Mirage

by Monica Burns

  No matter how eccentric Uncle Jeffrey might have been, he’d written this warning as if he’d known how to read and write Coptic all his life. That was something she could believe in, even if it didn’t make any sense at all. The real question demanding an answer was whether Altair was the Mazir referred to in the warning. Despite all his lies, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

  Damn, she was so confused. Last night had been a terrible miscalculation on her part. She’d lost sight of why she was here in Khatana-Qantir. It was something she couldn’t forget again if she intended to keep her vow to her father and realize her own dream. All she’d done last night was muddy the waters. Fingertips pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to balance what her heart was telling her against what her head was telling her.

  “Are you all right, ana gamâl?”

  Every muscle in her body tensed at the sound of his deep, sensual voice. Her head snapped up as she watched him enter the tent. Still confused by her mixed emotions, she immediately ducked her head again to avoid meeting his probing gaze. Her hand casually buried her uncle’s warning under a pile of notes.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Inside she cringed. The stormy emotions brewing inside her were making her feel far from fine. “How close are they to finishing the measurements of the west wall?”

  “They should be finished marking it off shortly, then they can proceed with the south side of the perimeter.”

  God, even now, the sound of his voice was an erotic stroke to her senses. Desperate to suppress the sudden stirring of desire burning through her, she clenched her teeth. She needed to remember he’d been lying to her from the start. His deception about the correspondence with her father. Hiding who he really was. But he’d had good reasons for doing so, hadn’t he? Bile threatened to rise in her throat. Sweet Lord, how had she come to be so under his spell that she wanted to excuse his lies?

  Avoiding his gaze, she looked out over the site. “How far have they measured to this point?”

  “Almost a seven mile stretch. I rode toward the east wall, and I think the adjoining ramparts will measure close to five miles.”

  “Well that at least gives me some approximations to compare with my notes. I think the first place to start digging is somewhere in the vicinity of where Ramesses’ palace would have been.” Leaning forward, she reached for a blank pad of paper. She tensed as he stepped around the worktable. The edge of his knuckles grazed her cheek.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  Thrown off balance by his accurate observation, she sucked in a quick breath and kept her eyes focused on the papers in front of her. “I’ve been busy.”

  “So busy you dart away every time I come near you?” There was just a hint of puzzlement in his voice as he braced one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the table. “I’ve missed you since the moment I left you this morning.”

  The scent of cedarwood drifted beneath her nose, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment as his mouth brushed against the nape of her neck. Dear Lord, the man’s words were as seductive as his touch. She swallowed the desire to turn her head and seek his mouth for a kiss she knew he’d be more than willing to give.

  Quickly twisting away from him, she stood up and walked around the worktable to stare out at the view before her. Per-Ramesses. Her dream. She couldn’t give that up. There could be no distractions of any kind, not even pleasurable ones with a man she found difficult to trust. The white linen of her shirt clung to her like a second skin in the heat, and she tugged at the front of it to pull it away from her.

  “What’s wrong, Alex?”

  Ignoring his question, she moved back to the table and pointed a spot on the grid she’d drawn. “I…I think we should look for the palace here. From all my notes, I’m certain it’s in this general vicinity.”

  Sun-drenched fingers stroked the back of her hand, and before she could stop herself, she yanked her hand away. It was self-preservation. If she allowed him to touch her again, it would be difficult to resist him.

  “Damn it, tell me what’s wrong.” The taut vibration in his voice made her wince. Avoiding his gaze, she shook her head as she pretended to peruse her notes and the map.

  “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just—”

  From across the worktable, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist as he forced her to look at him. “Don’t lie to me, Alex.”

  The words set her teeth on edge. He had the gall to say such a thing to her, after all the lies he’d told her. With a sharp tug, she yanked her arm free of his grip. “No. That’s your forte,” she said with quiet outrage.

  “It didn’t seem to be a problem for you last night.” Dark eyes narrowed as he studied her from across the worktable.

  Her body tugged with emotion, gravitating toward him just like a magnet. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and forget everything but his touch. Her heart was telling her to forgive him, while her head screamed at her to reject him. Crushing the thoughts, she hardened her heart against him. He’d lied to her. He wasn’t to be trusted.

  “Last night I wasn’t thinking clearly. I am now.”

  “I see.” He folded his arms across his chest and watched her with a forbidding expression on his regal features. “And exactly what are you thinking at this moment?”

  The harsh, chiseled line of his jaw illustrated the tension in him. It reflected his suppressed anger. She stiffened at the affronted look on his face. Who was he to assume the look of an injured party? He was the liar—not her.

  “Last night was a pleasurable experience, but—”

  “A pleasurable experience,” he snarled. His anger was almost a tangible force between them. Alarm skated down her back as she kept her eyes averted. “Take care with your words, Alex.”

  The menacing words hung in the hot air between them. The stony look on his face cut into her like sharp granite. Turning away, she walked to the edge of the tent and stared out at the unending sea of desert. Why did his anger bother her so much? He’d done nothing to earn her trust, only destroy it. She refused to let him see how torn she was over her decision.

  “I…I can’t be with you again—like that.”

  “Explain.” The solitary command lifted the hair on the back of her neck.

  She didn’t like someone ordering her around, least of all a man who’d manipulated her since their first meeting. In the past, he’d always been able to convince her to do things his way, but today he was going to fail. She was here to work, not to indulge in an affair with a man she couldn’t trust. Turning around, she glared at him.

  “I came here to find Per-Ramesses, not to have an illicit liaison with someone like you.”

  “Damm gahannam,” he growled. The fierce anger in his voice made her stiffen. “And last night—”

  “Last night was a mistake I want to forget.”

  Even to her ears, the words sounded cold and harsh as she rushed to interrupt him. God, she hadn’t meant it to come out like that. She trembled at the cruelty of it. It had been a mistake, yes, but only because she couldn’t trust him. She would never forget their night together. What she wanted to forget was this miserable twisting in her stomach.

  Statues reflected more emotion in their faces than his did at this very moment, and she flinched at his glacial expression. The icy fury darkening his eyes sent a shiver racing down her spine. She’d only seen him this furious once before. But this time it frightened her.

  “A mistake you want to forget?” The icy staccato of the question chilled her hot skin.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way.” She stumbled over her words. “I lost my head last night. I won’t—can’t let it happen again.”

  “Exactly when did you decide this, Alex—before or after you rode me with all the skill of a Cyprian?”

  The taunt made her jerk as her cheeks burned at the memory. H
e made it sound as if last night had been her idea. He was the one who’d entered her tent uninvited. Seduction had been his goal, and she’d not stood a chance of resisting him. Glaring at him, she tightened her lips.

  “Since we’re throwing out insults, perhaps you need to consider the barbaric manner in which you charged into my tent yesterday evening. Not to mention your refusal to leave when I ordered you out. Tell me, my lord, do English ladies find your savage nature as unappealing as I do?”

  A dark hand slammed down on the worktable in fury. His livid expression frightened her, and she jumped back as he rounded the table. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pulled her toward him. The sun-hot cartridges on his utility belt stung her hands as she tried to push away from him.

  “Trust me, yâ ‘aini,” The tone he used as he said my dear was filled with scathing derision. “I was quite restrained in my savagery last night. At the moment, however, I am close to losing what little restraint I possess.”

  “If that’s your way of saying you expect a repeat of last night, then you’re certain to be disappointed, my lord.” With a sharp twist, she almost broke free of his grasp, but he was too quick for her. He wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her against his hard, hot body.

  “And you overestimate the appeal of your charms, yâ ‘aini. While last night was pleasurable, you’ve confirmed one thing for me.”

  “Oh, please, don’t keep me in suspense, tell me, my lord.” As she glared up at him, his eyes became narrow slits. Heaven help her, the man looked like he wanted to kill her. Panic sent her stomach lurching wildly inside her. The warning had to be correct. Altair was the one not to trust.

  “American women whore just as easily as English women do.”

  Her skin grew clammy as the brutality of his words sent a numbing chill through her body. With one swift stroke he had demeaned the night they’d spent together. Cheapened it into a sordid moment. Desperate to conceal her pain, she turned her head away from him. She didn’t want him to see how deep his words had sliced through her.

  She’d told him their night together was one she wanted to forget, but that was impossible. Even now she craved his touch. Every fiber and nerve in her body was attuned to the lean hardness of him, his spicy male scent. Her body would never forget anything about him.

  Swallowing hard, she knew none of that mattered. She couldn’t trust him. He’d lied to her from the beginning, and last night he’d beguiled her with his seductive words and touch. Trusting him came at price she wasn’t willing to pay either with her heart or her work.

  “Now that you’ve made your opinion of me quite clear, I would appreciate your releasing me, my lord.” The quiet dignity in her voice gave her a small measure of satisfaction. She hadn’t revealed the depth of the pain his words had caused her.

  “Damm gahannam,” he exclaimed as he thrust her away from him.

  Free of his arms, she stumbled backwards a few steps until she regained her balance. She mustn’t look up. If she saw the same contempt in his eyes that she’d heard in his voice, she’d burst into tears. And that she refused to do. She wouldn’t let him see how badly he’d hurt her. Without looking in his direction, she seated herself at her worktable and proceeded to straighten her notes as if nothing had happened.

  A foul expletive escaped him. Wheeling about, he stormed out of the tent. Only when she was certain he was gone did she release the pent-up tears swelling her throat. Oh God, what had she done? She’d fallen in love with him—a man she couldn’t trust. Her sobs shuddered through her, and she lifted her head to watch Altair’s retreating figure blur behind her watery eyes.

  Damn her. God damn her to hell. The little bitch had played him for a fool. She’d been eager enough for him to bed her last night, but suddenly the light of day had brought her to her senses. What was it she’d said? An illicit liaison with someone like him. Yes, that was it. He was a Bedouin half-breed. A savage. A barbarian. Obviously, she’d had a change of heart when it came to taking a lover whose heritage was far from pure.

  He’d lowered his guard and been tricked again. When it came to women with hearts of stone, he should have known nationality didn’t differentiate. She was no different from Caroline. No doubt, it had been an adventure to her. A tale she could share with her friends. But if that were true, why had her face gone stark white, her hazel eyes dark with pained horror, when he’d called her a whore? Could there have been another reason for her rejection of him?

  The toe of his boot scuffed viciously at a small mound of sand, sending the pulverized stone flying into the air in a small knee-high cloud. Bloody hell, what a mess. Was he wrong? Alex was always easy to read, her emotions clearly visible in her expressive face. When he’d entered the work tent, she’d definitely been disturbed by something. Had it been her distaste of what was to come or had it been something else?

  Hands on his waist, he stared at the ground as his fingers dug through the wool of his gambaz to bite into his skin. And last night. God help him, but last night had been the closest thing to heaven he’d ever imagined or experienced. The feel of her, the scent of her. It had been a humbling experience for him.

  No other woman had offered herself to him so sweetly or with such willing enthusiasm. Beautiful and sensual, she had given pleasure as well as taken it. That’s what made all of this so difficult to understand.

  He looked over his shoulder toward the work tent. She stood leaning over the table, apparently studying her notes. The sight of her bent over the table with her head down wreaked havoc with his insides. God, he wanted to be standing behind her right now, driving into her, his hands gripping the soft curves of her hips. What the hell was wrong with him? The woman had just scorned him, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to make love to her again. He pulled his gaze away from her and continued walking toward the walled city. Unwillingly, his mind raced to offer up an explanation for her behavior.

  Something else was at the heart of this about-face. He couldn’t believe she was like Caroline or any of the other women he’d known in London. A small voice inside his head mocked him. No, what he really meant was that he didn’t want to believe it of her. He didn’t want to think that he’d been wrong about her. That would signal she’d come to mean more to him than he was willing to admit.

  Out the corner of his eye, he saw a horse and rider approaching. Medjuel. He came to a halt, watching his cousin ride up in a dashing display of Bedouin horsemanship. When he’d dismounted, the Sheikh rubbed the animal’s jowl fondly as he moved past the horse’s head. Surprised by his cousin’s visit, Altair gave him a nod of greeting.

  “You’re a long way from camp. Are you bringing me news about Mohammed?”

  “No. I think he knows I’m watching him. He’s been an exemplary shepherd to the flock. Eventually, I’ll learn what he’s up to, and when I do I’ll address the man’s betrayal.” There was a quiet edge to Medjuel’s voice that hid a deep anger. The sound of it reassured Altair that his cousin wasn’t neglecting the tribe’s interest in the matter.

  “So if there’s nothing new to share about Mohammed, what brings you so far out?”

  One hand stroking his beard, Medjuel glanced up toward Alex’s work tent. “I wanted to talk to you about your Miss Talbot.”

  “She’s not my Miss Talbot,” he said in a tight voice. At least not any longer she wasn’t. He watched the expression on Medjuel’s dark face hover between curiosity and one other emotion Altair couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  “Miss Talbot then.” His cousin shrugged. “I hear she’s found the city wall and that it’s only a matter of time before Nourbese’s tomb is discovered.”

  “We’ve yet to confirm that she’s actually found Per-Ramesses, but I’d be willing to wager money she’s found the city.”

  Medjuel nodded as he turned his head once more to study Alex working beneath the shade of the tent. “I must admit that I’m wor
ried about her finding it.”

  “What? The city?” Altair stared at his cousin in surprise. “Why?”

  “Not the city, but the tomb. I’m concerned about the effect on our people. Already they’re talking about Nourbese’s treasure and who will benefit from this newfound wealth.”

  “Of course, they’re excited. The prophecy is more than two thousand years old, and they’re seeing it happen right before their eyes. Why is that so terrible?”

  His gaze still on Alex, the Sheikh shook his head. “And what if she finds the tomb, but there’s nothing there? What will we do then?”

  Altair stiffened. He’d never considered that possibility before. Medjuel was right. If Alex did find Nourbese’s tomb, but found nothing inside, it could rip through the very fabric of the tribe’s existence. For generations, they had listened to tales of Pharaoh’s love for Nourbese. It had fed their culture, their belief structure. If Nourbese’s tomb was empty, it could easily destroy the tribe’s belief system.

  “I see by your face, you agree with me.” Medjuel frowned. “You must convince Miss Talbot to give up this search for Nourbese.”

  Unable to help himself, he burst out into bitter laughter. “What makes you think I have any control over Alex? The woman does as she pleases.”

  “I realize she’s a Ferengi, and a woman at that, but doesn’t she understand the danger she’s in with this undertaking?”

  “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

  The fierce expression on Medjuel’s face immediately lightened, and he raised a placating hand. “You know how foreigners are when it comes to living in the desert. I only meant that the woman might do something during the excavation to endanger her life or that of the workers. We both know digs like this can be dangerous.”