by Monica Burns
“So when do you plan on returning?” His deep voice drew her attention back to him.
“Actually, I don’t need to. It’s hard to believe, but I answered all my questions this afternoon.”
“All of them?” The doubt in his voice made her smile.
“Yes, I didn’t expect to finish so quickly, but my translations were much more accurate than I expected. Although I did find a couple of odd references in my notes the Stone didn’t account for, but I’m sure I’ll be able to decipher those points in a day or two.”
“I see, and when do you intend to leave for Egypt?”
“I would imagine by the end of next week.” She mentally ticked off some of the items she still needed to purchase before setting sail.
“Next week?”
“Well, I’ve already made some arrangements, but there are still a large number of supplies to purchase. I’d love to leave tomorrow, but it’s not possible.”
“And how thoroughly have you thought through this adventure?” The censorious note in his voice pulled her gaze toward his stern one.
It sounded almost as if he was worried about her. The thought astounded her, but even more unsettling was the pleasure it gave her when she considered the possibility. Still, the last thing she wanted was anyone interfering with her plans. She’d given her word to her father she would find Per-Ramesses, and she intended to keep her vow.
Her father had believed in her abilities. She would not fail him at this stage of the game. She’d also made a promise to herself. All her life she’d studied and worked hard to make this journey. Finding Per-Ramesses would prove to the academic world that a woman could be just as good an archeologist as a man.
“This trip has been in the planning for more than two years. My father and I considered every detail.”
“Every detail? What about a guide into the desert?”
“My father had been corresponding with Sheikh Mazir, a Bedouin, who offered to serve as his guide to Khatana-Qantir.”
Tension hardened his jaw line as he eyed her with his piercing gaze. “And how reliable is this man? For all you know, he’s a barbarous savage who’d just as soon slit the throat of another infidel as serve as a desert guide.”
The bloody image made her stomach flip unpleasantly. Few things made her blanch, but the mere reference to blood made her queasy. No doubt, a phobia left over from childhood when she’d cut her foot. The blood streaming across the floor had been nothing compared to the doctor’s visit and subsequent suturing. Shaking off the vivid memory, she struggled to ease the nausea churning in her stomach.
“My father had every confidence in Sheikh Mazir. He told me quite often that the Sheikh was a very special man.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes, indeed.” She sent him an arched look, irritated by his pessimistic tone. “I’m certain Sheikh Mazir will respect the agreement. After all, Bedouin law decrees he honor the covenant.”
“Even if the Sheikh does keep his word, I find myself agreeing with Lord Merrick about your expedition. The desert is a harsh, unforgiving land.” His mouth was tight with disapproval as his forbidding gaze settled on her.
“I’m aware of what I’m up against, my lord. My father and I discussed our trip and its hardships countless times. I’m not afraid.”
“You should be, Alex. You should be very afraid.”
The sound of her given name rolling off his tongue pulled a sharp breath from her. As her eyes met his, the predatory expression on his handsome features sent her heart careening out of control. The look reinforced her earlier image of him as an ancient Egyptian ruler. Stern, strong and master of his domain. He would rule a woman’s heart with simply the crook of his finger. The wickedly seductive images from their first meeting flitted through her head as her gaze focused on his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him?
Appalled by her wanton thoughts, she looked out the carriage window at the gaslights lining the street. What was wrong with her? Her interests had always been centered on her studies and working with her father. She’d been kissed before, but those caresses had been fumbling attempts at best from would-be-suitors.
No man had ever captured her attention the way this man did. In her studies, she’d learned about the sexual practices of the ancient Egyptians. Her view of their activities had always been of a scientific nature. But now—now she understood some of the erotic poetry she’d translated without her father’s knowledge.
Curiosity had driven her to learn more, but she had never understood the emotions a physical attraction could arouse until now. The intensity of her attraction to him was disturbing, not to mention inconvenient. A man would only be a hindrance in her determination to find Per-Ramesses and fulfill her father’s last wish.
She darted a glance in his direction to find him watching her. In an instant, every thought in her head was swept aside. The look in his eyes was dark and dangerous. Her mouth went dry at the sight. Oh this man was trouble, plain and simple. The sooner she fled his presence, the quicker she could control the way her body was responding to him.
A fraction of a second later the carriage rocked violently to a halt, and the jolt propelled her forward into his arms. Outside there were shouts of anger and blame, but inside the carriage the silence hung thick and heavy.
Heat flushed her skin at the close contact as the scent of him rushed at her senses with heady abandon. The woody fragrance of cedarwood tantalized her nose, and she finally recognized the scent of sweet fennel. The mixture was earthy, fresh and wholly masculine. It suited him.
Hot tension made every nerve-ending in her body grow taut as she realized how close his mouth was. It would only take a small movement and his lips would be covering hers. The thought pulled a sharp gasp from her. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.
“Has anyone ever told you how lovely your mouth is?”
The dark seduction in his whispered question released more than a dozen butterflies in her stomach as she struggled to control her heartbeat. Even if she’d been able to do so, she didn’t have time to give him an answer as his hard mouth covered hers.
This was nothing like the fumbling kisses she’d experienced before. His mouth was bold and confident on hers. It startled her with its raw intensity, but more surprising was how much she was enjoying his touch. Her blood slid hot and heavy through her veins. She’d been right. The man was definitely dangerous, but at the moment she didn’t care.
The gentle nip of his teeth on her lower lip caused her to gasp, and he took the opportunity to sweep his tongue past her lips to the inner recesses of her mouth. The hedonistic rush that surged through her settled in the pit of her stomach. It boiled there in a hot vessel ready to overflow.
Without thought, she responded to his kiss, her tongue dancing with his as a soft moan trembled deep in her throat. Strong fingers trailed along her cheek before sliding down her throat. His lips captured hers again as he pulled her tightly against him.
Bloody hell, but the woman was a fiery temptation. She tasted like forbidden fruit. Lush, ripe and sensuous. With just a kiss, his cock had become hard as iron. It pressed against him in a lustful cry for satisfaction. Her tongue swirled around his in a seductive move, and he suppressed a groan of need.
He had to touch more of her. Gently, he feathered her cheek with kisses until he reached the lobe of her ear. As he nibbled on her, his fingers made short work of the buttons running down the front of her dress. The silky smoothness of her skin caressed his fingers and a soft cry escaped her lips as his hand glided across the base of her throat and down to the top of her full breasts.
God almighty. He wanted to bed the woman right here in the carriage. Small pants of excitement blew past her lips as he drew back from her. Her hazel eyes had turned green with passion, and her full mouth had a sensual curve to it.
She was hot heat in his hands. He had only t
o press his advantage and he’d be inside her, satisfying the cravings of his cock. His finger lined a path from the base of her throat to the shadowed valley between her luxuriant breasts. God, he wanted to suck on her. A shudder broke through her at his touch, and he paused. What the hell was he doing?
This was Alexander Talbot’s daughter. A man he’d admired a great deal. How could he possibly take advantage of her like this? The sound of Caroline’s voice echoed in his head. Because you’re a savage. A heathen who will never be accepted by London society. The memory of that day made him grow still. No. He wasn’t a savage. But making love to Alex in the carriage certainly didn’t qualify him as a gentleman.
With a quick movement, he picked her up and plopped her back into her seat. His groin protested angrily, but he ignored the pain. Her mouth formed a soft moue of surprise, and it beckoned to him like a Sahara mirage. Tempting and tantalizing in its beauty. He swallowed the desire threatening to rule his senses. For the first time he realized the carriage was moving again.
“I took advantage of you.”
“I don’t recall protesting too loudly,” she said with a wry note in her voice.
The matter-of-fact response caused him to stare at her in surprise. A flush crested over her cheeks and she quickly looked away. He’d never met anyone like her before. Impulsive, stubborn, intelligent and forthright. Did she take after her father? The thought of the professor made him frown as he looked out at the shadowed streets.
She was Talbot’s daughter and as such she deserved respect, not this cavalier treatment. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her button up her dress. As the creamy complexion of her throat disappeared beneath the green satin dress she wore, his hand itched to reach out and stop her.
What the devil had Talbot been thinking when he’d burdened her with this quest for Per-Ramesses? It was a difficult and risky journey. Merrick was rarely right about anything, but there was one thing they both agreed upon. The desert was no place for a woman of society. It was a harsh existence without the modern comforts women were accustomed to.
Glancing in her direction, he saw her smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown. She looked delicious enough to eat. The image of her straddling him returned to haunt him, and he clenched his fists. Determined to push the tempting image from his thoughts, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his gaze met hers. There was no rancor in her eyes. In fact, he was certain a flicker of excitement still gleamed in her gaze. Crushing his desire, he looked away.
It was best to ignore the fact he’d even kissed her. Unfortunately, that was difficult to do given how succulent and sweet she’d tasted on his lips. The base need stirring in his body sent a jolt of tension through him. Christ Jesus, he’d not felt this ruttish in years. The Clarendon’s well-lit driveway illuminated the inside of the carriage, and he expelled a sigh of relief.
“It seems we’ve reached our destination.”
“Yes.” The single word was a forlorn sound. It twisted his insides. She’d almost lost her life tonight, and he’d taken advantage of that vulnerability to satisfy his own needs. He was a bastard. If he’d gone back to the desert where he belonged, none of this would have ever happened. At least there, he didn’t feel quite so alone. His mother’s people had always accepted him as one of their own.
He cursed himself again for giving his oath to a dying man. He should never have agreed to his grandfather’s pleas, even if he’d done so out of love. Adamant the Blakeney line not die out, the old Viscount had begged him not to give up his title or holdings. Now he was trapped like a fox between the hounds and freedom.
Each year his agreement to spend half the year in England and the remainder in the desert was growing more burdensome. No doubt his grandfather had thought it easier for him to find a suitable wife among London’s nobility. He’d known the futility of that exercise before the old Viscount had died, but it hadn’t saved him from the inevitable task of honoring his word.
The carriage rolled to a halt. Exiting the vehicle, he turned to offer his assistance. She slid her hand into his, and the light touch warmed his body. He grimaced at the effect she had on him. One would think him a schoolboy the way his body was reacting to the woman. Taking her arm, he guided her up the steps of the hotel.
As they entered the lobby, a young woman standing near the concierge’s desk hurried toward them with a relieved smile on her face.
“Oh, Alex, there you are! I’ve been half sick with worry. I was beginning to think something terrible had happened.” The woman kissed Alex’s cheek then stepped back. “Heavens, you look completely washed out.”
“I’m fine. Jane, this is Lord Blakeney. He helped me get access to the Rosetta Stone. My lord, this is my friend and traveling companion, Mrs. Jane Beacon.”
Altair stiffened. Explaining why he’d not mentioned his identity before now was not going to be easy. He was far from ashamed of his Bedouin blood, but he didn’t like the possibility of seeing her look at him with disgust. For just a bit longer he wanted her to know him as Lord Blakeney, not a half-breed who was the subject of scorn and ridicule.
He shoved his thoughts aside, fully aware he had to convince her she was undertaking a foolish errand. While he was honor bound to follow through on his agreement with her father, he had to convince her it was in her best interest to give up this foolish venture.
“Do I understand that you’re going with Miss Talbot on this dangerous expedition?” He eyed the woman with disapproval.
The question immediately earned him Alex’s scorching glare. Turning his head, he met her scowl with one of his own. The harsh condemnation on his face made her clench her hands with frustration.
What was it about this man that intensified every emotion in her body? Moments ago his touch had almost blinded her with passion, now his disapproval incited her bull-headedness. She knew perfectly well it was a dangerous expedition, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him.
“It is not a dangerous expedition,” she retorted.
“It bloody well is,” he snarled in a low voice.
Alex shuddered. She wasn’t sure if it was from the fury in his voice or the reference to blood that disturbed her. Why did the English feel it necessary to constantly associate blood with their curses?
“I have the situation well in hand, my lord.”
“Do you? I wonder. What if Sheikh Mazir doesn’t speak English? Venturing out into the desert, even with a Bedouin guide, is a serious undertaking for any man. For two women it’s twice as treacherous.”
Alex flinched at his brutal tone. He was right. She knew it. But if she agreed with him, it would be the same as admitting that Lord Merrick was right, and she was determined to prove the old goat and all the other naysayers wrong. Frowning with determination, she shook her head.
“I think you exaggerate, my lord. I am confident Sheik Mazir will ensure our safety.”
“Then at least allow me to find someone reputable to accompany you on your journey. Someone you can count on if you run into trouble.”
Alex opened her mouth to reject the offer, but the touch of Jane’s hand on her arm stopped her. With a shake of her dark head, the other woman sighed. “Perhaps he’s right, Alex. I know you and the professor planned for every contingency, but there’s a difference between being adventurous and foolhardy. I doubt your father would have approved of us going to Egypt on our own.”
The gentle remonstration made her tighten her lips. Irritated more by the fact that the man was correct as opposed to his insistence on meddling in her affairs, she shrugged with disgust.
“Oh, all right, we accept your offer to find us an escort,” she muttered before she raised her index finger in an imitation of a schoolmarm. “But I’ll not tolerate any interference from this person you’re determined to foist upon us. This is my expedition, and I’m going to do things my way. Is that understood?”
&nbs
p; With a nod of his head, his lips curled slightly at the corners as if amused by a private joke. “Your wishes are quite clear, anide emîra.”
The Bedouin phrase caught her off guard, and it took her a moment to translate. Glaring at him, she remained silent in the face of his clear amusement. Stubborn princess, indeed.
His body taut with angry frustration, Altair charged down the steps of the Clarendon toward his carriage. The woman was the most obstinate little mule he’d ever met. She knew full well how dangerous this journey of hers was. He’d seen her acknowledgment of the fact in her eyes. But the way her mouth had thinned to a stubborn line had clearly indicated her refusal to admit she was wrong.
With a sharp command to the driver, he threw himself against the leather cushions of the vehicle. He should have told her who he was from the beginning. At least, his words would have held some weight then. She would have taken Sheikh Mazir’s words of caution more seriously than those of Lord Blakeney. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him.
A bitter laugh broke past his lips. Hardly anyone in the Marlborough Set would take the word of a sheikh over an Englishman. But in this instance, he was certain Alex Talbot would have respected the opinion of Sheikh Mazir.
Now he had a decision to make. Continue along his present course until forced to tell her the truth or reveal his identity at the next opportunity. Even on such short acquaintance, he knew her well enough to know she’d be furious with him when he confessed his deception. It would make it difficult for her to trust him, something that was essential when one was in the desert.
His fist slammed into the leather seat. Damnation, what had he been thinking? He’d never hidden behind his English ancestry before, why had he done so now? The vision of a sultry mouth flashed before his eyes. Because she intrigued him. Excited him. The taste of her singed his lips again as he recalled their passionate exchange. Kissing her had been a mistake. It had only intensified his attraction for her.
