Mirage

by Monica Burns

  Seconds later, the storm was on them. Although he’d wrapped the gambaz tightly around them, sand still blasted its way through even the smallest of openings. Grit filled his mouth quickly, and he did his best to keep his body positioned so the least amount of sand reached Alex.

  With the storm raging around them, time seemed to stretch out endlessly, but the sirocco passed over the caravan in less than fifteen minutes. As the air grew still, Alex stirred against him. From the weight on his back, he could tell they were half buried in the sand. Carefully, he pushed the gambaz outward and away from his body. The sand and dust slid off the dark blue cloak to mound up in a small dune.

  Sitting up, he pulled Alex with him. Coughing, she arched away from him, her face covered with dust. She looked like a beige-colored ghost and he chuckled. Hazel eyes sparking with irritation, she glared at him.

  “What—” her coughing interrupted her exclamation, “—are you laughing at?”

  He gently brushed off some of the dust layering her skin. “You look like you’ve been dredged in flour.”

  The anger sparking in her gaze vanished as she grinned. “And you look like you could use a bath.”

  “Perhaps you’d care to join me.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Altair wanted to bite off his tongue. Had he lost his mind? The haunting answer to the silent question made his jaw tighten. Alex blushed deeply, the rose in her cheeks blazing through the dust caking her skin.

  Scrambling to his feet, he pulled her up and stepped away from her. A second later, she staggered toward her camel. “Oh my God! Zada, I left her alone.”

  The fear in her voice tugged at him, and he followed close on her heels. “I’m sure she’s fine. Like the camels, she knows how to protect herself from nature.”

  No sooner had he spoken than Zada raised her head out of the large bag that rested behind Alex’s saddle. Chattering like an irritated monkey, the mongoose reared up on her hindquarters and glared at him as if she understood everything he’d said.

  Alex extended her palm, her voice soft and apologetic as she coaxed the animal to her. For moment Zada hesitated, then as if she understood Alex’s remorse, the small mongoose ran up her mistress’s arm to settle around her neck. A smile tugged at his lips, and he was about to speak when Medjuel called for him. Giving Alex a brief nod, he walked away to assist in the reorganization of the camel procession.

  Although the storm delayed their journey for a short time, the caravan reached the last oasis between them and Khatana-Qantir just as the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. As they had the night before, the men moved quickly to set up camp. Alex’s tent was one of the first to go up, and Altair ordered one of the men to erect the collapsible tub he’d brought for her. It had been an extravagant purchase, but he knew the harshness of life in the desert. She would miss the conveniences of civilization.

  As he walked through the camp directing tasks needing completion, he contemplated the damage they’d incurred from the sandstorm. They’d been lucky. Only one lamb lost, and aside from a few men suffering minor injuries from flying debris, they’d come through the storm with relative ease. It could have been much worse. People could have been buried alive in the sand, suffocating before they were found.

  Pondering their good fortune, he offered up a prayer of gratitude that they’d escaped the wrath of nature. Tomorrow by midday, they would reach Khatana-Qantir. A blade of excitement sliced through him. It was impossible to repress the anticipation or hope that Alex might actually find Nourbese’s tomb.

  The sun was sinking below the horizon, and he arched his back to stretch his tired muscles. The image of sinking into a hot tub of water to soothe his limbs made his lips curl up at the corners. What would Alex Talbot do if he suddenly appeared to take advantage of her bathwater?

  He turned his head toward her closed-off tent. The tantalizing images flooding his head made him growl with irritation. Behind him, one of the men called out to him to come eat. Heeding the cry, he moved toward the small fire over which a small chicken turned on a makeshift spit.

  As he sat down to eat, he saw a familiar face. Stiffening, Altair watched the man walk past him in the direction of a nearby fire. Did Medjuel know the traitor was part of the caravan? At that moment, his cousin emerged from his own tent. Setting his meal aside, he sprang to his feet and went to Medjuel’s side.

  “Did you know Mohammed is a part of the caravan?” he asked with quiet concern.

  Medjuel shot him a brief glance before looking away with a heavy sigh. “Yes. I invited him to come. It is better to keep your enemies close than too far away.”

  Remembering the last time he’d questioned the wisdom of his cousin’s actions, Altair nodded then turned to move away. A strong hand delayed his departure.

  “I know what I’m doing, cousin. Do not question my judgment now or in the future.”

  The cold look in the black eyes glaring up at him reminded Altair of a time when he’d seen Medjuel extract harsh punishment from a tribal member who’d disobeyed orders. It was an unforgiving look, and it was the first time it had ever been bestowed on him. With a grim nod, he pulled away from his cousin and returned to his meal.

  As he bit into the tender, juicy chicken spiced with coriander, he studied Medjuel from a distance. His cousin wasn’t telling him something. He was also certain that it involved the traitor seated nearby. With a swig of his camel’s milk, he casually glanced in Mohammed’s direction.

  He was just about to turn away when he saw the traitor nod at Medjuel. Instinct told him not to move and he forced himself to study the meat on his plate. The back of his spine crawled as he sensed Medjuel’s eyes on him. Whatever was going on, his cousin refused to talk about it, and whatever secret Medjuel carried, Altair was certain he wouldn’t like it. No, he was certain he wouldn’t like it one bit.

  Chapter Eleven

  Walking quietly through the oasis’s palm trees and foliage surrounding the camp, Alex glanced up at the night sky. The full moon made the landscape almost as bright as day, while the stars looked close enough to reach out and grasp.

  She paused for a moment to study the night sky, wishing her father and Uncle Jeffrey were with her. They would have loved this country despite its harsh environment. For almost five years, they’d planned and studied how they would excavate Per-Ramesses. Uncle Jeffrey had always said he would finally be going home. He’d been so convinced he was the reincarnation of the Pharaoh Ramesses. She hoped that wherever he was now, he was happy and that Nourbese was with him.

  The fragrant aroma of jasmine drifted beneath her nostrils, and she stopped to look at the white blooms on the climbing vine. The bloom-laden greenery wound its way around a tall palm. The petals were soft and fragile beneath her fingers. She leaned closer and inhaled a deep breath of the beautiful-smelling flower. Odd, she remembered smelling jasmine in Uncle Jeffrey’s room the day he became ill.

  For all his complaints of a painful insect bite, she’d done nothing but tease him about his need for attention. She cringed at the memory. Even with his sudden onset of influenza she hadn’t connected his complaint with his illness. How could she? There’d been no mark on Uncle Jeffrey’s neck where he’d insisted he’d been bitten.

  With all that had happened over the past two weeks, she knew whoever was trying to kill her had most likely killed before. And whoever it was had a fondness for using deadly creatures. Uncle Jeffrey’s and her father’s deaths could easily fit the pattern of a killer who used nature to destroy an enemy.

  Influenza deaths were not uncommon, and a scorpion’s bite produced similar effects with the same deadly results. More importantly, a scorpion’s bite didn’t leave any mark. Their deaths had been viewed as accidental, not as murder, reducing the assailant’s risk of being caught. There was no proof to substantiate the idea that someone had murdered her father and Uncle Jeffrey. But she knew in her heart it was true.
The only thing she didn’t understand was why. She bit back the grief that swelled her throat.

  Up above, sparkling pinpoints of lights sprinkled the satiny black sky, refusing to offer up any affirmation to her unfounded convictions. She sniffed a soft noise of disgust at her fanciful musing. The underbrush rustled softly. Panic made her spin around sharply, her body tense with the expectation of some new terror.

  Instead, she found Zada perched upright on the grassy trail, giving her a curious look. Relieved, she laughed and bent down to scratch the back of the animal’s head. The mongoose rubbed against her hand for an instant before suddenly leaping away and back into the undergrowth. As her small pet returned to hunting, Alex proceeded along the trail.

  Even Altair seemed to think someone was trying to kill her. He’d not come right out and said it, but she knew he thought it. She couldn’t explain how she knew his thoughts. She just did. Intuition also said he knew the reason why too.

  Things had become so complicated. With Jane recuperating in Cairo, she really didn’t have anyone she could talk to, let alone trust. She’d thought she could trust Altair, but he had secrets, and he wasn’t about to give them up to her. She was alone.

  Alone and with no one to trust.

  No, that wasn’t true. She might be without friends or family, but there was one person on whom she could rely. Herself. She’d solve this mystery on her own if need be. If someone wanted her dead, all she had to do was figure out why. Uncle Jeffrey had warned they might encounter trouble in their search for the lost city, but his remarks had always been so cryptic. If only he’d told her more.

  “Think, Alex. What is it you know that Uncle Jeffrey and Father knew too?”

  Per-Ramesses? No. Other scholars had been looking for the lost city for years. Something in the city then? A treasure of some sort? There would be the usual artifacts and the like, but nothing like other sites. The only treasure that might— Nourbese. Of course, that had to be it. But why?

  Why would someone want her dead simply because she knew about Nourbese? It didn’t make sense. The moment she thought she had the answer to one question, it simply evolved into a new question. She wanted to ask Altair more about Nourbese, but was afraid to ask him anything. It was difficult to trust him, but something about the man said he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d been discreet, but she’d noticed how he was always close by to protect her. The sandstorm had been a good example. Then there was Zada.

  The mongoose scurried along the ground beside her before disappearing into the underbrush one more time. The loveable creature had stolen her heart, and the fact that Altair had given her the small protector made Zada all the more special.

  In front of her, the trees gave way to a small glade with a large pond in the middle. As she drew closer to the water’s edge, she heard a small splash. Startled, her heart skipped a beat in first fear, then excitement as she saw Altair rise slowly up out of the water. With his eyes closed, he flung his head backwards and shoved his long hair out of his face.

  Muscular arms extended from a broad chest, the sinews in his arms rippling like supple steel. They were a subtle reminder of his powerful embrace. The silvery light dancing across his bronze skin showed his body glistening with water droplets. It was a perfect moment, and she struggled to breathe as she absorbed the sheer splendor of his lean, hard figure.

  Well accustomed to the male form due to her unorthodox education, she experienced no embarrassment. Instead, she wanted to stand there and admire him for hours. Admire the sculpted curves of his biceps, the way the dusting of hair on his chest converged at his waist to become a straight line diving toward his phallus. He was beautiful to look at. A splendid pharaoh in this exotic oasis.

  Without thought, she looked down to where his staff rested in the dark hair at his thighs’ apex. The sight of him aroused the wanton sensations she had experienced in her hotel room. It stirred a warmth inside her that spread its way down into the lower half of her body.

  Suddenly coming to her senses, she realized she couldn’t stay here. He’d think the worst if he caught her watching him. Just as she prepared to wheel about, Zada raced out of the underbrush. Rising up on her hindquarters, the mongoose chattered worse than a magpie. Altair’s eyes flew open to trap her in his piercing gaze.

  Horrified, she froze. How on earth could she explain what she was doing here, let alone justify her reasons for watching him? The slow, wicked curl of his firm lips set fire to her face, and her heart lurched inside her chest. The rake! He was enjoying this. Why hadn’t he or someone else warned her about the pond?

  She remained frozen as he slowly walked toward her. The closer he came, the harder it was to breathe. She wanted to run, but something deep and primitive rooted her feet to the spot. When he reached her, his hand brushed lightly across her throat. The caress pulled a muted sigh from her.

  God, she wanted to touch him. Kiss him. Feel his hard, muscular skin beneath her fingertips. Stretching out her hand, she splayed her fingers across his chest. Beneath her palm the accelerated beat of his heart pounded wildly. Unable to help herself, she allowed her hands to slide over his wet skin. Hard and dangerous, his erection jutted out at her.

  “Touch me, emîra.”

  The commanding whisper sucked the air from her lungs. Her eyes locked with his as she slowly took him in her hand. He was full and solid in her palm. As her fingers encircled him, he jerked.

  “Hold me tighter,” he whispered hoarsely as his hand forced her fingers to tighten around him.

  With a gentle thrust of his hips, he slid back and forth in her grip. As he did so, her thumb slid over the tip of his erection and a growl rumbled in his throat. “Tighter, ana anide emîra. Tighter.”

  A strong hand cupped the nape of her neck as he covered her mouth with his while she held him in the palm of her hand. The sensation of him moving back and forth in her hand as he kissed her shot a bolt of need through her. The sharp pitch of it spiraled its way downward until she experienced a tiny shudder at the apex of her thighs. It radiated outward, and she realized her insides were creamy with wet heat.

  She tightened her grip on him as his tongue mated with hers. Hot and sweet, the dance was an imitation of an act she knew she wanted to experience with him. The thought made her insides clench and her hand automatically tightened around him. He groaned deeply, and she knew her touch pleased him. Excited him. She slid her thumb around the tip of him, enjoying the way he shuddered with obvious pleasure at the touch. A small bead of fluid smeared the pad of her thumb, and his body flexed with a sharp tension.

  Releasing her lips, he threw his head back, his eyes closed as he drove himself hard into the cup of her hand. Passion tensed his features, and her mouth went dry as she realized she wanted him inside her like this. She wanted to feel his hard length filling her, heating her until she couldn’t bear it any further. A deep groan poured from his throat as he stiffened and rocked to a stop in her hand. Wrapped in her hand, he throbbed and surged beneath her fingers as he gave way to his release.

  His gaze was languid with satisfaction, and she realized he’d climaxed by her hand. Frozen in place by the intimate act she’d just performed, she stared up at him in uncertainty. The fiery glow of desire in his eyes made her tremble as she realized she was still touching him.

  Her breathing hitched. There was only one explanation for what had just transpired. Insanity. How could she have done something so wicked? So sinful. So delightful. The knowledge of what she’d done excited and alarmed her in the same breath.

  The sudden sound of Zada chattering brought her out of her trance, and she leaped away from him. She had to be insane. It didn’t matter how excited he made her feel, the man was dangerous, and she needed to remember that. She was simply borrowing more trouble becoming involved with him. Her heart thundering, she wheeled about and raced back toward camp.

  As she reached the edge o
f the small open space behind her tent, she slid to a halt and closed her eyes in mortification. Only a wanton hussy would have done what she did. How could she have touched him so intimately without any sense of morality at all? Oh, but the pleasure it had given her to feel his arousal. To see the intense pleasure in his face as he found his release at the touch of her hand. The memory of it made her cheeks burn. Dear God, what he must think of her.

  A noise in the underbrush made her start. Before she could turn, a hand clapped over her mouth while a strong arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her deep into the foliage. Her first thought was that Altair had caught up with her, but the pungent odor of sheep told her someone else held her prisoner.

  Frightened, she clawed at the hand over her mouth as her assailant dragged her deeper into the trees. Her panicked attempts to escape made her captor mutter an angry Mazir curse, but he simply tightened his grip. Frantically, she grabbed at his forefinger and snapped it backwards. A low curse filled the air as the man snatched his hand away from her mouth. The moment he did so, Alex screamed as loud as she could. At her cry for help, a large hand connected harshly with the side of her head. The blow knocked her sideways over the arm holding her prisoner, and her ear rang from the force of the assault. Dazed, she struggled to regain her equilibrium.

  Desperate to escape, she bent her arm and jabbed her elbow into the stomach of her assailant. The man grunted in pain, and as his grip loosened, she wrenched out of his hold. Without looking back, she stumbled through the trees and vegetation toward freedom. As she flew out into the area behind her tent, she charged straight into a wide chest. Thinking her attacker had circled round to stop her, she tried to break free of the arms that pulled her close.

  “It’s all right, Alex. It’s me. You’re safe.” Recognizing Altair’s voice, she shuddered before wrapping her arms about his waist and burying her face into his shoulder.