Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt)

by Scott, Veronica

  Chapter Six

  Far too early the next morning, Nima leaned on the stone wall surrounding the well, stifling a yawn and nibbled at a piece of journey bread, waiting for the caravan to push itself into motion. She’d deliberately spent the night away from Kamin again, testing her feelings for him, assessing the reality of what she was about to do. She’d enjoyed her time with the Minoan dancers, not just sharing steps and new moves, but also asking them questions about living and traveling with the caravan.

  Andrios and his dancers probably thought she was really considering Ptahnetamun’s offer and were excited, providing advice and encouragement. And I know Andrios is hoping my curiosity extends to his talents in lovemaking as well. But she knew she was just playing with the concept, living the nomad artist’s life by proxy for a night or two.

  The opportunity was opening up too late. Even a few weeks ago, she’d have signed the contract and been gone without a backward glance. Why didn’t I ever at least talk to a caravan master about the possibilities? Note taken for the future—if there was a future to be had after this Hyksos problem ended—be bold and pursue dreams. No more drifting along.

  Bracelets jangling, Thala nudged her in the ribs. “Here comes your man, looking for you.”

  “Uh huh.” Affecting a casual air she didn’t really feel, Nima pushed down a little surge of excitement. I hope he was as upset by our spat yesterday as I was. She turned to rummage in her sack for some fruit, offering a date to her companion. “Making sure I haven’t wandered into Andrios’s bed.”

  “It means something that the soldier was so jealous,” Thala said, licking yogurt from her fingers. “He must have feelings for you, my friend. “

  “He seemed so bereft when you turned your back on him and ignored him,” Mika added, leaning over to grab a fig for herself from the sack.

  “And he stayed on the fringe of the crowd the entire evening, watching you dance.” Thala nodded, patting Nima on the shoulder. “Actually, he was watching the bystanders more than he paid attention to you, in case the men got out of hand, I think. It must be nice to have such a fearsome warrior looking out for you.” She shrugged. “Andrios is a fine troupe master, an excellent dancer, but he’ll never settle for any one woman. This soldier of yours acts like a man who’s given his heart, perhaps in spite of himself.”

  “I think we should leave the lovebirds alone,” Mika said with a laugh. “In case they want to quarrel again before the inevitable lovemaking heals the anger.” Taking one more date, she and Thala strolled away, heading for the dance troupe’s wagons.

  Shrugging off the girls’ lighthearted banter, Nima watched Kamin striding confidently through the lines of camels and the hurrying workers. What about him captivates me so? He’s not like any other soldier I’ve ever met. Handsome, yes. She knew he would have drawn her attention in any crowded inn. But looks were only part of the attraction. Handsome she could walk away from. Was it his confidence? His skill as a warrior? The way he took such good care of her on the hard trail they followed?

  “He treats me like an equal in this adventure,” she said out loud. Not some burden he has to shoulder for honor’s sake because I happened to free him. She’d been acutely conscious of him at her back during the endless senet game, lending her silent strength and support, trusting her to use her skills and win their freedom again. We’re partners. I’ve never had anything close to trust and true partnership with any other person, and I don’t want to give that up. True, he’d spoken no words of love, although her foolish heart beat faster now just remembering how he’d claimed her as his woman twice in front of the caravan crew. I know he was only trying to protect me, but perhaps... I’m willing to stay the course and hope.

  Always a gambler!

  And he certainly was unhappy with the attention Andrios was giving me.

  Nima felt an irrepressible smile curving her lips as Kamin approached, walking fast.

  Giving her a bow, as if she was some grand lady at Pharaoh’s court, he said, “One of the camels has given birth this morning. Out of season, but the calf appears healthy.”

  A bit surprised by his choice of topic, she went along with it. “Is that the source of the delay in departure? I wondered.”

  “Yes, Ptahnetamun doesn’t want to abandon a perfectly good camel, so we’ve waited for the mother to give birth. I—I thought you might like to come see the baby. It’s a cute little thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if suddenly uncomfortable with the notion.

  “I’d love to, thank you.” She pushed away from the stone wall, and they walked together out of the center of the oasis and down the caravan line.

  “I want to apologize for my words last night,” he said as soon as they were well away from the cluster of Minoans. “I never meant to spoil your pleasure in the dancing.” Brow furrowed, eyes worried, he looked at her. “That’s the last thing I would ever want to do. It’s my nature to protect those who—who mean the most to me, and I let my emotions get the better of my common sense when Andrios provoked me.”

  “I’m sorry I grew angry in turn,” she said. “And he was trying to be provoking. I think I’m learning that all troupe masters have certain traits in common. But I can take care of myself.”

  Kamin nodded. “A fact of which I’m well aware, and one I swear not to forget again. You saved my life twice, after all.”

  “But I appreciate your care and concern.” She couldn‘t stop herself from smiling at him, and warmth spread through her at the broad grin on his face when he realized she wasn’t mad at him this morning.

  “Here’s my temporary string of camels,” he said a moment later, pushing a path through the assembled caravan drivers so Nima could see the baby.

  “Oh, how darling!” All gawky long legs, covered in brown fuzz, the newborn camel was struggling to rise from a bed of straw tossed onto the dusty trail, while its mother chewed her cud and seemed unconcerned. Nima tried to move closer. “May I pet him?”

  “Sorry, my lady, the calf needs to nurse,” said the loadmaster. “We’ve been delayed far too long already today.”

  “You can pet him while we load him into a sack after he nurses,” Kamin said.

  “A sack?”

  “The baby can’t possibly keep up with the caravan on those spindly legs. We’ll make him comfortable in a sack and let the camel in front of the mother carry him, so she can be at ease, keeping the calf in her sight,” Kamin explained.

  “More from the library of knowledge you keep locked in your head?” she teased, hopping out of the impatient camel drover’s way.

  Kamin laughed. “Yes, although this particular set of facts I’d hoped never to need again. Camels aren’t the most pleasant companions. Give me a chariot and two horses!”

  “You are good with those.” She nodded, remembering his expert driving the night they’d fled the Hyksos camp.

  A little silence fell between them, but not uncomfortable.

  “I should take you back to the dancers,” he said at length, as it became apparent she wasn’t going to have a chance to pet the baby camel any time soon. “Better for you to travel with them than here with me and the camel drovers.”

  “All right.” Nima let him lead her away from the baby camel, which was successfully nursing now.

  “About this evening—” Kamin said, not wanting any further misunderstandings to arise between them.

  “I want to dance for you,” Nima interrupted him. “A private dance,” she continued, blushing, not meeting his eyes.

  His cock twitched, and he fought to concentrate, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “I only have so much self-control. Are you sure performing for me—and the aftermath—are what you want? You said you didn’t do private dances.” His heart sank as a new possibility occurred to him. And does she mean this as a farewell?

  “I might not have another chance to dance for you, to be intimate with you. Traveling with the caravan for a few days has been nothing short of a miracle. The outcome of
our journey remains uncertain, hanging on a roll of the dice. Or a toss of the senet sticks,” she said with a smile. “I don’t expect—or want—you to have self-control. I’ve chosen to dance for you of my own free will. How you choose to reward me for my skill is up to you.” Nima peered up at him coyly from under her lush eyelashes. “A dancer does require a certain amount of audience appreciation to do her best.”

  Even in the rush of arousal, he fastened on the point that meant more to him even than a private dance and the lovemaking that would follow. He caught her hand and swung her around to face him. “Then you aren’t going to sign a contract with Ptahnetamun? Not going north with the dancers, but leaving the caravan tomorrow with me?”

  “I’m going with you, soldier, gods know why.” She leaned closer and winked. “I think you need me.”

  “No argument there.” He hugged her. “Gods know you’d probably be safer in the caravan than you’ll be staying in jeopardy with me, eluding Hyksos at every turn, but the thought of journeying on without you was a heavy burden on my heart.” Kamin took a deep breath. “There are things you should know about me, but I’m under stringent orders not to reveal anything until my report is safely delivered to the nomarch. Not even to you. But I swear—”

  She put her finger on his lips to silence him, then framed his face with her hands as she said in a low voice, “I know you’re an honorable man. I know you treat me as your equal.” A smile lit up her face. “I know you have three younger sisters who probably adore you, and I don’t need to know anymore right now. “ Going on tiptoe, she kissed him on the lips, ignoring the whistles of the nearby drovers. Strolling on, hand in hand with Kamin, she said, “There are things I must do if I’m to dance properly for you tonight. I’m hoping the troupe will be able to provide what I need. ”

  “All I need is you,” Kamin said, kissing her cheek.

  “Gratifying to hear, soldier, but I’d like to present a better show than just myself humming, dancing in this shabby dress.” Eyebrows drawn together in a frown, she picked at the skirt fabric. “Not suitable for a performance of the kind I have in mind.”

  “We’ve no deben or coin,” he reminded her.

  “The troupe shared a few of their coins from the first night’s performance with me. And I’ve done a bit of gaming. No senet for high stakes,” she rushed to assure him. “But I do know how to win at other games.”

  They’d arrived at the well, and the dancers called to her to join them.

  Kamin kissed her hand. “Until tonight then.”

  ***

  After his eagerness and impatience all day during the caravan’s march, their tent was empty when he stepped inside that evening. He’d stopped at the water casks first and used up most of his daily ration in a rushed bath, so he wouldn’t offend Nima by coming to her smelling like a camel. Splashing the tepid water over himself, he thought longingly of the baths at home. I must be getting soft. Never worried about my grooming on a mission before.

  Kamin’s chuckle ended, and the breath whooshed out of his chest as he surveyed the tent worriedly for signs of Nima. Where is she? I wasn’t exactly expecting her to be lying naked on the pillows, but certainly I thought to find her waiting. Someone pushed into the tent behind him, and he pivoted, a little off guard, hand on his knife hilt, but the newcomer was Thala, the Minoan dancer.

  “Don’t worry about your woman,” the woman said. “She’s obtained a slightly larger tent for her, uh, performance tonight. I’ve been sent to guide you to the right place.”

  Wondering how much cheating at games of chance Nima had done in the last two days to arrange the evening in a way that seemed suitable to her, Kamin followed Thala outside and farther down the line of tents until they paused at a larger blue enclosure, set up a bit away from the main encampment. Thala led him inside.

  Again, there was no sign of Nima. His anxiety thrummed through his body. Where is she?

  “She requests you to take your ease.” The dancer gestured toward a pile of pillows and cushions against the far wall of the tent. “I’ll leave you with your dinner—stew with steamed grain, almonds, dates, beer. Nima will arrive shortly to entertain you.” Grinning, she left him alone in the tent, carefully closing the fabric panels behind her.

  Wondering whose tent this was and how Nima had wangled their use of it for the night, Kamin set aside his weapons, keeping them close at hand in case of emergency. Surveying the food, he choked down one bite of stew then pushed the bowl away on the low table. I’m not eating without Nima.

  The curtain between the halves of the tent twitched, drawing his attention. A moment later, Nima slipped through the narrow space. Barefoot, she was dressed in an unusual outfit, constructed from pieces of shimmering red fabric, cleverly draped and knotted strategically on her body to show flashes of skin, tantalizing glimpses of her sensuous figure. The costume was accented with filmy scarves. A jeweled sash rode low on her hips, anchoring the slit skirt, golden tassels bobbing with every step. Her jet-black hair was braided tightly in classic Egyptian tradition, waist length, soft end brushing the luscious curve of her bottom.

  Inhaling sharply, Kamin leaned back, his cock already rising to strain against his loincloth, balls drawing up tight to his body. Gods, she’s beautiful.

  Nima came to the center of the tent, eyes focused on the floor, then chimed her finger cymbals once and lifted her head, eyes seeking his face. Kamin swallowed hard. Raising both arms above her head, fingers cupped as if to catch raindrops, she assumed a classic dancer’s pose, one foot planted solidly, on tiptoe with the other. A moment later, unseen musicians seated in the outer chamber played the first measures of music. Kamin heard a hand drum, flutes, other instruments he didn’t recognize, playing a version of a tune known as a standard in taverns along the Nile. She must have practiced with them on the march, during the day.

  Keeping her eyes locked on his face, Nima rose effortlessly onto her toes, signaling the beginning of his private dance. He couldn’t have looked away if the entire Hyksos army had burst into the tent. She undulated her hips in time to the music, swirling two of the scarves through the air in sinuous arcs, now concealing, now revealing. As the pace of the song altered and switched to a subtle dance pattern, she dropped the sheer fabric triangles, moving her feet in rapid but tiny steps, translating to an enticing display of the abilities of her limber core muscles and hips. Time and again the sparkling belt drew Kamin’s eyes to her pelvis as she moved in sensuous patterns. The beat rose and fell, accented by the throbbing drum, and she thrust her hips and pelvis in sync with the music, now this way, then the other direction, maintaining the amazing gliding step. Every few measures of the song, she would allow the upper portion of her body to sway, forward, back, sideways, breasts bobbing against the shiny fabric restraining them, as if she were offering herself for his feasting then coyly withdrawing before he could taste.

  She made a slow turn as she danced, until she no longer faced him. Her hips moved rapidly in tight circles, first to the right and then to the left, in time to the music, while her hands wove patterns in the air. The music called her to a series of incredibly intricate steps, emphasizing her grace and her muscle control. Revolving to him again as the dance proceeded, Nima continued the erotic movements, the music adding intensity to the dance.

  Aroused to the point of physical pain, Kamin strove for self-control. Shifting his hips involuntarily, he imagined himself plunging his aching manhood into her, her strong dancer’s muscles sheathing him, drawing his cock deeper into her body. Her dance was a skillful blend of raw sensuality with the elegance and refined movements seen only in high temples. He’d never beheld the like before. Oh, he’d been at performances by the best dancers in Thebes. He’d even had such dancers performing primarily for him, as Nima did tonight, but there the resemblance to anything he’d ever before experienced stopped. Dancing for all men with consummate skill, Theban dancers were professionals, smiling radiantly and impartially for the entire audience. Only the ri
chest or most highly born men could expect an invitation to bed a top-tier Theban dancer.

  As she performed for him alone, Nima’s smile was genuine, not practiced. The delectable hint of shyness, the faint blush on her cheeks said she was inviting him and only him to make love to her.

  More scarves, then the skirt and jeweled belt fell to the tent floor as she wove her magic dance, until she was in her breast band and a tiny loincloth. Kamin could hardly restrain himself from leaving the pillows to take her in his arms and plunge his cock into her before the dance ended. His blood raced. The slight amount of coverage on her breasts and mound as she danced was more erotic than if she were nude. He imagined himself pinning her beneath him, ripping off the fabric, setting his lips to her most private places while she writhed in pleasure.

  Nima opened the dance up for a few measures as the music slowed, the sensuality heightened, swirling in her dance space, arms moving languorously to frame her face, her body… The drum beat faster, and she twirled, cymbals chiming on her fingertips to punctuate each movement, then suddenly the climax was reached, the dance was done.

  Head bowed, Nima sank to the floor, one arm extended to him, palm up.