by Leslie North
“A bath? That seems a little excessive. I could have simply showered and changed at my hotel,” Fleur muttered.
“Sheikh Masoud’s orders, Miss.” Kara’s face was as still as the stone walls in the dungeon. Apparently what the Sheikh ordered, the Sheikh got. With a sigh, Fleur followed the girl down the hall. The farther they went, the more ornate the palace became. Soon, plain walls were dressed with tapestries and simple furniture became ornate and embellished with gold. Fleur tried to act as if she was around money all the time, but she wanted to gape in awe. The palace was massive and never seemed to end.
“Where are we going?” Fleur asked impatiently. Couldn’t she have cleaned up and dressed in the servants’ quarters?
“Guest suites, Miss.”
Guest suites in the Khalidizack palace? Her peers and professors alike would simply die. She wondered if she could take pictures.
Finally, the woman stopped and swept out her hand. “Everything you need will be ready for you. Please ring the bell when you are finished. I will lay out your gown.”
“Gown? I’m having dinner at a dig site.” But the woman ignored her and kept walking. “Sure. A gown. That seems practical,” she muttered as she opened the door and walked in. Immediately she squealed in delight. The massive round tub was filled with bubbles and scented with vanilla and lavender.
Suddenly, a gown in the middle of a muddy pit seemed practical if it meant she could soak in this tub for an hour. Hastily stripping down, she stepped into the warm water and moaned in delight. As an overworked student and a stressed out archaeologist, she was constantly dealing with her undergraduate students, her snobby peers, and her ridiculously old-fashioned professors. There was never any time for pampering.
Twisting her hair and then wrapping it up into a loose bun, she sank into the bath water and closed her eyes. For a moment, it was just her with her thoughts. Unfortunately, her thoughts were hardly stress free.
“Focus on what has already been proven, Fleur,” she mimicked in a cranky voice. “You’re no Indiana Jones.” Of course she wasn’t. He was a reckless individual who had absolutely no respect for the archaeological field. She was a serious contender. She wasn’t the type to go tromping off on adventures. Archaeology was about patience and critical analysis.
And yet here she was, sitting in a bubble bath, in a palace in the Arabian Desert. Although the circumstances were strange and suspicious, the idea of an adventure satisfied a small part of her soul.
Okay. A big part.
But here, in this tub, no one was critiquing her. No one was criticizing her. She was alone and free to dream. Of course, she kept imagining that she wasn’t alone. The tub was big enough for two, and she had never seen anything more distracting than Sheikh Masoud Khalidizack.
“Don’t start,” she warned herself. Now was not the time to get distracted.
She sighed. If she stayed much longer, she’d turn into a prune. After one push of her hands to create some small delightful waves in the tub, she reached over and pulled the plug. Pulling herself out, she felt the weight of gravity take hold. The palace might seem like a fairytale, but she was no princess, and she had no business lounging about. Grabbing the towel, she quickly dried herself off, rougher than necessary, and rang the bell. The door immediately opened, and Kara stood on the other side.
Fleur couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t holding the dress. “Did you want me to put my jeans back on?” she asked as she turned.
“No need. You’ll dress in the bedroom suite.”
Concerned, Fleur peered into the hallway. “I’m only dressed in a towel.”
“You do not need to be concerned about your modesty. The suite is empty.”
The woman didn’t even bat an eye as Fleur tightened her towel. “Let me just grab my things.”
“Leave them. I will have them washed for you and ready for your return.”
“You’re not my servant,” Fleur snapped. “And I’m not staying here. I should take them with me.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but it is Sheikh Masoud’s wish that your clothes are washed here. Please follow me.” Turning, she didn’t wait for her response as she walked away.
Muttering about robots under her breath, Fleur followed the woman to the suite. “When you are dressed, I’ll be more than happy to help you with your hair and makeup.”
“I don’t do anything with my hair and I certainly don’t wear makeup, and no amount of orders from the Sheikh is going to change that,” Fleur said to the closing door. She tested it to make sure that it was locked before she moved to the dress on the bed.
“Lord have mercy,” she breathed. The green silk fabric flowed through her fingers like water. It would easily be the most beautiful and expensive thing she had ever worn. Where the hell had it come from? She slipped it over her head. A bit snug around the breasts and hips, but when she looked in the mirror, she realized that it was absolutely perfect. Usually dresses cut like this showed off too much of her pasty skin, but her pale complexion almost glowed against the fabric. She ran her fingers down her bare arms and shivered. At the base of the bed was a pair of strappy heels. She stepped into them.
“Kara?” She crossed the room and opened the door. “Kara!”
“Yes, Miss? Are you ready for your hair and makeup?”
“What?” Flustered, Fleur smoothed down her hair. “No, I already told you. I’m not doing anything with my hair and makeup. Where did this dress come from? It’s not possible that it was ordered and brought here in the time that I was bathing.”
“No, Miss.”
“So the Khalidizacks have dresses hanging around? I was under the impression that it was an all-male family.”
Kara nodded. “The Sheikh’s wife still lives in the palace, but this is not hers. There are many women who spend the night here at the palace, Miss.”
Fleur raised her eyebrows. “And they just leave the palace without their clothes?”
For the first time since their encounter, Kara smiled. “No, Miss. Certain apparel is kept here in case of emergencies. If a woman of money drops food or drink on her dress, there are options here for her.”
“Oh, good,” Fleur said, relieved. “So you’re just very good at guessing sizes?”
“Not me. The Sheikh.”
“Right. I’m sure he’s had practice. Okay. Well, I’m ready. And before you insist, I don’t need my hair and makeup done. I’ve already been informed that this is not a date. So if you’ll just point me in the right direction, I’ll find Masoud.”
Kara shook her head. “The Sheikh is waiting for you at the ruins. A car will take you there. Follow me.”
“Of course. None of this can just be a simple, hey, let’s get McDonald’s or whatever the equivalent is here.” Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she smiled at the woman. “Thank you for everything. The bath was truly wonderful.”
Kara smiled, and it seemed genuine. “You’re more than welcome. May I give you some advice?”
“I would take any advice,” Fleur admitted.
“The Khalidizacks are good men, but they have a rough exterior. Don’t let them get under your skin.”
Fleur shook her head rapidly. “Oh, it’s not a date. It’s only dinner. He said he wanted to pick my brain.”
“Yes. That is why you’re wearing a beautiful dress. So he can pick your brains.” Kara gestured to the door at the end of the hall. “Follow the staircase down to the party. Your driver will be waiting for you outside. Please do not speak to anyone along the way.”
Fleur opened her mouth to argue her point, but the woman was already walking away. “It’s not a date. It’s just an overdressed meeting,” she muttered.
Very overdressed.
Chapter Four
The lanterns were placed along the edge of the wall, and candles flickered in the middle of the table. Masoud had to work quickly to get everything together in time, but he was pleased that by the time he got the call that the stu
nning redhead was on her way, things were already in place. He lounged comfortably in one of the chairs and glanced around him.
He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that Fleur had taken his breath away. Most of the people he caught had been borderline raving lunatics. They were streaked in dirt and babbling on about not letting the rich and powerful keep the truth of the treasure from academic minds. Of course, Fleur was also streaked with dirt and babbling, but he’d been immediately charmed by her.
The date was an impromptu gesture on his part. While he told her that it was certainly not a date, the truth was that he wanted to see what she would look like all cleaned up. The party was infinitely boring, and she most certainly was not. Besides, if he found out just what she expected to find here, he could better prepare for the press releases and any other lunatic diggers that might come his way.
And, what would be the harm of having a little fun with her?
“This is not the place for heels!”
Masoud stood at the sound of her voice and peered into the darkness. He glimpsed a flashlight in the distance as the driver escorted her down the path. She cursed the whole way, and he smiled. No. Not boring.
Finally, she stood in front of him and scowled. “I am going to ruin this dress.”
“I doubt the dress has ever looked better,” he murmured softly as he drank her in. The glow of her alabaster skin was marred only by the dusting of her freckles, and they just enhanced her natural beauty. Her green eyes flashed in the soft light, and he realized that she was angry. “I found your rubbings. They’ll be kept safe for you in the car and returned to you.”
“Thank you,” she muttered. Her anger seemed to wash away as she gazed at the ruins. “It’s beautiful out here. I was just working with a single flashlight, but to see it lit up like this is remarkable. Lord have mercy, I can’t wait to see it in the daylight.” She bit her lip and looked at him. “You will let me see it in the daylight, right?”
“Of course. I promised you a tour, and you shall get one. But first, dinner.” He held his hand out to escort her over to the table. Without thinking, she placed her palm in his. He knew she felt it as well, when her hand twitched and she looked up at him in surprise before quickly averting her gaze. Tightening his grip to keep her from pulling away, he walked with her to the table. He enjoyed the gentle swing of her hips as she maneuvered her way across the uneven path to sit. As he adjusted her chair, his fingers brushed across her still damp hair, which hung down her back in fiery radiance. Even wet, her hair was as soft as silk.
“Everything looks really nice, but you have to be careful out here. You don’t want any smoke to soften the crevices,” she told him as she looked dubiously at the candles. “You want everything to be as genuine as possible when you get a team down here to look at it. You are getting a team, aren’t you? I heard you had it analyzed but that there were no plans to continue with the dig. Do you realize what you have here? If this dates back to Solomon’s time, and you can link any of it to the legends, you can prove that he existed, or at least that someone of his caliber existed.”
“Hmm,” Masoud muttered as he uncovered the dishes on the table. He filled her plate and passed it to her. He had the finest cooks in the land, but she shoveled the food in her mouth as if it was nothing as she looked around.
“The tales of Solomon are legendary. I’m sure you’ve heard some of them,” she muttered as she took a giant swig from her glass. Her eyes widened, as she must have realized that it wasn’t water and coughed.
“That’s a very expensive bottle of Chateau du Pont,” Masoud said dryly. “It’s usually enjoyed in small amounts.”
“Right,” she spluttered. “Sorry. I get so wrapped up in Solomon sometimes.”
“Yes, his tales of wisdom and saving babies are legendary,” Masoud said absently. He hadn’t brought her down here so she could talk incessantly about a dead legend. Leaning over to refill her glass of wine, he tried to think of a way to steer the conversation to what he wanted to talk about. Her. And whether she was here alone.
“It’s not just his wisdom,” Fleur continued, as she ignored him. “There is a tale that talks about Solomon’s Seal. In most legends, it’s a seal given to him from God and probably his most cherished possession. In some legends, it even says that the ring was gifted to him so that Solomon could control demons. Now, keep in mind that I said control and not just banish. It’s possible that we’re talking necromancy here. Quite a few people believed that the ring could raise the dead and control the Devil’s army. Imagine the kind of power people believed that ring could wield.”
“Fleur.” Masoud frowned.
“Hm. Yes?” she asked as she finally focused her attention on him.
“How is the food?” he asked patiently.
“The food? Oh, it’s great. I’ve pretty much just eaten airport food and whatever breakfast the hotel served this morning. I’m famished, so thank you. Anyways, back to my story. Solomon isn’t the first case where tales of mysticism and acts of magic have cropped up in the Bible.”
Realizing that he wasn’t going to distract her, Masoud leaned back and listened to her talk. Even as she babbled on and on, he realized that he enjoyed the sound of her voice. He enjoyed listening to her. It was nice to have a conversation with someone that wasn’t just wrapped up in wealth, fame and gossip.
“And we’re not just talking about miracles or acts of God’s wrath. Moses parting the Red Sea with the staff is certainly impressive, but that’s apparently God’s power. Moses’ opponent, the Pharaoh, had a sorcerer at his command. In fact, he had several. At the Pharaoh’s command, Moses threw down his staff, and God turned that staff into a serpent. Not to be outdone, the sorcerer did the same thing. Of course, Moses’s staff snake thing ate the other staff snake thing, but the point is that it was done without the power of God. That implies that magic still existed in Biblical times. Now, in Europe, the pagan religion is running rampant with blood and sex magic, so the fear that magic is the tool of the devil was still very real to the narrators of the stories within the Bible. But if God created a ring to give to Solomon to control demons, that meant God himself could not control the Devil’s work. Solomon wasn’t just a wise man. He was a general in the battle against evil, and not just the theoretical idea of evil but actual true evil.”
Fleur stopped and took a deep breath. “Tell me you don’t find that fascinating.”
“From your mouth, I find all things fascinating,” Masoud said with a smile as he sipped his wine. “So how are you going to prove that this man existed?”
“Solomon’s Diamond.”
Masoud nearly choked on his wine. Most people still believed that the diamond was a myth. Certainly academics weren’t here looking for the blasted thing. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with Solomon’s Mines. Filled with veins and veins of gold and diamonds, they were the source of his never-ending wealth. Of course, people have searched the Timna Valley and other rumored areas without success. The closest that anyone has come to finding it was a mine that reportedly belonged to the Endomites, a neighboring village that was always at war with Solomon. Chances are very good that the mines exist.”
“And what does that have to do with a diamond?” he asked quietly.
“Solomon’s signet ring has been often described as made of metal. With his wealth, we’re probably talking gold. It would have been flattened at the top and stamped with the Solomon Seal. It resembles today’s version of the Star of David or a six-sided pentagram. It almost too closely resembles the pagan pentagram, but that’s not the point. Everyone thought the ring commanded power. In a world where magic would have existed, we’re looking at something far more than a simple gold ring. We’re looking at something that could capture light. Something that could spark with magic.”
“Like a diamond,” Masoud said finally. He had clearly underestimated the girl. She had done her homework.
“Exactly. If there was a diamond imbed
ded in that ring, and it had the right cut and clarity, it would shine like fire to these people.” Her cheeks flushed with excitement as she leaned across the table.
“But you’re not looking for the ring. You’re looking for the diamond.”
“That is because somewhere along the way, the two were separated. I’m still looking for proof that the ring lost its supposed power when the diamond fell, but there are small scribblings found in ancient text about a diamond with etchings. Etchings like Solomon’s Seal,” she whispered excitedly.
“And why do you think it’s here?”
Fleur stood abruptly and grabbed a lantern. “Like an idiot, you invited the press to come down and take pictures.” Masoud blinked at the insult, but he realized there was no malice behind her words. “I couldn’t help but notice these edges here.” She pointed to the huge cracks in the stone. “Right now, they don’t look like anything. But this place has been ravaged with time. If the stone was flush, these marks would connect.” She ran her fingers over the edge and traced what looked like a pentagram.
“Solomon’s Seal,” Masoud said in a dark voice. Damn. She was on to something.
“If the stone wasn’t knocked out accidentally, then it was deliberately separated from the ring, it would have been put in a well-protected place. We’re not only talking guards. We’re talking protection with God. We’re talking seals that he believed would hide the stone away. Now I can’t prove that this place protected the diamond, but I can prove that it protected something. My peers and professors think I’m a rambling fool, like my parents, but this is real. I can feel it.”
He abandoned the table and walked closer to her. With a wave of his hands, he sent his guards away. Her excitement was contagious, and he wanted some alone time with her. Even though he didn’t like how close she was to the truth, he couldn’t help but watch her. The way that her dress clung to her curves was driving him wild. She was humming with excitement, and he wanted to touch those nerve endings until she was screaming from pleasure.
