"Nonetheless, I promised to try my best, and I will."
Remembering what else he had said, Juliet said with an edge in her voice, "This is all my mother's doing, isn't it?"
He nodded. "I met her at the British embassy in Constantinople. She had been trying unsuccessfully to persuade Sir Stratford Canning to do something through official channels."
"If Canning refused, the government is convinced Ian is dead." Juliet's mouth tightened. "Blast it, my mother had no right to ask you to risk your life on a futile mission."
"She had a feeling that Ian was alive and that we would both return safely," he explained, faint amusement in his eyes. "So who am I to argue with female intuition?"
"I sincerely hope you did not place any faith in my mother's dubious intuition," Juliet snapped. "For God's sake, Ross, give up this mad scheme! There is no virtue in noble suicide."
"The subject is not open to discussion," he said with finality. "I've been to Bokhara once and survived. Perhaps I'll be lucky again. If not"—he shrugged with a fatalism worthy of an Asiatic—"so be it."
"You've been to Bokhara already? But..."
When her voice trailed off, he said dryly, "Surprised that someone so scholarly and unadventurous would dare such a journey?"
Juliet colored, knowing that she could start a whole new argument by pursuing his remark. Perhaps that was why he had made it.
Refusing to let herself be distracted, she considered the possibilities. She would never be able to change his mind, not when he had that damned "word-of-a-gentleman" expression on his face. And though she was tempted, she really could not lock Ross up for his own good.
She muttered a Persian curse of whisker-singeing intensity. There was only one thing she could do that might increase his chances of surviving the journey. "Very well," she said with a calm implacability that was the equal of his. "If you insist on going to Bokhara, then I'm going with you."
Chapter 5
Damn and blast and damn again. Ross stared at his wife, thinking that he should have seen this coming. "Absolutely not."
She raised her brows. "I wasn't asking for your permission, Ross. I'm going and there is no way you can stop me. You may have traveled through Central Asia, but I've lived here for nine years. I know the customs and people better than you do, and have more resources at my command."
"Don't be absurd," he said forcefully. "You know that women have no status in this part of the world. On your own, you would be able to do nothing. As my companion, your presence would make the situation worse. My task will be much harder if I must worry about your safety as well as my own."
"Save your worry for yourself," Juliet retorted. "You will be in much more jeopardy than I, for I am not going as a woman."
Ross opened his mouth, then closed it again. "With your height, wearing Tuareg robes and veil, I suppose you can pass for a Targui if you don't make any major errors in behavior," he admitted reluctantly. "Though the costume is somewhat conspicuous in Central Asia, you would still be safer than if you traveled as a ferengi woman. But that is beside the point. I see no advantage in your presence, and considerable disadvantage. To use an argument that we have both overworked today, you would be going into danger for no good reason."
"They say that Bokhara is a snake den of spies and informers. If I go there as a Muslim man, I will have much more freedom of movement than you, and will be able to learn things a ferengi never could." She nibbled her lower lip as she thought. "I suppose I should go as your servant, so that I can get information to you without arousing further suspicions."
He almost choked on the last of his coffee. "You, a servant?" he said incredulously. "It is easier to believe that you can pass as a man than that you will ever do what anyone tells you to do."
Juliet gave an unexpected grin. "Touché. I'll admit that taking orders is not my strong point, but I am not a fool. With our lives in the balance, I will be a model of obedience."
Why did she have to have such flashes of unexpected, irresistible charm? It would be so much easier if Juliet was a harridan. But Ross never would have married her if she were.
Instead, she was merely impossible. "I don't care if you can follow orders like a trained gun dog. Under no circumstances will I take you to Bokhara as my servant."
"You are being unreasonable," she said patiently. "The men you hired in Teheran may be saints and heroes, but they have known you for only a few weeks and there is no way you can be sure of their loyalty. They certainly didn't distinguish themselves today when they abandoned you to the Turkomans. At least you can trust me not to betray you if danger threatens."