Sands of Time (Out of Time #6) by Monique Martin Page A

said.
    “Times two,” his wife added.
    The bellboy bowed deeply.
    “Yes, yes,” Everett said, impatiently. “Just get on with it.”
    The boy scurried away and the man turned back to Christina and lowered his glasses. His squinting eyes shifted to Jack and then back. Jack’s presence barely registered and what had, was filed as unimportant. “About dinner last night,” Everett drawled in a tired, insincere way.
    “We found ourselves at the most wonderful party,” his wife chimed in. “We simply couldn’t pull ourselves away. It would have been so rude.”
    Christina opened her mouth to speak, no doubt to remind them that not showing up for dinner was rude, but thought better of it. “Terribly,” she said instead.
    The woman leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re such a dear child.”
    Christina’s face wrinkled in restrained irritation.
    Everett offered Christina a false smile and hooked his wife by the arm. “Catch you later?” he asked, not bothering to wait for an answer before pulling his wife away and heading toward the dining room.
    “Child,” Christina ground out, showing a bit of fire and temper. “She’s only seven years older than I am.”
    “Weren’t they charming,” Jack said, winning a small laugh from Christina. “Who exactly are they?”
    “Constance and Trevor Everett. Of the Everetts of Leeds,” she added meaningfully.
    Jack shrugged. “Is that impressive?”
    Christina smiled and shrugged. “They think so.”
    Jack’s laugh was interrupted by a woman’s voice calling out near the front door.
    “ Chud baulk! ”
    Their attention, along with everyone else’s in the lobby was pulled toward the commotion. Two men carried a large crate suspended between two poles. The sea of people parted before them.
    “ Taht! Byshwysh! ” the woman said again.
    When the men stopped and put the large crate down, Jack could finally see her.
    She took off her large brimmed hat and waved to the men. She was beautiful. Brown shoulder length hair, and a figure that even a men’s white shirt and boxy, tan riding skirt could not hide. Her boots clicked on the tile floor for a moment in the silence that had followed her entrance. She spoke to the two men in Arabic, giving orders and looking used to doing so.
    The men picked up the crate again and she watched them go with a frown before turning toward Christina smiling.
    “Diana,” Christina said. “I told you she’d be here.”
    Christina hurried over to the woman and gripped her by the hand. Together, they walked back over to Jack. Diana eyed him up and down, and smiled, happy with what she saw. Jack returned the favor. This woman was going to be a challenge, he thought. A welcome one.
    “Diana Trent, this is Jack Wells. The one I mentioned in the note.”
    She stuck out her hand and Jack shook it. Firm grip, and soft hands. Of all of the Dianas he’d imagined, this was not one of them. A chaperone was a dowager. A plump, cross woman with an umbrella to whack young would-be suitors with. This woman was far from that.
    “Miss Trent,” he said with one of his most disarming smiles.
    She laughed, not quite making fun of him, but amused nonetheless, before turning to Christina. “I am sorry I’m late,” she said. “The men at the depot ‘misplaced’ my shipment. I had to spend the morning straightening it out. You can see what that led to.”
    “It’s all right,” Christina said, fondly. She might be on the shy side with everyone else, but the girl definitely had a special affection and admiration for Diana.
    Jack was inclined to feel the same way. She was beautiful, confident and did he mention beautiful? That was a combination he found hard to resist.
    “I have a carriage out front, unless you’d like to walk,” Diana said with a wry smile.
    Christina fought down her own smile and slipped her arm through Diana’s and started for the front door.
    Jack stood watching them for a moment, before Diana looked over her shoulder.