Sethmet’s mouth lifted in a sneer. He wagered the two men wouldn’t like the surprise he had in store for them. The minute the Englishmen had started searching on their own they’d crossed a line. Sethmet wasn’t about to let his family suffer because of the pharaoh’s curse.
The servants stopped their chores and milled about the center of the campsite in an uneasy silence. Sethmet stood in full sunlight, his eyes watchful while William and Justin consulted in a private huddle.
Charlotte hurried to her tent. She disappeared inside, but her soft sobs were clearly audible to him. Sethmet had to force himself to hold ground, not to go to her and offer comfort. It was difficult when he felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.
William and Justin walked over to him, indicating they were ready.
“Who sorted the equipment and put it away last night?” William strode up and down the line of servants, glaring at each of them until they shuffled uneasily. “Answer me. Who put away the equipment?”
Several of the men eyed each other before one stepped forward. He muttered in a low voice.
“Speak up, man,” Justin snapped.
Sethmet stepped forward, ready to take the brunt of the men’s anger. “He doesn’t speak English. Let me question him.”
The quiet sobs continued to distract Sethmet, making it difficult to do his job and concentrate on protecting the pharaoh. Sethmet could smell her lilac scent on the breeze. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He didn’t have the right to go to her and offer comfort. Their worlds were oceans apart. He had to remember that.
“Question him,” Justin demanded, breaking into Sethmet’s unhappy thoughts.
William thrust his face close to the man who’d stepped forward. His cheeks and neck had turned bright red with anger and a nervous tic throbbed in his jaw. “Ask him what he did with the barrel of gun powder.”
Sethmet met William’s anger with a hard stare. “What would a party of tourists want with a barrel of gun powder?” Tomb robbers, he thought in disgust, his suspicions reconfirmed. “If you’re looking for treasure, you’re at the wrong oasis. There is no treasure here.”
“I have information to the contrary,” William spat, “and I don’t intend to leave without finding it.”
“Despite the cursed bad luck you seem to be having? The death of two men. The disappearance of equipment. It’s true that others have sought treasure at Patria, but they have left broken men. I don’t know why men insist on coming here. There is no treasure, only death to those who search.”
“Ask the man what happened to the gun powder,” William insisted, not backing down despite his lies. Sethmet fired off the question. The man shifted his weight and looked guilty, but Sethmet felt it was because of William’s incensed behavior. He nodded when the man finished and ran his gaze across the rest of the men assembled for William’s interrogation.
A loud scream rent the air. The servants burst into excited jabber. Sethmet heard the word, curse mentioned more than once. Another scream galvanized Sethmet to action.
Charlotte.
He sprinted to Charlotte’s tent. Just as he arrived, Charlotte lifted the tent flap and stepped outside.
“Lady Charlotte, you’re all right,” Sethmet said with relief. He had to forcibly remind himself not to embrace her in public. Not touching her was difficult but seeing the dried tear tracks on her face was even harder.
“Who screamed?” Unhappiness hovered in Charlotte’s blue eyes. “Is someone hurt?”
Sethmet glanced away and hoped he hadn’t given his concern for Charlotte away with his mad sprint to her tent. He suspected her stepbrother would make things difficult if he knew of their relationship. “I don’t know. I thought it was you.”
A third scream, long and high with panic, directed them to a petrified woman servant.
“What is it?” Sethmet’s sharp tone seemed to pierce the woman’s panic.
With a trembling finger, she pointed. Sethmet saw the pottery flagon she’d dropped in her terror. Wet sand surrounded the vessel while a short distance away two scorpions scuttled across a pair of sandaled feet. The soles of the feet pointed upward as if the man were buried head first in the sand, his feet the only visible part of his body.
Charlotte came to stand at his side. “Do you know who it is?”
Sethmet shook his head. “Dig him out,” he directed several of the milling servants.
“All this is a distraction,” William snarled. “I will find out who stole my equipment, and when I do that man will suffer.”
Sethmet squatted beside the buried man. He caught a whiff of gunpowder.
Standing, he strode around the man. The scent grew stronger. “There’s your gunpowder.”
Sethmet said pointing to the thin black trail that led from the dead man into the desert.
William cursed and whirled about. “You there! Go and get a spade. We can still use the powder if we collect it again.
A gust of wind appeared from nowhere, whistling and whipping galabiyyas around the servant’s legs, sending sand and gunpowder swirling through the air.
The wind disappeared as quickly as it appeared. And the silence that remained was so complete and unexpected, it raised hairs at the back of Sethmet’s neck. The pharaoh. Even from the tomb, his spirit aided Sethmet and his family in their task.
The servants glanced at each other in uneasy silence.
“The curse,” one of the more daring whispered.
“This is ridiculous,” Justin drawled. “I say we go on with the day’s excursion.”
“We must do something for this poor man first,” Charlotte protested.
“He’s nothing to do with us. Come, Charlotte.” William crooked his arm and waited with clear impatience.
Sethmet caught Charlotte’s hesitation and liked her for the sensitivity she showed for a man she didn’t know.
“No go,” one of the servants cried. He broke from the group and ran without looking back.
“Come back,” William ordered. He turned to Sethmet. “Do something. You’re in charge of labor. Get them ready for departure.”
The fury in William’s voice made the servants edge away. The wind whistled across the open sands again and a final blast sent the sand flying through the air.
The curse.
Eyes rolled in fear, showing the whites, and as one, the servants turned and raced for the safety of the oasis.
“Wait, damn you!” William hollered.
Justin shrugged. “Let them go,” he said as he carefully inspected his fingernails. “We don’t need them. There are other ways.”
“We can visit this new site without the servants,” William said.
“It is a long journey and will require two nights away from your camp.”
Sethmet tried to gauge how hard to dissuade them. The two Englishmen were determined to visit the site they’d heard about, but he didn’t want to refuse in case they went without him. The site was uncomfortably close to the pharaoh’s tomb. Sethmet wanted to go along so he was on hand to act should the men discover the tomb. Yes, there were traps laid for the unwary explorer but they weren’t foolproof. He needed to supervise and carry out his duties to the pharaoh. While the pharaoh still retained powers, they seemed increasingly erratic with the passing years. It seemed the longer the span of years since the pharaoh’s death, the more diluted his magic.
“Do you think the journey is wise?” Charlotte asked. “Without servants it will certainly be difficult.”
“You don’t have to go,” Justin pointed out.
William glared at his friend. “She can hardly stay here alone without a chaperon.”
Sethmet watched the two men silently communicate. William continued to glare until suddenly the scowl transformed into a grin. He didn’t like that smirk. It boded ill for Charlotte. That settled things. He couldn’t leave her on her own with the two men.
“If you are willing to wait until tomorrow I will arrange supplies and ser
vants for the expedition to Zuweila Oasis.”
The men glanced at each other and seemed to come to a decision.
“Tomorrow will be suitable. Charlotte, come,” William said.
Charlotte stiffened. Her beautiful mouth firmed and she cast a beseeching look at Sethmet.
Sethmet’s lungs constricted. He wished he knew what was going on with the men and Charlotte. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. Although he’d patrolled the camp as much as he was able, he hadn’t discovered evidence of a traitor until the pharaoh had pointed the man out by killing him. Now it was up to him to discover if the traitor had worked alone to help the Englishmen or if there were more in the oasis. He must concentrate on protecting the pharaoh instead of his lust for Charlotte. Even so, Sethmet gave her an encouraging nod, trying to tell her with his eyes that he would watch over her and keep harm away.
Icy cold slid over his face then as another thought occurred. If Charlotte had deceived him and she was in league with her stepbrother there might be nothing he could do to save her from the pharaoh’s wrath. The notion was like a swift kick in the gut and just as painful.
Chapter Seven
Darkness closed in once the sun sank beneath the horizon, and Sethmet paced, waiting for the camp to settle. Impatience battered his best intentions, and he dragged off his clothes. After thrusting them under a tree at the edge of the oasis, he let the change take him. Tendons and sinew twisted, bones lengthened and his jaw transformed. The pain of the change balanced on the fine edge of pleasure. Sethmet shuddered, the rush of enhanced senses a rich, sensual experience he never tired of. The cool night breeze ruffled his fur as he padded across the sand to the English camp. Without conscious thought, Sethmet prowled straight to Charlotte’s tent.
Her soft breathing both reassured and called to him. The desire to go to her, shift into human form and sink his cock deep into her warmth nipped at his self-control, dividing his loyalties. Sethmet’s chest rumbled in a low growl of conflict. His tail swished in agitation before his loyalty to the pharaoh and his family overruled his heart, and he turned to patrol the camp. His gut told him more danger lurked. Learning the identity of the dead servant had yielded few clues since the solitary man had been from Mut, the closest town. Men often left the caravans to take a break at Patria Oasis.
That was the problem—at any given time there were many strangers present. Sethmet knew most were honest men, but some, who had no loyalty to his family, had hidden motives and these were the ones who presented a challenge. Perhaps he should let gossip do his job for him—let the servants’ superstitions and natural fear spread alarm. That would work, and yet, Charlotte would leave when her stepbrother left. He’d lose her. Sethmet paused to scent the air.
Lilacs.
Charlotte.
Sethmet found himself outside his lover’s tent again, his heart jumping and every sense attuned to each move or sigh she made. He snarled low and deep and determinedly padded over to William’s tent. A lamp burned inside, sending shadows playing across the canvas. The light outlined two silhouettes and the tinkle of glasses told Sethmet that William and his companion were drinking. His ears twitched when he raised his head to the breeze. The peaty fumes informed him they drank whiskey.
Sethmet stalked closer, sitting quietly to listen.
“I tell you the man is stalling us.”
Sethmet’s lip curled in disdain. Of course he was bloody stalling them. With luck, the boiling temperatures of mid-season would drive them homeward. But then again, perhaps not. William looked increasingly desperate, his temper uncertain and boiling over at the slightest infringement of camp rules.
“I have the map,” William countered. “It’s not perfect but there are not many sites left to check. Once we find the site with the two hills and the temple of the cat, we will know where to commence our dig.”
“I don’t know why you didn’t ask the guide straight out. We’re paying him enough. We’ve bought his loyalty.”
“I did.” William’s tone was sharp as if his temper balanced on a pinnacle. “The man told me there were many temples dedicated to the cat around here. Damn me if he wasn’t correct. All the sites we’ve visited so far have had some of the features on the map, enough to warrant a search.”
“But not all.”
“No.”
A glass clinked against a bottle, and Sethmet heard the whiskey sloshing into a glass.
“Ask the worker on our payroll for more details. Offer him more money,” Justin said. “He has to know more. I bet he’s holding out on us.”
“I have asked the worker. He’s frightened. This damn curse and the death of his friend has put the fear of God into him.”
“What about if I ask the guide? Sethmet.” Justin’s voice held mockery when he said Sethmet’s name. Sethmet growled, a low warning sound vibrating through his chest at the slur.
“The damn man is too full of himself, if you ask me. He’s a bloody servant and he acts like a titled lord. You can try, but I don’t think it will make a difference. I asked him early when we first arrived.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that while the money I offered was an attractive incentive, he couldn’t accept. The bloody man had the effrontery to say he’d lived in Patria for most of his life and knew of no treasure. It simply didn’t exist, so I would be foolish to pay him.”
Justin barked out a laugh. “Upstart.”
Interesting, Sethmet thought, but it didn’t help him in weeding out the traitor.
“Have you talked to Charlotte? Will she accept my offer?”
The lustful note in Justin’s voice made Sethmet tense. Had that been the cause of her upset earlier today? His twitching ears signaled his disquiet, his rush of jealousy. Sethmet stood and prowled a circuit around the tent in an effort to soothe his rising agitation.
“She has some silly notion of enjoying her independence,” William drawled. “But don’t worry, she’ll come around.”
“Did you highlight the monetary incentives?”
“Oh yes. Believe me, I pointed out the benefits to Charlotte.”
William sounded determined to wed Charlotte to his friend. The idea of Charlotte married and sleeping in the same bed as the Englishman ratcheted his jealousy up another notch.
To hell with it. He’d learned most of what he needed to know. It was as if a giant timepiece ticked away the time before Charlotte left. Soon she’d be lost to him. Sethmet padded to her tent and, after a quick glance to check for prying eyes, shifted to human form.
After untying the laced door of the tent, he crawled inside, desperate to exert his claim on Charlotte.
Firm lips caressed hers. Charlotte’s eyes snapped open, her heart galloping, not in terror but in expectation. She recognized his familiar scent of sandalwood and wild sage. “Sethmet,” she murmured arching against his solid, muscular body. Her hands squeezed hard buttocks. Naked buttocks. A laugh bubbled from her lips. “Where are your clothes?”
“I was in a hurry. I wanted to speed things up.”
Charlotte’s heart pumped out two rapid beats before she caught her breath. Already, moisture gathered between her legs in readiness for his possession. Charlotte pushed against his chest, struggling to free her arms from her voluminous cotton nightgown. Skin. She wanted to rub against him like a cat. Charlotte ached. She fought to free herself from the constricting cloth and managed to trap a lock of hair. A pained cry escaped.
“Hush,” Sethmet soothed in the smoky, accented English that never failed to heighten her arousal.
Minutes later, she was free and running her hands down his flanks. “Now,” she urged. “Hurry.”
Sethmet turned, flipping over on his back and lifting her at the same time so she straddled him. “Ride me,” he murmured. “I want to see your breasts and watch your face while you come.”
Charlotte thrilled to his sensual words. She laughed breathlessly while her hand cupped his testes and then his cock, feeling the shape and t
he strength of him.
“It’s dark. You can’t see me when it’s this dark,” she whispered, positioning his erection at the entrance to her quim. She sank down, savoring the tight fit, the stretching, the promise of the joining.
“I can see you. I have very good eyesight.” And to prove it, he said, “You have a small brown mole on your right breast.”
She sank to the hilt and paused to torture both of them. A ripple swept through her, urging her to hasten the pace.
Sethmet gripped her hips with both hands. “Ride me, Charlotte. I need you.”
Charlotte lifted and sank back down. To be needed—that was special. No one had ever needed her before. She quickened her pace, rising and falling until they both gasped.
Ripples of pleasure streaked through her body. Below her, Sethmet stiffened. Deep inside, his seed gushed. Charlotte slumped forward, and Sethmet closed his arms around her, drawing their sweaty bodies together.
She closed her eyes, attempting to hold on to the pleasure and the closeness. Instead, shadows intruded. She would have to return to England and marry—probably Justin. No wonder her dreams were of cats running free in the desert. Charlotte craved a life she would never have and it had spilled over into her dreams.
* * * * *
When Sethmet arrived at camp to head the overnight expedition to Zuweila Oasis he found the place in an uproar. A group of servants formed a tight-knit group near the cooking fire. Steam rose from a pot suspended over the glowing embers, but that was all that had occurred in the way of breakfast preparations. William screamed orders, punctuating them with waving arms and insults. Everyone ignored him. Instead, the servants cast frightened looks over their shoulders and muttered between themselves.
Sethmet bit down on his tongue to suppress his grin. He had a fair idea what the fuss was about.
“About time you arrived,” Justin snarled. “Tell the natives to get to work.”
Lynx to the Pharaoh Page 8
