Lord of the Nile

by Constance O'Banyon

  She gazed into the distance, the desert reminding her of home. “Tell me where you are taking me.”

  “That would spoil the surprise.” He held out his hand and assisted her to her feet. “We should leave now.”

  “I could outrun you on foot,” she told him as he lifted her onto her horse.

  He stroked her horse’s mane, and her gaze followed his long, lean fingers.

  “Is this another challenge?”

  “If you like.” She tossed her hair proudly. “Of course, you mustn’t let it sting your pride if I outrun you. I am accustomed to running with big cats.”

  He swung onto his horse and spun the animal around. “Why don’t we test that tonight?”

  “If you like,” she said smugly, almost certain she had him now. He was probably not in the same physical condition she was—most likely he was spoiled by riding everywhere he went. A smile touched her mouth, and she could hardly wait to best Ramtat at something.

  Anything.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They had ridden some time in silence when Lord Ramtat halted. “We’ll soon be leaving the desert behind. If you want a footrace, this would be the place.”

  Danaë could hardly contain her excitement as she slid off her horse. “You may choose the starting and ending points.”

  Laying down his pack and bow and arrows, he put his hands on his hips and glanced around. “Suppose we walk to the top of the low dune and race to the next one.”

  “That’s not far enough. Suppose the stopping point is the second dune—the tall one?”

  “Done.”

  She watched him strip down to his short tunic, and she noticed how muscled his legs were. For a moment she wondered if she had underestimated Ramtat. Of course he was not out of condition—he was a soldier, strong enough to wear massive armor and wield a heavy sword.

  What had she been thinking?

  Nay, she would not allow him to beat her! This race became the most important thing in her life at the moment. It was more than just a race; in some way it was a bid for freedom.

  They walked to the top of the low dune, and Ramtat shaded his eyes against the sun. “Would you like a head start on me?”

  Danaë shook her head. “I don’t need it, but I’ll give you the same offer.”

  “We start out even, then.”

  “There is one thing I want you to promise me before we start: Don’t hold back because I’m a woman.” She tapped his arm. “Give me your word.”

  “You have my word.” He bent down and scooped a handful of sand. “When the last of this sifts through my fingers, it will be the signal to run.”

  She nodded, carefully watching the sand drift away.

  With the last grains, they both burst down the hill, and for a time they stayed even. But Danaë felt a sudden surge of energy from somewhere inside her, as she always did, and she hurtled over the top of the first dune. Running full out, hardly winded, she began to pull ahead of Ramtat. In that moment, she knew she would win.

  Lunging forward, she lengthened the distance between them, and she smiled.

  * * *

  Ramtat had not really expected Danaë to be much of a challenge—after all, she was a woman and accustomed to a more sedentary life than he. But as he ran beside her, he realized she was beginning to outdistance him. Determined to match her steps, he ran full out, but she was pulling still farther ahead of him. To watch her run was a delight—she was graceful, leaping over the obstacles in her path with ease. As the distance between them widened, he realized he could not catch her, try though he might. She raced up the last hill and stood smiling down at him, waiting for him to catch up with her.

  He was breathing hard and fell down on the sand at her feet, laughing. “If I hadn’t seen you with my own eyes, I would never believe your amazing speed. You won, and I’m proud to salute you.”

  “I like a man who is gracious in defeat.” She dropped down beside him. “You did give it your all, did you not?”

  He turned his head and looked at her. “I gave it more than my all. Maybe you can teach me how you do it.”

  She lay back, staring at the blue sky. “It’s quite easy—you have to run every day. I may not be as fast as I usually am because I haven’t run in a while.”

  Ramtat stood up and helped her to her feet. “I have never seen anyone who could beat you in a race.”

  “Neither have I.” This was said without conceit—she was merely stating a fact.

  “Was this another test to see if you could escape?”

  Danaë laughed. “Nay, though I was sorely tempted. I’m not a fool—even if I could outrun you, I couldn’t outdistance your horse.”

  It was early afternoon when they reached level ground and left the desert behind. At first there were only sprigs of green bursting from the cracked earth where nothing but the hardiest plants could survive. As they descended a steep hill, thick grass cushioned their horses’ hooves.

  Danaë stared at the valley that stretched before them and was taken by surprise at its beauty.

  She slid off her horse and stared at tilled green fields that gave way to vineyards, and beyond that, orchards for as far as the eye could see.

  She turned to look at Ramtat. “ ’Tis as beautiful a land as I’ve ever seen. Surely it must belong to some noble family.”

  “It belongs to my family,” he told her, his gaze skimming with pride over the countryside. “But this is not what I brought you to see.”

  He surprised her when he took the bridles off both their horses and removed the saddles, dropping them on the ground. He then slung his bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder and untied the linen bag that was packed with supplies. When he saw Danaë’s questioning look, he explained: “The terrain where we are going is too rugged for the horses to climb.”

  “Can you just leave them here? Will they not wander away?”

  He hoisted a pack on his back and swatted the rump of his horse. The slap started the animal galloping away, and the white stallion followed closely behind. “They are well trained, and they know where to find food, water, and a good rubdown. When I want them, I have merely to whistle, and they will find me.”

  He started moving in the direction of the sunset, and Danaë followed. He helped her up the steepest formations. They crossed a narrow stream until he paused and nodded at the small rise. “My surprise is just beyond that grove of tamarisk trees. I think you’ll like it.”

  The sun had sunk low in the west, and the land was washed in a golden glow. Danaë held her breath, unable to believe her eyes. Cutting its way through the gorge of a steep rock-face cliff, a waterfall splashed its way down to a shimmering pool. She was afraid to move lest it be only an illusion and disappear before her eyes.

  “How is this possible?” She met Ramtat’s eyes. “What can be the source of such a phenomenon?”

  He helped her over a rock and watched her sit upon the edge, happy that he had pleased her. “When I was but a boy,” he said, placing his pack on the ground, “I wondered the same thing—so I climbed the waterfall to discover it was fed by a stream that comes out of a mountain. Since there was no exit other than the one I found, I imagine it is fed by an underground stream.” He braced his leg on the rock and rested his arm on his knee. “Of course, the waterfall is seasonal—in dry years it does not flow at all.”

  Danaë stretched her arms toward the heavens, feeling joy wash over her. If she could choose a moment in time, it would be this, this moment—here in this beautiful valley with this man beside her.

  She turned to him and found him watching her with a soft expression.

  For a long moment, they listened to the sound of the rushing water plummeting to the pool below. “I should like to bathe in the pool,” she said wistfully. “But the sun is going down and taking the warmth with it.”

  “Then you shall have your wish on the morrow.”

  “But,” she said, frowning in confusion, “where do we pass the night?”

&n
bsp; “There is a grassy valley just beyond the waterfall. I spent many boyhood nights in just that spot. And sometimes, when I am troubled about something, I have come here even as a man.”

  As if by natural instinct, she held her hand out to him. “Show me.”

  His fingers closed around hers and he aided her down the embankment. She paused for a moment when they reached the waterfall, bent, and cupped her hands, taking sips of water. “This is cold.”

  “It always is.”

  Ramtat felt his heart swell—the more time he spent with Danaë, the more his need for her grew. How had he lived before she came into his life? he wondered. His existence had been filled with uneventful moments, colorless and without meaning, aside from his duty to Egypt. Now that he knew her, life without her would be a torment.

  One day, when Egypt’s political problems were settled, perhaps he could make her understand that he had brought her to the desert to save her life.

  But not now.

  After they had climbed farther down the embankment, Danaë ran toward the meadow. “This is the place I would build a house if this land belonged to me.” She looked at him and smiled. “I’m surprised you haven’t already done so.”

  “Perhaps until now I had no reason to settle here. You are the only one I have ever brought to this place.”

  She settled on the grass. “If it were my land, I would keep it to myself as well. Surely the gods must dwell in this valley.”

  Ramtat sighed. She had missed his whole point that she was the only one he had ever shared this refuge with. Was she that innocent, or did she choose to misunderstand him? “Are you hungry?” he asked, opening his pack and laying food on a linen cloth.

  She moved closer to him, sitting back on her folded legs, and nodded. “What have you to tempt me to eat this day?”

  He caught the sweet scent of her hair and could hardly concentrate on what he was doing. “Dried meat, cheese,” he said, taking stock—“honey cakes and bread.”

  “I’m hungry,” she said breaking off a chunk of cheese and popping it in her mouth. Smiling, she took another chunk and held it up to him.

  Ramtat bent his dark head and took the offering, his gaze on hers. Even in the near darkness, he could see the brilliant green color of her eyes.

  Danaë stared up into the sky. Surely there had never been such a night. The stars were lustrous, the moon bright, and Ramtat was beside her. She never wanted to leave this place.

  “Danaë, you are far away from me,” he said, watching her stare into the distance.

  She pulled her attention back to the food. “Did you say you had honey cakes?”

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  She stood, and his gaze followed her slender form, the swell of her breasts, the silkiness of her hair.

  “I find I am not so hungry after all. Will you allow me to dunk my feet in the pool?”

  Again he nodded, only this time because his throat had closed off and he could not have said a word if his life had hung in the balance. He watched her until she reached the water, where she sat down to remove her boots. He still watched her as she waded into the pool. Closing his eyes, he lay back on the grass, wondering why he had brought her here. He should have known it would be torture for him, and perhaps for her as well, though he really could not decipher what she was feeling.

  He lay there for a long time until he heard her soft tread. His eyes remained closed when she sat down beside him.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked softly.

  “I was just asking myself the same thing. Perhaps because I thought you would like the freedom you could have here.”

  “I’m cold.”

  He rolled to his feet and reached for his pack. Withdrawing a soft wool blanket, he draped it about her shoulders. “This should keep you warm until I can make your pallet.”

  “You have thought of everything,” she said, shivering. “I should never have put my feet in the water.”

  Taking one of her dainty feet in his hand, he rubbed it vigorously, then gave the same attention to the other. Then, without a word, he went about spreading their sleeping mats.

  Danaë curled up on one of them, tucking her feet into the woolen coverlet. “Are there wild beasts in these parts?” she asked sleepily.

  “Lions have been spotted from time to time—there are jackals, and, of course, snakes. But don’t be afraid; I won’t let anything harm you.”

  “I’m not afraid.” She turned her head in his direction and saw he had dropped down onto his pallet. “You forget I tame wild animals.”

  “Nay, I have not forgotten.”

  Danaë yawned and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost immediately. But Ramtat remained awake long afterwards. He watched night shadows play across the most beautiful face he had ever beheld. But it was not just her beauty that drew him, it was her untamed spirit as well. She had become so much a part of him, he did not want to spend one day away from her.

  He pulled his bow and quiver closer to him and watched the rise and fall of her breasts until he, too, fell asleep.

  Ramtat opened his eyes, squinting as sunlight fell across his face. He looked quickly at Danaë’s pallet, thinking she would still be asleep, but it was neatly folded, and she was nowhere in sight. He jumped to his feet, looking in every direction, fearing Danaë had taken it into her head to run away.

  But he relaxed when he heard musical laughter and the splashing of water, realizing she was in the pool. He hurried in that direction and was surprised to find her floating on her back. Most women could not swim, but obviously she did. She waved at him and turned over to swim to the edge of the pool.

  “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “My hearing is keen; I should have heard you.”

  She smiled as she crossed her arms over the rock edge of the pool and rested her chin atop them. “But I can move as silently as the big cats. No man can hear me if I don’t want him to.”

  Her hair hung about her like shimmering onyx, and he could see the swell of her breasts through the wet linen of her tunic. “So it would seem. I could use you as a spy to slip in and out of the enemy camp.”

  She gave him a dubious glance. “First we’d have to agree on who exactly is the enemy.”

  He ignored her barb and waded into the water. “It’s still cold.”

  She laughed and splashed water on him. “Big, bad warrior—what’s a little cold water to Caesar’s fiercest fighter?”

  He dove under the water and pulled her down with him. She kicked her feet and slid out of his grasp, laughing as she made it to the edge of the pool. “I also learned how to swim alongside a fish that is bigger than you are.”

  Ramtat tossed his hair to keep it from dripping in his face. “Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” He swam toward her but stopped before their bodies touched. “Is there any challenge I can offer where you can’t best me?”

  “You might be able to shoot an arrow truer than I. Although my father did engage his finest archer to teach me. You’ve met Faraji on two occasions.”

  He seemed to be watching her intently, and Danaë was glad she had taken the precaution of removing her mother’s pendant because it would have shown through the damp material. And Ramtat would surely have wanted to know about it.

  He slowly moved closer, and she froze as their flesh touched. Her eyes widened, and his eyelids lowered.

  “I want to hold you,” he said in a deep voice.

  Without hesitation, she pressed closer to him, her arms sliding around his shoulders. Sunlight reflected off the water, the birds trilled in the nearby trees, and their bodies strained to get even closer. Then his mouth was on hers, and she whimpered with need.

  Ramtat tore his mouth from hers. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He pressed his cheek to hers. “Or did I? I don’t know anymore.”

  She brushed a wet strand of hair out of his face. “Why does this happen when we are together?” She pulled back.
“Or does this happen when you are with any woman? Can any female resist you?”

  He tried not to laugh. “They have, and they do.” He suddenly became serious, his gaze heavy upon her. “But I have never wanted any woman the way I want you.” He swept her hair off her neck and rested his lips there. “I believe you know of what I speak.”

  She laid her head against his shoulder while his hands spanned her small waist. “We are enemies,” she said, reminding herself of the rift between them. “That you cannot deny.”

  His hand moved gently to her breasts, and she gasped as if hot honey ran through her body. “Nay, not enemies, sweet green-eyes. It’s my belief that the gods created you for me.”

  Danaë tilted her chin, parting her lips. “If only it were so.”

  Barriers broke! He pulled her body against his, pressing her to the side of the pool and grinding his lower body against her. His hardness slid between her thighs, and she went limp in his arms. His mouth touched her ear, and she quivered.

  “Please don’t torture me so,” she pleaded.

  She had thrown her head back, and he kissed along the length of her throat. “You have only to say the word, Danaë, and I will take the ache away.”

  She jerked her head up, and they stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. He wondered what she was thinking as he watched the passion drain from her gaze. When she pushed against his chest, Ramtat immediately released her and watched her smoothly lift herself out of the pool.

  “I don’t like the way you make me feel,” she said with her back to him. “Why it must be you that brings out this yearning in me—I cannot guess. Sometimes the gods can be cruel.”

  “Danaë, you can neither deny this attraction between us, nor can you explain it away. If we gave ourselves to each other, it would be more wondrous than you can imagine.”

  She turned her face back to him, her dark hair swirling about her shoulders. “You have felt this with other women?”

  “Nay. Not like this, Danaë. I would speak only the truth to you. I want to be much closer to you—my need is so great, I tremble from it.”