front of her a moment later. He gently pries the water glass from her hand, turning and putting it down, also on the table if the sound is anything to go by. With nothing to hold onto anymore, Layla wrings her hands in her lap, continuing to look down. A moment later, his boots return, and when she doesn't look up, he softly says, "Look at me, little one."
She worries the fabric of her tunic with her hands, shaking her head. He sighs and kneels in front of her, finally making her look up in surprise, their eyes level for once. "Ardeth, please, you can leave me. I'm fine." She's irritated with herself, because her voice sounds small and breathy. The way she sits allows him to get very close to her, and she feels overwhelmed by his presence, but in the best possible way.
He shakes his head, covering both of her hands with one of his much larger ones. "I have no intention of leaving you, Layla, at least not today." He sees a flash of hurt and sadness in her eyes at the last part of his sentence. "I think about you far more often than is right or proper, little one." He reaches up with his free hand and touches her face with his palm, cupping her cheek. "I do not desire to leave you, but I must do just that less than a week from now."
She nods. "I understand."
He huffs out a quiet laugh. It occurs to him that she has no idea that he is as bereft at the idea of his leaving as she is. "I do not think that you do." His hand stays on her face, and her brow furrows. He continues softly, "I have responsibilities as the leader of the twelve tribes, and I must live up to those responsibilities." She nods again, but before she can reply further, he adds, "If I had my choice, I would not go, maybe not ever."
She breathes out quietly. "Oh." Then her eyes widen again, his words seeming to land. "Oh!"
With the thumb of the hand on her face, he brushes her lips, hoping he isn't being too forward. He leans in closer. "May I, little one?"
She instinctively wets her lips, his eyes following the small movement, and she nods. "You may."
He closes the distance between them, both of their eyes closing as his lips find hers. The kiss is chaste and gentle, completely undemanding. She feels him shuffle closer to her on his knees, his hand staying on her face while the other releases her hands in her lap and wraps around her waist.
She gives in to an impulse she's been fighting all week and sinks one of her hands into his hair, finding it just as soft as she'd imagined. She runs her fingers through it, ending with her hand on the back of his neck, her nails softly scraping his skin as the tension she'd been feeling with him seems to release and form into something between them that is almost tangible in how right it feels.
He can't stop himself from deepening the kiss at her reaction to him, happy that she hasn't pushed him away. She gasps softly as he pulls her tight to his upper body, and he is reminded that she likely has little experience with men. He pulls back a moment later, resting his forehead against hers. As they both catch their breath, she whispers, "Oh my. So that's what all the fuss is about."
He huffs out a laugh, opening his eyes. "Indeed." They stay that way for a moment, eyes locked and foreheads touching, until he finally says, "I am coming to care for you deeply, little one. If you feel the same, I need you to think about how you feel when we are separated next week. I cannot promise you that I will always be present, and I don't imagine that a settled life in a desert tribe's camp is where you belong, either."
"Are you saying you don't think we can be together, Ardeth?" She pulls back slightly, hurt once again apparent in her eyes. He doesn't let her go far, keeping his arm around her waist.
"Not at all. But I need to know how well I manage keeping thoughts of you from the front of my mind, and knowing that I could be gone for quite some time, I want you to think on whether you can tolerate my long absences, particularly knowing that there could one day be an absence from which I do not return, thought it would not be my choice."
She actually flinches at his words, looking down again, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to her temple. "It is my reality, little one. I cannot escape it, nor do I want to. My oath as the Chieftain of the Medjai is as much a part of me as anything else."
She bites her lip, clearly thinking about his words. He begins to worry that she will reject him out of hand. After a moment, she quietly offers, "I think," she pauses, then goes on, "No, I know that I will find that a little time with you whenever we can manage it is far preferable to the notion of being alone." He begins to speak, but she shakes her head, showing him with her next words that she can nearly read his thoughts, "Nor would it be preferable to be with someone other than you, no matter how much we could be together."
She mirrors him, cupping his cheek with her hand. "It terrifies me, but you are already very dear to me, Ardeth Bay, and you are worth any absences that we might have to suffer, any pain that the loss of you might bring."
He turns his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. She shudders at the affection and intimacy of the small action, and he says, "I am very glad to hear you say that, Layla Gamal Easton, as you are also already very dear to me. And I am equally afraid. I have not let anyone get close to me since my family was killed. I've even kept Aziza at a distance, as I'm sure she'll tell you once I leave. Whether that was to protect her or to protect myself, I'm not certain."
Then, he gives her a mischievous look. "But we should not tell Aziza of this." He motions between them. She furrows her brow, but he explains, "She's been presumptuous, and I want her to stew on it. I know you heard us the first day we were here, when I asked Aziza to leave us be."
She blushes lightly. "I did not intend to eavesdrop. I'd just come out to make sure that Aziza's room was aired out when I heard you talking. It was inappropriate of me to listen without telling you that I was there."
"I knew you were there, little one."
"You did?" At his nod, she demands, "How?"
He smiles and leans into her, nuzzling her temple and inhaling. "Jasmine." He leans back, meeting her eyes. "You must use a soap scented with Jasmine. I realized that you were there once I approached the stairs."
"I buy it in the market. Is it too heavy? I can buy something else." She gives into impulse again and brushes her hand through his hair.
He shakes his head. "Please don't. I like it very much and already associate that scent with you."
She smiles, but then her expression turns pensive. "One thing I should say, Ardeth, as I know it's something central to you. I do not practice any religion. It's not that I'm not a believer. Faith has just been hard for me to find of late; I completely respect yours, though. But if you would prefer that I cover my hair or –"
He cuts her off. "No, little one, I do not expect that of you. You aren't property or someone for me to command. I've seen you out, when we went to the market this week, and I saw that you covered your head. You clearly respect traditions and cultures. That is what matters to me – not the action, the respect. If we were in a western country, back in England, for example, I'd not only not be bothered if you didn't cover your hair, I'd actually be surprised if you did."
"I don't know, I wore some rather smashing hats during my year there." He laughs, and she finds herself tracing the tattoos on his face with her fingertips. "These are beautiful. Do all Medjai have these?"
He shakes his head, rising to his feet in order to sit next to her on the bench. "No. They are usually only worn by warriors. Aziza doesn't have them, and neither does Dr. Bey at the museum."
"Ardeth, what are you and Dr. Bey protecting?" She cocks her head at him. "It must be something serious if it's necessary to drive treasure-hunters and the like away."
"Can I explain it when I return? It is complicated and something I need to think about how to relate to you." He frowns. "I do not wish to hide things from you, little one – I do not want you to think I do not trust you. I do."
She reaches out and takes his hand again, and he stops talking. When he looks at her. "I know. I trust you, too, Ardeth. And you do not owe me this. My natural curiosity can get me into trouble at times."
"Speaking of, where will your dig be? I know you are leaving soon, and I've seen the books you were reading."
She grins, sitting up straighter. "Alexandria. Just outside of Alexandria. It's a newer site, and there are a few teams there." Her smile falters. "But I've already heard stories of looting and lack of respect for the sites. It bothers me, and it makes me wonder how many digs I'll be able to tolerate with such terrible people, even though some of the others there are likely honorable." She shakes her head.
"There may be other work you can do here. I know Dr. Bey is to be promoted to curator soon. He could likely use the help of someone as bright as you and who has integrity and conviction as strong as yours." He squeezes her hand.
"I think I might have to prove myself to him a bit." She gives him a sheepish smile. "I might've omitted the fact that I'm a woman when I corresponded with him about archeological work here. Any work I've published has been as L. G. Easton, and I never signed my full name to anything I sent him."
Ardeth laughs. "I imagine he was somewhat surprised." She gives him a stern look, and he leans down, kissing it away. "I spoke with him before Aziza and I came here. He isn't angry with you, little one, and he deeply appreciates your writings. I have been reading them myself, and I agree with him." At her confused look, he explains, "Dr. Bey gave me copies of several of your articles and a book-like paper."
"My graduate thesis." She nods. "It's rather critical of current methodologies and motivations. I was lucky to have a graduate adviser with similar concerns."
"It is more insightful than you realize. The mission of the Medjai is to protect the world from some of the darkest forces you can imagine by protecting some of the most sacred and yet darkest sites here. That is why I am leaving soon." He stands up and holds a hand out to her. "Now, let us see about getting you to stop dropping that shoulder."
At the end of the week, just before dawn, Layla wraps herself in a shawl and walks with Ardeth out to the stables. He has all of his things in a bag, and after saddling his horse, he turns to look down at Layla, dressed in a modest dressing gown over her night dress. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and he brushes some of it back from her face.
They've spent the last week getting to know each other better, and she's not sure she can recall a better week in a very long time. Little changed from their first week, except that their talks during their evenings under stars took place with her nestled in his arms and were interspersed with soft, lingering kisses, though nothing more inappropriate than that.
She's never in her life felt so comfortable with a man, probably because he's the first man outside of her father to truly take her seriously. He manages to make her feel safe and protected without feeling smothered, but he has also persisted in training her and letting her train him, both things bolstering her confidence in her ability to defend herself. Yesterday at dinner with her, Aziza, and Dr. Bey, he stated that he is confident that she does not require a guard. Dr. Bey had nodded immediately, and while it took her a moment longer, Aziza nodded as well.
Much to Ardeth's amusement, they've also managed to fool Aziza about their relationship. The older woman has begun making remarks in front of them about the other, remarks they both respond to in such a way that implies (but never outright declares, as they both drew the line at lying) they are nothing but good friends.
But he has to leave this morning. He said his good-byes to Aziza the night before. Aziza insists upon staying with Layla for the time being, and she has said that she'll even stay when Layla leaves for Alexandria in a few days. Ardeth has made it clear to Layla that he approves of this, that he knows that Aziza desires to be here in Cairo for now, that she insists this is where she currently belongs.
He's now looking at Layla with a warm expression that makes his already dark brown eyes almost black. He leans down to her and kisses her gently before pulling her close in a hug. His chin perches on top of her head, and she takes a moment to nearly burrow into him, allowing herself to be completely surrounded by him. She sighs. "What am I going to do without you, Ardeth?"
His arms tighten around her, and he drops a kiss to the top of her head. "You will manage, little one. I will as well. And we'll see each other as soon as it is possible for me to return."
She shakes her head against him. "I never believed in fairy tales until now." She leans away, far enough to see his eyes. "I never believed I'd fall in love with someone in less than two weeks."
He kisses her again. "I am the same. But imagine my surprise at falling in love in one day." He releases her and fluidly mounts his horse, knowing he needs to go. At her surprised expression, he lifts an eyebrow and says, "Little one, I knew I was going to love you the moment you knocked me to my rear that first day in the courtyard. You took my breath away." He holds a hand out to her. She reaches up and takes it, and he meets her eyes with his. "I love you, Layla."
"And I love you, Ardeth. Please be careful and come back to me." She lets go of his hand and steps back.
"You do the same, little one. Keep your new knife handy." He refers to the small, sharp weapon he presented to her a few nights ago, one he taught her to use. "Allahu Ma'ana."
"Allahu Ma'ana, Ardeth. Safe travels." She waves as he kicks his heels back, and his horse takes off. He pulls up at the gate to her home, waving one more time. She returns the gesture and then watches until he disappears into the half-light of the dawn.
She's shocked when she realizes that tears have streaked her face, and she jumps when a warm hand squeezes her shoulder. "You two have been very tricky this week, haven't you?" Layla turns and looks up at Aziza, whose face turns from amusement to dismay when she sees Layla's tears. Aziza immediately hugs her close, and Layla clings to her as she did when she was a child. "Oh, my little lily, I didn't realize. He will come back to you."
"I need him to." Layla whispers, burying her face in Aziza's shoulder.
"No work today, little lily." Layla pulls back to protest that she needs the distraction. Aziza shakes her head. "We will go to the market, find you some new dresses and scarves for when he returns, things that fit you more closely than those shapeless tunics you favor. And maybe something good to cook for our dinner. Then you can tell me about your coming trip, and the time before you leave will pass quickly."
Layla shakes her head. She wants to fight Aziza, but she knows it would be futile. Aziza knows her well despite the years that passed before they were reunited. Layla huffs out a laugh. "I do dress that way to try to be culturally respectful, Mama Aziza, but I admit I also try to look less womanly in order to not draw the type of attention I do not want. It's not how things should be, but it is how they are. I want the men on the digs to leave me be so that I might work without distraction."
Aziza frowns. "Little lily, you are not making me feel better about letting you go off alone."
"Ardeth trusts that I can handle it. I need you to do the same." Layla levels a hard look at Aziza.
The older woman holds up her hands. "I do trust you and have confidence in you, dear one." She shakes her head. "I wish for you that you didn't have to concern yourself with dressing to not draw attention to yourself, odd, I know, coming from a woman of my background. It's unfortunate."
"It's all right, Mama Aziza. Hopefully, things will improve for other intellectual women in the future." She shrugs. She then blushes lightly. "You think Ardeth would like something more close-fitting?"
Aziza cackles. "My dear, I think he'd like it very much."
She blushes again, but she also grins. "Then by all means, we should shop today."
X
Six Weeks Later
Layla walks briskly through the museum in Cairo, doing her best to keep up with Dr. Bey as they head to his office; she's shorter and tired, and it's a challenge. She returned from the dig in Alexandria a few days ago, and she is still fuming about how it went. It's a Friday, the Holy day in Egypt, and the Museum is nearly empty, so she raises her concerns with her trip with Dr. Bey. "Dr. Bey, the archeologists in the field were barely qualified. How can we correct this?"
He shakes his head. "I don't know, Dr. Easton. Mr. Carter's discovery in Thebes as led to a new influx of treasure hunters. Even serious archeologists are being funded by private concerns. We can only work harder to review the applicants more carefully." He eyes her. "You look more fatigued than the last time I saw you, Doctor. Did you have any troubles on your trip?"
She shakes her head quickly. She definitely did have issues with several of the so-called Egyptologists and archeologists on the dig, but she will not be sharing that with Dr. Bey, as she knows the next people to hear about it would be Aziza and Ardeth. She plans to talk to Ardeth when he returns, but she's hesitant to say too much.
They stop at the door to the small office assigned to her by Dr. Bey. "No. But I may not want to go out again for some time. It was more disheartening and less satisfying than I'd expected. I enjoyed the work itself, but I felt alone in my pursuit of cultural rather than personal significance."
Dr. Bey looks at her closely. "All right, Doctor. Bear in mind that I may need help soon with regard to planning dig teams and also with reviewing acquisitions for the Museum. I believe you would be ideally suited to that work, and I need an expert."
She blinks, and then she narrows her eyes. "Did someone put you up to saying that, Dr. Bey?"
He holds up his hands. "I'll not lie to you, Dr. Easton. It was Aziza who suggested it, but she isn't incorrect. Her concern and motivations are personal, I'm sure, but I wouldn't suggest it to you if I didn't believe it to be a suggestion with merit. Think about it, Doctor."
She nods. "I will. I'll be heading home soon. Do you need anything further from me today?"
"No. And please take the day tomorrow, Doctor. Try to get some rest." Dr. Bey gives her a concerned look.
"I might do just that. Thank you, Dr. Bey." She watches as he walks away with a wave, and then she goes into her office to collect her bag.
Ten minutes later, she has her scarf over her hair, the long ends around her neck, nearly covering the lower portion of her face. She usually rides her horse to the museum, but she'd felt like walking this morning. The market area she cuts through on her way home is quiet, most people home with their families. The house will be empty when she arrives, as Aziza is away until the morning, visiting with a friend who is visiting Cairo.
When Layla gets home, she locks the door behind her, and she heads up the stairs, now heading to the room that was once her father's. At Aziza's urging, while Layla was gone on her dig, she allowed Aziza and the housekeeper to pack up all of her father's old things save some photographs and books. When Layla returned, she was amazed to see that Aziza had transformed the room. All of Layla's clothes are in the wardrobe, and the bed is now covered in a soft new blanket. Aziza also had the dressing table moved from Layla's room to this one.
She's loath to admit that she's lonely. After years managing on her own, in just a few short weeks she was spoiled by the presence of Aziza, Ardeth, or both of them. It's too quiet here now when it's just her.
If it hadn't been for Aziza telling her that she'd gotten a message from Ardeth that he was fine and checking in with some of the more southern tribes of the Medjai before returning to Cairo, she'd be worried sick. She doesn't expect him back for another day or two, something that makes her sigh. Then she scolds herself for being so ridiculous.
She's proud of herself for not spending the entire month in Alexandria fretting over him. It was only difficult at night, returning to her small tent, tense until sunrise, his knife close by. She didn't tell Dr. Bey, but several of the archeologists were aggressively forward with her, so much so that she'd been concerned. He was right that she's exhausted.
Layla changes into one of her more fitted sets of clothing, a dark green dress that is fitted at the top and with a flaring skirt. It's actually quite comfortable, and she likes how the soft fabric moves when she walks. She's brushing out her hair, released from the head covering and from its tight bun, when she hears the sound of a horse in the courtyard. She assumes that it's a visitor for the housekeeper and her husband, the caretaker who has taken care of the house for her for years.
She's startled, though, by a knock at the door several minutes later. She puts her brush down and heads downstairs. Before getting to the door, she pauses, peering out a small window that lets her see the front of the house. She sees a flash of black fabric, and she gasps and runs to the door, yanking it open. For half a heartbeat, she looks at the man in front of her, dusty from his ride, and she then throws herself at him, essentially leaping into his arms.
Ardeth is surprised, but he easily catches the woman as she propels herself forward. He does so with a short laugh before lifting her. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, and he pulls her to him, taking her weight and lifting her off of her feet. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, swallowing a sob. He feels one of her legs wrap around his hip, and he carries her inside with him, kicking the door closed behind them.
Though he knows it's not entirely appropriate, he walks until her back is braced against the wall near the door, the feeling of having her in his arms again dispelling any concern he feels with regard to propriety. She's clearly feeling the same, as her other leg comes up and hitches over his other hip, anchoring her to him.
He braces one hand under her, the other burying itself in her hair, cupping the back of her head. Her arms come up higher, and she tries to stop crying. His much larger body presses hers to the wall, and he drops his head to her shoulder, inhaling the scent of jasmine on her skin. After a moment, he says, "It would appear that you missed me as much as I missed you, little one."
She laughs weakly and lifts her head. "I did. Very much." She buries her hand in his hair, unable to wait any longer. She pulls him to her, pressing her lips to his.
He smiles against her mouth, and then he closes his eyes and deepens the kiss. She gasps softly, but she allows him to control the pace of the kiss. While she realizes that she's suddenly more than ready to throw propriety to the winds, she knows that his faith is important to him. So, she wants him to take the lead. And lead he does, continuing to press her firmly to the wall with his body. After a long while, she's not sure how long, he pulls back, resting his forehead against hers. "I'd planned to greet you a little more respectfully than this, little one."
She blinks her eyes open, meeting his intense brown gaze. "Considering that I literally threw myself at you, I have no complaints, Ardeth."
His eyes glance towards the interior of the house. "Aziza?"
"With a visiting friend until tomorrow morning." She is a little dismayed with herself when she can't resist the urge to squeeze his hips tighter with her legs.
He takes a few deep breaths, his hand leaving the back of her head, bracing against the wall. "I do not know that I can trust myself alone with you, little one."
She doesn't know how to respond to that, so she just leans in and kisses him again, this time far more chastely. "I love you, and I trust you, Ardeth. I can trust you enough for both of us."
He smiles, but he slowly lowers her to the floor. "I truly did miss you, Layla."
She nods, truly looking him over closely. He's dusty from his ride, and his eyes look tired just like hers. "Do you have a bag?"
"Yes." He steps to the door. "It's out there. You distracted me."
She laughs. He goes out and picks up his bag, coming back in and closing the door behind him. He starts to say something, but when his eyes land on her, they widen as they track up and down her body. "Your dress, it is –" He stops talking, blinking as he stares at her.
She wrings her hands together. "Do you like it? Aziza took me shopping in the market. She said you would like it." She picks at the skirt. "I just like it because it's quite comfortable and cooler than pants and a tunic."
"It's beautiful. You're beautiful, Layla." He drops his bag and steps closer to her, cupping her face in his hand. "You bought a dress just because you thought I would like it?"
She bites her lip. "Several of them, actually." She shrugs a little. "Aziza can be quite convincing when she wants to. You know how she is once she has an idea in her head."
"I do." He pauses. "She knows?"
"She does. She came out as you left that morning, and she started to tease me until she saw that I was in tears." She shrugs again, this time with tears coming to her eyes again. "It was rather hard to pretend we weren't more than friends then."
After that, he hugs her again, then insists on going upstairs to what is now the guest room, her old room, to change. She tells him no one else will visit, so when he comes back down, he wears a soft tunic shirt and loose pants, more casual than she has ever seen him. She found some things in the food cellar, just some hummus, bread, and vegetables Aziza had put aside for her before leaving to visit her friend.
Both of them nearly fall asleep during dinner, and he actually sends her upstairs to get ready for bed while he stacks their dishes in the wash basin and takes the remaining food back down to the cellar. By the time he gets back upstairs, he feels fatigue in every part of himself. He goes to her room to bid her good night, and he finds her sitting at her dressing table in her simple white nightdress, brush in her hand, sound asleep.
He shakes his head, going to her and reaching down to take the brush from her. He bumps against her as he does, and to his surprise, she jerks awake with a gasp, eyes wild as she brandishes the brush at him like it's a weapon. He pulls back quickly, shocked. "Layla?"
"Ardeth?" She blinks, dropping the brush and wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm so sorry. You startled me."
He kneels next to her where she sits. "Little one, what happened? You woke as if you were under attack."
She shakes her head. She doesn't want to tell him, to make him think she's weak, to be a distraction because he's worried about her. But one look at his concerned eyes, and her conviction on that dissipates immediately. "On the dig, we were supposed to stay at a small hotel, but the leader decided we'd be in tents. He tried to enter mine the first night; I made it very clear he wasn't welcome. After that, I barely slept, sitting up at night, your knife in my hand."
"Little one, you should have left, come back here and told Dr. Bey." His brow furrows.
She shakes her head. "I cannot run every time this gets difficult, Ardeth. Had I done that, I would have simply proven every negative thing men say about women in this field." She stands and starts to pace, suddenly agitated. "I have to prove myself again and again and again. To my father, to my professors, to Dr. Bey, to other men." She stops and looks at him. "To you." Before he can protest, she continues, "You do it from a place of concern, but most do it from a place of disdain. I cannot just run, not even when all of my instincts are telling me to, or I will lose every inch of credibility I have built."
He stands and goes to her, letting her see his hands until she gives him a slight nod and moves into his arms. He hugs her close. "I am so sorry, little one. I did not intend to make you feel that way, and I understand. But please, did any of them hurt you?"
She shakes her head. "No. After the third one tried to get handsy and I left him with a nasty scar for his efforts, they all deemed me 'not worth the trouble.'"
A wave of fatigue washes over her, and her knees give way. He catches her and lifts her up, carrying her to the bed. He places her on the edge of it, and he goes to the light and extinguishes it. He comes back to the bed and helps her recline back, tucking her in as Aziza did when she was a child. But she doesn't want him to leave.
"Stay with me Ardeth." Her hand comes out and grips his wrist. She can see his eyes widen in the dim light coming through the window. "Not for anything untoward. Just to sleep. I haven't truly slept in nearly five weeks. Please."
Observing her for a moment, he nods. She releases his wrist, and he goes around to the other side of the bed, climbing into it. The moment he settles, she moves, tucking herself against him. "Thank you."
He feels rage inside, wanting to hunt down every one of those men and gut them, but he pushes that down, knowing it would only serve to further undermine her. But he visited the distant tribes for a reason, met with several of the elders over the last few days, with a specific purpose in mind, one he plans to discuss with her in the morning.
Her soft voice startles him. "What are you thinking about, Ardeth? You cannot say nothing, as you are completely tense. If this makes you uncomfortable, you do not have to stay with me."
Her voice turns small and sad at the end, and he won't tolerate that. "I have no desire to go, little one." He slides down further in the bed, bringing them eye to eye. "I would have returned earlier, but I had something to discuss with the elders in each of the twelve tribes."
"What was that?" She looks concerned.
He leans in and kisses her brow, making her relax, the worry lines smoothing out. He takes a deep breath. "Marrying an outsider."
Her eyes widen this time. She bites her lip again, a habit he is coming to love. "And what did they say?"
"They were disapproving at first, but you had messages of support from Aziza and Dr. Bey, and when I told them of your work and your position on the treatment of our sites, they assented." He brushes her hair back from her eyes. "So, might you be willing to assent as well?"
"Ardeth, are you asking me to marry you?" She feels tears come to her eyes.
"Rather poorly, it would seem, but yes. Layla Easton, will you be my wife?" He asks softly.
She burrows closer to him, and she says, "Yes, Ardeth Bay, I will."
He leans in and kisses her gently, and he says, "Aziza will not let us hear the end of this."
She laughs, but she's already fading, feeling completely safe for the first time in over a month. In moments, she's sound asleep, and he follows close behind her.
Late the next morning, Aziza returns. She's surprised to see Ardeth's horse in the stables, so she hurries inside. She realizes when she enters that the house is completely silent. She heads upstairs to put down her small bag, and she stops by the room where Ardeth would stay, and she sees his bag there and his folded-up robes, but no Ardeth. She crosses to Layla's bedroom, assuming the young woman and Ardeth went out to the market but wanting to be sure.
The sight that greets her eyes takes her by surprise, but that surprise melts into happiness almost immediately. Ardeth and Layla are curled together in the bed, both sound asleep. She knows she should be scandalized, but she isn't.
She backs quietly out of the room. Her visiting friends last night were from one of the far tribes, and they'd told her that Ardeth had been circulating, seeking approval of the elders to marry an outsider. Aziza smiles as she goes down to the kitchen to prepare food for when they wake. "Time to plan a wedding, it would seem."
X
Two-and-a-Half Years Later, Early 1926
"Dr. Easton, there is someone here to see you." Layla looks up from the documents she was translating, and she nods to her assistant, a young man from here in Cairo. She spins her wedding ring on her finger. While her name is now Bay, she goes by Easton here at the museum, honestly because having Dr. Bey call her Dr. Bay was damnably confusing.
She's now the assistant curator of the museum, promoted by Dr. Bey when he was made curator. It caused a small uproar, particularly with the Bembridge Scholars, but he wasn't having it. She now coordinates all digs for the museum as well as acquisitions.
"Show them in, Mr. Ibrahim." She nods.
She hears him say, "Miss Carnahan? Dr. Easton will see you now," and she jumps up, straightening her dark burgundy fitted dress, long-sleeved with a sheer burgundy matching shawl, as she rushes to her office door.
As she does, Evelyn enters, prim and proper as ever in her crisp, demure white blouse and long khaki skirt and dark brown heels. "Layla?"
Layla approaches the woman and hugs her. "Evy, it's so good to see you!" She steps back. "Come in and sit!" She motions to the chairs in front of her desk. "Mr. Ibrahim, could you ask Mrs. Ali to bring up some tea?"
"Of course, Doctor." The young man bows slightly at the waist, and he leaves. Evy looks impressed at the show of respect, but Layla knows that the young man is Medjai, training to be a historian and archeologist in the footsteps of Dr. Bey. He'll be heading off to Oxford himself in a couple of years. Her status both here at the museum and within the Medjai as the wife of the Chieftain also feeds his respect.
Layla joins Evy, sitting next to her in the other chair in front of the desk. "How have you been, Evy?"
"Well, thank you." Evy smiles shyly. "I am amazed that you are now assistant curator. I've met Dr. Bey, and he's quite intimidating. I fear he only accepted me as a librarian here because of my family's donations."
Layla shakes her head. "He may be gruff, but he wouldn't take you for that reason alone, Evy."
"I appreciate that. I know how you feel about the Bembridge Scholars, but I'm still trying to gain acceptance there. I'm hoping my time here will help with that." Evy frowns.
"Evy, I don't begrudge you trying to grow in our field, as you know." She smiles in conspiratorial way. "But I don't recommend using me as a reference with them. I'd be happy to provide it, of course, but those old goats aren't particularly fond of me, the female archeologist who bosses their people around as they try to coordinate digs and bring us artifacts and is half-Egyptian, half-American."
An older Egyptian woman brings in a tray with a teapot and cups as they both laugh, and once she sets it down and Layla thanks her, she leaves. Layla goes to pour the tea, and Evy's eyes widen. "You are married?"
Layla realizes that Evy saw her wedding band as she poured the tea. Layla nods. "Nearly two years now. Ardeth works out of Cairo most of the time, so it may be quite a while before he's able to come by the museum. And yes, he's from Egypt, one more reason the Bembridge Scholars don't quite approve of me."
"But the man called you Dr. Easton." Evy looks confused.
Layla laughs. "Yes, that is what I go by here. The curator is Dr. Bey, B-E-Y. My husband's last name is Bay, B-A-Y, pronounced the same way. It was far too confusing to have both of us by essentially the same name, so I remain Dr. Easton here at the museum, but I am Layla Bay everywhere else."
"Ah." Evy nods. "Congratulations, my friend. If I'd have known, I'd have brought a gift or had Jonathan find one for me to bring." Layla sighs, and Evy looks apologetic. "Does he drive you mad, Layla? If he does, I can tell him to stop."
Layla shakes her head. Jonathan Carnahan is a bit of a scoundrel and hopeless as an archeologist, but he's mostly harmless. "No, it's fine, Evy. He just shows up every few weeks with something he hopes is a real artifact. He comes to me because he knows me from my year at Oxford, when we met at your home for the holidays, and honestly because Dr. Bey won't even see him anymore."
They chat a while longer, and then Layla shows Evy to the library. When they arrive, Evy's eyes widen, and Layla smiles as she watches the younger woman explore in wonder. "Will you be all right then, Evy?"
"Oh my, yes, Layla. Thank you." She turns to her, eyes shining. Her expression softens. "You look happy here, Layla."
Layla nods. "I am. I hope you will be as well. It will be nice to have a friend here, especially when Ardeth is away."
Evy comes back over to her. "Is he gone right now? Would you care to have dinner tonight?"
"He is, and that would be lovely." Layla nods, surprised by how happy she is to see the younger woman.
"What does he do, Layla? For work?" Evy asks, clearly trying to be polite even as she drifts back to the books.
Without missing a beat, Layla provides the response she, Ardeth, and Dr. Bey agreed on two years ago. "He runs a group providing security to ancient sites."
"Oh, that must be interesting." Evy says absently, already lost to the books.
Layla swallows a smile. "It is indeed. See you tonight, Evy."