by Monica Burns
With a quick movement, she grasped the sides of his head and tugged his head down to her lips. He stiffened for a moment before he pulled her into a tight embrace and returned her kiss. The caress seared and burned without any pain, only a blinding delight. She was in heaven, her mouth drinking in the sweet taste of him. Cedarwood drifted across her senses, the hot, masculine scent of him more potent because of his kiss.
His tongue swept into her mouth, teasing and probing until she responded with heated abandon. The way she sank into him made Altair’s blood roar. God, he’d missed the feel of her in his arms. The past two weeks had been hell as he’d deliberately kept his distance from her. Gently his teeth tugged at her lower lip before moving across her chin and down her creamy throat. The smell of the desert lingered on her skin like exotic wine. A soft moan poured out of her as he tenderly scraped his teeth across her throat.
“Altair, please…”
The quiet plea bit into him like the sting of a scorpion. Damm gahannam. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make love to her with this lie between them. Pushing her away from him, he shook his head.
“No, Alex. It would be a mistake.” A mistake she’d come to regret. Damnation, it was going to be hard as hell to tell her the truth. She’d hate him, but he’d despise himself if he made her his without explaining everything.
“A mistake?” Her eyes were wide with stunned disbelief.
“Damn it, Alex. That’s not what I meant.”
A stricken look darkened her gorgeous eyes, and he clenched his jaw in self-disgust. Christ, she thought he was rejecting her. God, if the the woman only knew how much he wanted to throw everything to the wind just to claim her as his. The sound of her sucking in a deep breath tugged a grimace of regret from him. As he reached out to her, she slapped his hand away.
“You’re right, my lord. It was a mistake—one I regret with all my heart.”
Her voice was crisp and free of emotion, but she couldn’t hide the bright red humiliation cresting in her cheeks. She whirled around and walked away with steps that were stiff and unnatural. God, he needed to explain. She needed to realize that he couldn’t continue like this with a lie between them. Lunging forward, he grabbed her by the arm and halted her retreat.
“Alex, you don’t under—”
“I don’t want to understand.” With a sharp tug of her arm, she pulled free of his grasp. “Stay away from me.”
The sharp bite of her words made him flinch. Good. She wanted him to feel the same stinging pain she was feeling. Humiliated and bitterly regretting her behavior, she quickly scrambled up out of the ravine and set off for the Bedouin encampment.
Her legs pumped their way through the sand that rose to the edges of Per-Ramesses as she tried to put as much distance between them as she could. How could she have done something so stupid? Once again, her impulsive nature had brought her nothing but grief. When was she going to learn to think before acting? She didn’t even want to think about the next time she came face to face with him.
And she wouldn’t. Immersing herself in her work would be a soothing balm to the wound she was nursing in her heart. After all, she’d just found Per-Ramesses. She was making headway in her determination to prove herself as a competent Egyptologist. Work was the one thing that would never betray her. It would always be there for her. A steadfast companion without the pain of remorse. Then why did the thought of not being able to share that with someone make her feel so miserable?
Furious with himself, Altair turned and slammed his clenched fist into the hard, sandy wall behind him. Telling her the truth was the only thing he’d needed to do, and he’d managed to botch it as he had with every opportunity over the past month.
He damn well could have made her listen to him, but he hadn’t forced the issue. Instead, he’d managed to make her think he didn’t want her. If the woman only knew how difficult it was for him to keep his hands off her.
“Damn gahannam,” he muttered fiercely.
It was impossible to put off the inevitable any longer. He would let her cool down, and later this evening he’d explain everything. His jaw tensed as he grimaced. She was going to tear him limb from limb when he explained about his connection with her father and his true identity. Attending a social engagement as Lord Blakeney held more appeal for him right now than the image of Alex’s fury.
Blast, he was worse than an old nanny goat. What did it matter if she was angry? He needed to stop letting his lust for her control his head. Confessing his lies later as opposed to now wouldn’t change things. The outcome would still be the same. Either she would scorn him or she wouldn’t. He would simply have to wait and see what was real and what was a mirage where Alex was concerned.
Still disgusted with his behavior, he followed Alex back toward the encampment. She was the most complex, complicated woman he’d ever met. Intelligent, courageous and feisty, she would make some man a wonderful wife. His body tensed at the idea of her with another man. He didn’t like that idea at all.
Shoving the thought aside, he scrambled up the ravine trail and stood at the top of the ridge. From the rise above the Mazir camp, he watched Alex walking quickly across the sand. The straight line of her back clearly showed her anger hadn’t dissipated. Somehow, he didn’t think it was all anger in that furious pace she maintained.
His ill-spoken words had hurt her. That was the last thing he’d wanted to do. She was strong and spirited, but in the past two weeks, he’d seen how vulnerable she really was. Although she hid it well, he’d seen the fear and self-doubt in those beautiful eyes of hers. At least she’d found Per-Ramesses. It would bolster her spirits.
With Alex occupied with her new discovery, it would free him continue the search for the assassin. Since their arrival in Khatana-Qantir, he’d kept a close eye on Mohammed. Despite being a traitor, the man had done nothing to reveal himself as the possible murderer. The only odd thing he’d noted was that Mohammed visited Medjuel’s tent from time to time. His cousin seemed to have the situation well in hand, but it made him feel better to continue watching the traitor closely.
From where he stood, he studied the small valley’s landscape. The oasis that supported life in Khatana-Qantir was quite large, and the lush vegetation splashed vivid color against the background of the desert. The Mazir tents spread out across the valley gave the impression a small army was encamped at the oasis.
The sight comforted him. The life of a Bedouin was simple, yet fulfilling. He should have never promised his grandfather he’d spend so much time in England. He would be far happier here, among his mother’s people. His people. They’d always accepted him for what he was. A movement off to his right pulled his gaze in that direction. Squinting against the bright sun, he held his hand up to shade his eyes. A caravan. Had someone from the British Museum sponsored an expedition to Khatana-Qantir? No, Merrick had declared Alex’s expedition a fool’s errand. The man wouldn’t do anything unless he thought it worth the expenditure.
The caravan drew closer and he caught his breath as he saw a white horse race to the front of the procession, followed by two black Arabians. The tribe was here. It didn’t make sense. They were supposed to go west to the tribal heartland. Why were they here?
Mother.
With another oath of disgust, he kicked the dry, sandy soil. She’d convinced the elders to come to Khatana-Qantir. Her presence could mean only one of two things. She was here to witness the discovery of Nourbese’s tomb or she’d come to evaluate Alex’s suitability as a wife. Since his mother didn’t put much stock in folk tales, that left Alex.
God help him. Things were difficult enough without having his mother here, playing matchmaker. If he knew his mother, either she’d send someone to Alex inviting her to dine, or she might even visit Alex herself. The thought made him set out for camp at a quick pace. He needed to reach Alex before someone else did. He’d wanted to wait until her anger
had abated, but he had little choice in the matter now.
He reached the outer rim of the encampment at almost the same time the tribal caravan did. Most of the men from the expedition gathered on the edge of camp, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their families. Debating his own course of action, he looked toward Alex’s tent. Yellow, brown and green stripes wrapped the walls of her tent. Contrasted against the striped walls was a dark brown roof. As customary, one wall was rolled up to allow fresh air to circulate, and Alex stood just inside the colorful tent.
The earthy quality of her beauty brought him to a halt as desire sped through him. His hands flexed involuntarily at the sight of her. He wanted to charge across the compound and bed her. Mesmerized, he noted the fullness of her breasts and the way the linen blouse she wore revealed her creamy throat. Her light-colored trousers clung to her softly rounded hips, emphasizing her sensuous figure. She placed her hands behind her and arched her back in a stretch. The movement jutted her breasts out in a provocative movement.
Merciful God. He swallowed hard and reminded himself that she needed to hear the truth from him and no one else. But damn if he didn’t want to just stand here and watch her. Almost as if she’d heard his thoughts, she turned her head in his direction. For the first time he wasn’t able to read her expression. She’d closed herself off to him. Her gaze skimmed over him with a derisive glare. With a deliberate movement, she unlashed the cord holding the tent wall in place. She turned away from him as the wall flap fell closed behind her. Damm gahannam. She’d just cut him. Cut him as nicely as any English noblewoman could have.
What had he expected? A warm reception after the way he’d rejected her earlier? He snorted with exasperation. Seldom one to indulge in alcohol, he knew tonight would most likely be an exception given what he was about to tell Alex. Intent on confronting her with the truth, he started for her tent.
“Altair! Altair!” Kahlil’s voice rang out through the air.
Frustration clenched his jaw as he turned to face his stepbrother riding toward him on a beautiful black Arabian. Hiding his impatience with a smile, he grabbed the mare’s halter as his brother stopped in front of him.
“Well, little brother, how did my mare take to the journey?”
Laughing, Kahlil swatted Altair’s headdress from where he sat in his saddle. “She did wonderful, and Nawar’s not your mare any more. You gave her to me, remember.”
“Did I, hmmm, well I suppose I did.” He laughed in spite of his preoccupation with Alex. “So let me guess, you sought me out to avoid doing your chores.”
“I know better than to try that with Mother. Actually, I’m following her orders. She sent me to find Miss Talbot.”
He stiffened at Kahlil’s statement. “Exactly what does Mother want with Miss Talbot?”
“I’m to invite her to take the evening meal with us.”
So he’d been right, his mother had come to Khatana-Qantir to inspect Alex. Well, not if he had anything to say about it. And definitely not until he’d had a moment to talk with her. “Well, little brother. I hate to tell you this, but you’re not going to ask Miss Talbot anything.”
“Mother will be madder than a horned viper if I don’t, Altair.”
“Perhaps, but I’ll see to it that she’s mad at me, not you.” His hand still on Nawar’s halter, he led the mare back toward the newly arrived caravan.
“How is it you can get away with not doing what Mother wants, but I can’t?”
“I don’t get away with anything. I simply make her think it was her idea for me not to do something.”
“In other words you sweet-talk her.” Kahlil snorted.
“You’re learning, little brother.” He gave a playful punch to the boy’s thigh. “Go on and see to Nawar. I’ll see to Mother.”
With a nod, Kahlil urged his horse forward and disappeared into the thick of the chaos spreading its way around the oasis. Camels groaned and squawked as they sank down to have their load removed from their backs. Instructions and shouts surrounded him as men, women and children set up their tents. Off in the distance, the bleating of sheep caught his ear.
Damn, he didn’t know which was worse, facing Alex’s anger or his mother’s determination. Knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, he sighed. Alex would have to wait. It was time to face the lioness in her den.
Despite its mobility, the tribe always set up camp the same way wherever they went. His mother’s tent would be easy to find amidst the organized chaos. Dodging a camel lumbering to its feet, he made his way through a small group of pack animals. As he emerged into an open area, he caught sight of his mother’s tent. In the next instant, Alex’s warm curves plowed into him.
“I’m sorry, I—you!” She jumped away from him with a violent twist of her body. The glare she sent him tugged a grimace to his mouth.
“What are you doing here, Alex?”
“The Sheikh told me his aunt wanted to meet me.”
Altair stiffened. Damnation. His mother had sent two messengers in the event the first one failed. She would have made a brilliant general. Hesitating, he tried to come up with an explanation for why she needed to return to her tent.
“Actually, now isn’t a good time. I think—”
Out of nowhere, Kahlil charged forward and tugged on his arm. “I thought you were going to talk to Mother. She ordered me to make sure Medjuel invited Miss Talbot back to the tent.”
Thrown off balance by his brother’s interruption, Altair glanced toward Kahlil then back to Alex. As he’d feared, horror and repugnance filled her features. Chilled by the look, his stomach twisted into a tight, unforgiving knot. He’d expected this reaction. But why was it so painful? The coldness of her gaze threatened to freeze him where he stood.
“You’re married?” Alex choked out the words with restrained fury. For a moment, he didn’t think he’d heard correctly. Married—why the devil would she think he was married?
“What?”
“How could you?” she snapped. “What type of man are you?”
“Alex—”
“Don’t you dare try to justify your actions. I can’t believe I let you kiss me. That we—”
He grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a small shake. “Alex, listen to me. I’m not married.”
“But I just heard this boy use the word Mother. I might not be fluent in Mazir, but I’ve learned enough over the past two weeks. He distinctly said Mother. How do you explain that?”
The challenging expression on her face tensed his muscles. “Because Kahlil is my brother.”
“What?” Puzzlement was slowly replacing her anger.
“Kahlil is my stepbrother. Our mother is Gameela Mazir.”
“But that’s…the Sheikh’s aunt…which makes…” Her voice trailed off as she raised a hand to her brow.
“Medjuel is my cousin.”
Her hand fell from her forehead to her cheek as she stared at him in stark confusion. The extent of her bemusement tugged at his heart. “I should have told you, Alex. I tried—”
“You’re damn right you should have told me. Why would you hide something like this?” The harsh accusation in her voice was like the sting of a whip against his skin.
“I had my reasons,” he ground out between his clenched teeth. This was not going the way he’d hoped it would.
“What reasons? Were you afraid I might scorn you because you have Bedouin blood?” She froze with surprise. “That’s it. You thought I wouldn’t want anything to do with you if I knew about your background, didn’t you?”
The raw disappointment in her words bit into him with painful clarity. He’d misjudged her. She glared up at him, waiting for him to explain. Damn gahannam, this was more of a mess than he’d ever thought possible.
“Alex, I had no idea when I wrote your father that last time that you’d be coming in his place.”<
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“When you wrote my father?” she whispered.
“Yes.” His cheek twitched from the tension in his jaw. “Your father and I have corresponded with each other over the past three to four years on a regular basis.”
“You…and father…corresponded.”
“I’m sorry he died before I got a chance to meet him.”
“But you said you’d just translated the letters for the Sheikh.” Bewilderment clouded her face as he watched her struggle with his confession.
“In a manner of speaking, I did translate the letters.” He frowned. This wasn’t going well at all. Determined to keep her close until they sorted this mess out, he grasped her shoulders. The tension flowing through her body throbbed against his fingertips. He could almost see the wheels of comprehension churning in her head as she narrowed her gaze at him.
“Then…”
“As head of the entire tribe, Medjuel is Sheikh el Mazir. I serve as my cousin’s advisor and hold the title of Sheikh Mazir.”
Anger brightened her hazel eyes and she went rigid beneath his hand. As he reached out to caress her cheek with his index finger, she knocked his hand away from her with a vicious slap.
“You lied.”
“No. I merely skirted the truth.”
“You lied. You lied about everything.”
Breaking free of his grasp, she turned and proceeded to walk away. Caught off guard, he stared after her for a moment in disbelief. Then in four quick strides, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to a halt.
“Alex, wait. We need to talk about this.”
She whipped around to face him. For the first time he noticed their argument had become of avid interest to nearby tribe members. His attention distracted, he was too late to stop her hand from reaching his face. The loud crack rent the air and the area surrounding them grew deathly quiet. His hand fell away from her arm as he faced her fury in silence.
“Stay away from me. You’re despicable, and you can’t be trusted.” She sent him a scorching look of disgust before she turned and stalked away.