Her last legitimate employer had given her high praise and had been concerned about how she fared. He’d even admitted he’d wished he could have helped her out of the country.
A shadow appeared in the doorway and a dark abaya-clad figure darted into the room.
“My apologies for being late, Professor,” Raissa said, ducking her head, apologetically.
“Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me you might be late?” he said, a little more sharply than he intended.
A little taken aback by the sharpness, her eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to. I thought to bring you these,” she said, withdrawing two thick carefully wrapped packets from beneath the folds of the abaya and setting them on the desk in front of him.
Ky looked at them then reached out and touched one.
He looked at her.
All he could see of her, as she reached up to unfasten the face covering, were her beautiful blue eyes. Then the face covering dropped away and he could see her fine features, the straight nose, the firm perfectly shaped mouth. And those eyes, watching him steadily.
If the bundles were what he thought they were then he very probably owed her an apology.
He didn’t even want to think of the risk she’d taken to get them.
Part of him wanted to shake her for taking such a chance. Another part wanted to hug her.
She pushed the hood of the abaya back and looked at him, steadily, evenly.
Neither packet was small.
Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his pocket knife to cut the twine with which they were bound and opened the first packet.
On top was a pair of white cotton gloves, proof of the care she’d taken. Beneath were pieces of clay tablets atop pieces of papyri. Each piece of papyri, each piece of clay tablet, had been cautiously packaged, packed and sealed in individual plastic bags.
Ky touched the first piece of sealed papyrus and let out a breath.
“You probably shouldn’t ask how I came by them,” Raissa said, carefully, her blue eyes watching him warily, “but carbon dating will confirm the date as being around the time of the other pieces you have, I’m sure.”
“You went back.”
She shrugged. “Yes.”
Amazed, speechless, he could only stare at her. If she’d been caught… The penalty for stealing in this country was quite severe, even if she’d only been taking back that which had been stolen. She’d taken a hell of a risk.
“The sons didn’t know what they had. I did. I brought everything I could find that I thought might help,” she said, quietly.
He looked at her. “I owe you an apology.”
Those blue eyes met his at first solemnly and then with a glint of amusement.
“For what? You don’t know me and you’ve no reason to trust me.”
Ky frowned a little. True as it was, the mirror of her words to his own distrust made him uncomfortable. She’d done nothing to deserve it.
“There are some hieroglyphs on some of those papyri that you really should see,” she said, gently.
He looked at her. She smiled a little, gave him a small smile. Apology accepted, graciously.
Move on.
“Show me,” he said.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she ducked her head as she visibly relaxed.
She bent a little over the desk to pick through the plastic envelopes, searching for the right ones.
Her scent reached him again, sweet with that hint of spice. She drew her shimmering hair over the other shoulder with one hand to get it out of the way before leaning on the desk. It fell in a rippling stream, framing her face.
Once again he was conscious of her in ways that he shouldn’t be. He hadn’t wanted to admit her presence was more than welcome or that his fear had been for her first, and then for his research. That was a first.
Ky caught himself examining her profile, the classic lines of it, the curve of her mouth, the long slender column of her throat, the inviting curve of her shoulder.
“Here,” Raissa said, “this one…and this…”
She turned to look at him
A shadow appeared in the doorway and a dark abaya-clad figure darted into the room.
“My apologies for being late, Professor,” Raissa said, ducking her head, apologetically.
“Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me you might be late?” he said, a little more sharply than he intended.
A little taken aback by the sharpness, her eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to. I thought to bring you these,” she said, withdrawing two thick carefully wrapped packets from beneath the folds of the abaya and setting them on the desk in front of him.
Ky looked at them then reached out and touched one.
He looked at her.
All he could see of her, as she reached up to unfasten the face covering, were her beautiful blue eyes. Then the face covering dropped away and he could see her fine features, the straight nose, the firm perfectly shaped mouth. And those eyes, watching him steadily.
If the bundles were what he thought they were then he very probably owed her an apology.
He didn’t even want to think of the risk she’d taken to get them.
Part of him wanted to shake her for taking such a chance. Another part wanted to hug her.
She pushed the hood of the abaya back and looked at him, steadily, evenly.
Neither packet was small.
Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his pocket knife to cut the twine with which they were bound and opened the first packet.
On top was a pair of white cotton gloves, proof of the care she’d taken. Beneath were pieces of clay tablets atop pieces of papyri. Each piece of papyri, each piece of clay tablet, had been cautiously packaged, packed and sealed in individual plastic bags.
Ky touched the first piece of sealed papyrus and let out a breath.
“You probably shouldn’t ask how I came by them,” Raissa said, carefully, her blue eyes watching him warily, “but carbon dating will confirm the date as being around the time of the other pieces you have, I’m sure.”
“You went back.”
She shrugged. “Yes.”
Amazed, speechless, he could only stare at her. If she’d been caught… The penalty for stealing in this country was quite severe, even if she’d only been taking back that which had been stolen. She’d taken a hell of a risk.
“The sons didn’t know what they had. I did. I brought everything I could find that I thought might help,” she said, quietly.
He looked at her. “I owe you an apology.”
Those blue eyes met his at first solemnly and then with a glint of amusement.
“For what? You don’t know me and you’ve no reason to trust me.”
Ky frowned a little. True as it was, the mirror of her words to his own distrust made him uncomfortable. She’d done nothing to deserve it.
“There are some hieroglyphs on some of those papyri that you really should see,” she said, gently.
He looked at her. She smiled a little, gave him a small smile. Apology accepted, graciously.
Move on.
“Show me,” he said.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she ducked her head as she visibly relaxed.
She bent a little over the desk to pick through the plastic envelopes, searching for the right ones.
Her scent reached him again, sweet with that hint of spice. She drew her shimmering hair over the other shoulder with one hand to get it out of the way before leaning on the desk. It fell in a rippling stream, framing her face.
Once again he was conscious of her in ways that he shouldn’t be. He hadn’t wanted to admit her presence was more than welcome or that his fear had been for her first, and then for his research. That was a first.
Ky caught himself examining her profile, the classic lines of it, the curve of her mouth, the long slender column of her throat, the inviting curve of her shoulder.
“Here,” Raissa said, “this one…and this…”
She turned to look at him
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