by Bonnie Vanak
Her sigh was like a thunderclap to him. "Of course I would," she said shyly. "I have no reason to refuse now. If you still want me, that is."
"Hmmmm. Do I want you?" He raised his head, regarding his softening member. "Not right now. But maybe in a few minutes."
Laughter rumbled in his chest as she thumped him. "Not that way!"
"Which way then?" he teased.
"Any way you want," she said softly, kissing him.
She adored the way he smiled at her, slow and sexy. "So, how about marriage, then children, hmm? How many shall we have?"
"Lots and lots. A whole tribe of our own."
"A tribe of rosy-cheeked, chubby babies for Jasmine to rule over. I like the idea," Kenneth mused. He kissed her again. "Let’s get started right away on number one."
"Now?" she squeaked. "But you just said that ..."
Glancing down at his groin, he grinned. "It looks like I may have changed my mind."
Her trembling hand caressed the taut bicep of his right arm, rubbing the cobra tattoo. Kenneth closed his eyes and she felt the muscle clench as if she’d branded him with a hot iron.
She gently squeezed. "Your cobra totem serves you well."
"There is yet another reason for my name. It has to do with ... my strength and endurance and flexibility."
"In battle?"
"No. In another area equally important to a Khamsin warrior."
"Which is?"
He grinned. "Let me show you."
She went into his arms as he began to demonstrate. Some time later, Badra lay back, gasping as Kenneth slid off her, sated and covered with sweat. Resting her head on his chest, her trembling limbs unable to move, she gulped in air. "I like snakes," she confessed in a shaky voice.
Laughter rumbled in his deep chest, vibrating against her ear. Content, she snuggled against him.
She liked snakes. Kenneth grinned.
Lying on his back, staring at the sunlight dancing on the intricately carved wood-paneled ceiling, he felt a slight breeze billow through the mashrabiya screens and cool their bodies. Peace drifted over him as he gazed at Badra, her eyes closed. She was falling asleep.
Easing her out of his arms, he slid off the bed. She gave a sleepy protest at the loss of warmth. Kenneth took several pillows, bunched them up, lined them against her as a substitute, and pulled a sheet over them. "Until I return," he said softly.
Badra flipped over on her back, opened one eye. "Hurry."
He shrugged into a robe and headed for the Turkish baths. When a female attendant offered to bathe him, he declined and briskly scrubbed himself, eager to return to breakfast and Badra. Kenneth wrung the sponge over his head, ducked and flung droplets from his wet head. He grinned. Breakfast or Badra? Which would he dine upon? Both?
He considered as he toweled off rapidly. Humming cheerfully, he headed back to Badra’s room.
Quietly opening the door, Kenneth grinned, slipped inside and advanced toward the bed. Teasing Badra awake with a date pressed against her lips would—
He neared the bed and froze.
Badra lay fully awake, dark eyes wide with panic. Her breasts lowered and fell with her increased breathing. Scales shining in a beam of sunlight, a silvery brown cobra slithered toward her delicate feet. Silent but deadly, it inched closer and closer.
Calm. He forced down calm as he slowly approached. "Keep still," he whispered. "Don’t move and it will not bite."
She lay stone-still, only her eyes moving as she tracked the progress of the snake. It rested against her foot, smelled her flesh with its forked tongue, then tested the air. Hiss.
Kenneth’s gaze snapped around the room. He spotted the line of love instruments on the wall—the kurbash, or crocodile-hide whip; leather restraints. A wildly comic thought surfaced: slapping handcuffs on the cobra. No. Kenneth spotted a broom in a corner. With all the stealth he possessed, he snagged it and neared the bed. As the cobra slid onto Badra’s bare leg, she whimpered.
"It won’t spit," he whispered. "My love, trust me. Please, do not move. Lie absolutely still."
The cobra slithered past Badra’s knee, reaching her thigh. Dryness filled Kenneth’s mouth. Holding the broomstick’s pole out, he faced the bed.
"Remember how I told you about saving Jabari from the cobra? I charmed the snake," he said softly, his eyes never leaving the serpent’s.
Kenneth placed himself in direct line with the snake’s black eyes, which were as dark as date pits. He slowly rotated the pole as the cobra reared up, hooding itself.
The snake hissed, but followed the pole’s motion as the broom swayed near its face. Cobra and man, each eyed the other. Coaxing it, Kenneth continued the motion. The snake hissed again and slid off Badra’s body, onto the sheets, toward him.
Kenneth struck, jabbing the pole at the snake. It hissed, attacked the wood and retreated. Using the pole, Kenneth picked the serpent up, forcing the cobra to wind around the wood.
Immediately, the beast went still as if caught in a trance. Kenneth seized the docile snake behind its head. Relief made his shoulders sag. He looked at Badra.
"Are you all right?"
The blood had drained from her face, but she nodded. Admiration rose in him. Badra had a warrior’s spirit. Not many women could endure a deadly snake slithering up their thighs. Bloody hell, not this kind of snake anyway. He saw in her the spirit that had enabled her to endure so many years of cruel treatment.
"Tell me what happened."
"I don’t know. I was half asleep when you left and felt a slight breeze, like a door opening. I felt something fall on the bed. I opened my eyes and saw the cobra."
Kenneth went to a low table holding glasses and a jug of water. Kneeling down, he forced the cobra’s mouth open and pressed its fangs against the interior of a glass. Milky fluid trickled out.
"What are you doing?" Badra’s voice sounded shaky, but she had followed him across the room.
"Ridding it of its venom. An old trick I learned," he said calmly. "Cobras are safe if you remove the venom."
"Of course you will not kill it, for killing your totem brings bad luck. You are still Khamsin, Kenneth."
Gratified to see her shaky smile, he nodded, continuing to milk the cobra of its toxin, watching the white fluid seep into the glass. Finally he released the snake, unwrapped it from the pole and grabbed its tail, twisting it to face him.
"Naughty snake, trying to take my place in bed," he admonished. He grinned at Badra. "I suppose when you agreed to play snake with me earlier, this wasn’t what you meant?"
Her laughter filled the room. Badra pressed her hands to her temples, sputtering. "You are mad," she gasped.
"Quite," he agreed cheerfully.
Kenneth took the cobra and headed out of the room.
"Where are you going?"
"Dropping off a little present. Be back straightaway."
He headed down the corridor, stopping at the room of the man who’d nearly bought Badra, whom he’d seen before in the hallway with a bruised-looking concubine. Opening the door, Kenneth saw him sleeping upon his bed. Alone.
He set the cobra on the floor. "Go, my friend. Be careful. This one is a more dangerous snake than you."
Watching the cobra slither toward the bed, he grinned. Then he dashed down the hallway, his smile fading.
Inside their room, he looked at Badra, who, practical as ever, had retrieved a bowl of fruit and was sorting through it for dates.
Fresh sweat dampened his palms. What if he had lost her? Why would someone deliberately place a cobra in their bed? The snake was native to the desert. It had not wandered into the city by mistake.
A shudder raced through him as he watched Badra neatly pit a date and then slide the fruit past her parted lips. First the poison. Now a cobra?
He glanced at the bed again, the bunched-up pillows he’d placed next to her body to keep her warm while he was gone. Pillows resembling a man’s body...
Looking around the room, he saw so
mething suspicious. He grabbed the broomstick again and stood on the bed.
"What are you doing?" Badra sounded amused.
He put a finger to his lips, indicating silence. He glanced upward. The broomstick rose through the air, toward the ceiling. He poked around and his efforts were rewarded. A small door swung upward.
A trapdoor! Perfect for dropping unexpected surprises upon unsuspecting guests. The cobra had been dropped from the ceiling, directly onto the pillows, which resembled a man’s sleeping form.
Someone had tried to kill him. Again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Never again would he leave Badra alone. When she left shortly thereafter for the women’s baths, he paid a eunuch to accompany her.
A soft knock sounded from outside. Kenneth sprang to his feet and swung open one of the double doors.
Masud, the head eunuch, stood in the hallway, his dark face looking worried. "I apologize for disturbing you, but I am greatly concerned. One of the guests reported a snake in his room. Have you seen anything ... unusual?"
Kenneth narrowed his eyes. He walked out into the hall and shut the door. "Yes. Someone tried to kill me with a cobra. It nearly bit Badra. What the hell is going on around here?"
The man’s hands shook a little. "Is she ... well?"
"As well as can be expected considering she nearly died."
"My humble apologies. It is an escaped pet belonging to a guest. It must have gotten into the ceiling."
"A pet?" Kenneth leaned forward, getting in the man’s face. "You let poisonous pets inside this place? I don’t believe you. I want answers. What the hell is a cobra doing in here?"
Masud backed off, gestured for the guards. "I assure you, sir, there is nothing wrong. Just a guest who wanted some exotic entertainment and who lost his pet."
"I’m about to lose my temper," Kenneth snapped, fury boiling inside him. "I want answers. Take me to see this brothel’s owner. Right now."
"Sir, I assure you, it was an accident ..."
Kenneth had backed Musad against the wall when, suddenly, a flash of sharp steel appeared against his chest. A guard held a scimitar point a whisper from his breastbone. Kenneth drew in a deep breath and gave the man a cold stare. "Fine. But know I’m on my guard from this moment on, in case other peoples’ ... pets ... decide to drop in for unannounced visits."
Apologizing profusely, with repeated assurances it would not happen again, Masud salaamed and left.
Kenneth watched the man and his guards go, certain now that he had been the target and not Badra. He did not trust it not to happen again.
Someone had tried killing him, and nearly succeeded in killing his beloved instead. But who would want him dead?
He’d blamed the attack in his bedroom in London on Rashid, but now he saw a more intricate pattern appearing. Had someone tried disguising himself as Rashid, to draw blame away?
The overdose of aphrodisiac he might possibly have believed was an accident. But the cobra dropping onto the bed was not. A grim smile tightened his face as he went back into his room and stared at the dying lamplight. How poetic. To kill the Cobra with a cobra.
Unfortunately, more than one person might benefit from his death. Victor, his second cousin, would inherit all, including the title. And Victor had been inside the brothel. Then again, de Morgan also had reason. With Kenneth dead, de Morgan might claim the necklaces and the dig artifacts, making him a very wealthy man.
Kenneth’s thoughts went to Badra, his first concern. He jammed a trembling hand through his dark locks. He’d nearly lost her. His plan had been to escape today, take her to the Shepherd’s Hotel and formally ask for her hand in marriage. They’d already whispered of their future life and the gaggle of babies they’d have. They’d declared their love for each other. But could he marry her when an assassin lurked in the background?
No. It was too risky. He could not endanger her life.
Best to transfer her into Rashid’s protection until the danger passed. His muscles tensed and Kenneth rolled a shoulder.
He could tell Badra and Jabari about the threat to his life, but Jabari would insist on remaining behind to deal with the threat. His brother would not abandon him. And Badra? Badra would insist as well. He’d seen her courage, her fearlessness. And then the assassin might use the woman he loved to try and lure him to his death.
When she returned from the bath, Kenneth left Badra with a soft kiss and a eunuch guarding her door, and he headed for the hotel. There he went to the front desk and hired a messenger to take a note to Dashur, telling Zaid to have de Morgan, Victor and the team report back to the Shepherd’s by the afternoon. When Badra was safe, he’d set his trap for a killer ...
In the expansive sitting room of his suite at the Shepherd’s Hotel, he organized the Khamsin warriors into a war party. When he was done, he stood back, admiring his work.
Ten Khamsin warriors had shed their traditional indigo for fine ivory-and-crimson silk robes, keffiyehs and blousy trousers. They looked like wealthy sheikhs, and they departed immediately for the brothel. Even Jabari and Ramses were dressed in light blue robes and white turbans instead of Khamsin indigo.
But it was Rashid who drew the most attention.
Clean-shaven, he looked remarkably different. His smooth face held classical features, good bone structure, an arrogant chin. The Khamsin warrior wore Kenneth’s trousers and white shirt. Though it was tight on his more muscular body, it fit well enough. Despite his bronzed skin, in the tailored suit Rashid looked startlingly English. An odd feeling jarred Kenneth. He shrugged it away.
Kenneth handed over Khamsin clothing he’d had a seamstress alter for a small frame. Rashid secured it with a rope around his waist, then tucked daggers, pistols and swords around his body by wrapping them in cloth. He became a walking arsenal.
Ramses took fabric, padded to make a fake bosom, and attached it to Rashid’s chest. Rashid slipped on a formless black abbaya. His chest jutted out considerably.
"My breasts are too big. They do not look real."
"They do too. I am an expert on this," Ramses advised.
When he finished, all the men looked on critically.
"The boots might give him away. But hopefully no one will look at your feet," Kenneth noted, staring at the soft leather peeping out from beneath the abbaya.
Rashid donned the black head-covering and veiled himself. Jabari had found cosmetics and lined his eyes with kohl and blue shadow.
Ramses studied him. "You look very pretty."
"I look like a fool," Rashid grunted.
"I would pay good money for you," Jabari teased.
Rashid’s blue-shadowed eyes glowered.
"Not as much as he would pay for Ramses," Kenneth spoke up.
Ramses glowered at Kenneth.
Kenneth gave a nod. "Well then—let’s be off, shall we? You go first and I’ll meet you there."
When Kenneth arrived at the Pleasure Palace, he immediately sensed something was wrong. As he surrendered his pistol to Masud, he saw Rashid. The warrior stood quietly near Jabari and Ramses, head down, his look one of a woman humbled. Another visitor hovered nearby. A Turk, clad in flowing robes, staring at Rashid as if spellbound. Clearly besotted.
Kenneth muttered a low curse. He hadn’t counted on any male suitors being attracted to Rashid. Jabari’s frustrated gaze met his. And what is your plan now, Khepri, he silently asked.
He mouthed back, I will take care of it.
Ramses inquired in a loud voice about how much he could obtain for selling Wafa, their sister.
"She will make an excellent kitchen slave," Jabari added. "She is very obedient."
Rashid kept his head lowered, his shoulders hunched over to minimize his height.
"A kitchen slave? Such a jewel as this? I will purchase her for my bedroom," the Turk said, licking his thin lips.
Kenneth heard a very faint mumbling in English from Rashid, "I knew the breasts were too big."
Masud held up a
hand. "Before any transactions are made, I must inspect her body. We do not take unhealthy women."
He went toward Rashid.
"Of course," Ramses said easily, cleverly stepping before him. "But we will want to inspect your women as well. Perhaps we may work out a trade for my brother and me to spend time here, if your women are lovely enough. We like a woman who is dark, with big breasts. An Ethiopian, perhaps. Do you have any?"
Jabari nodded, looking eager.
A calculating look lit Masud’s dark eyes. "I will take you to one you may be interested in." He turned to the Turk. "Look your fill of this one now. I will be back momentarily to inspect her, and we will argue a price."
He escorted Jabari and Ramses out of the room. As soon as he departed, the fat Turk came forward, giving Rashid a critical look. Kenneth hung back, watching warily.
The man smacked his lips. "If I am to purchase you for my slave, I want to see how responsive a woman you are."
He reached out and clapped a hand onto Rashid’s groin. Shock dawned on his face. "What is this?"
Rashid slugged him. The Turk went down on the soft carpet. "It is called a penis, you son of a jackal," he growled.
"Was that necessary?"
"You deem it not necessary, next time a man lays a hand upon your private parts," Rashid muttered.
They dragged the unconscious Turk over to a corner and hid him among some crates and boxes. "He hopefully won’t gain consciousness before we can leave here," Kenneth mused.
Sweat gleamed on Rashid’s face.
"You’re dripping," Kenneth said. Rashid blotted at the moisture with the edge of his scarf. Damn, was this going to work? He went to the door Masud had escorted Jabari and Ramses through and listened. "They’re not in the corridor. Let’s go."
They both took deep breaths and Kenneth opened the door leading to the harem. Two guards standing nearby shot them a suspicious look. They patted Kenneth down for weapons. He prayed they would not do the same to his companion. One of the eunuchs peered closely at Rashid’s veiled face.
"You are new here?"
Rashid trembled. "I—I was just purchased." Good. His normally deep voice was high enough.