Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Mallory acknowledged the introduction with a smile. Next, the captain turned to the Egyptian. "Lady Mallory, this is Mr. Shemsa. He's returning to his homeland after going to school in England."

  Mallory recognized him as the man who had retrieved her sunshade. "How do you do, Mr. Shemsa?"

  He was dressed in a flowing white robe and matching head covering that was tied with a black cord. His skin was dark and his eyes even darker. He bowed respectfully to her, but not before she saw his eyes widen with unmasked admiration.

  She moved away from him, knowing the moment she'd been dreading had arrived. Mallory could hear Mrs. Wickett talking to Lord Michael. Then it was her turn, and she stood before him, her eyes raised to his face. How handsome he was, dressed formally in black. There was mockery in his eyes as Captain Barim presented her.

  "Now, Lady Mallory," Michael said, "we have been properly introduced." He extended his arm to her. "I believe you are seated next to me."

  Unwilling to create a scene, she reluctantly placed her hand on his arm. Apparently he was enjoying her discomfort. Did he think she would so easily forgive him for his pranks?

  He held the chair for her, and she sat down, folding her hands demurely in her lap. Mrs. Wickett had been placed on Captain Barim's right, and the Egyptian, Khaldun Shemsa, was across the table from Mallory.

  When they were all seated, Captain Barim turned to Mallory. "M lady, it falls to me to apologize to you about an incident that happened several days ago, but has only come to my attention today."

  She looked at him, puzzled. "I can't think what you would have to apologize to me for, Captain."

  "It's about the drenching you suffered."

  Her eyes went to Michael. "I don't hold you responsible for the bad manners of your passengers."

  The captain looked mystified. "Passenger? No, m'lady. A member of my ship's crew came forward this morning and admitted what he had done. I have reprimanded him severely, and he will be punished."

  Mallory's mouth flew open and she looked at Lord Michael, too humiliated to meet his eyes. "Please, Captain, I would consider it a favor if you wouldn't punish the poor man on my behalf."

  "As you wish, m'lady. You have a kind and understanding heart."

  Mallory straightened her spine when she heard Lord Michael choke back laughter.

  The first course had been served before she finally turned to him. "I ask your pardon, m'lord. I did you a great wrong."

  His lips twitched in an almost smile. "It was a natural mistake. I admit I did look guilty holding the bucket. I can't imagine why you would think I'd throw water on such a charming young lady, though." He laughed. "A young lady with such a charitable disposition—and how did the captain phrase it—with a kind and understanding heart?"

  Mallory chose to ignore his attempt at humor. "Nonetheless, I beg your pardon."

  "I accept."

  Mallory was glad when Captain Barim called for everyone's attention. "I regret that I must ask questions of all of you while we are eating. But it seems I have a bit of a mystery on my hands, and I'm hoping one of you might have seen or heard something that will help me in my dilemma."

  "What is it?" Mrs. Wickett asked, her eyes round and expectant.

  The captain cleared his throat. "Well, it seems we have lost two passengers."

  "Surely you jest," Mrs. Wickett declared. "How does one go about losing passengers at sea?"

  "In that is the mystery, madam. Two Arab gentleman, Mr. Senosiris and Mr. Burlos, have simply disappeared. They haven't slept in their cabins in days, and no one has seen them. I have had the ship searched from stem to stern, and they are not aboard."

  Michael and Khaldun merely exchanged glances.

  "Surely there is only one alternative," Mallory commented with horror.

  "I agree, m'lady," the captain said. "They must have gone overboard. But there is a puzzle as well. The weather has been calm, so they could not have been washed overboard. Say one of them fell, I could accept that, but both—I hardly think so."

  "I feel certain I have solved your dilemma, Captain," Mrs. Wickett said with confidence. "One of the gentlemen fell overboard; the other jumped in to save him, and they both drowned."

  "I have considered that." The captain looked at each of his guests in turn. "Did any of you see or hear anything that would help?"

  There was no answer, so the captain looked regretful. "In all my crossings, I've never lost a passenger. I'll have to answer to the port authorities for this. I'm afraid this will delay my return trip for weeks."

  Again Michael and Khaldun exchanged glances. If they had admitted their knowledge of the incident, they would also be delayed.

  Mallory was so distressed about the poor men who had apparently drowned that she hardly tasted the filet of salmon that was served with a rich cream sauce.

  She was very aware of Lord Michael, because his presence was overpowering. Everyone at the table seemed to defer to him, and most of the conversation was directed at him.

  "Lady Mallory," Captain Barim said, at last turning to her. "Mrs. Wickett has informed me that you will be joining your parents in Cairo."

  "Yes, I am, Captain."

  "I'm slightly acquainted with your father. You must be very proud of the work he's done."

  Mallory could hardly admit she knew little of her father's work. "Yes, I am, Captain."

  Michael looked at her with new understanding. "Your father is Lord Stanhope? I've heard of him. He acquires artifacts for the museums, does he not?"

  She glanced down at Lord Michael's tanned, well-shaped hand resting on the white tablecloth, and her breathing seemed to close off. Raising her eyes, she met his green glance and found humor dancing there. "Yes, my lord, he does."

  "I met your mother and him last summer at a garden party in London. Were you also present?"

  "No, my lord." Mallory hadn't known her parents had been in England the previous summer. The pain of that knowledge tore at her heart. Why hadn't they come to see her if they had been in London?

  "My parents travel a great deal," she said at last. "I don't often get to see them."

  Michael could sense her discomfort. "We shall be seeing more of each other, Lady Mallory, because I will also be traveling to Cairo."

  She had just taken a bite of salmon and had to swallow before she could answer. "I understand that Cairo is a crowded city, my lord. I doubt our paths will cross."

  He raised an inquiring brow, wondering why she was still so hostile toward him. "Nonetheless, we shall probably meet again, Lady Mallory."

  She glanced at the Egyptian across from her and found he was staring at her. "I look forward to living in your country and learning many of your customs, Mr. Shemsa."

  "You will like my country, my lady, and I know my country will like you."

  She warmed to his cordiality. There were so many questions she had about Egypt. "I'm fascinated, not only by your past, but your present as well."

  Khaldun's dark eyes swept her face. "I would be most honored to help you understand the history of my people. Do you perhaps speak my language?"

  Captain Barim intervened, drawing the Egyptian's attention. His young passenger evidently didn't know that a female shouldn't converse familiarly with an Egyptian. Their culture was such that the man would mistake politeness for encouragement. "Since there are so many different sects and languages in your country, that would be an extraordinary undertaking. Even the most proficient linguist and scholar would have trouble with them all, Mr. Shemsa."

  "That is so, Captain. There is a great diversity among my people."

  Mallory, unaware that she was doing anything wrong, asked, "Is it true, Mr. Shemsa, that your country has considered building a channel that will link the Mediterranean and the Red Sea?"

  Khaldun looked pleased. "You are very knowledgeable, Lady Mallory. It is indeed a project that has been debated over the centuries. But I fear it would be a very costly endeavor, and many doubt that it will ever come to pa
ss."

  Mallory placed her fork beside her plate and gave her full attention to Khaldun. "I read that when Napoleon invaded your country, his engineers came to the conclusion that the Red Sea was higher than the Mediterranean, thus making the task impossible."

  "That was their conclusion, Lady Mallory. Engineers have debated that issue for many generations. It is my hope that the canal will one day be built, to the advantage, not only of Egypt, but of the rest of the world as well."

  Michael saw the admiration in Khaldun's eyes as he looked at Lady Mallory. Was she mad? Didn't she know that by talking to Khaldun, she was sending him the message that she was interested in him as a man? She was too young and inexperienced to realize the danger of her actions. He decided to stop her before she went too far.

  Michael spoke in a soft voice so only Mallory could hear. "Lady Mallory, it's inconceivable to me that you know so much about Egyptian affairs and so little of their customs. You should not invite Mr. Shemsa's attentions."

  Mallory stiffened with indignation. Stormy blue eyes met piercing green eyes. She answered quietly, so no one would overhear. "What I do or don't do is no concern of yours, Lord Michael. And I certainly have not solicited your advice."

  "You're right, of course, my lady. My intention was merely to keep you from making a mistake." His eyes hardened. "If you are wise, you will heed my warning."

  Mallory came to her feet, unable to endure his interference a moment longer. All the gentlemen rose, while Mrs. Wickett looked on puzzled.

  Mallory addressed her comments to Captain Barim. "Thank you for a lovely evening. If you will excuse me, I have a dreadful headache and wish to go to my cabin."

  Mrs. Wickett was reluctant to leave such admirable company, but she had a responsibility to Lady Mallory. "Shall I come with you?"

  "No. You haven't yet had dessert. I'm just going to my cabin to lie down." Mallory smiled at the other guests, all but Lord Michael, and left the cabin.

  She stood at the railing, drawing in gulps of air until her temper cooled. After long reflection, she admitted that it might not have been prudent for her, an unmarried female, to have engaged Mr. Shemsa in conversation. Lord Michael seemed to have enjoyed pointing out her mistake. That man was insufferable!

  Her thoughts turned to the disappearance of the two Arab men. Could they have drowned? She shivered as she looked into the inky black sea. What a horrible way to die.

  "You are feeling better, Lady Mallory?" Khaldun asked, coming up beside her.

  There was no moon, but a lantern swung in the breeze, so she could clearly see the concern in his dark eyes. "Much better." She couldn't tell him her headache had been a fabrication so she could leave an intolerable situation. "The fresh air has helped ease the pain."

  The Egyptian stood silently beside her, and feeling uneasy, she was about to wish him good-night, when he spoke: "I was in your country for two years, attending your Oxford University."

  "My father also attended Oxford in his youth."

  "It was not my wish to leave Egypt, but my father insisted that I have an English education. Two years is a very long time to be away from one's home."

  She could sense a sadness in him and decided to disregard Lord Michael's warning. "Surely you made friends who helped you be less lonely?"

  "There were several students from my country. But I made little contact with the English students." He smiled slightly. "I'm sure we were an oddity to them since our ways are so different."

  "I will know how you felt when I reach Egypt, for I shall be the stranger there."

  He smiled. "My country will willingly welcome such a beautiful lady."

  She tensed at his unwelcome compliment. But he was unaware of her discomfort. "You are the first English woman I have spoken to other than the maid who made up our rooms each day." His dark eyes sparkled with humor. "She had a grandson my age."

  "And now you are returning home."

  "Yes. Home to an uncertain future."

  "I must go in now," Mallory said nervously.

  "Please allow me a moment to speak to you." Khaldun reached out his hand to her and let it drop. "I just wanted to tell you that you have a rare gift for making a man feel important."

  She withdrew several steps.

  "I don't mean to frighten you. I should not have spoken, but this might be my last chance to tell you how I feel. I have watched you, and I knew there was a sadness about you. I wanted to see if I could help."

  "We are strangers, and you mustn't say this to me, Mr. Shemsa."

  He seemed not to hear her. "I have never seen a woman with hair like fire. To be near you would be like living with sunshine."

  She now realized Lord Michael had been correct with his warning. "Please excuse me."

  He bravely clasped her hand. "Don't go."

  "The lady has asked to leave, Khaldun. Release her hand."

  Mallory turned to an angry Lord Michael. "I was only ... he didn't—"

  Michael reached for her hand and turned her toward her cabin. "Leave now, Lady Mallory. And I hope you have learned a lesson tonight."

  She scurried down the companionway, her heart beating in her throat. She was so ashamed, and so sorry for her actions. Poor Mr. Shemsa was not to blame—the fault lay with her. He must have thought she had been encouraging his attentions. Oh, how would she ever face either man again?

  Michael stood beside Khaldun, sensing his confusion. "Lady Mallory is an innocent, Khaldun. She's young, she doesn't understand your customs."

  The Egyptian shook his head regretfully. "I realize that now. But she is so beautiful, and she was so sad. Is it wrong for one human being to reach out to another?"

  Michael realized that Khaldun was as innocent in his way as Lady Mallory was in hers. "Have you a woman waiting for your return?"

  "Yes, but she is not of my choosing. I have never met her. She was destined for me from the time she was born. It is the way of my people."

  "My country was once the same as yours. Now marriages of convenience are rare, although they still occur occasionally."

  "I have heard that my intended bride is fair to look upon, but this is always said by parents, to keep the bridegroom from objecting if she is ugly. I feel horror thinking about her. She is of the Sawarka tribe, and their women often tattoo their faces. Can you imagine living with a woman who disfigures her face?"

  Michael was glad to move the conversation away from Lady Mallory, but he felt a little horrified himself. "No, I can't imagine that. I've thought little about marriage. I suppose someday I'll have to take a wife."

  "You will choose your own wife." Khaldun's shoulders slumped. "For a brief moment I envisioned myself with Lady Mallory as my second wife. Yasmin will, of course, have to be my number-one wife."

  "An Englishwoman would hardly agree to such an arrangement. You have lived in London where a man can have only one wife."

  "I know that I made a mistake with Lady Mallory. Would you be so kind as to convey my apologies to her?"

  "I'm sure there will be no need of that."

  "But I ask it of you all the same. I want her to know I meant to honor her and not to be disrespectful."

  "I'll tell her."

  "Do you not think she's a beauty?" Khaldun said regretfully.

  "I hardly noticed. She is too young for me. Another thing I have never admired is red hair."

  Khaldun smiled at his friend. "She is a rare and delicate flower. But she is so much more than she seems. Inside she has the burnings of a woman, but she does not yet know it."

  "Are any of us all we seem?" Michael commented with a searching glance.

  "We all have our secrets, Lord Michael. But should you have trouble when you reach Cairo, I shall know it at once and come to your aid."

  Michael stared out at the darkness, unable to see the sea or the sky. He thought it highly unlikely this Egyptian could help him in what he must do.

  Chapter 9

  Mallory received a letter from Lord Michael, which she
tore into tiny pieces. Was there no end to that man's arrogance? How dare he take it upon himself to apologize for Mr. Shemsa. He never missed a chance to goad her—this was only his way of pointing out that he'd been right and she'd been wrong.

  "Insufferable," she said, slamming the lid on her trunk. Well, at least they would be leaving the ship today.

  Later, Mallory stood on deck beside Mrs. Wickett as they both watched the Iberia cut her engines and rely on her sails to take her into the deep waters of Aboukir Bay.

  "A colorless country," Mrs. Wickett remarked, waving her hand toward the small fishing village that existed in the shadows of the city of Alexandria.

  "Everything is brown, brown, brown. There is no color, no personality."

  Mallory didn't agree. She stared in wonder at the tall mosques and domed buildings. She was only sorry there would not be time to explore the ancient capital of Egypt before boarding the boat that would take her down the Nile to Cairo.

  "You have to admit the Mediterranean is very blue," she said breathlessly. "It makes one long for a swim."

  Mrs. Wickett looked at her as if she'd lost her faculties. "Certainly not! It would be unthinkable for a properly brought up English girl even to contemplate such an action. Swim in the Mediterranean, indeed not."

  Mallory was saved from answering when two crew members began tying off the sails and Captain Barim brought the Iberia into port. The sound made by the lowering of the anchor was a welcome one to Mallory. She would be glad to place her feet on solid ground.

  Mallory felt a burst of excitement that was tempered with fear of the unknown when the gangplank was lowered into place and the crew bustled about performing last-minute duties. Cargo was brought up from the hold and wheeled toward waiting wagons that would take them to their final destination.

  "There—there's my husband," Mrs. Wickett beamed. "Lud, he's grown a beard." She waved frantically. "He looks distinguished, does he not?"

  "Indeed he does," Mallory agreed, looking at Sergeant Wickett as he must seem to his wife, and not as the heavy set man he looked in his red uniform.

  "Come, m'lady, he'll be impatient to be on his way. We must not dally."