Mirage

by Monica Burns

  Something was definitely wrong. She’d made a mistake following the Sheikh into the tomb. Slowly, she took a step back toward the tunnel. His laughter dying off, the Bedouin leader rested one hand on the stone coffin. “Tell me, shagi emîra. Do you love my cousin?”

  The extraordinary question caught her off guard and ill prepared to provide a guarded response. “I… How did…yes.”

  “I see. And would you sacrifice yourself to save him?” The quiet words echoed in the tomb with an insidious air that made her skin crawl. What was wrong with the man? He’d never acted like this with her before. In fact, he’d always been polite and charming. The man had even saved her life on more than one occasion, for heaven’s sake.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would. But then you didn’t understand about your uncle or your father either.”

  Fear encased her skin with ice. How could this man know about her family? She’d rarely spoken with him throughout her entire stay in Egypt. “What do you know of my father and uncle?”

  “I know they were infidels who wanted to steal what is mine.”

  “My father and uncle would never have stolen from you.”

  “I saw to that, shagi emîra. I ensured they wouldn’t come here, but I didn’t account for you and your tenacious will.”

  A tremor shot through her, and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but her mouth was completely dry. “What…how did you keep my…?”

  She couldn’t continue for the answer was already in front of her. For the first time he turned his head to look at her. The cold, flat look in his eyes terrified her.

  “Scorpions are small, but deadly, shagi emîra. They died quickly and fairly painlessly, did they not?”

  Mute with horror, she could only nod her head. She had to get out of here. He was close, but if she moved quickly enough, she could hop up into the tunnel and scramble back into Nourbese’s shrine. Once there she’d have a better chance of escape. She knew the palace layout by heart, and there were several places she could hide if necessary.

  “You have not been so easy to get rid of, shagi emîra. Nourbese has definitely walked with you since you arrived in Egypt.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would you want me dead?” She stumbled over the last word, her mind trying to concentrate on escaping this madman. A draft of air from the tunnel stirred the hair on her neck, and she shivered. She could only hope it was the tunnel causing the chill against her skin, because the Sheikh was doing an excellent job keeping all the hair on her body standing on end. With the speed of a cobra, he leaped for her and yanked her away from the room’s only exit.

  “Come now, Miss Talbot. I can’t possibly let you stay so close to that tunnel, you might escape your destiny.”

  Dread spiraling through her veins, Alex tried to twist out of his tight hold. “Let me go!”

  “Ah, but if I did that you wouldn’t hear the answer to your question. It’s quite simple, really. I can’t let you live because if you free Nourbese, I lose everything, and that I cannot allow.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I say you’re mad.”

  “Mad? No, shagi emîra. I see all too well the results of the prophecy.”

  “Prophecy?” Alex ground her teeth as anger mixed with her fear. She’d had more than her fill of Mazir fortunetelling. “The prophecy is only a legend. It doesn’t mean anything. You and Altair are reading far too much into it.”

  “Are we? I don’t think so. In fact, my cousin was putting the puzzle together when we last spoke, although I must admit I left him a bit—how shall I put it—stunned.”

  A new fear wrapped its way around her heart, squeezing her chest with a painful tightness. “Is he all right?”

  The Sheikh laughed, and she knew her nonchalant tone had failed to conceal her fear. His dark gaze scanned her features with a scornful glance. “He will live, shagi emîra, but I’m curious as to what you’re willing to do for him.”

  “Anything.” She spoke the single word with all the strength and purpose of everything she’d ever believed in. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the man she loved.

  “Excellent. Then here is my offer. I will spare Altair’s life in exchange for yours.”

  The sinister words were not unexpected, but they still pulled a whoosh of air from her lungs. Staring up at him, she tried to keep breathing as she met his emotionless gaze.

  “How do I know you’ll not harm him?”

  “You don’t, but I give you my word as Sheikh el Mazir.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  For the first time, fury crossed his controlled features. “I am of the Bedouin tribe the Mazir. We do not go back on our word.”

  Strangely enough, she believed him. Shaking her head, she sent him a hard look. “I want to know why. I want to know why you want me dead. I deserve that much at least.”

  “Agreed.” He sent her a sharp nod. “The prophecy is everything to the Mazir, and you are about to fulfill that prophecy. But there is a piece of the prophecy that only the reigning Sheikh el Mazir knows about. It has been handed down in the ancient text since the time of Nourbese.”

  “Let me guess. This missing refrain means something bad is going to happen to you.” Alex surprised herself by the sarcastic tone she used. Inside she was a mass of jelly, but it made her feel better to hide her fear behind a façade of angry sarcasm.

  “Disrespect is something I won’t tolerate, shagi emîra.” He twisted her wrist sharply, and she gasped at the pain slicing up into her injured shoulder.

  “Now then, where was I? Ah yes, the prophecy. From the new world, a woman crowned in hawk feathers will come to find Pharaoh’s wife. She will return the jars of life to Nourbese enabling her spirit to join Ramesses in the afterlife.

  “In return, Pharaoh’s beloved will bestow a wealth of ancient knowledge and treasure on her deliverer, which will benefit all the Mazir. With Nourbese’s blessing, the infidel will lead the tribe until the anointed one comes of age and takes his place at the head of the Mazir.”

  As the Sheikh recited the prophecy, Alex stiffened at the line the man had added. The infidel. It could mean only one thing. Altair. If she lived, then Altair would lead the Mazir. She met the Sheikh’s narrowed gaze.

  “I see you understand now, shagi emîra. I will not surrender my people to an infidel leader.”

  “But he’s your cousin. He loves you like a brother.”

  “True. It is most unfortunate, but he is after all an infidel. I’m not certain exactly how I’ll explain your death, but I shall—”

  “There won’t be anything to explain, Medjuel, because I’m not going to let you harm her.”

  Altair’s words pierced Alex’s heart with first joy then fear. God, the sound of his voice was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard. A second later, a wave of dread rolled over her. Why had he come? The Sheikh would kill him. She couldn’t let that happen.

  With a quick twist of her wrist, she tried to break free from the Sheikh’s firm grip but failed. Furious, the Sheikh jerked her toward him and as her back slammed into his chest, he pulled a curved blade from the front of his robe. Resting the sharp edge against her throat, he glared at Altair.

  “So, cousin, was she worth it? Was this Ferengi worth losing your family, your position, possibly even your life? Was she?”

  The words sailed into Altair like a sledgehammer. There was only one answer he could give. “Yes.”

  He watched the emotions flash across Alex’s face. First shock, joy and then fear cascaded over her features. He should have trusted her. If he’d not been such a stubborn fool, she might be safe at this moment. His eyes met hers, and he marveled at the trust he saw shining back at him. She believed in him and his ability to save them.

  Grimly, he returned his gaze to Medjuel’s stony e
xpression. The man he knew no longer existed. “Let her go, Medjuel.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? She’s not the one you fear. I am. Kill me instead. Then it won’t matter what Alex finds in Nourbese’s tomb.”

  “No!” Alex twisted in Medjuel’s arms and a drop of blood glistened on the blade resting against her throat. His mouth dry with fear, Altair leveled his gaze at her.

  “For God’s sake, Alex. Stay still.”

  “Yes, shagi emîra. Don’t make me cut your throat just yet. I’ve not tormented my cousin quite enough.”

  The words sent his heart colliding against his chest wall with a wild beat as he acknowledged the all too real possibility that he might lose Alex. He stared into her hazel eyes. The fear he saw there ebbed slightly. Overwhelming the fear was an expression of love he never thought to claim as his. It strengthened him as he faced off with his cousin.

  “If you want me to beg for her life, Medjuel, I will.”

  “No, I only want you dead.”

  “Then kill me now. I grow weary of this game you’re playing.”

  “Patience, cousin, patience.” Medjuel clucked his tongue inside his cheek. “You never were one to savor the kill were you? Your English blood makes you weak. Even Mohammed in his limited intelligence could see that. Unfortunately, for him, I do not tolerate people who fail me. I have no problem killing to protect what is mine. That’s the difference between us, Altair. You’ve never really been worthy of the Mazir name, nor the title Grandfather bestowed on you.”

  Medjuel spat out the words at him viciously. The loathing in his cousin’s voice and face cut into his soul. He’d always been accustomed to the English taunting him about his Bedouin blood. Now, his English heritage had aroused the same hatred in the man he’d always considered a brother. His body ached from the tension stretching his limbs taut.

  He’d never felt so lost in his entire life. The one haven he’d always called home no longer existed. Medjuel had destroyed that oasis with his message of scorn and loathing. The only thing left to lose was Alex, and at this moment, he didn’t know how to save her. He was condemned. Condemned by his birthright.

  His eyes met Alex’s, and the sorrow in her hazel eyes nearly undid him. They mirrored all the agony and sadness racing through his veins. As he stared into her eyes, he stiffened as he recognized the determined glint he’d seen so often. Before he could move or cry out, she reached for the knife at her neck.

  In horror, he watched as she grabbed Medjuel’s arm and bit into his hand savagely. Enraged, Medjuel cried out in fury, the knife slicing across Alex’s arm as she tried to twist free of the Sheikh’s grip. Blood soaked her shirtsleeve as she screamed with pain.

  Leaping forward, Altair caught his cousin’s arm, allowing Alex to stumble away. Now eye-to-eye with his cousin, he allowed his fury to take hold. This man had tried to kill Alex, but he would make damn sure Medjuel wouldn’t get the opportunity to succeed.

  As they faced off against each other, Altair remembered how as children they’d struggled with each other. Medjuel had won many of their wrestling matches. A sly, vindictive smile curled his cousin’s lips. He had remembered too, Altair was certain of it.

  “Come now, cousin,” Medjuel panted. “We both know I’ve always been the better wrestler, and your lovely Miss Talbot is of no use to you. No doubt, she’s fainted since the sight of blood distresses her so.”

  “You’re wrong, you arrogant jackass, I’m too damn mad to let a little blood get the best of me!” Alex cried out as she swung her torch against the Sheikh’s head.

  As fire and embers crashed upside Medjuel’s head, he screamed in pain and fury. For a split second, the man eased his struggle as his hand lashed back and landed a vicious blow to the side of Alex’s face. It was enough time for Altair to knock the knife from his cousin’s hand. As he stared into the demented gleam in Medjuel’s eyes, he knew his cousin would do whatever it took to kill him and Alex.

  “Alex, get the hell out of here.”

  When he didn’t hear an answer, he allowed his attention to stray. Fearing for Alex’s safety, he glanced in the direction he’d seen her last. The brief flash of distraction was all Medjuel needed. With a quick twist of his body, the Sheikh ducked under Altair’s raised arm. A sharp pain snagged up into his shoulder as Medjuel twisted his arm behind his back.

  Grunting with pain, he saw Alex on her knees, stunned by the blow his cousin had landed on her cheek. He fully expected to die at that moment. It would be nothing for his cousin to snap his neck with a single twist. Instead, Medjuel shoved him toward Alex.

  As he tumbled to the floor, he struggled to keep from landing completely on top of her. Beneath him, she moaned in pain, and turning his head, he watched Medjuel disappear into the tunnel. He almost ignored his cousin’s retreat before he realized the consequences of doing so.

  “Damm gahannam. He’s going to seal us inside the tomb.” Leaping to his feet, he threw himself into the dark tunnel. He had to reach Medjuel before his cousin closed the sepulcher. If he didn’t they’d die of suffocation or worse. The confines of the tunnel closed in on him as he scrambled toward the shrine room.

  Ahead of him, the passage grew brighter as Medjuel reached Nourbese’s shrine. Increasing his pace, Altair scurried forward in time to see his cousin tug on the bar set in the ceiling. Before he could reach the exit, the stone slab started scraping slowly back into place.

  “Medjuel, stop.” The opening was closing fast, but he could see his cousin standing in the middle of the shrine, continuing to pull on the mechanism that served to close the tomb. The only answer he received was his cousin’s insane laughter followed by a low rumble and the sound of the stone thundering back into place.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The dark closed around him, and he lay prone against the cold stone, a wave of fury sweeping over him. He slammed the side of his fist into the solid wall of stone. He should have known what Medjuel was up to. Why hadn’t he moved more quickly? Damn the bastard. Damn him to hell. When he got out of here, he was going to give his cousin a real reason to hate and fear him.

  He needed a plan. No one except Medjuel knew where they were. He backed out of the tunnel bit by bit. When he reached the tomb, he dropped lightly to the ground. Turning around, he saw Alex reclined against the sarcophagus. Even in the dim light, he could tell she was pale.

  God, this was all his fault. He should have mentioned his suspicions to her. Kneeling at her side, he gently pushed a lock of hair off her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open at the movement and she smiled.

  Heaven help him. How could she look so happy when things were so grim? He shook his head. “I’m sorry, emîra. I wasn’t able to stop him. He closed the tomb.”

  Her fingers stroked his cheek. “It doesn’t matter. We’re together. And even if things look bleak at the moment, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, because I love you.”

  The soft words wrapped themselves around his heart, and he caught her hand in his, burying his lips in her palm. Yâ maHabba, that’s what she was. His love. Bringing her hand down to rest against his chest, he swallowed the knot in his throat. Even now, it was difficult to put his feelings into words.

  “The heart beating in this chest is yours, yâ maHabba. I love you is far too simple a phrase to describe how much you mean to me, but I love you with every part of my being.”

  Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. His mouth pledged his devotion to her in a way words never could. Loving her fulfilled him. Made him whole. Even more amazing was the fact that she loved him simply for himself and no other reason. Her hand clutched his arm as she groaned softly against his mouth. Immediately, he pulled away.

  “Damnation, I’m a beast,” he rebuked himself in a harsh voice. “Let me see your arm.”

  “It’s nothing. A scratch.” She shook her head as he carefull
y tore her shirtsleeve open to examine her wound. The deep cut made him draw in a sharp breath. It needed suturing. Throwing off his gambaz, he tore several strips of cloth from the linen shirt he wore. With a tender touch, he proceeded to bandage her arm. A sigh blew past her pink lips as one of the torches sputtered against the stone floor.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the Museum?” The question caught him off guard, and he stopped what he was doing. He had no time to answer as she burst into speech again. “I’m sorry. It seems pointless to be asking that question considering our current predicament.”

  “You have every right to ask me why, ana gamâl. I should have explained before Caldwell arrived.” He grazed her forehead with his mouth. The problem was he didn’t know how to justify his actions in a way she would understand.

  “But you didn’t. Why?”

  “I was afraid to tell you. I knew it would be difficult making you understand my reasons were based solely on keeping you safe from harm.”

  “How could giving the Museum my work protect me?”

  “Because I knew Merrick would send a large team of archeologists, and the more people there were on the dig, the fewer opportunities there would be for someone to hurt you.”

  He watched her mull over this explanation for a moment, comprehension dawning slowly on her face. Her eyes met his again. Direct, yet filled with love.

  “How long had you known about Medjuel?”

  “I’ve suspected for some time now, but I could never make myself believe it.” He tried to suppress the note of anguish in his voice, but she heard it nonetheless. With her good arm, she reached up to brush her fingers across his cheek.

  “I know how betrayed you must feel.”