"It's part of a job I have to do," he said after several awkward seconds of silence. "Not one I want to conduct but unfortunately, necessary."
"Huh," she said, studying her hands.
Rowan felt like a heel lying to her in that manner, but he didn't want to ask her what was wrong when she had her hands full with Mrs. P.
Later, he promised himself, his body reacting to the idea of spending the night with her. Later he would get the source of her suddenly unhappy mien. Except … later he would be on a ship, and she would be going back home.
And that thought filled him with the morose satisfaction that everything that could go wrong was going wrong.
Except Sophea. She was the one bright, shining delight in the hellish nightmare his life had become, a delight he wasn't going to allow to be harmed. "If you're worried about Mrs. P's safety, I can assure you that I'll keep a very close eye on her," he reassured her.
"But you are not a dragon," Mrs. P said fretfully.
"No, but I can keep you safe."
"I must have a dragon. Only a dragon can face the challenges and keep my shiny safe." Mrs. P fretted with the material of her blouse.
"Well … " Sophea bit her lower lip in thought, and Rowan was aware of yet another surge of blood to his nether regions. Quickly, he thought of various methods of medieval torture. Once he had his desires under control, he chided himself for having such an instant reaction to Sophea.
He'd have to be a saint not to be affected by her, he told himself by way of excuse for what appeared to be a permanent erection. He casually picked up a throw pillow and laid it on his lap.
Dammit, it wasn't his fault if she was a temptress, a silken-skinned, desirable temptress. Perhaps it was her innocence that appealed to him or the fact that she needed a mentor, one who could teach her what world she had been born into. Or the need to shelter her, to protect her from the harshness of the world that she'd had all too much experience with. Then again, it might be the purity that wrapped around her like a cloak. She wasn't tainted by tragedy, as he was. She was wholesome and intriguing, and very, very feminine. And he very much wished he was buried in her right at that moment.
"To be honest, I don't really have to go home to anything. I mean, I'm not working, and I have to admit, a cruise does sound heavenly. But I'd have to clear it with Jian's cousin first. For all I know, he might have someone arranged to join Mrs. P here, and just didn't mention it to me."
"Jian's cousin?" he asked.
"Jian was my husband," Sophea explained, still not meeting his eye. "His cousin is the one who called me up and asked me to get Mrs. P to the boat. I found his number this morning, but haven't had time to check in with him. I suppose I should give him a quick call now."
She rose and took the phone with her into bathroom, obviously to make her call in private.
Rowan looked at the old woman on the bed as she perused the menu. "Why do you want Sophea with you so badly?"
"She must accompany me. There are monsters in Duat and many challenges. Only a dragon can triumph over them."
"Is that why you stole the ring? Is it your offering?"
She peered over the top of the menu at him. "I have changed my mind. You must come, too."
He stared for a moment, startled. "You know that I want the ring, do you not?"
"Everyone wants it." She returned to her examination of the menu. "None but my beau shall have it, though."
"Do you know why I want it?"
She said one word, but it damned near pierced his heart. "Danegeld."
"What do you know about that?" he asked, pulling the menu from her hands. He was exhausted and worn down by what seemed to be endless worry. "Who exactly are you?"
She straightened her shoulders. "I am Aset. Who are you?"
"You know who I am," he said, slowly sitting down on the bed next to the old lady's.
"You say you are nothing but a mere mortal, but you are not." She plucked the menu from his hands and opened it. "It is clear to me that you must come on the journey as well. Your debt is due to be called in. You must pay for your sins. You must pay for the deaths of those dragons."
His stomach tightened painfully, and his voice, when he spoke, was hoarse. "What do you know about that?"
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Where do thoughts come from? My knowledge is my own, but it is accurate. If you do not make this journey across the Duat with us, you will forfeit your life."
"I'm going to lose it anyway if the dragons tell their ancestor that I'm here." Rowan rubbed his face. "I've been living on borrowed time for the last twenty years."
"The First Dragon was merciful," she said, looking once again at him over the top of the menu. Her eyes were substantially brighter than they had been a few minutes before. "He gave you time to repay the debt, but you did not."
"I couldn't," he said, shaking his head. "I had to go into hiding. If the dragons knew where I was, they'd demand that I do nothing but practice my art for their benefit, and who knows where that would end. Possibly in more deaths."
"You are such a bad alchemist, then?"
"I am an unlearned one, and that equates to being bad, yes. I haven't broken any magic since that horrible night."
"The First Dragon will not be pleased," she said, still shaking her head.
"I doubt he ever was pleased when it concerned me," Rowan said tiredly. He tried to organize his thoughts into sensible clumps. "I wish you'd tell me how you know about my past. It's not something that people outside of the dragon circles know about. In fact, the only people I told about my first experience in alchemy were my parents, and they are both dead."
"The First Dragon knows," she said coyly, and slowly raised the menu so that it blocked his view. "Do not discourage Sophea. You will need her, just as I will need you both."
"I must have that ring," he said, a sense of almost unbearable tiredness settling firmly around him. "I don't wish to take it from you by force, but I will if I have to. The fate of the mortal world rests on it."
"The fate of my happiness rests on it as well, and I have been too long without my beau," Mrs. P countered without even flicking the menu at him. "Without my offering, all will be lost."
"You can say that again. Look-I can get you something else of value to offer your boyfriend. Gold, if you like. Precious jewels. Hell, even stacks of money if that's what you want. All I ask for is that you give the ring to me, and I'll make sure you have something of tremendous value to use as your offering."
"You owe danegeld to the First Dragon for the deaths of his descendants," she said with what sounded like a righteous sniff. "You cannot even pay that, and yet you offer me the world?"
"I'll deal with the danegeld later," he said somewhat snappishly. He moderated his voice, feeling like a brute who would yell at a little old lady. "It's not like the First Dragon is going to join us on the cruise and demand I pay it right then and there."
"Ha!" She tossed the menu aside as Sophea emerged from the bathroom.
He wanted to ask Mrs. P what she'd meant by that, but Sophea, with a couple of lines between her brows, said slowly, "I can't reach him. I get some weird answering service that makes reference to the owner of that voice mailbox being permanently unavailable. Why do you have voice mail if you are not ever going to get it? And why, oh why, didn't I write down his name? I can't even look him up online to find another phone number for him."
He didn't answer, and Sophea cast him a questioning look. "Are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine," he croaked, and cleared his throat. "I'm just a bit … frustrated." He gave her a potent glance, hoping she would pick up on his meaning, but she simply went over to sit on the end of Mrs. P's bed. "I think we'd all feel better with a little food. Did you pick out what you want for lunch, Rowan?"
He was tempted to answer, "You," but caught himself in time. He wished Sophea would sit next to him, as she had in the car, where he could breathe in the sweet scent of her, one that reminded him of orange blossom honey.
She tasted just as sweet, and once again, he had to adjust the pillow in his lap to keep his thoughts from being obvious. Part of his mind was irritated that she held such power over him, while the other part was cataloging all the things about her he liked, everything from that sleek, glossy black hair to the tilt of her enticing eyes, and the way she seemed to exude warmth.
He wanted her to exude on him, again. He wanted her making shy little touches to his thigh, and pressing into him until he just wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted her mind, her unique mind thinking about him. He wanted to hear her brag how badass she was, and to make sure that nothing dinged that newfound confidence in herself.