Assassin's Honor by Monica Burns Page A

they'd met since the end of their relationship. She finished pouring the whiskey, and the liquor bottle clinked softly against the wood surface of the coffee table as she set it aside. She forced a smile to her lips and offered Ewan a glass of amber-colored liquid. Deliberately, she ignored the frown of concern furrowing his brow. Instead, she plopped down into the plush corner of the couch. Ewan sent her a discerning look.
                "I see. At least you're not still carrying a torch for the fellow."
                "Nope," she said in a carefree tone. She might not love Jonathan anymore, but the mere mention of his name could still make her stomach churn with nausea and pain. Finding him in bed with his anthropology intern two years ago hadn't been nearly as painful as discovering the real reason for his marriage proposal.
                "Your reluctance to discuss this mysterious individual leads me to assume this is an affair of the heart. Have I met the young man?"
                "I don't think so."
                She could have told him about her visitor, but she really didn't want Ewan to fuss over her safety. The stranger's dire warning flitted through her head again. He'd been convinced she was in real danger and equally concerned about her safety.
                An oxymoron given the man had accosted her in her own home. Well, maybe "accosted" wasn't the right word. Hell, he hadn't even told her whom she needed to be afraid of. On top of that, she didn't even know his name.
                "Have you heard from the Institute about when you can return to work?" Ewan's words made her shake her head.
                "Dr. Stuart wouldn't give me a date. Apparently, there's some concern that I've become a liability for the university unless I shift my field of expertise to something more local."
                "Local?"
                "I believe he mentioned the word 'classroom.' " She didn't bother to hide her disgust.
                "Bloody hell! The man is mad to think about putting you in the classroom."
                "Thanks for your vote of confidence regarding my teaching skills," she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. He waved her protest aside as he leaned back in the recliner opposite her.
                "No, no, my dear. Stuart's a fool not to send you back to Egypt. Your work in Ptolemy's tomb has been exceptional. Charles found the damn thing, but you're the one whose work has made the excavation the success that it is. Even Michael Granby admits that, despite the man's proclivity to tout his own credentials."
                Ewan pulled a pipe from his coat pocket with a pouch of tobacco. With his usual precision, her friend packed the bowl and proceeded to light it. Emma closed her eyes briefly as the tobacco's aroma drifted across the room to tease her nose. The same brand her father had smoked. Her dad had always enjoyed his after-dinner pipe. She could still see him sitting in his recliner ready to debate his favorite topic--Ptolemy and the Sicari who'd served him.
                The image was so real in her head, she tensed as she waited for her mother's voice to echo out of the kitchen. But the sound never materialized. She opened her eyes and smiled at the man across from her. Ewan Redmurre rarely handed out compliments, and earning his praise meant she'd done something special--significant. She savored the thought.
                She'd worked hard to build her reputation without the use of her unique gift. An ability Jonathan had thought he could exploit to his advantage. She thrust all thought of her ex-fiance out of her head. Ewan Redmurre had just paid her one of the highest compliments she could ever receive. His approval wasn't to be taken lightly given his degree of influence at the Oriental Institute. A member of the Institute's Board of Directors,