Lord of the Nile

by Constance O'Banyon

  He had lost again, and there was no way he could defend himself without telling her that Caesar wanted her death. “Think what you will, Lady Danaë.”

  “And what you said about my father—no matter what you think, he didn’t keep me hidden away in the country.”

  “Then tell me about him.”

  “I don’t know you well enough to share my life story with you,” she replied. “You are more of a deceiver than I thought. I don’t know who you are.”

  He was pensive for a moment, and his tone deepened when he spoke. “Is anyone truly what they seem? Are you?”

  She thought of her own situation. Lord Ramtat believed her to be the blood daughter of Lord Mycerinus; in that, she was deceiving him. “Probably not,” she admitted.

  His dark gaze swept her face. “The man who partakes of your final surrender will be fortunate indeed,” he said, staring at her mouth.

  “That man will not be you.”

  “Nay,” he admitted regretfully, rubbing his aching head. “It will not be me. I assume your father had already chosen a husband for you before he died.”

  She hung her head, and the words slipped out before she could stop them. “There is no husband chosen for me. My father would have let me decide on my own. You are the only nobleman I have met since leaving my father’s home, and if you are a sample of what I would have to choose from at court, I would rather remain as I am.”

  Her opinion of him did not bother him; in fact, he smiled, feeling suddenly lighthearted. Briefly he wondered why he should care that she was not tied to another man. “Perhaps one day I shall endeavor to change your mind about me.” He laughed at her startled expression. “But do not distress yourself—this is not that day.”

  Before she could answer, he stood, make her a bow, and said, “I will leave you for now. There is much that requires my attention.”

  She watched him depart, wondering if the matter that required his attention was a woman. A man who looked as he did, and was as important a lord as he was, must have many women. Again she wondered if he had a wife, that thought left her feeling strangely empty.

  Danaë dropped down onto the couch Lord Ramtat had vacated and stared at the intricate patterns on the rug without really seeing them. She leaned back and closed her eyes, wondering what was the matter with her. She was drawn to a man who had proven to be her enemy. She had to remember that he had abducted her and refused to allow her to return home.

  Her head jerked up when someone pushed the outer tapestry aside and a woman entered, balancing a tray of food, which she set on the table. She was tall and slender, perhaps Minuhe’s age or a few years older. She wore a very fine linen robe of a green hue Danaë had never seen before.

  The woman moved forward gracefully before she spoke.

  “My name is Zarmah, and I have come to inquire if there is anything you need. I was told by my lord to do what I can to please you.”

  Danaë was relieved to have someone she could converse with at last. “I do need something,” she said, staring into the woman’s watchful eyes. “A horse and a guide to get me out of here.”

  The woman looked shocked. “You must know that isn’t possible. And my lord would only chase after you if you attempted to leave.”

  “I would pay you well if you helped me escape. If you are a slave, I can buy your freedom.”

  Anger appeared on the woman’s face, and Danaë realized she was insulted. “There are no slaves in this tribe. And certainly not I. I am Sheik El-Badari’s aunt, the sister of his beloved mother.”

  Embarrassed, Danaë nodded. “I ask your pardon if I have offended you—but think how I feel being held here against my will.”

  Zarmah looked indignant, and her dark gaze bore into Danaë. “You are my nephew’s honored guest. Has he not given you respect by quartering you in his own tent?”

  “Honored guests are allowed to come and go as they like, while I am not even permitted to step outside.”

  The woman looked grimly at Danaë but made no reply until she moved to the tent opening. “I will have a bath prepared for you.”

  Danaë was weary of people telling her when to eat and when to bathe. In frustration, she shoved the table away and a bowl of honey overturned, dripping onto the beautiful rug while slices of cheese scattered in every direction. The fruit drink soaked into the rug, making a wide stain. The woman looked at Danaë in horror, but bent to clean the remains of the meal in silence.

  Feeling contrition and shame for her outburst, Danaë bent to help the woman. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a childish thing to do,” Zarmah stated.

  “Aye,” Danaë agreed, “it was.”

  The woman stood and hesitated. “In truth, I might have reacted in the same way under like circumstances. I’m surprised it took you this long to strike back.”

  “I want to go home.”

  Ramtat’s aunt shook her head. “It is not within my power to grant you your request, Lady Danaë. All I can do is make certain you have every comfort while you are among us.”

  “You could speak to your nephew on my behalf,” Danaë suggested hopefully. “Surely he would listen to you.”

  “I would not dare. Nor would he welcome such interference from me. If you want to leave, this you must ask El-Badari yourself.”

  Danaë merely stood, looking dejected.

  “I’ll bring you more food,” Zarmah said kindly, sweeping out of the tent.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Three days passed, and in that time Danaë did not see Lord Ramtat. There were times when she heard voices coming from the inner room, and she supposed he was tending to tribal affairs there, but he and his visitors always spoke in the Bedouin language, so she did not understand anything said.

  She was seated on the sofa, restlessly drumming her fingers against the cushion. She would lose her mind if she had to endure this solitude much longer. The only people she ever saw were the young women who brought her food and prepared her bath, and they never spoke to her.

  Danaë stared grudgingly toward the tapestry at the entrance. She felt confined, smothered, her movements restricted. What she wouldn’t give to go outside and feel the sun on her face! She would love to run through the desert as she had before she’d left her home. She missed the antics of Obsidian and Tyi, and she wondered who was caring for them, especially the temperamental cat. Of course it would be her faithful Minuhe.

  Hearing a slight sound, she glanced up to see the tapestry flung aside and Lord Ramtat walking toward her. She no longer feared him, but the anger she felt toward him was increasing with each passing day.

  He smiled. “Can you ride a horse, Lady Danaë?”

  Her anger was forgotten as hope took root. “Of course.” She held her breath, almost afraid to breathe. Perhaps today was the day he was going to take her back to Alexandria.

  Ramtat watched uncertainty play across her face. “How would you like to go for a ride with me?”

  Danaë was disappointed that he would not be taking her home—but only for a moment. At least she would be able to leave the confines of the tent. “Aye, I would.” She slid to her feet. “When can we leave?”

  He laughed at her exuberance. “Not until you’re properly attired. I will have one of the women bring what you need. I’ll be waiting for you outside the tent.”

  The clothing turned out to be very strange to Danaë. There was a green tunic that fell just below her knees, and a pair of yellow goatskin boots that fit above her knees. The veil she looked at with distaste and decided against wearing. When she was dressed, she was delighted with how unrestricted she felt in the Bedouin clothing; although she was completely covered, she had great freedom of movement.

  When she stepped out of the tent, Lord Ramtat was astride a prancing black stallion and holding the reins of a beautiful white horse for her. He looked Danaë over and nodded with approval.

  “You make a very fine-looking Bedouin. Perhaps you might want to consider joining my tribe.”


  “I would join anything you say and do almost anything if it would get me out in the open.”

  Ramtat dismounted and gripped Danaë’s slender waist, lifting her onto the soft leather saddle. He could see by the way she sat the horse that she had riding experience. “You will find it quite different riding here,” he cautioned as he swung onto his own mount. “My horses are trained for the desert, and the sand doesn’t impede their stride in any way.”

  “My father also had very fine horses, and I learned to ride in the desert,” she said, laughing. Joy burst through her as she nudged the spirited white stallion forward, noticing that Ramtat stayed even with her.

  “Come,” he said, urging his horse to a faster pace, “Let’s see what kind of horsewoman you really are.”

  As they rode away from the encampment, Ramtat could not keep from staring at Danaë. Never had he seen her more lovely than with the wind tearing through her long, dark hair, and her cheeks flushed with excitement. His heart felt like it was being squeezed by a tight fist when he heard her laugh. His gaze dropped to her breasts, which were clearly outlined by the flowing robe that had become entangled on the saddle and pulled tightly across her shoulders. She wore her ebony hair without ornament, hanging loosely about her shoulders as he had often imagined it. For the first few moments of their ride, he could not speak because his breathing was constricted.

  Danaë was smiling as she bent low over the horse and raced alongside Lord Ramtat. The desert air kissed her cheeks as her knees gripped the horse’s flanks, urging the stallion on to a faster pace. Side by side, Danaë and Ramtat galloped into the desert.

  “You’re as fine a horsewoman as any Bedouin,” Ramtat admitted at last, as they slowed their pace to let the horses rest. “My sister is the only woman I know who could keep pace with you. Being half Bedouin, she sometimes likes to ride bareback.”

  Danaë was pleased by his compliment. “My father put me on a horse when I was but three years old. We have … we had every kind of animal you could imagine at the villa. He insisted I interact with them all. Horses and big cats are my favorites.”

  “The day I first saw you, a huge black cat stood at your side. I will never forget the sight of the two of you.”

  “Obsidian is my own personal cat.”

  “Is the animal dangerous?”

  “Not unless I give her the command to attack.” She glanced at Ramtat with a mischievous smile. “If I ordered her to rip you apart, she would obey me without hesitation.”

  “Would you order her to attack me?”

  “Nay,” she admitted. “My father taught me it was wrong to use any of our animals to do harm to a person.” She laughed, feeling lighthearted. “So you see, Sheik El-Badari, you’re safe from Obsidian.”

  “I know you miss your father,” he said.

  Danaë looked directly at him, and it was as if the light left her eyes. “I mourn him still.”

  In that moment, Ramtat despised himself because his actions had added to her pain. He also realized that his motives for capturing her and bringing her to his camp were not all that pure, and not entirely to keep her from talking to the king. He’d wanted her—it was as simple as that. She stirred his senses, and he was awed by her courage, and something more. He resisted the need to scoop her off her horse and hold her against his body to give her comfort.

  “Lady Danaë, please accept my deepest sympathy. Losing your father could not have been easy for you.”

  “The hardest part,” she admitted, meeting his steady gaze, “is knowing I can never again hear my father’s voice or benefit from his wise counsel.” Her throat tightened, and it took her a moment to speak. “It’s difficult to know that I belong to no one, and no one belongs to me.”

  Ramtat could no longer bear to look into Danaë’s expressive green eyes because he saw pain there, and her pain had somehow become his.

  How could that be? he wondered. He was changing because of Danaë, and he was dazed and unsure of what to do about her. She had every reason to hate him, but oddly enough, she did not. Could she ever forgive him for his treatment of her? He found he wanted her respect, but he didn’t think she gave respect easily. And love—what it would feel like to be the man she loved? He was shocked, but it was true. He wanted nothing more than to love her and have her love him in return—but was it too late for him?

  They rode in silence for quite a while. Shadows had lengthened across the sand by the time Ramtat called a halt and handed Danaë a waterskin.

  After she took a deep drink, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and gave the skin back to him. “I have told you about my life, yet you have said little about yourself.”

  He motioned for her to dismount so they could walk the horses. “Growing up as I did, I was introduced to the best of two worlds. I had a good life, and a fine education under my father’s guidance. When he died, I was sent to my mother’s father to learn the ways of the Bedouins.”

  Danaë frowned. “How long ago did death claim your father?”

  “When I was in my twelfth summer. To me, he was the best of men. I was devastated when he died.”

  She glanced down at her boots and vaguely noted they were dusted with sand. Then she inhaled the distinct, heady smell of the desert. “What about your mother?”

  Ramtat smiled as if he were amused. “She’s very much alive. And I mentioned my younger sister, Adhaniá. She’s perfect in my eyes.”

  Dazzled by the bright sunlight, Danaë shaded her eyes with her hand. “And you have your Bedouin family,” she reminded him. “That makes you fortunate. Tell me more about your time with them.”

  There was a long pause before he spoke. “Under my grandfather’s guidance, I was instructed by the finest horsemen in Egypt, and trained to throw a dagger from a great distance and hit the mark. I learned much from the Bedouin people, and I am proud to be of their blood. If you only knew them as I do, I believe you would like them as well.”

  “Under different circumstances, perhaps. As it is, I see them only as your watchdogs.”

  Ramtat glanced into the distance at the setting sun. “We should go back to camp now.”

  Danaë nodded. She was not ready to return to her solitary existence, but what choice had she?

  When they arrived at the encampment, Ramtat asked, “Would you like to ride again tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “I would wish it above all things.”

  Ramtat couldn’t help noticing the glow in her cheeks, and the happy light in her eyes. “Then you shall have your wish. Tomorrow we must get an earlier start—there is something I would show you that is a long ride from here.”

  Danaë had thought she would be unable to sleep because of the excitement of the day, but she fell into a deep slumber almost the moment she lay down, and didn’t wake until the early morning sun poured into the tent.

  Ramtat was waiting for Danaë as she emerged from the tent. As he walked toward her, the sun was behind him. In its bright glow, she could not help thinking he had taken the form of the sun god, Amun-Re, so brilliantly did he shine.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “I’m going to show you something very few know about. How would you like to camp overnight?”

  His offer was altogether unexpected, and she eagerly nodded. “Some of my fondest memories are times when my father and I camped in the desert.” She looked reflective. “The servants prepared the same food they would have served us at home, but somehow it tasted better in the desert.”

  He lifted her onto her horse, his hands lingering at her waist. “I will be your servant tonight, for we go on our adventure alone.” He arched his brow. “Unless you would prefer to have servants wait upon you.”

  Danaë was filled with delight at the prospect of being alone with him but was afraid to let it show on her face. “I’m no pampered maiden who needs someone to wait upon me.”

  “Then let us go—it is almost a full day’s ride to this place I would show you.”

  In
no time at all they had left the encampment far behind and were racing across the desert. They stopped at the noon hour and broke their fast, rested the horses, and then were on their way once more.

  Danaë loved the feel of the wind blowing in her hair. Her white stallion raced up the side of a sand dune without pausing. She glanced over at Ramtat and laughed. “Would you dare race me to the next dune?” she asked, issuing him a challenge.

  With a nod of his head, Ramtat allowed Danaë’s horse to break out in front before he spurred his own stallion forward. She was laughing as she bent low over the saddle. She saw Ramtat come up beside her and urged her mount faster. But try as she might, she could not catch him when he overtook her, and his black stallion maintained his lead. Ramtat had dismounted and was waiting for her when she reached the top of the dune.

  She slid off her horse and crossed her arms over her chest, glowering at him. “You purposely gave me the slower horse—you knew I couldn’t win.”

  Ramtat lowered his gaze to her compressed lips. “Would you expect me to set you on a horse that could outrun mine?” He pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Nay, Danaë—I am not a fool. If you found you could outrun me, you would have left me behind.” His dark gaze challenged her. “Is that not the right of it?”

  She lowered her arms. “You are wise not to underestimate me. I was testing you, and if I had won, I would have kept going.”

  His eyes narrowed. “But you didn’t win, did you?”

  They stared at each other challengingly.

  At last Danaë spoke: “You think you know me, but you don’t.”

  His lips twisted mockingly. “If I lived two lifetimes, I would never fully understand you—you’re too complicated.”

  Danaë plopped down on the sand and looked up at him. “And you think you are uncomplicated? You, who has so many identities. Probably you forget who you are to be on any given day unless you consult a list.”

  Ramtat was tightening his horse’s girth and could not keep from laughing aloud. “It isn’t as complicated as it might seem to you.”