Lynx to the Pharaoh

by Shelley Munro

  “Mama.” Sethmet smiled and bent to kiss both wrinkled cheeks before leaning against a pedestal, almost toppling the bust of the pharaoh standing proudly on top.

  “Take care, Sethmet.” The wooden rocking chair his father had purchased in Cairo squeaked when she set it in motion. “You are restless this morning.”

  Sethmet’s eyes widened fractionally then narrowed. He’d tried hard to hide his impatience to go to the woman. Obviously, his mother knew him too well, and despite her partial blindness, she’d sensed his turbulent emotions. The push and pull as he grappled to balance desire for the flesh and execution of his duties.

  “Do not forswear love in the pursuit of justice, my son.”

  A powerful shudder racked his body, and startled, he studied his mother’s face.

  The red moon.

  The storm.

  And now his mother speaking of love and justice.

  Mayhap, the arrival of the English woman was a personal omen, sent to try his devotion to protecting the pharaoh and protecting the pharaoh’s tomb. A test to see if he’d succumb to temptation.

  Chapter Two

  Once the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, Sethmet gathered his basket of food from the kitchen and strode from the villa. The meeting would appear casual, yet it would be anything but since he’d planned everything while she slept. Sethmet had chosen to remain in the English style of clothing rather than his traditional galabiyya. The English accepted him more readily if he dressed and spoke like them, something he’d learned well from his father and subsequent experience. Veiled ridicule for wearing a full-length robe that looked like a dress wasn’t the greeting he hoped to achieve. His thoughts drifted back to the woman and they turned carnal before he had time to blink. Hunger exploded inside him, a fierce desire for the woman. Questions of how she’d feel in his arms when their bodies joined and slid together, how she’d taste…

  But he was getting ahead of himself. He wouldn’t—refused to—act if the woman belonged to another male. It didn’t matter how compatible or suitable the woman might be for a mate.

  Sethmet entered the small cave cautiously, not wanting to scare her and start on the wrong terms. He scuffed out the paw prints he’d made the previous night and this morning, leaving only the woman’s tracks and the new ones he’d made in human form. The early morning light spilled through the mouth of the cave, eliminating most of the shadows.

  “Hullo!” he called. “Is someone in here?”

  A feminine gasp sounded, caught by his acute hearing. When he rounded the bend in the cave, the woman was sitting with her back propped against the wall, her ebony hair tangled and tumbling loose around her shoulders. His heart gave an uneven pump while he looked his fill, tracing her full, pink lips, her apprehensive blue eyes and pale skin with his gaze. His eyes swept over her breasts, her trim waist and came to a halt on her hands. Disappointment thumped to his gut, searing in its intensity. The Englishwoman was beautiful, and he wanted her more than ever, but she wore a wedding band on her left hand.

  Charlotte blinked up at the large man who’d woken her. Nervous because of the way he towered over her, she scrambled to her feet. Sudden shooting pins and needles in legs cramped from staying in one place made her wobble precariously and cry out loud. The man moved so quick she didn’t register until her hand tightened around his forearm. Warm skin greeted her touch along with a shudder of awareness at his stark masculinity. Now here was a man who could tempt her. Maybe, just maybe…

  He was tall and lean with a build hinting at muscles beneath the fabric of his clothing. His dark, curly hair framed his head, unruly enough that she had the urge to smooth it with her hands and tug long strands from his queue. In fact, she acknowledged to herself her hands itched to stroke more than his hair. How odd! Charlotte jerked up her chin, wary yet enthralled by the striking stranger. It took her an instant longer to release the man’s arm.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” she said, uneasy suddenly with the intimacy of the cave and the glow she could see in his tawny eyes.

  What was wrong with her? After George’s death, she didn’t want to marry again. The experience had left her wanting and confused about why women sought marriage. She intended to remain a widow for the rest of her days.

  “I need to return to camp before my stepbrother starts to worry.” Or loses his temper with me. Charlotte wrinkled her nose at that thought. William’s temperament hovered in uncertain territory these days, and his wrath was a sight to make a grown man or woman tremble. She didn’t want to raise his ire. All the more reason to hurry back to camp.

  “Let me escort you back.” The stranger paused to smile and offer his arm. The flash of even white teeth pushed her awareness of his raw sexuality even higher, and nerves skittered through her. She felt unaccountably jumpy. But not frightened, she realized in puzzlement. How peculiar this strange sensation was…

  “Your brother has hired me as a guide. I am Sethmet Khalil.”

  “Our guide?” Charlotte snapped her mouth shut when she heard herself parrot the man.

  “That’s right.” He glanced down at his arm then back at her. One dark brow rose in silent mockery and Charlotte realized she’d been staring. Her gaze shot to her half boots before she extended her hand and placed it on the hard sinews of his forearm.

  They strolled across the sand and rock floor of the cave as though they paraded in one of London’s finest ballrooms.

  “What made you decide to travel to Egypt?” he asked.

  Charlotte paused and found herself wanting to tell the truth. “My husband died eight months ago. I wanted to have a break from London.” A break from the sympathetic tabbies and the puckered brows when she so much as spoke to an unmarried man.

  “Ah,” he said.

  Charlotte wondered what he meant by that since his face didn’t yield a clue. The silence between them intensified. Charlotte swallowed and fought to think of suitable chitchat to fill the void. Aware of the social chasm between them yet desperately wanting to breach it, she blurted, “I saw a cat last night.”

  He paused inside the mouth of the cave and looked down at her with an impassive expression. The seconds dragged out.

  “It was beautiful,” Charlotte said, recalling the proud and sleek creature standing in the light of her lamp.

  “Are you sure? There are no paw prints out here.”

  His voice was low, husky and it strummed along her nerve endings. Charlotte shivered when a picture formed in her mind. A naked man and woman rubbing their bodies against each other. A small gasp of shock emerged when she recognized their faces. His—Sethmet’s—and hers. Heat pooled in her cheeks while nerves danced in the pit of her stomach. This was so unlike her, yet she couldn’t rid her mind of the truth. She wanted him to touch her, to remove her clothes and stroke her body. She wanted him sexually. The realization stunned her since intimacy with her late husband George had been anything but inspiring. Certainly nothing more than duty and the need to produce an heir. Charlotte inhaled sharply and struggled to regroup. It was fatigue, that’s all.

  “Perhaps the storm covered the prints, Mr. Khalil.”

  He grinned without warning. “Call me Sethmet.” The accented words underscored his amusement.

  “I am Charlotte.” It seemed pointless to keep to formalities when she was so far from home. And with the way her mind kept drifting to intimacies featuring this man. “Lady Charlotte Webster.”

  “Lady Charlotte.” Sethmet rolled her name, making it sound unusual. Exotic. “Come. It is early still. No one stirs in your camp. Would you like to watch the birds on the oasis and break your fast with me?” He indicated the basket he held in his other hand.

  “How do you know I am staying at the camp?”

  “A process of deduction since no Englishwoman has arrived with the camel trains during recent weeks. I would have heard the gossip at the caravanserai.”

  “Of course.” Uncertainty made her pause. “I’m not sure I should go
with you.”

  “I do not intend you harm,” he said gravely.

  But he wanted to kiss her, she thought. Touch her. The knowledge shimmered between them like a splendid secret.

  Uncertain but tempted, she exited the cave at his side. Ribbons of color streaked the morning sky, a faint splash of orange and a deep pink. Charlotte sighed, feeling more at home in this foreign place than she’d ever felt amongst society in London. She strolled over the uneven rocks, conscious of the flex of muscles in his arm and the brush of his trousers against her skirt. She shot a quick glance in his direction and discovered he was watching her with distinct interest and speculation. Temptation slithered through her and made her feel sympathy for Eve facing the apple. Seductive temptation indeed.

  “Can we go past the camp first?” Maybe that would be best. Safer.

  “If it would put your mind at rest.”

  Charlotte shook her head, aware she didn’t want to do the right thing. She didn’t know the man, and yet it didn’t seem to matter. Instinctively she trusted him.

  They slid down a short rocky slope and rounded the base of a dune. In the distance, the canvas tents were visible, framed against another sand dune. A faint plume of smoke rose, indicating the native cooks were awake and preparing for the day. If she returned now she’d have to go to her tent. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful morning. What her brother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him…

  “I’d love to visit the oasis,” Charlotte said, ignoring the feminine pride inside warning her she would not look her best after sleeping in her clothes. And the knowledge that she shouldn’t go anywhere with a man she didn’t know. She risked another glance at him, and the silent gleam of approval in his eyes warmed her all over. This early in the morning, she couldn’t blame the heat of the sun.

  They passed the camp, and as Sethmet had said, no one stirred apart from the servants. Charlotte told herself her brother would never know. They arrived at the edge of the oasis more quickly than she would have liked. Countless questions trembled at the tip of her tongue. Curious as a cat. That’s what George used to say, always in a chiding manner. Could she help it if she liked to learn new things and gain knowledge?

  Sethmet stopped by the edge of the lake, in a small private spot screened from the main path, glad Lady Charlotte had agreed to accompany him.

  A gentle breeze played a musical tune as it blew through the reeds. Not far from them a heron stabbed the water with its beak and came up with a wriggling silver fish.

  He placed his basket down and helped Charlotte sit on a flat rock. Her lack of primping and fussing gained his approval, not that she needed to preen. Sethmet opened his woven basket. He had to stop the urgent need to touch, to run his hands across her silky cheek. A bark of laughter escaped at the thought. No doubt the lady would slap his face at the presumption.

  “Is something funny?”

  “Not a thing,” Sethmet said. “Would you care for flat bread and cheese?” He spread a blue woven cloth on the ground beside them and set out the food. The instinct to serve and nurture Lady Charlotte, or Charlotte as he thought of her, came as a surprise. Most women ran after him, but being with Charlotte felt right. He didn’t feel pressure or hunted for matrimony. He wanted to protect her, even if she came from the English camp and was possibly an enemy.

  Charlotte was no longer committed to a man.

  Satisfaction swelled within Sethmet along with an urge to kiss her. Hell, he wanted to do more than that. He wanted to claim her as mate. The thought gave him pause because he knew nothing of her. Yet he didn’t worry overly. Swift courtships were normal in his family, and their decisive nature when taking a partner was one of the gifts that came with feline powers. Everyone in his family married for love. They might argue at times, but he had no hesitation about following his heart.

  He glanced up from laying out the food and saw Charlotte studied him avidly. For an instant, open desire shimmered in her blue eyes before her lashes lowered to screen the emotion.

  Sethmet acted on instinct, going with his gut. He leaned toward her and took possession of her lips in a slow kiss of exploration. When she didn’t object, he deepened the contact, sliding his tongue across her soft, pink lips and urging her to open her mouth so he could taste. She was so soft, tasted so sweet, and he wanted more.

  Charlotte sighed, and he took advantage, delving into her mouth with raw need. God, he needed to touch her with more than his mouth. He needed it as bad as breathing. Without further thought, Sethmet gave in to the desire, entwining his fingers in her hair and cradling her head, drawing her even closer. Still, it wasn’t enough. He trailed one hand down her back, pressing her against his chest so her breasts brushed his thin cotton shirt. Charlotte moaned softly. The low, throaty sound drew a shudder from him. So much. So fast. He shuddered again, his cock tight and heavy with need. His fingers trailed down her neck, tracing over smooth skin and coming to rest on a rapidly beating pulse at the base of her neck.

  “I want you,” he whispered. “I want to stroke your bare skin and kiss every inch until you’re trembling with need.”

  Oh yes. Pure physical desire, the like of which she’d never known, kicked Charlotte in the belly. It was a primitive throb in her veins and she never wanted to stop touching this man. She sucked in a hasty breath as his mouth slid from hers and laid a trail of kisses down her neck.

  Sethmet was a stranger, but she felt as if she’d known him forever.

  He pulled away without warning, leaving Charlotte bereft and full of turbulent emotions. She didn’t want to stop the magic, craving more of his touch, his kisses. “Please,” Charlotte whispered, willing to plead for him to touch her again.

  Sethmet smiled and raised his finger to his mouth in a gesture of silence. Approaching footsteps halted the unladylike begging trembling on her lips. She cast a panicked look over her shoulder in the direction of the noise. Surely it wasn’t her brother?

  A local woman bearing a stoneware urn balanced on her head came into sight. She froze upon seeing them and addressed Sethmet in a foreign tongue. He replied, and the woman giggled before stooping to fill her urn with water from the lake. She hurried off, but Charlotte noticed the intent curiosity in the woman’s eyes when she glanced back over her shoulder.

  “Would you care for some juice?” Sethmet’s husky voice vibrated along her nerve endings, leaving moist dampness between her legs. Wonder made her gape at him since no man had touched her emotions in this way. It was as if they were already intimate, as if they’d known each other in another life. How was that possible?

  “You are frowning. Perhaps you do not care for juice of the orange fruit?”

  A faint blush suffused her cheeks. The burst of heat intensified under his dark gaze until she wanted to squirm.

  Sethmet reached out to stroke one finger down her cheek. “We must eat, or I will give in to temptation and make love to you.”

  His blunt words thrilled her when they should have shocked her senseless and forced her to run for the safety of the camp. God forgive her, but she wanted to make love to this man. Somehow, she sensed it would be powerful and moving and would change her life forever. Something told her this man would show her what she’d missed in her marriage.

  Charlotte swallowed and moistened her lips. “What if that’s what I’d like too?” she blurted. This wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t.

  Sethmet’s tawny eyes glowed. He didn’t answer her question but instead reached for her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and he lifted her so she sat on his lap. “You should probably run,” he warned.

  “No, running is the last thing I want to do.” Charlotte was enveloped by warmth and his exotic scent—a whiff of sandalwood and something else that reminded her of a cool English forest.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Yes. I have never been as sure of anything.” That should have scared her, but Charlotte leaned into him, eager to taste him again. Their lips touched, the
ir tongues sliding together in a slow, sensuous dance. Their breaths mingled and a sense of feeling alive exploding across her senses. She stirred restlessly, needing more.

  “Sethmet,” she whispered against his lips. Charlotte tugged his cravat free from his collar and slipped one hand into the opening she’d created. Warm skin greeted her touch. She undid another two buttons, revealing more skin, golden and hot to the touch. Leaning forward, she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone. His erection nudged her buttocks. Charlotte squirmed. Anticipation bubbled through her, the sensation of rigid masculine flesh beneath her legs readying her for his possession. Her breath caught as she wondered what would happen next. Would she suffer disappointment again?

  “I want to touch you, Charlotte.”

  He wouldn’t get any arguments from her. His husky voice made her melt inside and long for his mouth to kiss the sensitive skin on her neck and breasts. Sethmet smoothed his hand under her skirt, tracing the tender spot behind her knee. Charlotte shuddered. “Yes,” she said. “Oh yes.”

  Sethmet pushed the food aside and placed Charlotte on the cloth he’d spread out on the ground earlier. He leaned over her and stared down into her eyes, serious and intent. “I wish I could take the time to undress you. But this is not the time or place to linger.”

  Anyone could interrupt them. Charlotte knew she risked scandal and censure but didn’t care. The taste of freedom was heady stuff. And she wanted to explore whatever this thing was between them because she’d never met a man who tempted her like Sethmet. “We have some time?” She thought she might die if he didn’t touch her again.

  He smiled then, a slow grin that spread across his lips and up to his eyes. “We have time enough for pleasure.” Promise simmered in his voice, tightening her breasts and making her pulse speed.

  The hand under her skirt traveled higher over bare skin until he met her drawers, drawing soft circles on her inner thighs. Higher and higher, his fingers moved until he cupped her warmth. She jumped, unused to tender touches in her private places.