by Diana Kirk
She laughed. "So many, I don't even know where to start." She gazed into his eyes reflecting the lamp's glow. His gaze saddened and he looked away. "But, even with everything back there, I haven't missed a single thing until now. Egypt has wonders beyond my imagination." She looked down. "And I have to admit, all the time with you I've been pretty comfortable. At least, until I decided to run away."
"A poor choice." Tarik turned back, lifted the lamp, and brushed his lips across hers lightly. "One that may keep us hidden for some time."
"Don't rub it in.
In the center of the chamber stood a large granite sarcophagus cut from one solid piece of stone. Alex strode over to it and leaned down into the opening.
"The mummy's gone."
His eyes widened. "Mummy? I have heard that word before." His gaze darkened. "You called me that when you were angry."
"I'm sorry. A mummy is what is left after you embalm him or her."
"You mean the sacred preparation for burial?"
"Yes, whatever."
"And you call them, mummies?" A glint of understanding flashed in his eyes. "You called me this name in anger. Am I one of these mummies in your time?"
Pain sliced through her as sure as if a knife had cut her heart in two. She turned, unable to face him.
"I don't know. I'm sorry I called you that." She faced him. "If you'll remember, I was angry with you."
"You seemed so."
She wandered around the room, glancing at hieroglyphs and paintings.
"So what happened to this mum--" She pointed to the sarcophagus, hoping to change the subject. "--Cheop's remains?"
"No doubt, stolen by grave robbers," he said matter-of-factly. "Yet, Cheops was a living god. As you can see from the absence of his earthly form, he must have completed his journey to the netherworld. Robbers usually take gold and jewels, but leave the remains, for they have no use for them."
"I see." But she didn't understand his comfort with the dead. This place gave her the creeps, yet he seemed perfectly content to stay here.
Tarik laid out linens to form a hard bed. "Come, Alex. We must eat and then sleep. There is a long journey ahead."
"Are we going farther north?"
"No. It will soon be time to begin the journey back to Abydos. With luck, we will meet Kensu and his armies and I will be needed." He glanced at her. "With your magical powers of healing, you can be by my side. In war, I am very busy." He reached out his hand to Alex. "We can eat later. Come, wife, lay with me."
She lay down on the linen beside him and he folded his arms around her. He leaned his head down and brushed his lips across hers. He was like no man she'd ever known. He was the earth, the stars, and the sun. And with his arms around her, with his lips touching hers, she wanted nothing else but to stay here forever. Yet, forever was too much to hope for. Somehow, she knew the rip in time would repair itself and things would be back to normal and she would return to the future.
But how did she tell him life without him had no meaning? That her every waking moment would be consumed by the loss of the only man she'd ever loved. That her father might someday find his remains among the dust and bones of the past. That this one moment with him was worth all her remaining years in the future.
How could she endure the pleasure of his touch, knowing this might be their last night together? She clung to him with a desperation that welled up from deep within and prayed for time to stop.
"Oh, Tarik," was all she could get out before his kiss deepened and turned urgent. His darting tongue surged against hers until her hunger for him consumed all rational thought. There was nothing else in her universe except Tarik. All the while his mouth devoured her lips, her neck, her breasts, his strong fingers trailed along her skin toward the hem of her shift and pulled it swiftly over her head. She groaned and grabbed the waistband of his kilt freeing his body, hard and wanting against hers.
He murmured unintelligible words of love against her skin. In silent acquiescence, she melded into his embrace. Allowing tidal waves of glorious sensation to wash over her. His mouth was her center, her focal point of reality. His murmuring ceased and his kisses deepened taking her tongue hostage with his. He devoured her and she him as if they were starving beggars feasting on a pharaoh's banquet.
"Alex, you are more beautiful than all the goddesses of Egypt. I want you always," he panted against her skin.
Even before his hands caressed her breasts, the nipples swelled into tight rosy buds waiting for his lips to pull against them.
"I...." Pain and pleasure warred within her.
Gently, his lips never leaving her skin, he laid her back against the linens, and trailed soft murmuring kisses along her arms and across her belly. She stiffened with desire and gripped his hair with both hands guiding him lower still.
"Your skin tastes like honeyed wine," he said between gasping breaths, guiding his tongue, his lips even lower. Unable to control her movements, she squirmed beneath him in agonizing delight. "This is...." His tongue darted, teased, and pleasured. "...too much." She stiffened rushing toward the edge of release, her lungs burning for air, her heart bursting with love. He slowed his movements, just short of her complete release.
"Enough." She reached up and pushed him on his back.
He frowned. "You do not like this? You are angry?"
"On the contrary, husband. It's time you found out just how much I like it."
She trailed her tongue along his smooth, salty torso. The heady scent of musk filled her senses and urged her on. Tarik's strong hands gripped her shoulders. "What is this?"
"Lean back and learn. It's time I showed you what a modern woman can do."
"You can do anything you wish," he moaned.
Her lips and tongue against his heated skin followed the path he had already mapped on her. His groans of pleasure only increased her determination and she feasted on his hardness.
Alex's lips around his manhood filled Tarik with a throbbing realization he knew too well. He closed his eyes and absorbed the incredible softness of her lips and tongue. How could he control himself and stop his final release before he'd pleasured her? Just the brush of her fingers over him threatened his control. Never had a woman pleasured him with such intensity that rocked his soul. He knew nothing but her nearness, her scent washing over him, her soft breathing hot against his skin.
Never before had he wanted to pleasure a woman before he took his own. Now, he fought for control with every breath, every conscious thought. Never before was he as helpless as an addle-brain wanting only her lips to touch him, bathe him with her honeyed tongue, and to bring his release, to sap his strength with sweet, agonizing release.
But Alex was not just any woman. She was his. This magical creature from another world belonged to him, body and soul. And he wanted and needed her with him, against him, in his embrace for all the rest of his days. She wanted him as much as he wanted her and he would spend his eternity in wonder at the moment of this revelation.
Her hot tongue lapped against him and he shuddered toward fulfillment. Just when all control was lost, she mounted him and took his full length deep within her small body. She moved her hips in slow rhythm countering his thrusts. With a husky moan, she tossed back her head and gasped, the shivering rush of her pulsing flesh surrounded him with an unleashed explosion of heat.
This final act was his undoing and his cry of ecstasy echoed throughout the chamber.
At that one single moment, he knew he would never let Alex have the scroll. He could no more give up this woman than he could give up his soul.
Chapter Sixteen
"TARIK?" ALEX opened her eyes and gazed around the dim room lit only by the single oil lamp that burned through the night. Tarik stood near the sarcophagus and stared down into it as if searching for something. "What're you doing?"
Startled, he glanced up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment she saw pain and anguish burn across his face. "Tarik what's wrong?"
"It is time. W
e must return. Now." That's all he said. But the flat tone in his voice spoke volumes. He'd come to some sort of decision. And she feared that decision involved her.
"Why? What's happened?" She stood and folded the linen blanket.
"We have waited long enough. If the fighting still goes on, then I must be there at Pharaoh's side."
"We must."
He cast his gaze away. "This is not your battle." He turned his back to her.
Whatever it was bothering him, she wasn't about to sit idly by and let him stew any longer. She moved to his side and grabbed his arm, turning him around. "You, yourself, said the fighting was my fault."
"I did not." His dark, angry eyes frightened her. "I said you were the reason Mentuhotep and his armies invaded Lower Egypt. But do not mistake my words--"
"I didn't."
"You may have been the reason, but you are not the cause of all this. Many years have passed with our two kingdoms fighting for supremacy." He picked up his bag. "I am remiss in my duties to Egypt. The time for my hopes and dreams has ended. I must attend to my Pharaoh."
"Then I'll help, too." Alex gathered up their provisions and stuffed them into Tarik's bag. He seemed so strange. Changed as if their making love had angered him. Had he changed his mind about her? Or was there another reason? She'd give him his space for now.
"There is no need." His gaze met hers and the hard lines of his face softened and he eased into a hesitant smile, a muscle quivering at his jaw. "But your help will be wanted."
Tarik put his arm around her and drew her to him. "I have wronged you so many times. Yet it must be so."
Alex nestled her head against the warmth of his chest. "I don't understand what's going on, but I only know one thing."
"What is that?"
"When you put your arms around me, I'm not afraid any more. Of anything or anyone. Whatever you do, I'll be right there with you. And if you'll let me, I'll share your pain."
He said nothing, as if what she asked had too great a price. As if she'd stabbed him, he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He was stubborn and exasperating. Damn macho, male pride. She'd go along with him for the moment, but if he kept up this pouting routine, they'd have it out. And she wouldn't care if Mentuhotep was around to hear, or not.
TARIK GAZED down at Alex standing in front of him and wanted to pull her into his arms. To keep her with him forever. Never returning to Abydos and Mentuhotep. Never facing the inevitable loss of the only woman he had ever loved. Never facing the rest of his life eternally alone.
But there was his duty to his god, his land, and his Pharaoh to think of. Without him, there would be many lives lost. They'd begun a war. One of acquisition and power, and he could not abandon his duties as physician simply for the pleasures to be found in his wife's arms.
What had happened to him since he had met her? What power had changed him down to his very ka? Was it only desire that he felt for her? No. He'd desired many women, but never to the depths of his very existence like this.
Alex consumed his every waking moment. From her he'd learned so many things about life and a future world that existed in another time. She had even taught him to see her as an equal in all ways. Ways that even Egyptians did not understand. If only for this brief moment, she was truly his partner. How could he not allow her at his side? She was more accomplished a physician than he. He'd come to know her almost as he knew himself. Warm thoughts of her soft skin beneath him filled him with desire. She would not stand idly by while he worked in the torn and bloody battlefields. No, he owed her that much. Even much more so, he was proud of her inner strength. Proud that she could face the horrors of war at his side. And it was this about her that he loved.
Yet, in order to secure her place with him forever, he must go back and rid himself of the burden of the scroll. Then it would be settled once and for all time.
He pulled the bag from her hand and slung it over his shoulder. "Come. Daylight will soon be upon us. We must be past Memphis before it breaks fully. The current will not carry us lazily to our destination as it leads to the north and the great sea that borders the delta region."
She placed her dainty hand on his arm. "Tarik what's wrong? You've been acting strangely. Have I done something to make you angry?"
Gazing into her clear, green eyes, his heart filled to bursting. He grasped her dainty fingers between his hands and struggled to keep his voice even. "We will not speak of this now. There is much to be done before we return to the comfort and safety of Abydos. Only know this, wife, at this moment my love for you is beyond description."
THEY TRAVELED during the night and early morning light. Occasionally, they heard the sounds of battle echoing in the distance. Screams of the dying followed and Tarik rowed as if a madness had taken control of his movements, stopping for no one and nothing until they reached the encampment near Herakleopolis. They'd hardly spoken at all, giving Alex plenty of time to ponder all that had happened in the last few days.
She shuddered at the thought of Merikare's promise to rape her while Tarik watched. That is, before he died at the end of Merikare's dagger. She was sure it had to have been just an idle threat. One meant to frighten her. Well, it'd worked and she wouldn't stop being afraid until they'd passed this place.
Tarik steered the boat toward the rushes and slowed his rowing. "Is that you, you wilycrocodile?"
A familiar voice floated out of the mist and Kensu parted the reeds, extending his hand to Tarik in greeting.
"Kensu. You are well?" Tarik replied. His voice had lightened somewhat, but still there was an undertone of sorrow. Alex swore she'd find out what was bothering him.
"And what of Mentuhotep, the armies? From your presence here, I assume you are victorious." With a single smooth motion, Tarik put one muscular arm around her, reached up locking his grip with Kensu's, and hoisted them both onto land.
Allowing a few minutes to orient her sea legs to land, Alex, Tarik and Kensu strode into the encampment. On both sides, tents dotted the banks of the Nile and spread out into the desert. Like a scene from Lawrence of Arabia, thousands of uniformed men bustled about in various stages of battle preparation. The sight of all this left Alex weak with a humbling sense of historical overload. She was about to see the real effects of ancient battle upon her fellow man. Something only speculated about by historians over the years. Now, she would bear witness to the truth.
"Ah, my cousin," Kensu nodded toward Tarik. "You seem none the worse. Mentu has been victorious, capturing Herakleopolis that first night. Khety has succumbed by his own hand." Kensu made a slicing motion across his throat. "And lands far to the north have been secured."
Alex drew in a shuddered breath.
"What about Merikare? Is he...dead?" she said hopefully.
Kensu smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Ah, wife of Tarik, you seem well. It is good you did not perish by his hand. Merikare and his armies escaped through our lines and fled deep within the red lands. Without water and food, no doubt they will die there," he said confidently.
A sensation of dread smothered her as if she'd been crushed beneath the weight of a pyramid. "I don't know," she said. "I've got this feeling. He's driven. A madman. I don't trust him."
Both men stopped their banter and turned toward her. "He left Herakleopolis in disgrace," Kensu said. "Believe me. He will not return."
Tarik placed both hands on her shoulders and faced her. "Why do you worry so of his whereabouts?"
Merikare's bitter words were burned into her memory. "Before you die, I will have you, and your haughty Lord Tarik shall watch."
"It's nothing. It's just woman's intuition, that's all." Alex shook her head. She was being silly. She was safe with Tarik and Kensu. And they were surrounded by their victorious armies. Merikare was probably starving to death out in the desert. But still...the oppressive sense of foreboding overwhelmed her.
She glanced at her husband. He was busy discussing the latest news of battle with Kensu and his gener
als. "...and Mentuhotep? I must go to him."
"Ah, he shall come to you, mighty physician and warrior." Mentuhotep's voice echoed from a tent opening. Tarik turned and the two men embraced. "My brother and physician. You are returned to me victorious with your comely wife, the great healer, by your side. It is as it should be."
Tarik bowed, knelt before him, and kissed his sandals. "And you, my king and living god, have joined the two lands of Egypt, forever."
Mentuhotep reached out and pulled Tarik to his feet. "Rise, Tarik. This is the time for celebration not adoration. Bring your healer wife to my tent this night and we will sup together."
"By your command, my Lord." Tarik bowed his head.
"But first, I ask that you and Alex visit the tents of the wounded. Victory was not without cost and we have many wounded. Your skills and the magical healing of your wife is sorely needed."
"You will help?" Tarik turned to Alex.
"You even need to ask?"
"No. But this is to be your choice. Battle wounds are unlike any you would have seen before."
She gazed into his dark eyes. And you've never seen the results of a head-on collision.
"Alex?"
She blinked and shook her head. "Never mind. Come on, let's see to those warriors of yours."
EVEN EXPERIENCE in the emergency room had not prepared Alex for the sights and sounds that assaulted her eyes and ears. Primitive weapons made primitive wounds, jagged and cruel, deep and deadly. Swords that sliced vulnerable flesh left little for the physician to repair. Spears that punctured guts left exposed sinew to rot and fester in the midday sun. Alex reached out to bandage a festered wound.
"I never imagined it would be this bad."
"And this time we were victorious." He opened her bag and placed it next to her. "There is much to do before we rest tonight."
Alex sighed at the overwhelming sea of misery that stretched endlessly before her. "Can we make a difference?"
"Ah, my love. We are all the better because of you. It is you who brings a smiling Isis to protect us."