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Evelyn found she loved camels. Perhaps they didn't smell very good, but they were so cute and fuzzy, far more exotic and interesting than horses, and the challenge of trying to move with their particular gait was one she embraced cheerfully. The boat had been just an extension of the compound, and thus, of England, but this, now. This was adventure, with a capital A. At last, her life was really starting.

They made their way through the desert, the four of them, following O'Connell. She wanted to ask him how he knew where he was going—it all just looked the same to her. Same sand; same trees; same distant rock formations. But O'Connell never seemed the least bit uncertain.

Jonathan, of course, complained the entire way. "Never did like camels. Filthy buggers. They smell, they bite, they spit …"

Behind him, the warden spat something out onto the sand, sounding very much like a camel himself.

Evelyn leaned forward to pat hers on the head. "I think they're adorable."

At the back of the pack, the warden warbled some song in a mixture of Arabic and English. Evelyn looked up ahead at the broad back of Rick O'Connell and wondered what he thought of camels. What he thought of books and libraries and England. What he thought of her.

She pulled her thoughts away. He was their guide, nothing more. This was a business partnership, nothing more. No sense dreaming of things that couldn't be.

Her high spirits waned somewhat over the course of the day that stretched endlessly on. Sand blew around them, her dress whipped in the wind and spattered the sand particles into her face, various parts of her body grew sore. Would they never get there?

With a heroic effort, she kept herself from asking how much longer it would be. They would get there when they got there.

Someone else might have wondered if O'Connell was leading them into the desert on a wild goose chase. But not Evelyn. She had seen the look in his eyes when she asked if this was a flim-flam. He believed in Hamunaptra. He didn't want to go back. He was leading them only because he owed her his life. As Jonathan had said, his word was his word, and he had given it. Evelyn accepted that, and she found that she trusted him.

She contented herself with whiling away the long, hot afternoon in fantasies—herself as an accepted … no, a valued and important member of the Bembridge Scholars, consulted anytime a new find was uncovered. No, the first to do the finding. And then home to her handsome husband, a tall American with blue eyes …

Rick didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be back in this desert, riding a camel, going back toward that accursed city, constantly feeling eyes on him, even in what appeared to be an empty desert. The only reason he was doing this was because he owed the woman behind him his life, and when you owed a debt like that, you paid it.

Still, every step his camel took felt heavier, every piece of desert they put behind them made him feel more vulnerable. Rick was not a man who believed—he had explicitly rejected belief all his life. Growing up as he had, you learned fast that what mattered was what you could do, not what some myth could do for you. But whatever lay beneath the sands of Hamunaptra was real. It existed, and it wanted to be left alone. He hoped with all his heart that he wasn't going to come to regret bringing this brave-hearted and foolish woman and her wastrel of a brother out here.

It was better when the sun was down. The desert cooled rapidly, and the faint chill was a relief after the day in the blazing sun.

His companions had been remarkably quiet all day. The warden's singing, Jonathan's complaints, Evelyn's attempts to carry on a conversation with her camel, all had faded within the first hour, and they had gone on without complaint. Even on the brief stops there hadn't been much conversation, everyone too busy stretching out the soreness from the unaccustomed time in the saddle.

Now, with night fallen, Rick wondered if they had fallen asleep. It was possible on a camel, especially surrounded as they were with boxes and bags.

Evelyn's camel drifted in his direction, and her nodding head fell onto his shoulder. Yes, she was asleep. Rick was tempted to leave her there, to let her rest so close to him. But that couldn't happen. She wasn't for him, and he had to remember that. Gently, he pushed her upright, only a little surprised that she didn't waken with the movement. It had been a long day for her, and she had handled it with the patience and fortitude of a seasoned trooper.

His camel grumbled and he raised a finger to his lips, shushing it, not wanting to wake her.

In the distance, over the warden's voice, raised in some kind of a dream, he heard the whinny of a horse. Looking sharply over his shoulder, he spied them on a far outcropping. Maybe a dozen riders, just sitting there. Watching.

Dimly he recalled seeing a similar sight as he staggered away from Hamunaptra, already feeling the effects of the sun. They had left him alone then—was it too much to hope they might leave him alone again now?

Well, whoever they were, he hoped they kept their distance. Even more, he hoped that he could get into Hamunaptra, get whatever Evelyn Carnahan was looking for there, and get out very quickly. He wouldn't be comfortable until that place was far behind him again, where it belonged.