“I’ve tried to explain to you why I appear to wear many faces, but you willfully refuse to understand. When the wars are over, Egypt will need Rome as an ally, and I can best plead Egypt’s cause by being Caesar’s friend.”
Danaë felt in her heart he might be right, but she would never admit it to him. Instead she tried a different approach. “If I promised on my father’s honor not to reveal anything I know about you to the king, or anyone else—then would you release me?”
Though she was making his life difficult, Lord Ramtat admired her courage. No other woman he knew, and not many men, would make such a worthy adversary. And it seemed that adversaries were what they were destined to be, though in a different time and under different circumstances, he would have liked it to be otherwise.
He leaned forward and took one of her hands in his, causing her eyes to widen hopefully. Knowing he was about to dash her hopes, he said, “When you will be free to return home, Lady Danaë, I cannot tell you, for I do not know myself.”
Angrily she jerked her hand free and jumped to her feet. “Whether you free me or not, I do not accept your authority over me. Beware—I shall devise a way to escape your prison. And neither you, nor your guards, nor the desert will stop me.”
“Enough!” he ordered, rising to his feet and towering over her. “You test my patience. You will remain here as my guest. Obey me and eat the food that is brought to you, and I will not trouble you with my presence.”
She was relieved that he did not intend to share the tent with her.
He smiled at her mockingly, as if he knew what she was thinking. “Though my people might expect me to stay with you here in the main tent, I have settled quite comfortably in the inner room and will not disturb you.” Already his mind jumped ahead to his duties. “In any case, I shall be leaving tomorrow. Does that put your mind at rest?”
“I don’t trust you.”
Other than kidnapping her, which he’d done to save her life, he had done nothing to warrant her distrust, and he was tortured by her words. Had he not purposely stayed away from her the last two days so she would feel secure?
“If you believe nothing else about me, Lady Danaë, believe this: I would never force my attentions on any woman.” He touched one of the golden beads that had been woven into her hair. “I prefer my women willing.” His hand drifted down to her cheek, then to her throat, and he felt her pulse throbbing against his fingers. He leaned forward slowly, his mouth inches from hers. “I have tasted the nectar of these lips and am sorely tempted to find out if they are as sweet as I remember.”
Danaë’s lips parted, and she moved in his direction as if some unseen hand guided her movements. She ached for his lips to touch hers.
“But,” Lord Ramtat said, pulling away and dropping his hand to his side, “that will have to wait until another time.”
Feeling embarrassed because she had so easily surrendered to his touch, Danaë raised her chin. “I doubt you ever have to worry about finding a willing woman. I’d be more inclined to believe you have to keep a guard to discourage women from storming your bed.”
Ramtat suppressed a smile at the implied compliment she had unwittingly bestowed on him. The more time he spent with her, the more she delighted and bedeviled him. Danaë could not know how provocative she was, or how, with just the tilt of her head, she could send hot blood pounding through his body. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. “And what about you? I crossed swords with your guard on the deck of the Blue Scarab, and then again at the gates of the house where you were staying in Alexandria. Does he keep all suitors away from you?”
She cried out, overwhelmed with apprehension, remembering the sound of clashing swords when she had fled from her home. “You didn’t hurt Faraji, did you? Tell me he still lives!”
“He lives. No matter what your opinion is of me, I would not allow such a loyal servant to be harmed.” He gazed into her troubled eyes. “Unfortunately, I did have to wound him, but be assured it is no more than a scratch. Your man fought for you most valiantly.”
She dropped back onto the sofa and looked up at him. “What will happen to my people in Alexandria?”
“They will stay as they are and await your return.”
She lowered her head. “You speak to me of duty. I also have a duty to my people. There are many who will be worried about me. Can I not send them word that I am well and ease their fears?”
Ramtat frowned and glanced away from her. “That would not be wise. But have no worry for your own well-being. When I feel it is safe to do so, I shall see you back to your home in Alexandria.”
“And when will that be?” She looked up at him challengingly.
“Eventually.”
As he gazed into her eyes, Danaë felt the pull of his magnetism. He was a man of great power, and it radiated from him. She suddenly had the urge to touch his face, to ease away the care lines that fanned out from those glorious eyes. He was weary; she could feel it in him. Mentally shaking herself, she turned away, lest she act on her impulse and embarrass herself further.
“You have eyes like emeralds, and your skin is like the white lotus blossom.
She felt warmed all over by his compliment, but when she turned to glance behind her, she found that Lord Ramtat had left the main tent and disappeared behind the tapestry that hid the inner room, leaving her once more alone.
Anguish came crashing down on her. With a feeling of helplessness, Danaë stalked to the tent opening, but quickly stepped back when she saw two men standing guard, blocking her exit.
She felt frustrated.
And frightened.
She had been loved and protected by her father. But he was gone now, and she was alone. It seemed that every direction she took, danger lurked.
Pacing across the rug, she shoved the netting aside and sank down onto the soft bed. Who was this man who had taken her prisoner? Was he Lord Ramtat, Sheik El-Badari, or Caesar’s spy?
What frightened her the most was that she had been drawn to him in all three guises. With a wary glance at the tapestry that separated her from Lord Ramtat, she wondered if he slept alone, or if a woman shared his bed. Maybe one of the women who had waited on her—they were all certainly pretty enough to be his wife, or wives. The thought of him holding a woman in his arms just steps away from her devastated her—tore at her heart.
Therein lay the real danger to her.
Theodotus stepped down from the cart and yanked the tarpaulin off Jabatus’s cage. The horses sensed danger and reared, pulling on the reins when he unhooked the latch to free the cat. It had been easy to sneak the cat out of the palace, since these days Ptolemy’s mind was focused on war. There was no doubt the king would be in the company of his generals for most of the day and long into the night.
Theodotus had finally won the cat’s trust, and it had become accustomed to raw meat. He smiled to himself when he recalled the king moaning that his cheetah refused to eat, and he feared it might sicken and die. Theodotus kept the cat well fed on raw meat, so it was natural the animal would refuse the cooked meat the king offered.
He reached for the sack at the side of the cart, which held a squawking goose he’d pilfered from the royal kitchen. “Drive the horses to the top of the hill and wait there until I call for you,” he told his slave Nute, who was eyeing the big cat with trepidation.
Jabatus swished his tail, his gaze expectantly on Theodotus.
“No, no, my beauty, I have no raw meat for you. Today, you must make a kill of your own.”
Theodotus removed the goose from the bag, his hand circling the long neck to keep it from escaping. “This is your kill,” he said, holding the fowl out to the cat.
Jabatus merely blinked and gazed at the flopping goose.
The day was sweltering; Theodotus was uncomfortable and longed for the cool gardens of the palace. “You must kill the bird if you want to eat,” he said, losing patience.
Still, Jabatus showed little interest in the live fowl.
; Suddenly Theodotus understood what the trouble was: The cat could not smell blood. The animal knew nothing about hunting and making a kill. With a grumble, the tutor gripped his dagger and slit the bird’s throat. While it flopped around scattering blood, Jabatus became alert. With a swiftness that took Theodotus by surprise, the cheetah launched itself at the goose and grabbed it in his strong teeth.
With glee, Theodotus watched the cat devour the goose. Though Jabatus had not exactly made the kill, he had tasted hot blood. Theodotus shivered, thinking how easy it had been to turn a gentle animal into a killer.
His next step would have to be a human victim—it was one thing to attack small game, and quite another to kill a man. His gaze went to the top of the hill where his slave waited for his signal. Nute had been a good slave, but he was expendable and could be easily replaced.
But the hour was late, and that would have to wait for another day.
Chapter Thirteen
Danaë stirred and opened her eyes, stiffening with fear.
She listened intently to a windstorm that pelted the tent with sand and rattled the rings stabilizing the support posts. But the wind was not what had awakened her—it was the sound of murmuring voices outside the tent that had dragged her from sleep. She heard horses neighing and stomping their feet. Ramtat had told her he would be leaving today, but she had not expected him to depart so early. It was not yet sunup.
Danaë shoved aside the bed netting and hurried across the soft rug to the tent opening. When she shoved the tapestry toward the side, the wind tore at her hair and sand pelted her face. Blinking several times, she finally became accustomed to the darkness. When she saw the ominous shadow of the guard set to watch her, she stepped back inside so quickly she almost stumbled.
With trembling hands, she yanked the tapestry in place. Unthinking, she sank onto the couch. For some reason she did not comprehend, her heart felt heavy. As she heard the horses ride away, loneliness fell on her like a weight, and she hunched her shoulders, suddenly realizing what was bothering her. With Ramtat leaving, it was as if a part of her had been torn away.
It shocked her to discover she missed him. How was that possible? She hardly knew him, and the times they had met, they’d disagreed on everything.
She remembered the hasty kiss he had given her on board the Blue Scarab. It had probably meant nothing to him, but it had been her first kiss, and hard for her to forget. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she wanted once more to feel the touch of his lips on hers.
Danaë listened to the wind intensify, slamming sand against the tent. Lord Ramtat would be riding through that sandstorm. Although he had not said so, she knew he was joining the war. She felt tears spill down her cheeks at the thought he might be wounded, or even killed.
Then another thought occurred to her.
Perhaps Ramtat had a woman waiting for him in Alexandria. He could be married—he could have several wives, as she had thought the night before. She was disgusted with herself—what did it matter who shared that man’s bed as long as it was not her? But thinking of lying beside him spread warmth through her body like hot honey.
She imagined him touching her, and it was almost more than she could bear. It made her ache with need.
“Stop it!” she told herself, gazing at the brightly patterned rug as the sound of the wind died away. Moodily she dropped her head in her hands. How could she have such feelings for so dangerous a man?
She thought of what he’d said about Ptolemy’s weaknesses. It was true the boy was spoiled and too easily influenced by his advisers. If she had not met Ptolemy and felt such pity for him, she might be able to be more objective about who should rule Egypt. She had never met Cleopatra, so how could she judge which sibling would be the right one to sit on the throne?
For eight days Danaë tried to find something to fill her time. Hours passed, and she began pacing.
What was going on in Alexandria?
When would Lord Ramtat return? And when he did, would he allow her to go home?
Out of boredom, she took her courage in hand and decided to enter Lord Ramtat’s private domain. Moving to the inner tapestry, she jerked it aside and paused at the entrance. This area was much smaller than the outer room. There was a large bed, a desk and some of Ramtat’s personal items of clothing, but this space had none of the splendor of the main room. It seemed that Lord Ramtat lived a simple life in the confines of his own quarters. She took just one step inside at first, and then several more as her courage rose.
Her attention was caught by a scroll Ramtat had left unrolled on a small ebony table. Tentatively she glanced at it and soon realized the writings were Latin. It was a language Uriah had urged her to learn, but one that had never interested her, since she hadn’t expected to be conversing with Romans. If only she had listened to Uriah, she would be able to read the scroll.
Danaë had just turned to leave when she heard a commotion outside the tent. She stood frozen as the tapestry leading to what she assumed was an outside entrance parted, and Lord Ramtat entered, wearing his kufiyya and robe and looking every inch a Bedouin sheik.
There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Then Lord Ramtat gave her a mocking smile.
“Were you waiting to welcome me home?”
“Nay!” she said, backing away from him. “I … was merely curious about—”
His hard gaze went to the scrolls on the table. “If not to welcome me home, then why else are you here in my private chamber?”
“If you are implying I was spying on you, the thought never entered my mind.”
He shrugged. “It would not matter if you were—you would find naught of importance here.”
Danaë was reluctant to leave. “You were not gone as long as I expected,” she said softly, slowly moving toward the tapestry that led to the quarters she occupied.
“I accomplished what I set out to do.” He smiled slightly, intrigued by the heightening color in her cheeks. “Tell me, have the women made you comfortable in my absence?”
She paused in mid-stride, realizing she was happy to see him, that the days had seemed endless when he was away. “They have tried, but I’m not as comfortable as I would be in my own home.” When Danaë saw his eyes darken, she realized he was annoyed. His chest rose and fell as he took an irritated breath. She moved as far away from him as she could get without actually stepping into the outer room.
“Stop acting as if I’m going to hurt you. You have nothing to be frightened of. Have I not said you will come to no harm under my care?”
“Your idea of harm and mine are very different.”
Ramtat unwound his head wrapping and tossed it aside. He had ridden hard to get back to her, and at first he had thought she was pleased to see him, but she was still as unapproachable as ever. “I haven’t slept in two days. I’m too weary to spar with you.”
She pushed aside the tapestry and hurried into the outer room. She was startled when she felt Ramtat’s hand on her shoulder, and he spun her around to face him.
“Why must every conversation between us end as a confrontation?”
Danaë straightened to her full height, but that brought her only to the level of his chin. “Could it be because I am not here by invitation but am forced to endure your company?” she remarked sardonically, shoving his hand away. “What would you do if I made a run for freedom right now?”
“You would regret it.”
“Because you would have your guard run his sword through me?”
Ramtat rubbed the back of his neck as weariness swamped him. “Nay. I merely meant I have had a long few days, and I would prefer not to chase after you through this heat.”
“Please leave me alone,” Danaë said, raising her chin stubbornly.
Ramtat reached for her and brought her close to his body. Something warm and unsettling stirred her blood, and she ached inside with emotions she did not want to feel.
“I wonder if I could change your mind.” Ramta
t’s thumb moved across her lips, and he watched her eyes close. His fingers moved into her hair, and he caressed the dark strands. He watched a blush steal up her cheeks, and he smiled. “I am sorely tempted to try,” he said regretfully. “But now is not the time.” And he released her.
Danaë’s eyes snapped open. She took a stumbling step backward and would have fallen if not for his steadying hand. What was this game he played with her, bringing her alive to his touch and then pushing her away? Why did she care? Had she not told him to leave her alone? She tried to blink back tears and turned away from him so he would not see.
Ramtat saw her tears and was almost undone. “I have no right to touch you since you are under my protection.”
She took several quick steps away from him. “How can I trust you now? If you can’t keep away from me, then let me go home!”
Ramtat stalked across the rug to stand before her, capturing her face between his hands and turning it toward the lantern. “The gods have given you the face of a goddess, the green eyes of our queen, and a temper that would sour goat’s milk.”
She stared at him coldly. “I’m glad you dislike me. I would consider it an insult if you thought well of me.”
Overcome with weariness, he sat on a couch. “I never implied I disliked you.” He looked at her, totally confused. He had commanded legions, conquered nations and been covered with glory, but nothing had prepared him for his encounters with Lady Danaë.
“I am no longer surprised that your father kept you hidden in the country,” he said. “In the few weeks I’ve known you, you have made an enemy of the most powerful man in the world, and if you hadn’t left Alexandria when you did, you might have toppled the whole Ptolemaic Dynasty.”
Danaë was shocked. “Why is Julius Caesar my enemy? I don’t even know him!”
Ramtat had not intended to tell her about Caesar, but it was done now. “He knows you have discovered my connection with Rome, and until he is ready to disclose it, you are a threat to him.”
She paled. “I begin to understand. You really are his man, and you captured me on his command. You are worse than I thought.”
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