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Egyptian Heart
Kathryn Meyer Griffith
The Wild Rose Press
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Synopsis:
Maggie Owen is a beautiful, spirited
Egyptologist…but lonely. Even being in Egypt on a grant from the college she
teaches at to search for an undiscovered necropolis she’s certain lies below
the sands beyond the pyramids of Gizah doesn’t give her the happiness she’d
hoped it would. There has always been and is something missing. Love.
Then her workmen uncover Ramose Nakh-Min’s ancient tomb and an amulet from
his sarcophagus hurls her back to 1340 B.C – where she falls hopelessly in
love with the man she was destined to be with, noble Ramose, who faithfully
serves the heretic Pharaoh Akhenaton.
But she’s fallen into perilous times with civil war threatening Egypt. She’s
been mistaken for one of Ramose’s runaway slaves and with her blond hair,
jinn green eyes and fair skin she doesn’t fit in. Some say she’s magical and
evil. Ramose’s favorite, Makere, attempts to kill her.
The people, angry the pharaoh Akhenaton has set his queen Nefertiti aside
and he’s forced them to worship his god, Aton (instead of their many
Egyptian gods), are rising up against him.
And Maggie’s caught in the middle of it in a dangerous land and time she
doesn’t belong in.
In the end, desperately in love with Ramose, she finds a way to stay alive
and with him in ancient Egypt – and to make a difference in his world and
history.
Because Maggie has finally found love.
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Excerpt:
Remembering Nefrure’s
warning, I dropped my head and tried to take in the sights and people
without actually meeting anyone else’s eyes. Hard to do because there were
men calling out to me, hooting and hollering, urging me to stop by their
tables and talk to them.
Ahhotpe led me to Ramose and then left. I looked up to meet the
inquisitive eyes of a man dressed in a shirt of gold and a white kilt, an
ornate linen headdress and, as most of the people around us, heavy eye
make-up. So much jewelry, he shone like the sun. He looked so different than
the first time I’d seen him, I had to search his face to be sure it was the
same man who’d rescued me from the soldier’s whip. I wasn’t, until he gave
me that arrogant smile of his and spoke to me. Then I knew it was him.
“So the woman from the strange land cleans up well indeed. Have you
been treated properly since first we met?”
This was going to be tricky. The room had hushed and everyone was
watching Ramose and I. I felt like an actor in a play who didn’t know their
lines. Or the play.
“Yes, my lord, I have been.”
“I can see that you have. You look much better than the last time I
saw you.” His voice was husky. “Come sit by me and tell me more of your
story and your home. How you came to be out wandering in the desert.”
For a moment, I questioned if I was Ramose’s slave or his guest. His manner
towards me was friendly and courteous. Who was this man and why did he
affect me the way he did? Whenever his eyes fell on me I couldn’t take mine
away. He mesmerized me. He said one thing, but I swore he was thinking,
meaning, something else entirely.
I sat down on his left after room was made for me and that’s when I
noticed the woman on his right. She had caramel hued skin, high cheekbones
accenting huge eyes that appeared to be some shade of blue, not the usual
brown, and an ebony wig seeded with strands of gold and pearls. Her eyes
were kohl ringed, her lips pouty and bright crimson, her face perfectly
shaped. Her body, in her clinging blue silken gown, with full breasts and
hips, was absolutely perfect. She was small compared to me. She couldn’t
have been over four foot eight or so. She was so beautiful. Next to her, I
must look like a tall, pale ghost.
But there was something in the eyes…a hard cunningness that
reminded me of a cobra. And there was an air of possessiveness when she
looked at Ramose that told me she had to be Makere, his current concubine.
Nefrure had spoken of her. Said she was sadistic to her servants and
slaves. She thrashed them for the slightest misstep and sliced up their
faces to mar them for life. If a
slave was too pretty or caught Ramose’s eye, she’d scar them, make them
ugly, so he’d never look at them again.
Makere was watching intently, and it made me uncomfortable.
There were other women around us and they were all eavesdropping as
well. I was the center of attention because Ramose was speaking with me.
“I was right…you were a rare jewel hiding beneath that layer of
sand and dirt,” he said. “The clean gown and trinkets do you much more
justice than the shapeless nightclothes you had on when I first saw you.”
I ignored the compliments and the interest in his eyes. Ramose was
used to complaisant females falling over him, so I had to guard how I talked
to him. Guard what I said. I could never forget where I was and when. I had
to entertain him and teach him at the same time.
Teach him that I was different.
“Thank you for sending me the clothes and the jewelry.” I touched
the cloth of my gown. “It is not me. The look, I mean. I feel…overdressed.
Like a kewpie doll.” It’d slipped out before I realized I’d made a blunder.
Already. So much for being guarded…
“Kewpie doll?” There was bewilderment in his voice as
he repeated the words.
I guessed I had to explain it. “Where I come from a kewpie doll is
a prettily dressed up child’s toy. But thank you for sending me these
garments and for helping me that day.”
“You are welcome.” His hand reached out and his strong fingers
touched my hair. Then he leaned over and took my face into his hands. “I am
a direct man. When I see something I desire, I take it. You can pay me
backby…coming to my bed tonight.” He was looking at me, but he still wasn’t
seeing me.
“My lord, I appreciate what you have done for me,” I mouthed softly
so he alone could hear, “but I would prefer not to. In my land, a woman has
a choice of these things. And as I said before…I am not a slave, but a free
woman. I will decide who I bed.”
Ramose seemed startled by my answer, he pulled back and seemed to
genuinely see me for the first time.
“What strange ideas you have. Do all women behave asyou where you
come from?”
“Yes.”
“And the men allow it?” I could tell he was a little irritated but
intrigued with me.
“Yes.” I met his eyes and I caught the growing interest in their
depths.
I also caught Makere glowering at me from behind Ramose.
“I was told you do not recall much of you life before being found
on the desert.”
I liked the way he said found.
“That is true. I do not.” I didn’t like lying but there was no way
I could sit there and tell this man that I was from the future. No way I
could tell him who I really was.
“Then how do you know you were not a slave in your old life? How do
you know what your life was like?”
Ramose picked up a piece of meat from his plate and handed it to
me. Looked like chicken.
“I remember some things,” I replied, nibbling on the meat. A slave
slid up next to me and brought me a plate of my own food. I was hungry so I
ate. It wasn’t easy with Ramose studying me. Half the room watching me. I
didn’t dare look at Makere again.
“You remember you are a professor at a…Boston University…and you
are an American. Yet you do not remember how you got here?” Ramose’s glance
was sharp. He’d remembered most of what I’d said the first time he’d met me.
I almost choked. I could have kicked myself for being so stupid and blurting
all that stuff out that morning. But then that had been before I’d accepted
I was truly back in the past.
I turned and forced myself to smile. “Yes, I am a teacher…from
America. And no, I do not remember how I got here.”
A mouth of white teeth flashed at me. “I have never heard of this
land…America.”
“It is a far distant land. Over the waters.” It was all I could
think of at the moment.
“And you are an educated woman. You can read and write?”
“Yes,” hesitantly. Good thing I could read and write, somewhat,
ancient Egyptian.
“You are a respected woman in your land?”
“I am.”
“You want to go back?”
He had me there. I did want to go back but I wasn’t sure how.
Wasn’t sure I ever could. “If I could…but I do not remember enough to do
that…at this time. I would not know where to go or to whom.” I tried to look
sad. Lost. It wasn’t hard.
“So you are my guest for a while, living on my hospitality?”
I understood what he was getting at but annoyance flared up before
I could stop it. It was my turn to lean over and say in a whisper to him, “I
am and I am grateful. But that does not mean I have to pay you back by
ending up in your bed tonight. Or any other night, for that matter…my lord.”
Ramose laughed. “You have spirit, I will say that.” His hand
briefly caressed the side of my face, then pulled back. “Do you remember
what they called you in this far distant land?”
I thought he was mocking me but replied sweetly anyway. “They
called me Maggie.”
He nodded. “Mag-gie. A pretty name.
“I am Ramose Nakh-Min. I own all this.” He swept his hand around in
a broad circle. “Everything and everyone.” His meaning was clear.
Not me, I wanted to say, but held my tongue. Instead I gave him a
begrudging smile. The beads in my hair tinkled and reminded me I was an
Egyptian princess.
“Do you know you have the greenest eyes I have ever seen? Cat’s
eyes.
“And your hair,” he murmured, twining his fingersin the strands,
“is like soft moonlight. Your skin as pale as ivory. I have never beheld a
woman like you.”
There was something so charismatic about him that I had trouble
remembering why I had to not obey him. He was so handsome, yet his face was
the face of a dark angel you did not cross. Sharply contoured with a strong
jaw, a nose arched and well formed, and the most beautiful dark eyes I’d
ever seen, gleaming with wit and intelligence. His arms were muscled and his
chest was broad and flat. His speech clear and educated. He was handsome,
virile, attractive to women, and he knew it. I’d never met a man like
him in my whole life. Maybe it was the power. There was music now in the
center of the room and
with all the people the noise level rose. I could barely hear what Ramose
was saying. Then dancers—halfnaked women in transparent gowns—glided out and
started prancing around in front of Ramose, trying to get his attention. He
enjoyed the entertainment and I
clandestinely observed the people around us.
Sitting there with Ramose, Makere and all the celebrating
Egyptians, was for me, a scene right out of a dream. It felt unreal. Dancing
bejeweled women, singers, musicians and drunken revelers. Tables packed with
exotic food and golden goblets of wine and beer. Drunken soldiers ogling me,
and envious women gossiping about me.
What would my stuffy colleagues back at the University say if they could
see me now? Dressed like this in this setting? The thought almost made me
laugh, but I kept it to myself. I wished that I had my drawing materials
because I would have loved to sketch the gyrating dancers and the peacock
guests. What a picture it would have made. Or I wished I had a camera. What
would these people think of a digital or a video camera, I
wondered.
Yeah, what I wanted was a snapshot of Makere. If looks could kill.
I’d never understood that phrase fully until I caught Makere’s spiteful eyes
on me. I had made an enemy and she wanted me to know it. Even though after
his first interest in me, Ramose had cooled it
and given his favorite most of his attention. Trying to make me jealous, I
imagine.
Then again, Ramose wasn’t stupid, maybe he was aware that he was making
her jealous and was playing it smart. I was relieved. I didn’t need Makere
as an enemy. But what was Ramose up to and why was I still here at his feast
if I’d turned him down?
To show me what I was missing, no doubt. To show me who was boss. I
couldn’t leave until he gave me permission.
At times I would catch Ramose stealing looks at me, or he would say
something in my ear or his hand would brush my skin. There was a physical
attraction between the two of us that even I couldn’t deny. It was as if I’d
been sleeping all my life and was now waking. I had this bizarre urge to
throw my arms around him and press my lips to his. Merge up against him. I
wanted him to touch me, hold me. Cherish me. It was the strangest thing.
And I fought it. There was no way I was going to start behaving
like a loose woman on a first date. I had to remind myself who I was. Maggie
Owen, college professor and liberated woman. I couldn’t forget that I didn’t
belong here. My fingers grasped the amulet. It could send me back at any
time. I couldn’t get involved with anyone here. Not anyone.
But I’d never felt this way about a man and it unsettled me. Wrong time.
Wrong place. Wrong man. Makere’s man.
As if thinking of her made Makere act up, the other woman started a
conversation with me. “So…lost woman from another land…what else can you do
besides read and scribble…can you sing or dance? Here, all Egyptian girls
are taught to sing and dance when they are children.”
“No, I cannot do either.” I could just imagine what Makere would say if I
got up and did one of our modern American dances or sang one of the Bee Gees
tunes. And watching the Egyptian dancers slithering around the floor, I knew
there was no way I could do their dances any justice. I was not graceful
enough. Not uninhibited enough or nearly naked enough.
“You cannot dance?” Her voice sarcastic. “Oh, you are being too
modest. Every woman can dance.
“So…dance for us!” she commanded me.
I glanced at Ramose and he shrugged. This is between Makere and
you, it seemed to say.
“No.” I didn’t know if there was a title I should be using for her.
What did you call a lord’s concubine? I didn’t know. But I could tell she,
having a short fuse, was getting angry.
“How dare you defy me.” Makere stood up. “Dance!” Her pretty face
turned ugly with her rage. This was a woman, I thought, who was used to
getting her way all the time. She slapped her hand on the table. “Dance!”
“No, thank you very much, I prefer not to.”
Ramose’s face was granite. I was on my own. I looked away, heart
pounding, remembering what Nefrure had said about Makere’s cruelty.
I had the feeling Ramose was waiting to see who had the strongest
will. Makere or me.
Makere turned to Ramose and gave him her sweetest smile. “My love, make the
new girl dance.” She leaned her face up close next to his and ran her
fingers along his neck. “Make her dance for us.”
“Make her dance! Make her dance!” Other voices picked up the chant
and soon half the room was demanding that I make a fool of myself. I was
outnumbered and on the spot. When I was trying so hard to stay under the
radar. But there was no way I was going to parade around in front of the
whole hall shaking my booty. That was asking for trouble. Might as well
stick a price tag on my butt.
Ramose did something out of character then. In front of Makere, he
took my hand and said softly, “If I ask you to dance for us, would you?”
There was something in his voice that told me I had the right to
choose and I did. “I beg your pardon, but no, my lord. As I said I do not
know how to dance. Better it is left to the ones who are good at it.” And at
the last second I decided to appeal directly to him. “Please, do not make me
dance…please?”
“Then so be it. You do not have to dance.”
I was so relieved, it almost didn’t matter that Makere was furious.
I guess she wasn’t used to being challenged, but I didn’t dare look at her
again. She’d turn me to stone for sure.
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