Under a Desert Moon

by Laura Martin

  Seb dismounted as they approached, thinking it would be sensible to seem as unthreatening as possible. They rode up and surrounded him, throwing a cloud of dust into the air. Seb coughed, the dust tickling his already dry throat, and the spasms made him bend double.

  ‘Where is the woman?’ one of the men asked in flawless English.

  ‘Water,’ Seb gasped as he straightened up.

  No one moved for a few seconds. Then the man who had spoken—Seb took him to be the leader of the little group—gave a quick, curt nod. Another one of the bandits took out a water skin and threw it at Seb.

  He drank slowly, unhurriedly, knowing if he put too much water in his shrivelled stomach it would just make him sick. Instead he savoured the warm liquid in his mouth before swallowing slowly.

  When he had had his fill he passed the water skin back to the bandit.

  ‘Now, where is the woman?’ the leader asked again.

  Seb shrugged. ‘Halfway back to Luxor by now,’ he said nonchalantly.

  The bandits frowned.

  ‘She was with you until last night.’

  Seb nodded, not giving away any more than he had to.

  ‘Why would she decide to go back to Luxor this morning? Alone and unprotected.’

  ‘Stupid woman made her decision,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t going to try and stop her.’

  The leader smiled, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.

  ‘Please don’t lie to me, Mr Oakfield. You have come this far in her company, why would you part ways now?’

  Seb sighed dramatically and looked up at the bandit.

  ‘We were following some sort of map. A day ago she lost it. She said there was no point continuing without the map to guide her.’

  ‘And you disagreed?’

  ‘By then I’d say anything to get away from her. We rowed. She rode off. I thought I’d continue.’

  ‘Without the map to guide you?’

  ‘I knew what general direction we were headed. It couldn’t harm to take a look.’

  The bandit looked at him long and hard.

  ‘I don’t believe a word you are saying, Mr Oakfield. Firstly we know your reputation. You would not leave a woman to fend for herself in the desert.’

  Seb opened his mouth to protest but the bandit silenced him by holding up another finger.

  ‘Secondly, you expect us to believe a man who has made hundreds of trips into the desert would continue his latest expedition without even a day’s supply of water.’

  They had him there. Seb knew no man who had ever been into the desert would do so again without at least double the amount of water he needed for his trip.

  ‘No, I think Miss Knight is camped somewhere nearby, patiently awaiting your return. And you thought to draw us away from her and her map, not realising quite how close we were.’

  Well, they were almost right, Seb thought, although he doubted Emma was patiently awaiting his return. He resisted the urge to take out his pocket watch and check the time. In his note he’d told Emma not to wait for him past midday, urging her instead to head back towards Luxor. He hoped now she had done so and wasn’t delaying her departure to give him extra time to return to her.

  ‘Why don’t you make this easy on yourself, Mr Oakfield? Take us to where Miss Knight is waiting and I give you my word you shall both be safe.’

  Seb looked up at the bandit and knew he couldn’t trust the man. He had no doubt that as soon as he got his hands on the scroll both he and Emma would become an inconvenience. An inconvenience that could quite easily be dealt with and a whole desert to leave the bodies in.

  ‘She’s turned back to Luxor,’ Seb repeated.

  ‘Tell me about this map,’ the bandit said, changing his line of questioning.

  ‘I never saw it properly. Miss Knight was very secretive.’

  ‘You must have had a look when she was asleep?’

  Seb shrugged. ‘It was dark. I had a look but the detail wasn’t clear.’

  ‘Tell me what you did see.’

  ‘There was a seal of sorts in the corner, then a series of landmarks before a big cross.’

  The bandit’s eyes lit up and Seb wondered why this man was so eager to get his hands on the scroll and find the tomb. He couldn’t work out if he was a grave robber or a man wanting to protect his heritage at any cost.

  ‘I will get my hands on that scroll, Mr Oakfield. What I do with you and your companion afterwards very much depends on how helpful you are now.’

  Seb met the man’s stare steadily and didn’t look away. After half a minute the bandit snorted and looked at his henchmen.

  ‘Tie Mr Oakfield’s hands in front of him and secure him to a horse. We shall rest before we begin our search.’

  Seb hid a smile. Every moment they delayed gave Emma longer to get away, to head back to Luxor and to the safety of the crowds. He didn’t resist as one of the bandits tied his hands securely in front of him and tied the other end of the rope to the reins of his horse. Seb realised he was going to be made to stumble behind them, pulled along if he lost his footing, his skin shredded by the sand.

  Quickly he flexed his knees to make sure he was limbered up and ready for this bit of exercise. The last thing he wanted was to fall on his face and lose half his skin.

  Thankfully they moved off at quite a slow pace and Seb found it easy enough to follow behind. Only when they started their descent into a dried-up river bed did he have to increase his pace, ever aware of the loose sand and rocks beneath his feet. But he was nimble and reached the bottom without missing a step. A little farther along the river bed they reached a large rock, twice the height of any man. The bandit leader indicated they would stop here in the shade.

  Seb waited as the man riding the horse he was tied to dismounted. Then he watched as the same man expertly untied his hands from in front of him and securely bound them behind him again. He flexed his wrists and found there was little movement and every small adjustment in position meant the ropes chafed his skin. If he tried to wriggle too much his wrists would be red raw.

  Reluctantly Seb sat down in the shade. He glanced up at the sky and noted the position of the sun. If Emma hadn’t already set off for Luxor earlier, hopefully she would have done by now. The sun was high above him and Seb knew it must be about midday. Hopefully she would reach the city within a day or two and find shelter there.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Emma was feeling rather pleased with herself. Living her sheltered life in England, she had never been taught to track animals through the woods, as many boys were expected to do. Now, however, she was feeling an expert.

  After about an hour of riding Emma had begun to notice a disturbance in the dust. At first she had wondered what on earth it could be, then it had hit her; she was following in someone else’s trail.

  Now Emma knew this wasn’t necessarily Sebastian’s trail, but in her mind it was quite likely. After all, how many people would be riding through the middle of the desert in this exact spot? It was easy to follow; the dusty trail made for an easy path to pursue Sebastian on.

  As she rode she contemplated how she would confront Sebastian. She wondered whether she should be cold and efficient, riding up to him and demanding her scroll back with no emotion on her face. She wouldn’t mention their night together, as if it had meant nothing to her.

  Although Emma would love to do that, she knew it would likely be impossible. She knew as soon as she saw Sebastian she would be overcome with emotion. Hurt and betrayal would rise up inside her and she would need to know why he had done it. Not why he had stolen her scroll—that was pretty obvious—but why he had seduced her and then so cruelly left her.

  She also wanted to know whether anything he’d told her the night before had been the truth. He had seemed to pour
his heart out to her, confiding in her the horrors of his childhood, but now Emma wondered if it was a practised ploy to get women to take that final step and go to bed with him.

  A flash of memory hit her, Sebastian’s hands gently roaming over her body, a wondrous smile on his face, and Emma had to struggle to suppress it. She didn’t want to think of their night together. She didn’t want to dwell on the fact that once again she’d been taken in by a man who just wanted to use her.

  The anger and fury swelled up inside her again and Emma spurred Wadjet forward. She was going to catch up with Sebastian soon and when she did she would make him look her in the eye and admit everything he’d done. It probably wouldn’t make her feel any better, but at least she would know this time she’d had the courage to face the man who’d betrayed her.

  She’d been riding for a couple of hours when the trail seemed to lead her down into a dried-up river bed. Emma carefully let Wadjet pick a path through the loose stones and dust and then gently pulled on the reins to bring the horse to a stop. The ground down here was made up of loose stones and the trail Emma had been following seemed to disappear. She studied both directions, wondering which way to go, knowing she had to be careful not to lose her bearings; in the desert that could be deadly.

  Emma felt a cloud of despair fall over her. All the time she had been following in Sebastian’s trail she had felt a sense of purpose that had overshadowed her underlying feelings of betrayal. Now, with no way to know which direction Sebastian had chosen, she felt the tears start to well up in her eyes.

  Silently she berated herself. She’d brought this on herself. Tears wouldn’t help her find Sebastian and get her scroll back and they wouldn’t change the past.

  Decisively she urged Wadjet round to the left. The horse was slow to respond, instead turning her head back to the right, ears pricked up as if listening to something.

  Emma listened, too. Then she broke out into a smile. She could hear something: just the quiet hum of voices, too far to make out what they were saying, but voices all the same.

  Conscious that Sebastian might anticipate her following him, Emma dismounted and slowly led Wadjet towards the voices, taking each step slowly. Within five minutes the distant hum had become much more distinctive and Emma could catch a few words.

  ‘Would you care for some water, Mr Oakfield?’

  Emma grimaced. No doubt Sebastian had met up with some travelling companions, people who would help him excavate the tomb once they’d followed the map on her scroll.

  Fury building up inside her, Emma marched round the corner of the river bed and then froze.

  Her mouth hung open in surprise and the words of recrimination froze on her tongue.

  Squatting on the floor of the river bed were four men dressed in all-black robes. Sebastian was also nearby, but, far from being served by these men, he was dishevelled and tied up; he was their prisoner.

  Emma tried to take a step back round the corner, but that was when one of the men saw her. He jumped to his feet, followed closely by his three companions, and reached her in a couple of strides. Emma gasped as he drew a curved sword and held it out towards her, whilst grabbing her arm with his free hand.

  Her eyes met Sebastian’s and she saw a flash of anger followed by a deep look of concern. He strained against the ropes that bound him and struggled to his feet, only to be pushed down again by another of the men.

  ‘Miss Knight, I presume,’ one of the bandits said in perfect English.

  There was no point denying it. What other Englishwoman would be foolish enough to be wandering around the desert alone?

  ‘Not quite the route to Luxor I would have chosen.’

  ‘Take your hands off her,’ Sebastian said, his voice low and dangerous.

  ‘I think we shall keep hold of Miss Knight for now, but do not fear. We mean her no harm.’

  The bandit walked closer to Emma and she tried not to cower away. He was terrifying. Half his face was covered in a jet-black beard and his eyes were intense and piercing. Emma frowned, she’d looked into those eyes before. Then it hit her: this man had been the intruder in her room when she had been staying with the Fitzgeralds.

  ‘You have something I want, Miss Knight. Give it to me and you shall not be harmed.’

  ‘What about Mr Oakfield?’ Emma asked, her voice shaking. She might not know what to think about Sebastian’s abandonment of her now, but whatever had happened, she didn’t want him to die at the end of this bandit’s sword.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes. Mr Oakfield will be safe, too.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, trying to exude confidence she did not have.

  ‘Your scroll.’

  Emma swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, but I seem to have misplaced it. Otherwise I would gladly give it to you.’

  The bandit stepped closer to her so their faces were only a few inches apart. She could feel his breath on her cheeks and had to resist the urge to take a step back.

  ‘I’m in no mood for games, Miss Knight. Tell me where the scroll is or I will have to become a lot more unpleasant.’

  Emma knew she probably wouldn’t survive if the bandit didn’t get what he wanted, but equally she couldn’t give him something she didn’t have.

  She stole a glance at Sebastian, who was now being held down by two of the bandits. He continued to struggle and as she watched he received a punch to the stomach for his efforts.

  ‘I don’t have the scroll,’ Emma said, marvelling that the words even came out of her mouth, she was so nervous.

  ‘Cut off an ear,’ the bandit said, motioning towards Sebastian.

  ‘No,’ Emma gasped. ‘Please, I don’t have the scroll. When I woke up this morning it had disappeared along with Mr Oakfield.’

  The bandit turned back to Sebastian and took a step towards him.

  ‘So you lied earlier. You do have the scroll.’

  Sebastian shook his head. ‘No,’ he gasped, his breathing still heavy from the punch in the stomach.

  The bandit reached out for Emma and pulled her towards him. She tried to wriggle free from his grip as he held her against his chest but his arms were too strong and he held her easily.

  ‘I think you know where the scroll is, Mr Oakfield,’ the bandit said, running the curved edge of the blade across Emma’s cheek.

  She shuddered and felt her legs give way beneath her. The bandit held her upright and continued to caress her cheek with the blade.

  ‘It would be such a shame to mar Miss Knight’s beautiful white skin, but I am not prepared to listen to your lies any longer. Tell me where the scroll is or I’ll start with her nose.’

  Sebastian seemed to sag against the two men holding him.

  ‘In the bag,’ he said, motioning behind Emma to where Wadjet stood patiently.

  All four bandits and Emma turned to look at the horse. One of the men stepped towards the beast and caught hold of her reins. Quickly he unstrapped the bag Sebastian had indicated and turned it upside down.

  Emma frowned. She knew the scroll wasn’t in the bag because she’d checked it this morning and she wondered what Sebastian was doing. He was certainly playing a dangerous game, and it was her life that he was putting in danger.

  The bandit started rummaging through the contents that were now spread across the ground. Emma peered curiously at the assortment of clothes and belongings. There was definitely no scroll.

  ‘I don’t see the scroll, Mr Oakfield,’ the bandit said as he tightened his grip on Emma again.

  ‘In one of the socks,’ Sebastian said with a sigh.

  Emma watched as each sock was shaken out in turn, until on the third attempt a very familiar rolled-up scroll fell out onto the desert floor.

  ‘But...’ Emma said, her eyes wide with incredulity.

  ‘You thought I’d st
olen it from you?’ Sebastian asked softly.

  Emma couldn’t bring her eyes up to meet his.

  ‘Tie her up whilst we decide what to do with them,’ the bandit said, pushing Emma towards one of his men. His eyes were fixed on the scroll and he seemed to have lost interest in his prisoners now the prize was within his grasp.

  As Emma was pushed down beside Sebastian she felt his eyes boring into her, but still she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She knew she’d made a terrible mistake and now she and Sebastian were paying for it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Seb couldn’t bring himself to look at Emma. He felt angry, angrier than he’d ever felt before. Not at her, but at the danger he’d placed her in. If he was any kind of gentleman he would have refused to bring her on this foolhardy trip, he would have insisted she stay safe in Cairo, attending dinners and dances and visiting the new Museum of Antiquities. Instead here she was, trussed up and the prisoner of some very dangerous men.

  Seb didn’t know what the bandits were planning on doing with them, but he doubted it would be anything good. If they left them alive both Seb and Emma would be able to identify them, and that was dangerous. It would be much easier to kill them out here in the desert, bury the bodies and have the world assume they’d got lost in a sandstorm and died of dehydration or exposure.

  ‘Sebastian,’ Emma whispered.

  He turned to face her and saw the tears running down her cheeks.

  ‘It’ll all work out,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  He looked at her and realised she was crying because she thought he was angry with her.

  He had to admit he did feel a bit hurt she’d assumed that he’d taken off with her scroll, that he’d made love to her then abandoned her in the cold light of day.

  Seb knew Emma had an issue with trust—she had good reason to, she’d been hurt before and just assumed it would happen again—but he had hoped she would have started to trust him over the last few weeks. He had hoped she would not assume the worst.