Free Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) by A.W. Exley

behind her. The depth of the
clang
told her how solid and formidable the door was constructed.
    Nate sat on a thin wooden bench under a narrow window and rose with feline grace on her approach. He stood motionless, taking in her new outfit and overall appearance.
    “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed in a husky tone, his gaze never wavering from her face.
    Blindsided, his words stunned her, freezing her assault about how his stupidity dragged her deeper into the mud with him. She swallowed her attack, a frown briefly fluttering over her face, her defences momentarily overcome. “What?”
    “I married a stunning woman.” He crossed the floor to stand in front of her and reached out a hand to draw his knuckles down her face in a whispered caress. The pad of his thumb halted at the side of her split lip. Anger and concern flashed through his eyes at the mark on her face.
    She shut her eyes, letting the ember of his touch settle over her cool skin. “If events moved my way, I wouldn’t be talking to you, but this is a right mess.” She thrust a long navy over coat into his hands and struggled with her choice of words. Unable to come up with a witticism, she stuck to the obvious. “I brought you an extra coat.”
    There was no heating in the room; the cold used to loosen tongues. Prisoners soon became eager to trade information for an extra blanket or a brazier to warm their hands. It was an archaic, but effective form of interrogation.
    He shrugged the wool garment over his shoulders. “What have you learned?” They were short on time and had much to discuss.
    “That you have been selling British secrets to the Russians.”
    He remained silent, his face impassive.
    “Oh crap,” she muttered, her heart dropping. “Don’t tell me you have?”
    He ran a hand through his hair and muttered an oath under his breath. “No,” he said after a measured pause.
    Cara scanned his face. “I’m waiting for the
but
.”
    He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her stiff form against his chest. He brushed her ear with his lips and began speaking. His tone so low, Cara had to concentrate to catch his words. She realised he didn’t want them to be overhead and they were being monitored. “I’ve been a player in the Great Game for a number of years, passing intelligence for Victoria.”
    “If you’re in Victoria’s employ, why is she publicly charging you with treason?” It didn’t make sense; the queen knew he was her agent, unless she believed him to be a double agent.
    His lips brushed the skin of her neck. “You need to speak to Victoria. I have an inkling what this is about, but need to be sure before we proceed.”
    She blinked and pulled back, trying to gauge if he were serious. “Victoria? You want me to wander up to Buckingham Palace and have a wee chat with the queen about your predicament?” Another thought occurred to her as she remembered the numerous sweeps of military airships over Lyons’ held property lately. “Does it have anything to do with the new airship flight plan over the hangar and the conscripted army the queen is building?”
    The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but he remained silent. He blew on the ermine covering the plunging neckline, and watched the soft fur part to reveal the curve of her breasts beneath. He sucked in a breath. “Hamish deserves a bonus for the seamstress he found for you.”
    She placed her palms on his chest and pushed him back several inches, which just gave him an even better view down her jacket to the dip between her breasts. The fur trim moved of its own volition with each breath she took.
    “Focus.” She drew his attention back to her face. “How do I arrange an appointment with Victoria?”
    “Send a message to her secretary, saying you need to see her urgently. Use the phrase
Death has reared himself a throne in a strange city lying alone.
”
    She arched an eyebrow at him, still not sure if he was jesting or deadly serious; he wore