“It certainly does seem decadent. Where is the shop located?”
“On the lowest deck. That’s two below us. It’s right next to the first aid. You can’t miss it.”
“Awesome, thank you. I’ll head right down there.”
“Have fun!” Ken said chirpily. “We’ll let you know how the pool is. Honestly, a late-night swim in a pool while sailing down a river… it’s just so crazy, isn’t it, Barbums?”
Her voice drifted off as they headed upstairs to the pool.
I poked my head back into the cabin. “There’s a shop where we can buy clothing. Are you ready?”
“For many things,” Mrs. P replied, coming forward, making a good attempt to hide a scarf that had been draped decoratively along an end table. “What did you have in mind? Will I be required to dance? I have a scarf, if so.”
“No dancing, and you’re going to put that and anything else you’ve pilfered back later,” I told her sternly, taking her arm and escorting her down the passageway.
It took us a bit to get there, since the ship, a small river cruising variety, was not one of those behemoths that roam the ocean and didn’t have elevators, but at last we made it to the lowest level of the ship, where the shop was tucked away. Inside the shop was a tiny desk holding a variety of travel-size items like aspirin, shampoo, and razors. A couple of t-shirts bedecked the wall, as well as a stand containing a variety of the same navy blue one-piece swimsuit as I’d just seen on the two Irish women. There were also a couple of men’s trunks in pale salmon and a box displaying sunscreen.
But no everyday clothing.
“Hello,” I said to the woman who was on her knees setting out some sort of anti-viral hand sanitizer. “I was told that you had some clothing available for purchase. Do you have anything more than swimsuits and t-shirts?”
“I want a swimsuit,” Mrs. P said, and plucked one from the wall, holding it up to herself. “I shall bathe my soul with my sisters in the light of the morning sun.”
“Bound to be chilly then,” I pointed out. “But if you really want one, that’s fine with me.”
“All our costumes are behind the screen,” the shop woman said in heavily accented English, nodding toward a fabric screen that had been angled to hide the back part of the room.
Costumes? I shook my head as I scooted around the screen, assuming it must have been an odd phrasing.
I stared at the collection of sparky, bespangled, and billowing tulle offerings that hung from a variety of hooks and available coat hangers.
“No, she meant costumes,” I said, my heart falling.
“What sort of costumes—oooh!” Mrs. P pushed past me into the secluded area, and perused the offerings with a delight. “Fancy dress! This trip will be more fun than I thought. I like this one.”
I eyed the skimpy Cleopatra-esque outfit, and didn’t say a single thing.
At least, not about that.
“Hello again,” I said, popping my head around the screen. “I’m sorry to bother you, but these appear to be all costume party outfits. Do you have anything normal? That is, not meant for a costume contest?”
The woman didn’t even look up from her bottle arranging. “This is not that sort of a shop. We provide costumes for the patrons who did not bring one for the final evening costume party.”
“Great. Just… great.” I turned back to where Mrs. P was struggling to get her gauze tunic off so she could try on what appeared to be a harem girl outfit. “I assume we’ll stop somewhere tomorrow where we can get some clothes. I guess we can just wear what we have—Mrs. P, no!”
I was too late. She’d already shucked her clothes and had donned the blue marabou and sequin harem top. The floofy chiffon pants followed, and she admired herself in the mirror with little noises of satisfaction.
“Yes, that is quite nice. It’s a very… striking… outfit,” I agreed when she asked what I thought. I noticed a glint of gold in her wrinkled belly skin and figured that was just so Mrs. P to get her belly button pierced at her advanced age.
“I shall wear it tonight to the champagne reception,” she said, wrapping a matching blue marabou boa around her waist, hiding the wrinkles, and making the outfit a little less risqué. “Everyone will admire it.”
“That they will.” I refrained from pointing out that the ensemble was not quite suited to someone of her advanced years, since it wasn’t my place to make judgments. Besides, if she was comfortable wearing the costume and she liked it, then who was I to ruin her fun?
There remained the subject of my own less than sterling appearance. I brushed a hand down my badly wrinkled and grubby pants, and tried not to think of how much fun it was going to be to hand-wash my undies each night.
“I really would like to get something else to wear…” I bit my lower lip, trying to decide if I should spend some of my precious money to get a costume or just tough it out and keep wearing what I had on.
The idea of seeing Rowan, the ever cool and collected, while I looked like something that had been dragged around the desert, drove me into action.
“Right. Let me find something that isn’t too obnoxious.”
Mrs. P held up a sexy nurse outfit.
“Not in a million years. Is there something here less revealing?” I poked through the offerings, finding fault with all of them. “No to Cleopatra rig, hell no to the naughty housemaid, the female vampire might have possibilities if it were not for the plunging neckline and thigh slits on either side of the slinky skirt. What’s that? Oh. No, definitely not a catsuit.”
Mrs. P pulled a dark brown leather costume out from behind a pink marabou baby doll and gave it a jaded look. “This covers most of your bosom.”
I looked over at where she was pointing. She was holding what I thought of as a Xena, Warrior Princess outfit, with a leather corset top embellished with decorative swirls of metal around the boobs, the bodice of which did, indeed, cover everything in the torso. Accompanying it was a knee-length skirt made of strips of studded leather, a sword and back scabbard, and a pair of lace-up sandals.
I held the corset top up to myself and examined my reflection. “I’m not sure… a sword? Strapped to my back? Really? That’ll just get in the way.”
“It’ll be helpful,” Mrs. P told me, snagging a pair of stretch fabric slippers with curly toes. “You’ll need a weapon to guard me. There are slave bracelets, too.”
I looked at the arm bracelets she held out, along with a pair of gauntlets. “I don’t think they call them that anymore. But I do admit they might cover any untoward upper arm pudginess.” I eyed my reflection again and decided to the throw caution to the wind. It might be a silly costume, but at least it wasn’t overly revealing, no more so than a knee-length sleeveless dress would be.
Mrs. P took the chakram, a circular weapon that accompanied the outfit, and plopped it on her head with satisfaction, tipping it at a rakish angle, and tying it in place with yet another feather boa. “I’ll take the hat.”
“I’m not sure that’s a… never mind. You can wear it as a weird sort of hat if it makes you happy.”
Twenty minutes later, the passengers on the upper deck of the Wepwawet ceased their pleasant chattering, gossiping, laughing, and in one case, singing along to the tinny song emerging from an aging boom box. All of the passengers, as well as the crew members present, turned to watch with silent amazement as Mrs. P and I stepped out onto the deck.
The captain, a drink frozen halfway to his mouth, stared with unblinking eyes.
“Good evening,” I greeted everyone with what I hoped appeared to be good humor and not a desperate attempt to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “I’m sorry we’re late. Mrs. P was having some trouble with one of her curled slippers not fitting right.”
The eyes of the twenty or so tourists moved from me to Mrs. P’s feet, then returned.
“You are aware,” Captain Kherty said in a deep voice, “that the costume party is the final night of the cruise.”
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It was a statement, but I waved such concern away with leather-braceleted arm. “Yes, and I’m sure we’ll be able to pick up something a little less showy when we stop at a town, but until then, we’re forced by circumstances beyond our control into these little ensembles.”
“My sisters!” Mrs. P squealed with delight, and hurried over to the far end of the ship where a group of six women was laughing and chatting and clinking glasses with one another. They greeted the newcomer with cries of happiness.
“She has sisters?” I asked aloud, noting that all the women were apparently in their twenties, and probably all had jobs as underwear models.
“That is very interesting,” the captain said, and with a dark look cast at the group of women, murmured something and toddled off.
“There you are. What a very unique ensemble,” said a familiar voice. A small clutch of about four people nearest me parted, and May came through with a smile, Gabriel following her. “We heard about what happened at your hotel. I’d offer you some of my clothes, but I’m afraid they wouldn’t fit you. Perhaps Mrs. P, though… where is she?”
“Chatting with some friends, evidently.”
By now the other people on the deck had gotten over their shock from our costumes and continued their previous activities.
“I’m sorry,” I said, aware my confusion was showing. “Why are you here? Are you stalking us?” After the events of the evening, I wasn’t about to trust anyone, not even people who seemed like they had our best interests in mind.
“Stalking?” May’s eyebrows rose a good inch. “Not in the least. We’re here to help you.”
“By following us?” I asked suspiciously. “Look, I know that you’re Rowan’s friends, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Friends?” Gabriel looked appalled at that thought. “With the Dragon Breaker?”
“We said we were going to put that behind us while we had to work together,” May pointed out.
“That does not mean that we need think of Rowan as a friend.”
“Did I hear my name being invoked?” Rowan suddenly appeared at my side, wearing an unrumpled linen shirt, brown khakis, and a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He looked like the personification of a wealthy, sophisticated man on his yacht, as coolly collected and in control as anyone could be.
A familiar faint lemony smell teased my nose, instantly making me want to romp all over him.
No, I told my libido. Not until we get a few things straight, like whether he had anything to do with the room or if he misled me into thinking he was interested in me.
His lips curled into a little smile at me, sending a hot wave of emotion that no doubt manifested itself in pink cheeks. I couldn’t tell if I was angry, aroused, or annoyed. Possibly all three. Definitely all three.
He examined me from head to lace-up sandals. “Interesting choice of cruise wear. I didn’t know you were a fan of Xena.”
“Isn’t every woman? She was a warrior princess,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. With a move I had practiced in the bathroom while changing, I pulled the sword from my back and made a couple of movements with it. “All the better to protect my employer from nefarious brigands who would do her harm.”
Rowan glanced around. “Where is our light-fingered friend?”
“Gel,” Mrs. P said, right on cue, leading her herd of models to us. “My sisters are here.”
“Er…” I said, eyeing them. “Sisters?”
“We are all priestesses of Heka,” one of the models said, a brunette with a flawless complexion. “As is our sister Aset.”
“Pleasure to meet you, but… sisters?”
“Sisters,” Mrs. P insisted. “The one next to you is Ahset—she has an H in her name, whereas I do not—then there’s Ipy, Khenut, Henit, Dedyet, Bunefer, and the tipsy one is Gilukhipa.”
“I love champagne, don’t you?” Gilukhipa said with a happy little hiccup.
“Wow. That’s… that’s some sisterhood you have there.” I tried not to look like someone who needed to lose twenty pounds. “And how lucky for you that they’re on the same cruise.”
“We came to help our sister,” the one named Ipy said. She seemed to be the ringleader, since the other ladies just murmured in response. “We knew she would have need of us to guard her secret from those who would discover it, and thus we are here.”
“My sisters will let no harm come to me while you are handling the challenges,” Mrs. P said to me.
“No, we will not, although I think we should get Gilly to our room,” Ipy said, giving her priestess sister a gimlet eye. “Lest she succumb to the lure of more champagne.”
“Give her our room key, gel,” Mrs. P told me.
“Huh?”
“The sisters are staying with us, naturally.”
“But…” I glanced at Rowan, who looked as surprised as I felt. “But don’t you have your own rooms?”
Ipy shrugged. “We cannot guard our sister if we do not sleep at her side. Come, we shall make the accommodations ready for our dearest one while the champion is guarding her.”
I didn’t see any way out of it. Mrs. P was paying for the trip, and I had no right to keep her friends from our cabin if that’s what she wanted. Reluctantly, I handed Ipy the key, and the ladies all took off.
Except Mrs. P, who told Rowan, “The shop has men’s costumes. Tiny ones. You might want to perk up your romantic life with one.”
“I don’t need to wear a costume, tiny or otherwise, thank you,” Rowan said stiffly as she cackled and snagged another glass of champagne before sitting down in a chair next to where May and Gabriel were now talking in low voices.
I gave Rowan a look that told him he should know better. “If you are implying that we’re doing this for the hell of it, we aren’t. We literally have nothing else to wear. And speaking of that, how is it you knew about our room being trashed? You wouldn’t happen to have been there, would you?”
“Yes, I was there,” he answered, taking me completely off guard. “That’s why I called the hotel’s front desk—so that they’d send someone up to find out what happened before you returned to see it.”
I took a step closer to him, and immediately was aware once again of the scent of him, part citrus and part something that made me think of leather-bound chairs in a private library. “And just why were you there?” I asked in a soft tone, making sure to meet his gaze. His eyes, now more gray than green, were wary, but as I took another step closer, the interest in them turned molten. “You wouldn’t be trying to steal Mrs. P’s jewels, would you?”
“As a matter of fact, I was, but someone beat me to the job.”
The words pierced me as if they had been arrows. It took me a minute to be able to answer him, but I was proud that when I did so, my voice was steady. “You’re a thief? You really do want to steal from Mrs. P? That’s… that’s… that’s just infuriating, Rowan!”
“There’s a reason for what I’m doing—”
“On the contrary, there’s no reason. Not a valid one. Not for theft.” I took a deep breath. “Well, at least you’re honest about the way you’ve been using me.”
“What? No!” He took me by the arms, his eyes clouded now. “Sophea, what we had last night is nothing to do with this—with the ring. What we did was about us, no one else, and I’m more sorry than I can say if I gave you the impression that you were a stepping stone on the way to Mrs. P. I would never use you like that.”
“But you just admitted that you want to steal from Mrs. P.”
His lips thinned. “Not for my own gain. Not for money, or satisfaction, or hell, even by my own free will. There’s a situation, and I’m more or less obligated to help fix it.”
“Obligated like being blackmailed?” I asked.
Pain flashed in his eyes for a few seconds. “You could say that.”
I searched his face for signs he was lying, but there was nothing in it but sincerity. And something heated that left me feeling restless and needy
. Although I didn’t condone his plan to steal from Mrs. P, it made much more sense that he was being forced into doing so. I wondered idly what he’d done that was so bad it could be used to force him into his present acts, but decided that was a discussion for another time. “Now I feel like I should apologize,” I said, my emotions tangled into a giant ball of confusion.
“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I seem to have messed things up without being aware of it. What can I do to make it right with you?”
“Well, the biggest thing is to stop trying to steal Mrs. P’s jewelry.” I touched the side of his face. He still looked tired, but there was something in his eyes, a layer of pain that I knew I had a part in, that made me forgive him. “I am sorry for thinking you were the sort of man who’d use me. I should have known better.”
“It was entirely reasonable to think so,” he said, pulling my hand up to kiss my knuckles. “If I promise you that I won’t take anything from Mrs. P without her permission, will that return your faith in me?”
I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from me and realized with a start the true depth of emotions that were tied in with Rowan. This wasn’t just a case of me needing to have a good time with a man… it was something more profound. And while it was true my emotions were tangled together, they were emotions that had lain dormant for the last few years, emotions I was happy to feel again.
Trust you to fall for the first pretty face you’ve seen since Jian died, I said to myself, the name of my deceased husband generally dousing any feelings of attraction for another man, but for the first time since his death, it didn’t leave me feeling as if I’d had a bucket of water dumped on me. “Yes, it would help if you stopped being a cat burglar. For one, I don’t think it’s very honorable, and for another, it’s bound to end badly, and I don’t want to see you end badly. I want you to end good. Er… well.”
“Thank you,” he said with another one of those little bows that thrilled me to my toes.
“And as for not telling us about our room… I don’t know whether to scream at you, hit you over the head with something heavy, or ask the captain to throw you overboard. Why didn’t you tell me that someone destroyed our things?”