CHAPTER 3
Hattie awoke from a pleasant dream of lyingin a man’s comforting embrace. She didn’t know who the man was, butin her dream, his presence made her feel safe and protected. Shewas loathe to return to reality.
At last, she opened her eyes. White stars ona blue painted ceiling swam into view. She groaned. Maybe she had aconcussion, and was hallucinating. Hospital rooms didn’t havepainted ceilings, and surely she would have been taken to ahospital by now—if anyone had found her. Was she still lyingunconscious on the storage room floor and this was a dream? Or wasshe in the hospital, and all this a painkiller-inducedhallucination—the crazy woman, the painted chamber, the body thatwasn’t her own, the gorgeous man?
Her gaze wandered around the room, coming torest on her ever-present male companion seated across from her.Already, he seemed her only friend in a strange land. Was he adoctor, or was he a figment of her imagination?
Noticing her eyes open, he rose and strode toher side. “How do you feel, Majesty?”
“Better, I think,” she said tentatively. Hervoice sounded odd to her, higher and lighter than usual. Weak fromshock, probably. “I am thirsty. May I have something to drink?”
“Of course, Majesty. Right away.” He walkedto the doorway and clapped his hands. “Nesi!”
At once, the curtain over the door was pushedaside and a dark-haired young woman stepped into the room. She worea long white dress, but she was most definitely not a nurse—herdress was draped to expose one small, tanned breast. “Aye, Lord?”she said, bowing her head.
“Bring bread, dates, and wine for HerMajesty.”
“Aye, Lord.” Nesi left the room as quickly asshe had entered.
Hattie shook her head, trying to clear it,but succeeded only in making it pound. Something strange hadhappened to her, and she couldn’t make sense of it. The young womancalled Nesi was not the only one dressed in an odd fashion; sheherself lay naked under the coarse sheet, with no recollection ofanyone undressing her. Which is probably just as well, she mused.
Her companion’s clothing was strange also,though not unpleasant. He wore a pleated white kilt fastened low onhis lean hips. He was shirtless; his bronzed chest bare and smooth.A wide collar of gold and golden armbands accented his broadshoulders, muscular arms and torso. Definitely not a doctor’sgarb!
His speech sounded odd, archaic. She couldn’tput her finger on just what was different, though. Did he have anunusual accent, or an old-fashioned vocabulary? If only her blastedheadache would go away, perhaps she could figure it out…
Comprehension slowly dawned. He wasn’tspeaking English. It wasn’t French. It wasn’t Spanish. It was nolanguage she had ever heard spoken. But if that were true, howcould she understand him? How could he understand her? For, asstrange as it seemed, she appeared to be speaking the unknownlanguage as well. If this was a dream, it was the most bizarre oneshe’d ever had. She had no idea her subconscious was soinventive.
“I am confused,” she whispered, massaging hertemples with both hands. “I do not…I do not remember what happenedto me. Can you tell me?”
The man pulled up his stool next to her bedand sat. “You have not been yourself since your husband, the GreatGod, died,” he said, sympathy warming his voice. “You have noteaten or slept in days. You are distraught. I will assist you inany way I can, Majesty.”
Hattie smiled, her bottom lip trembling.“Thank you. Mayhap, with your help, I will remember what…” Sheshook her head, then winced at the pain throbbing behind her eyes.“Where am I?”
“In your bedchamber, Majesty. Have I not toldyou this?”
“But this is not my…oh, never mind. Where ismy bedchamber? I mean,” she added hastily, “in what city is thishouse?”
The man smiled. “That question I can answereasily, Majesty. You are in your royal palace in the city ofThebes.”
Thebes. Hattie was no scholar, but even sheknew Thebes was in Egypt. Was this man crazy—or was she? Wassomeone playing a nasty practical joke on her? If it were Tom,she’d never forgive him. First, the mysterious woman who claimed tobe Hatshepsut, and now this.
“Where is Tom?” she demanded. “Tell him Iwant to see him at once. This has gone on long enough. Tell him Ido not find this humorous.”
“Tom?” The man’s voice sounded puzzled. “Iregret that I do not know anyone called Tom. Who is he—a servant ofthe Great God’s, mayhap? It is not the name of a nobleman, of thatI am certain.”
Nesi returned to the room at that moment,bearing a tray of round, flat bread loaves and dates, and a flagonthat Hattie supposed held wine. She placed the items on a liddedbasket beside Hattie’s bed and silently backed out of the room,bowing.
“Bread, Majesty?” The man tore off a largepiece from one of the loaves and held it out to her.
“In a minute.” She tried another avenue ofinvestigation. “Why do you keep calling me Majesty? Why do you notuse my name?”
The man’s strong brown fingers toyed with thechunk of bread. “It would not be seemly for me to use your name,Majesty.”
“But you do know my name?” she persisted.
“Of course, Majesty. You are Hatshepsut,King’s Great Wife and God’s Wife of Amun.”
Hatshepsut? Now, she knew she was dreaming. The illustration she had beendrawing of Hatshepsut’s coronation and the sight of her glitteringnecklace must have been on her mind when she passed out—that waswhy she dreamed she’d spoken to Hatshepsut, and why this man calledher by that name.
A great wave of relief swept over her,leaving her limp in its wake. Sooner or later, she’d rouse fromthis bizarre dream. In the meantime, she might as well play alongand enjoy herself. What could it hurt? At the very least, she’dhave a fascinating story to tell Tom when it was all over. Aftershe was through chewing him out, of course.
“I see. Of course. Well, I would prefer thatyou call me Hattie. Majesty is too formal. I care not for it,” shesaid, in what she hoped was an imperial tone.
“I dare not presume, Majesty,” the manprotested.
“Presume. I command you.” She struggled tohold back a smile.
“Very well, Majes—Hattie.” The man stumbledover the unfamiliar name. “In truth,
