Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

Author's Note: I don't know how you made it down here, but you're here. I hope you enjoy your stay. Tomb Robber is a fast read. It is rated M for language, some violence, sexual content, and adult themes. That was your only warning of story's content. Thank you to Lilith617 for her beta-ninja skills and friendship. Tomb Robber is my first fan-fic. I love historical fiction and Twilight –they are infused in this story. After all, that's why we read fanfiction –to be transported to another world with the characters we dearly love. I truly hope you enjoy this carpet ride. -queenxochitl

Prologue

*~BPOV~*

Nile Delta, Egypt 1888

"I want…I want…"

Shaking like a leaf, I sank to my knees; far from the tents and cook-fires. I covered my face with my hands. The sand still holding the heat of the day; and as I knelt there that heat began seeping relentlessly through the layers of my skirts and undergarments.

The air I drew in with my ragged sobs was hot like a blast furnace. The sun was setting across the river, dyeing the wide swath of delta water blood red. The stars would soon come out to burn gloriously overhead; the wind a chill and salty from the sea a few miles away. The tents would glow from within with lamplight, and the campfires warm circles of light would provide security in this wild, lonely place. There would be food and conversation waiting for me, as well as duty.

Always duty.

Which I did not mind duty. But want…I wanted.

I bent forward, full of torment and confusion, full of…desire.

It was too small a word for this huge, burning anguish rushing through me; trying to drown out every other thought and feeling. The deluge of relief after the long endless hours by my sister's bedside had destroyed my normal defenses.

Worry for Alice was replaced by exhaustion that was somehow transformed to a feverish aching. I felt dizzy, light-headed. How long had it been since I'd slept? Eaten? I rubbed my tear-streaked face and tried to think. I acted calm for so long while I held the fear inside. It was hard always being strong, always being responsible – for Alice, for my father Charlie, for newly widowed Aunt Saida and her son Seth, for everyone and everything in camp.

But Alice's fever had broken.

My youngest sister would live through this night and I would see that she lived through many more. Blessed be the gods that have spared my little sister's life by the sickness that ravaged this harsh, alien land. My beloved land, a place I call home.

Renee had not survived the treks from ruin to ruin. Mother had not been able to live with Charlie's burning obsession, while I thrived and grew from touching the bones and bricks of dead civilizations. My middle sister, Rosalie, was safe at school back in Scotland. I had won that battle with Charlie, sending Rosalie back home to live with Aunt Lauren after mother died. Alice must return home now, too. I could not bear to lose anyone else I love.

I cannot hold back the tears that are falling now; indeed I will lose someone – tomorrow.

Though losing him was inevitable.

What a help he would be to Charlie if he stayed. Regardless, he was to return to Chicago soon. For he was ambitious and would never settle for being Charlie's assistant. I do not know if his ambition was the fatal character flaw Charlie insisted it was, nor did I care if others thought he was flawed. He was the most beautiful man in the world…to me. He was handsome, brilliant, and he made me feel…

Wanted.

He would look at me with a fire in his brilliant green eyes – look at me from the tips of my toes all the way up to the top of my head – making a slow, bold study of my form and figure in a way that seemed to covet. To promise, to claim.

When he looked at me like that, fire followed; leaving me without any air in my lungs, any thoughts in my head. I was aware only of the weakness of my knees, of the fluttering, hot ache deep inside me. Of the way my breasts and all of my secret places felt that they were somehow being touched by his intense gaze. The first time he had look at me like that had lit a fuse in me, a thing that sizzled and burned and that I feared would lead to some awful, wonderful explosion.

I can't bear the thought of never having him look at me again. Never again making me feel this way. I had hoped and prayed to be beside him for every hour of the few remaining weeks left of the excavating season. Then Alice had come down with the horrible fever.

How long ago had that been? How many days since I'd had a glimpse of –

But what did it matter now? I was here to take care of others I had to be reasonable, pragmatic, and sensible.

But I wanted.

I needed to concentrate, to plan. There were important matters I must organize. Alice was so much a miniature version of Renee; the argument with Charlie to send her back to Scotland would be fierce. I understood his reluctance, his loneliness. His ache for normalcy in this seductively foreign land.

Uncle Billy had succumbed; he'd "gone native," married a foreigner-and his reputation as a scholar suffered. Charlie jealously guarded his standing in the academic community. That included having a regular home life with his children as well. I would miss Alice terribly, but she must live someplace where she could grow healthy and strong. Perhaps she could return when she was older. But I would not risk the life of the baby of my family. I would take Alice to Aunt Lauren herself, book passage and go despite Charlie's protests.

Of course, my angel would be long gone by the time I returned.

I could feel the tears coming down in torrents once more. My angel, with his intense green eyes and silky bronze hair and long-fingered, fascinating hands; would never again look at me in that way that made me melt and catch fire at once. I'd known the day would come when I would never see his wide mouth curled in a teasing, lop-sided smile that promised…something.

My life would be empty without the sight of him. My breath would no longer catch and my heart would no longer race at watching him move, long limbed and sure, graceful and strong. I would never again catch a glimpse of the hard, rippling muscles of his back and shoulders when he stripped to wash at the edge of the river. Or be so painfully aware of the outline of his thighs when he sat upon a horse or crouched beside me to examine some clue to the past in the sand. Sometimes his thigh would brush against mine. Sometimes his hands would inadvertently touch me. Sometimes we would glance at each other with our faces within a distance of a kiss as I would pass a potsherd or ancient coin into his experienced hands.

I had never been kissed and secretly hoped he would kiss me just once before he returned to America. Aunt Saida had said he wanted to kiss me, and made a point not to let us be alone if she could help it. This was right and proper, of course. But…

It would be too much to hope that he would take my hands in his and declare his undying devotion. How could he though, if we had never had a private moment together? He had such beautiful hands. I dreamt of those hands on me. I'd wake up not remembering where he'd touched me, or how – but I yearned for…something.

Something that would put out the fire he kindled inside of me.

I did not want to go to Scotland; I did not want to be where he was not. The pain of loss fueled the burning in my soul and I wanted to beat my fists against the sand and beg the ancient gods of this place for more time. For freedom to do what I wanted rather than what was necessary, just this once.

By the time I returned from Scotland, his touch, his unknown kiss; would be lost to me forever. I would never see his crooked, edgy smile. Never hear his deep voice with its easy teasing, Yankee drawl. America was so far away…

Did the goddess Isis walk in this place any longer? Isis, who had lost her lover and searched the world over until they were together once more…she would understand my plight. Would an Egyptian goddess grand a Scottish lass a boon?

"Please, I want…" and then I felt it. The insistent, delicious electric current that ran from my toes to my temple whenever he was close.

"What is it you want?" he breathed in my ear.

At the unexpected, longed-for sound of his voice behind me; a shudder went through me.

Fear? Anticipation? Of what?

I lifted my head, unashamed of my tears as I turned slowly to face him. Shame was burned out of me, along with fear and every ounce of sense I'd ever had. We were alone. For the first time ever, we were completely alone. He had found me in the night, when my heart was breaking, when I needed him most.

The last spark of the day's light at his back outlined him in gold and crimson, setting him apart from all that surrounded us. Twilight was setting us apart from the world. I could do nothing but stare.

His gaze held mine, dark as midnight. He held out his hand out to me. "What do you want?" I reached for his hand. He drew me up and to him, as strong as he was beautiful. I caught the sharp scent of his skin as he took me into the circle of his embrace. I breathed him in as deeply as I could.

Almonds, Myrrh…sand.

He whispered to me, his lips close to my ear, his breath intimate against my cheek. "What do you want, Isabella?"

Need set me trembling and my knees grew weak. I put my hand on his shoulder, needing his strength. With my lips so close to his, I could do nothing but tell the truth…

"You."